#WATCHING HIS FUCKING THUMBS. his whole hands just. on skin. his chin on her shoulder. and how they both get startled out of it. like they're

[lovebugism]

Hiiieeeeee may I maybe recommend a fic with Stevie and maybe his ditsy/clumsy gf?

And maybe she tries a new recipe and cooks/bakes something different and gives herself a nasty burn and maybe it’s the first time Steve hears her swear and he’s so concerned over her because she’s clearly hurt and crying but she’s more upset about messing up the dish instead of how badly the burn actually is?

hope u like it angel xoxo — steve patches you up after you burn yourself making breakfast for him (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of minor injuries, 1k)

French toast sizzles on a hot pan. You stand in front of the stove, in nothing but a stolen t-shirt and a modest pair of underwear, and watch it cook with your features pinched in a distant concentration. Your Stevie wanted breakfast — “’s the only thing I want in the whole world,” the boy whined dramatically into his pillow — so you were gonna make him breakfast or die trying.

Steve sits quiet at the kitchen table, sipping steaming coffee from a Count Chocula mug, and hissing every time it burns his tongue. He decides to flip through the Sunday newspaper, mostly ‘cause he feels the honeyed domesticity calls for it. He only finds real interest in the cartoon page.

“Alright. Put ‘em up,” Charlie Brown threatens in the first panel, dressed head to toe in cowboy gear. Snoopy’s in the second one, with both of his black ears sitting straight in the air.

Steve chuckles to himself, a sharp exhale through his nose, and opens his mouth to call you over. “Fuck!” he hears you squeak before he can. It makes him laugh for real this time. “Hey. Watch the language, babe,” the boy teases.

“Sorry…” he hears you murmur in response. With your back still facing him, obscuring any view of the hot stove, he figures you must’ve burnt the first batch of toast. 

It wouldn’t be the most surprising thing, anyway. You’re the clumsiest person he’s ever met (more than Robin, which he didn’t think was even possible). You’re not much of a chef either, bustling around the kitchen with a floundering air of confidence.

“Such a naughty word from such a pretty girl,” Steve jokes in an attempt to make you laugh. He hears his sensitive girl sniffle to herself instead, like you’re crying — or about to. His crooked smile ebbs. “Hey… I was just kidding, babe. You can say whatever the hell you want— I don’t care.”

His chair scrapes the tile when he stands. His socked feet pad against the floor on his way to you. “I swear all the time,” Steve says and embraces you from behind. His scruffy chin bobs on your shoulder. “I mean, you’ve heard me— I basically make up new words.”

He scoffs a faint laugh before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You sniffle again. “I messed up,” you murmur, voice wet with unshed tears.

“What do you mean?”

“The french toast. I put too much egg in the mixture, and now everything’s all sticky— It’s gonna be so gross now.”

You ramble mindlessly and gesture with your hands. Steve catches a glimpse of a red and raging welt on the outside of your thumb. The sight of the fresh burn makes his chest twist.

“Holy shit, babe.”

You meet his concerned gape with a doe-eyed look. “What?”

“Your hand— Let me see.”

He takes your fingers in his gentle, softly calloused ones. You shrug off his palpable worry but let him examine your stinging skin nonetheless. “It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt,” you lie through your teeth. “I barely even felt it.”

Steve’s peers at you beneath his lashes, bushy brows raised until his forehead wrinkles. “It’s gotta hurt, babe,” he insists in a monotone.

“My bruised pride hurts more.”

He grins before he means to. “Come on, weirdo— let’s get a bandaid on you,” the boy chuckles and turns off the burning stove-eye. You gasp when he tugs you out of the kitchen with a gentle hand around your wrist.

“But breakfast!” you whine in protest.

“I’ll drive us to the diner after, alright? I promise,” Steve assures as he leads you down the hallway. “That way neither of us has to die to put some food on the table.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic.”

He shrugs and flips on the bathroom light. “Maybe a little.”

You sit on the edge of the bathroom counter, per Stevie’s instructions, while he fishes for the first aid kit in the cabinets. He fits just perfectly between your thighs, you notice, as he rubs ointment onto your finger with an impossibly gentle touch. You quickly forget about the raised welt on your thumb — too focused on the pretty boy who holds all his love in his hands.

“There you go. Good as new,” Steve smiles once he’s stuck a plaster flush to your skin. He doesn’t notice the small pout scrunching your pretty face until he’s closed the first aid kit. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’…” you murmur, gaze averted as you pick at the fraying hem of your oversized tee. “I just… I wanted to do something nice for you, but I messed it all up, and you ended up having to do something nice for me…”

Steve scoffs. “You do nice stuff for me all the time.”

Your frown deepens.

“You tidied up the house when I was working late yesterday,” he tells you. “And you did the dishes even though you hate doing the dishes—”

“Everyone hates doing the dishes,” you insist.

“Exactly!”

“Well, you said death would be easier than doing them, so I thought it’d make it easier on you by doing it while I was off…”

“Exactly,” Steve repeats, settling between your legs once more. He smooths a pair of wide palms over the outsides of your thighs and flashes you another pretty smile. “You make everything easier on me. Even when you don’t mean to.”

You peek at him beneath your lashes, gaze glimmering with something short of hope. “Really?” you wonder in a mousy voice.

“Yeah! All the time!” the boy scoffs without thinking. 

He wraps a pair of golden arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for a smothering hug. Your hands curl into his sweatshirt as you bury your face in his neck — inhaling the sweet scent of sleep and leftover cologne lingering there. 

Steve noses at your hair, still a bit wild from your slumber. “Except for when you accidentally burn yourself and act like it’s not a big deal,” he teases with a smile curling at your temple.

Muffled against his neck, you grumble, “It wasn’t.”

[badomensgoodomens]

Hiii can I ask for a smutty request between vessel x reader, maybe reader is feeling down about vessel having to leave to tour soon so vessel takes care of her and its passionate and loving 🥰🤍

SLEEPTOKEN -VESSEL (smut)

not as loving but very passionate lol (my bad)

content warning: p in v, fingering n cunnilingus, overstimulation

smut is not my strong suit don't come for me.

_____________________

You woke up feeling ridiculously melancholic. Tomorrow V was supposed to leave for tour with the boys, you didn’t want him to leave, ofcourse. That was your man, and you were gonna do everything in your power to stop him from leaving-

“Stop thinking about it.” 

His voice breaks you out of thought, you were currently perched on the end of the bed in your undergarments. You two had a heated night last night, and were too exhausted to put clothes on. 

You shake your head, mumbling a soft “i’m not.” he sighs, shifting to sit next to you. “Ill be back before you even know it.” he says, kissing your warm shoulder. You shrug him off. 

“Don’t be like that, love.” 

You glare at him, a soft pout gracing your lips. 

“Lose the attitude.” he grumbles, gripping your chin. 

Your brows furrow, instinctively you turn away from him. His hand reaches for your neck, pulling you back to him. 

His head dips down to kiss your soft lips, tightening when your head chases his. Its a clash of teeth and moans. He pulls away, running his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“Let me show you…”

He drags you up the bed by your hips.

“How much i love you.” 

______________________________________

His hips snap up against yours, agonisingly slow. He was doing a great show of making love to you, savouring every moment. You whine, frustrated at the lack of movement. 

“m’ sorry baby.. You feel sooooo good.” he breathes out, head nestled into the side of your neck, small kisses pressing up to your jaw. 

You tug on the soft tufts of his hair, craving- no. needing more. “Fucking hell v. pick up the pace” you hiss, trying to work yourself up and down his cock. 

“I love it when you wear these.” he groans, fiddling with the strap of the emerald green bra you were wearing. “So fuckin pretty.” he whispers, watching the bra fall away from your skin. He had pulled your matching thong to the side in a hurried, horny, frenzy. 

He picked up the pace, the room filling with skin slapping and moans. 

Fuck. 

Neither of you were gonna last long after this. 

He pressed soft kisses down the valley of your breasts, basking in the scent of your skin. The smell of your moisturiser making him dizzy, sending the blood in his body straight down to his dick. 

He made quick work flipping you over, driving his cock in and out, shoving a pillow beneath you. 

“So fucking pretty.” he breaths out, head next to your ear. “All fucking mine.” 

He lets out a guttural moan as his hips begin to stutter. 

“Mm… fuck im gonna cum-” 

He makes an absolute mess of himself, biting onto the skin of your shoulder as he releases. He collapses against you, panting heavily. But oh no, he wasn’t finished with you. 

“Turn over. Gonna make sure you savour every drop.” 

He presses kisses from your soft tummy down each thigh, leaving bite marks. He gently fingers you, savouring the feeling of your insides. 

“Fuck.. all this just for me?” 

Your head is thrown back into the pillows, a mess of moans. 

His pace quickens, his other hand coming to rub up on your clit. Your whole body shakes with pleasure, strings of moans leaving your mouth. He admires you from down below, watching the sweat trickle down the valley of your breasts, and how your core shudders. 

“You gonna send me photos….

His fingers work quickly to make a mess of you. 

“And videos huh?” he says, watching his knuckles bury deep within you. He pauses when you don’t respond. You whine immediately, trying to work yourself up and down his fingers. He holds your hips down. 

“Answer me.” he snaps, gripping your thighs tightly.

“I promise.” you whine out. His head dips down, you were NOT gonna last long. He pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you, using his tongue and finger combined to eat you out in the most substantial way. Your body shook of overstimulation, your hands struggle against his as you try to push him away from your clit. “V-” you cry out, “cmon baby, just one more. I promise.” he whispers against your skin, you whimper and cry. “Cmon, sweet girl, i’ll take care of you.” 

That nickname was enough to snap the coil building inside you. He works you through your final orgasm, kissing your swollen lips. 

“Shh… shh.. You’re okay.” he whispers, holding you as you shake. He wipes the tears from your eyes, holding you together. 

“Did you like that?” he whispers, pulling you close to him in the dark. 

You nod, panting. 

“I like being able to take you apart and put you back together.” 

_______________________________________________

“You still mad…?” he asks, after gently cleaning you up and fetching you water. You shake your head. “Just gonna miss you.” 

He frowns, pulling you impossibly close.

[xas24]

helloo, can you write one for pedri with a shy girlfriend? thank you 🙏🏽

don’t get all shy on me now ~ pedri

summary: a few instances where pedri completely loves how shy and quiet his girlfriend gets around him.

“dios mío, estás tan guapa.” (my god, you look so gorgeous) pedri stated as he looked towards his girlfriend, who stood in front of her mirror checking her outfit. his eyes raked down the pretty, blue sundress she had on and y/n could see him practically drooling through the reflection in the full length mirror.

the blood instantly pooled on the surface of her cheeks, staining her bare skin a rosy tint. she blushed hard under his gaze and the small smile that tugged tightly at her lips caused a grin to form on her boyfriends’.

pedri got up from the bed, where he was mindlessly playing some game on her phone because he refused to download it on his own. it’s more fun on your phone, he’d normally say.

he was already dressed in his own outfit as they were both getting ready to meet up with his family at their house for dinner. y/n stared at his face as he made his way over, his beard still growing out as he couldn’t be bothered to shave it lately.

y/n would never admit to him how much she loved his beard and how handsome she found him with it. never. her words wouldn’t even be able to come out clearly with how shy she gets around him, how his presence just burns her whole body alive with warmth and the inability to stop blushing.

pedri reached her and his arms wrapped themselves around her waist. his bearded chin rested against her bare shoulder and the stubbly feeling of it tickled her skin, making her giggle slightly.

pedris head came to rest against hers as her hands held his arms, encasing her against his body.

“pedriii…” she slightly whined, goosebumps spiking up along her arms at the feel of his thumb rubbing circles on the sides of her hips.

“i don’t wanna leave anymore, let’s stay here.” he mumbled and left a small peck against her shoulder.

it seemed as though she didn’t even need makeup as her cheeks were already bright red. her voice was low as she spoke to him, “no, we need to leave in a few minutes, c’mon.” she stroked his arm.

pedri hummed and turned his head so that his lips were now resting against the side of her face, his mouth hovering over her warm cheek. he started pressing kisses to her flesh and the soft giggle that left her mouth didn’t go unnoticed by him as he smiled against her.

“god, i love that sound.” pedri mumbled and fuck, now her cheeks were hurting from smiling so much.

“pedri..” she breathily whispered. he looked at her reflection in the mirror and the smirk that formed on his rosy lips at the sight of her flustered expression had her knees instantly weak.

“don’t get all shy on me now, querida.”

y/n held eye contact with him in the mirror for approximately five seconds before those big brown eyes were cutting through her whole body and ripping her gaze away from his intense, teasing one.

she slapped his hand away, hating the way he always teased her vulnerability around him. however, the lopsided smile still clung to her lips as she sternly tried to tell him off for his last minute shenanigans . “stop it, come on. your parents are probably waiting.”

•••

pedris hand came to interlock with y/ns as the tv shone its bright light onto them from the front. the pair were seated in pedris living room on a random thursday night, deciding on watching a movie to spend their free time together.

it was still relatively early into their relationship, perhaps only 2-3 months and y/n didn’t deny how shy she still felt around him. every little thing he did for her, said to her, made her body shake with nerves and her cheeks fill with blush.

and this small gesture he just did, gently sliding his fingers between hers on her lap, had her screaming on the inside. his hands were so soft against hers, so warm and smooth. she wanted to move her thumb, to rub against his tender skin but would that be weird? she didn’t know, she hadn’t done all this before.

y/n practically froze on the spot and pedri felt her body stiffen beside his as he looked over at her. when he rubbed his thumb against her thumb, she exhaled the breath she was holding in and relaxed into her seat.

pedri watched the blush rise to her cheeks and her eyes flutter gently as she tenderly tightened her fingers around his hand, signalling to him it was okay and she was comfortable.

y/n turned to look at him to see him already tentatively looking at her, and pedri melted on the spot at the little shy look she gave him - her mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile and her cheeks a bright colour of crimson.

he couldn’t wait to pull more of these pretty, shy smiles out of her.

•••

pedri walked into his girlfriends apartment with her favourite chocolates and a new book in hand. he knew she’d been wanting to read this book for quite a while and so, on his way back from training, he made a quick stop at a random bookstore to see if they had it.

they did, and he coupled it with a big box of her favourite chocolates just to see that extra wide smile on her face and twinkle in her eyes. to see that deep tint of blush on her soft, supple cheeks.

the sound of dishes clattering around in the kitchen could be heard when he walked in and so he made his way over with a mischievous smile lurking on his lips. y/n was stood at the stove infront of a pot of boiling water, with her phone in hand.

pedri, with the surprises clamped behind his back, snuck up on his girlfriend. he did a little jog towards her and pressed his lips to her cheek in a quick kiss.

y/n smiled. she knew he was back as she heard the door open. she recognised his footsteps against the flooring.

“oh, pedri you scared me.” she told him, a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice as her eyes stayed glued to her phone but the smile stayed on her lips.

“i was going for a more realistic reaction but that’ll do.” he laid another kiss to her cheek before leaning back up to his normal height, towering over her by a few inches.

y/n locked her phone and looked up at her boy. he was freshly showered, smelt like his usual handsomeness and she instantly noticed his two hands, that would usually be engulfing her body and wandering in random places at this time of day, were currently stuck behind his back.

“what’re you hiding?” she raised her brows.

“i have a little surprise. close your eyes.” he snickered and her look of curiosity turned to one of confusion. with a huff and without question, she closed her eyes and pedri revealed his two little presents with a grin on his face.

“vale, open.”

she gasped as her eyes instantly set onto the cover of that book that lay somewhere deep within her amazon cart, but she’d been wanting to read it for so long now. excitement rapidly settled into her stomach but her heart rate practically zoomed through her chest when she saw the box of her favourite chocolates in his hands.

the blush couldn’t stop itself from painting her flesh and she gaped up at him.

“pedri!” she reached for them and admired them whilst he admired her, satisfied with her reaction this time.

he watched as she placed them both down on the counter next to her and threw her arms around his taller frame. her lips instantly attacked his in a sudden kiss but he didn’t mind as he slotted his lips against hers and she kissed her gratitude into him. she laid quick pecks against his mouth and cheek before staring at him in extreme infatuation. she adored this man so fucking much.

“you didn’t have to.” he loved this heavenly expression on her features; her eyes sparkling, her cheeks flushed, her lips pulled into her usual shy smile.

“i wanted to.”

•••

“c’mon a big smile!” pedri practically cheered as he held the phone out in front of him. y/n stood infront of the floral pattern of the wall behind her as pedri insisted he take some pictures.

memories, he said. memories of how good you look right now.

y/n started blushing with the looks they were getting from some people walking past. some weird and some smiling. her hand came up to cover her face as the low laughter shook from her body at the sight of pedri so focused on the pictures yet so unfocused on the people around them.

pedri smiled to himself, staring at his beautiful girlfriend through the lens of the camera. the light was displaying itself in just the right angles and everything looked so perfect, even his camera skills may he add. however, it still did her beauty no justice, he had to admit.

he couldn’t wait to just sit in his bed later that evening to stare at these pictures - she just looked so ethereal right now.

the fondness that took over y/ns body presents itself on her face as she shyly smiled at the camera, tilting her head as pedri kept snapping some pictures. just when she thought that was enough and started walking back towards pedri, he shook his head and signalled her to step back so he could get a few more shots.

“pedri, i’m sure that’s enough for you to stare at.” she joked, as if she just knew he was falling even more in love with her right now.

“no it’s not, please, just a few more.” she pouted and practically pleaded with her eyes for them to stop because she couldn’t handle how out of her comfort zone this felt, infront of so many prying eyes.

but the desperate look on her boys face made her stand back and pose with a smile on her face for a few more seconds. pedri was then beckoning her over to look through them. she swiped through them with low giggles, knowing how seriously he was taking this, and it made her heart leap.

“so gorgeous.” pedri stared at her, loving the flustered look on her face at his compliment.

“you look amazing, amor. mi preciosa.” he tucked some of her hair back behind her ear.

in that moment, he made a mental note to take more picutes of her often just so he could see this sweet, shy look on her face again.

[muertawrites]

Inked (Eddie x Reader x Punk!Steve) [18+]

Summary: tattoos hurt. thankfully your artist is chill about the way you distract yourself from the pain.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, oral (fem receiving), vouyerism, exhibitionism, male masturbation, explicit descriptions of sex and pain

Read Time: 7 mins

This is possibly the most painful thing you've ever felt. It stings, it burns, and the tip of the gun feels like it's digging under your skin and against the bone beneath. Eddie hisses.

"You're holding me too tight, baby."

You look over to where your hand is gripped around his wrist, fingers white as they curl into his flesh. You release your hold and there are little moon-shaped grooves etched in his skin, blooming red and threatening to bleed.

Steve stops tattooing.

You're laying on the bench in his home studio, having offered yourself as a guinea pig to help him practice working on people for his apprenticeship. He's doing a sternum piece for you, sprawled out over your naked chest while Eddie sits on your other side, one hand massaging your breast while the other gets itself impaled by your clawing grip. It hurts way more than you expected it to. You're lightheaded and nauseous, and your whole body is clammy and feverish. You feel like you might faint.

Steve nervously bites his lip, his gloved thumb stroking over some of the excess ink.

"... It looks really good already," he attempts to console you. "Do you need to take a break?"

You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Eddie's hand that cups your breast gives it a gentle squeeze, rolling your nipple between two of his fingers. You moan softly, and all at once you're inspired.

You turn to Steve, asking the question before you can psych yourself out.

"Do you mind if Eddie fucks me?"

The men blink at each other, bewildered. Neither of them says anything for a moment.

"Please," you beg. "It hurts so fucking much and I'm already topless. I think it'll help. I don't want to faint."

Steve stares at Eddie, who stares back at Steve. After a tense pause, Steve shrugs.

"Listen, man, if she's cool with it, I'm cool with it. Just don't move her too much."

Eddie looks down at you, his hand moving to stroke through your hair.

"Is that really what you want, sweetheart?"

He sounds concerned, but the brightness in his eyes and the growing stiffness in his jeans give him away. He's eager. Excited. He gets to bring his favorite pornos to life, and all because it was your idea. This is like Christmas.

You nod, giggling softly.

"Yes, Eddie, just do it. Before I change my mind."

He wastes no time, springing up from his chair and positioning himself at the end of the bench, his hands finding the waistband of your leggings and rolling them down. Steve watches, letting out a soft breath when Eddie exposes your hips, your thighs, the luscious patch of pubic hair between your legs. You grin up at him, gently tapping a finger against his chin.

"Stevie," you remind him. "My tattoo."

He gives you a suave, easy smile as he meets your eyes, a feature left over from his time as a high school womanizer. His cheeks are pink, his pupils consuming his pretty brown irises.

"Right," he chuckles. "Sorry."

He starts up the gun again, and Eddie's tongue finds your clit, pressing flat against you as Steve resumes his work on your chest, the needle stabbing its way back into your skin. The pain is eclipsed by the swirling of Eddie's tongue, the pucker of his lips as he dives in and starts sucking. You moan, focusing on the tingling between your thighs.

"That better?" Steve asks, smirking.

You nod.

"Way better."

Eddie grips your thighs, slinging your legs over his shoulders as he laps and sucks at you, the lewd, wet noises echoing off the walls. You can feel your wetness dripping down your buttocks as he works you towards orgasm. He gazes up at you through his lashes, his cock twitching when he doesn't meet your eyes or your breasts but instead sees Steve leaned over you, glancing his way. Eddie grins.

"How much longer, Harrington?" he wonders.

His lips and chin are glossy. Steve swallows heavily.

"About halfway," he answers.

Eddie nods. He stands, making quick work of his button and zipper and freeing his cock, running his shaft teasingly up the length of your pussy. Steve pauses to watch, his mouth slack at the way you coat Eddie's shaft, how easily it glides against you. Eddie grins as he taps the head of his cock against your clit.

"Her pussy's divine, man," he boasts. "Maybe instead of a tip she'll let you have a taste."

He winks at Steve, his hands moving to your hips as he eases inside of you, letting out a quiet moan. His features contort with the pleasure, succumbing to the heat of your slick walls. He starts to thrust, slow and deep, taking care not to shift you at all so Steve has a stable canvas; his palm presses to your stomach for support.

Steve stares, his cock pressing painfully against the leg of his jeans. After a moment he snaps himself out of it and goes back to work, painfully aware of how close he is to your breasts.

You whimper as Eddie fucks you, gripping the sides of the bench to keep yourself still. Eddie's cock pressing deep inside you, Steve's hot breath fanning over your nipple, the depravity of letting him see you naked and vulnerable has you panting, whining, crying for more. The pain of your sternum tattoo is easily forgotten.

Eddie fucks you for half an hour. Steve fills out the lines of your tattoo, then goes back over them again where they're not dark enough, pausing every so often to watch Eddie plow into you. At one point, you reach your hand between Steve's thighs and palm at him, feeling a rush as he bites his lip to keep from moaning. He whispers that you can take him out if you want. You do, and you haphazardly stroke his cock as he finishes the piece, surprisingly concentrated despite rolling his hips into your palm.

When the tattoo is finished, Steve steps away and lets you and Eddie finish as well. He leans against the counter as Eddie bends over you, his mouth latched to your neck as he rails you with unrelenting force until you cum around him, clenching him tightly and moaning as pleasure shakes your body; he follows close behind. You turn your head and watch as Steve touches himself, pulling on his cock until he reaches his own orgasm, spilling creamy ropes all over his stomach, thighs, and the floor. The skin between your legs is soaked.

Eddie helps Steve clean up while you come to your senses, laying on the bench in a dreamy, fucked out haze as Steve dresses your new tattoo and Eddie wipes the residue of sex off of you, himself, and the furniture. When you finally sit up, you look at Steve and laugh breathlessly, thanking him for a good time.

"How much do I owe you?" you ask.

He shakes his head.

"On the house," he says. He grins. "The private show was payment enough."

🎸eddie masterlist🎸

[roosterforme]

You Want Me Anyway | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley wasn't your boyfriend. He didn't owe you anything. But after months of hooking up, you expected more from him than what you were getting. It was time for you to move on. But Bradley has other ideas.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 1500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Sensational Smutfest! Check out my masterlist for more!

You and Bradley were by no means official. But you had been hoping you were at least exclusive. For months you had been trying to have the conversation with him, trying to define the relationship, but he just brushed you off. 

And now you knew why. Because tonight at the bar while you were surrounded by your friends, you were forced to watch Bradley flirt with some girl in a mini skirt who boldly bought him a beer and had her hand planted on his chest. He was eating it up, leaving you to silently stew in your anger, because nobody even knew he spent most nights tangled up in bed with you. This girl was laughing hysterically at everything he was saying, and you'd simply had enough. 

It was time you forgot about Rooster Bradshaw. You didn't need to keep letting him string you along with his vague answers and half truths. There was no way you'd let him think you needed his attention exclusively if he was going to spread his around. 

Recently you found that Hangman was good for a few things: the occasional laugh, keeping you on your toes in the air, and tons of flirtation. 

"Hey, Hangman. Teach me how to play darts," you called out to him, and a second later he was guiding you toward the dartboard with his arm draped across your shoulders.

"I thought you'd never ask, Sweetness," he drawled, his lips close to your ear. "You're about to learn from the best."

You couldn't help but laugh at how cocky he was. "Is that so?"

"You thought I was only good in the air? I'm good everywhere. Here, stand like this," he told you, guiding you into place with his hands on your hips. Soon you were throwing darts with his help, nearly hitting the bullseye a few times. "You're a natural," he whispered, letting his hand glide up to rest on your shoulder. "You want a drink?"

"Please," you told him, and when he went to the bar, your eyes caught on Bradley. His cheeks were beet red, and he looked fuming mad.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked when he approached. His voice was low and harsh as he got in your personal space.

You shrugged. "Just hanging out with Jake."

Bradley scoffed. "Okay, well Jake can just keep his hands off you!"

"Why should he?" you asked, keeping your expression completely neutral. 

Bradley's eyes narrowed to slits. "Because you're with me."

You laughed in his face. "Really? I had no idea. You seem to like flirting with other girls more than talking about-" His mouth met yours in a rough kiss. Right in the middle of the Hard Deck. 

"No, you're with me," he growled again, gripping the back of your neck and kissing your lips and your jaw and your ear. "Say good night to Jake. I'm taking you home."

But you didn't say good night to anyone. You just tripped along next to Bradley as he guided you toward the exit. "What's gotten into you?" you asked him once you were outside. 

But he didn't answer you. In fact, he didn't say anything as he picked you up and carried you to his Bronco and drove to his house while you complained the whole way. "This is ridiculous. You can't just suddenly decide that you're in charge of what I do!" 

But you were just met with more silence.

"Bradley," you finally said, caving and talking first once you were in his bedroom. 

He took your chin between his thumb and index finger, tipping your face up to look at him. He kissed your lips softly, brushing his mustache across your skin. "You're mine. Don't flirt with Jake. Don't flirt with anyone. You're with me."

You moaned at his words. "And just what do you think you were doing tonight, Bradley? You don't get to have a different set of rules for yourself."

He kissed you again. "I won't. Not again. Now get in bed, and spread your legs wide."

You watched his brown eyes flash with something exciting as you peeled your clothes off and climbed in his bed. But you quickly learned that what he had in mind wasn't going to be as pleasant as you originally thought. 

At first, his mouth on your pussy felt amazing. His tongue felt possessive, like he was claiming you. But then when you were so close to the edge, he stopped cold and eased away from your body.

"What happened?" you gasped, panting as a sheen of sweat crept along your neck and chest.

"Say my name." His voice was harsh, and you clenched around nothing.

"B-Bradley."

"Louder."

"Bradley! Please, Bradley!"

Then his fingers were inside you and his lips were on your breasts, and you ran your hands up and down his neck. He was being possessive, and you loved it. This is what your body was craving from him. But just when you were close again, he released you. 

"Fuck!" you gasped.

"Say it."

You swallowed hard, head tipped back in frustration as tears filled your eyes. "I'm yours, Bradley!"

Then he was filling you with his dick, and you felt perfect for a few moments as he pinned your hips down and moved so slowly. You could feel everything, each tiny thrust and every twitch of his cock. But he was making sure you knew he was in control, because he never went faster. He worked you up until you were a panting, gasping mess beneath him. Every vein in his neck was on display, and you wanted to cum so badly. Your legs were shaking, back arching off the bed as he stroked your sweet spot with expertise. 

 But as he brought you to the edge again, he seemed to reluctantly pull out. Then he growled, "Don't even think about cumming yet," next to your ear, and you cried out in frustration as he rubbed his tip across your clit. You watched him straddle your thighs as he smirked down at you, and he grabbed his cock while you gasped for air.

You watched him jerk off as you bit your knuckle in frustration, thrusting yourself up against him to try to get some more friction against your clit. Within a minute, Bradley was coating your pussy, belly and chest with his cum. Marking you. Then he dipped his fingers in the mess and held it up to your lips. He fed you his cum while you whined and begged him. "Please?" you gasped, after cleaning his fingers for the fourth time and rubbing yourself against his balls.

He pressed his lips to your ear as he dipped his sticky fingers in your mouth one more time. "You think Jake can take care of you like I can? You think anyone else can?"

You shook your head and mumbled, "No," around his fingers. 

"That's right. Now who's about to make you cum?"

"Bradley!"

Finally he removed his fingers from your mouth and eased them through his cum and down to your pussy. He fucked you with his fingers and teased you with his tongue until you were hiccuping with relief as your orgasm quickly washed over you. 

"That's my good girl," he crooned, running his mustache through your wetness and pressing his nose to your clit while your body shook for him. "So good. Don't forget who you're with now." He kept stimulating you until you had some tears falling from your eyes, but his lips were so gentle now as he worshipped your pussy.

You started to sit up as you whispered his name, and Bradley's eyes were on yours. He kissed you, and you moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips and mustache. He eased you back again, the mess of his drying cum rubbing between your bodies as you held him close.

"What made you change your mind all of a sudden?" you asked as his lips migrated to your jaw. 

"I didn't change my mind all of a sudden. I've wanted to be exclusive for weeks, and start calling you my girlfriend."

Your eyes drifted closed at the word girlfriend uttered in his raspy voice. "Then why were you flirting with that girl? And avoiding my conversations?" you asked, taking his face between your hands.

He looked at you with his big, brown eyes and smiled. "Because I know you're too good for me, but I want you anyway."

You bit your lip and smiled at the ceiling. "I'm way too good for you."

"But you want me anyway," he supplied, making you giggle as he kissed your ear. Then he scooped you up and headed for the bathroom while he asked you to start referring to him as your boyfriend. "I made a mess, and I'll clean it up."  

You weren't sure if he was talking about coating you in his cum or talking about your relationship, but either way, he was going to take care of it.

---------------------

Thanks for reading this blurb that turned into a one-shot.

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[drurrito]

Move Along

AN: literally just wrote this bc i refuse to journal!! I'm also off a melatonin gummy so all mistakes are mine

Warnings: it's angsty, a little suggestive, probably cursing

----------------

Wanda rides out her high while you watch from below. She falls over with a dreamy sigh, her arm falling across your chest and her fingers curl against your neck. You pull her in closer with a kiss atop her head. You let her mindlessly play with the hairs on the nape of your neck for a few moments until you catch the vacant look on her face.

"S'wrong?" you mumble, not really expecting anything to come of it. Wanda doesn't say anything for a few beats, and that makes you turn towards her, lifting her chin with the softest grip, her eyes choosing to look at the lamp on your nightstand.

"Wanda?"

"Vis asked me to come see him in Hamburg," she's still not looking at you.

"Oh? Like a weekend trip?"

"More than a weekend trip," she shrugs, "for the summer, said I'm too far away for his liking."

"You guys talk like every night, don't you?" you tilt your head, cocking a brow.

"That's not the point," she lightly flicks your ear. You both have had this flirtationship/friends with benefits thing long before Vision ever came into the picture. You weren't used to competing for someone when he came around, you still aren't. Wanda used to think it was cute how you always acted like you were at the top of her roster--because you were--at least until Vision proved to be a top contender. You never hit the gas, but you never hit the brakes either. You've just been cruising like always, and Wanda absolutely factored that in when she was making her decision about Vision.

"Y/n," Wanda eyes finally land on yours, her hand moves down to cup your cheek, her thumb grazing against your skin.

"It's getting serious, between me and him."

"Okay," you knew this is what she was getting at the whole time, she's always been too nice to just come out and say things like this.

"Okay?"

"What am I supposed to do about it?" You gently grasp her hand and prop yourself up on your elbow, "he's sweeping you off your feet from miles and miles away, and I'm just, here I guess."

"There's nothing else you want to say to me?" Wanda sits up too, she wraps the sheets around herself while you sit there at the crossroads you hoped to never reach.

It was always going to end this way.

Maybe, deep down, you hoped that by the time this day would come that you would have figured out the right way to go about things.

But you haven't and that's on you, so you have to take this on the chin and keep it moving like you used to do.

"Y/n?"

"When do you leave?" You turn to face Wanda in time to watch her shoulders droop.

"Thursday," her reply is curt. You wince, it's Tuesday.

"So this is it then?"

"You're not even going to try to keep in touch?" Wanda frowns while you chew on your lip.

"And talk about what, Wanda? How amazing it is to live with the guy that has way too much money to shower you with gifts for so many lifetimes?"

"It's not about the money y/n-"

"It's the effort, I get it. But I've been here, Wanda--more than Vis has, even."

Wanda opens her mouth like she's going to say something, but she just sighs instead. You're right, you've been here, but not in the way she needed, wanted you, and you both know that. You never bothered to evolve beyond a fuck and a flirt, and Wanda realized she had to give up on waiting for you at some point.

She just didn't expect for it to happen so soon.

Wanda reaches for your hand, taking it in hers when you don't pull away.

"I'll always remember this, us," she lifts your hand to her lips and releases it with a kiss. Your jaw twitches with an emotion you thought was long-lost. Wanda moves to get up from the bed, but you still her with a hand on her own.

"Stay? Just for tonight?" You curse yourself with how much that resembles begging, and you barely have the courage to look Wanda in the eyes while you wait for her answer. After tonight, nothing will be the same, so the least you can do is just savor what's left of it now.

Wanda's eyes soften, you'll always be special to her. She wordlessly nods and climbs back into bed with you, pulling you close to her chest. Wanda pretends that she can't feel your tears on her skin. You finally relax and fall asleep after a few minutes of her whispering sweet nothings into your ear while drawing patterns across your shoulders and back.

As much as Wanda wishes things were different between you, she knows that life will leave her behind if she keeps waiting around for something more to happen.

----------------

You wake up, the other side of the bed is the coldest it's ever been.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | AO3

-----

The next time he's got something of a breather, they're all building weapons in a field gathered around a stolen camper. He breaks from wrestling around with Dustin, comes to plop down next to Robin in the spot Steve recently vacated.

"Hey, uh. So how often does this happen?"

Robin shoots him a look, one eyebrow raised as if to say there's a whole lot of 'this' happening right now, dumbass, what part of it do you mean?

Eddie jerks his chin up, head swinging in the direction towards Steve and Dustin. "He just got munched on by a swarm of goddamn demon bats, and now he's out there prancing around and no one's looking at him like he should maybe sit down a minute? Like no one cares, this is just business as usual."

Her face crumbles, and Eddie feels like an asshole. He didn't mean to imply that she didn't care about her best friend being bat food.

"Every time," she says softly, before he can try to backtrack.

"Oh." What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? "Right, Jesus. Well. Harrington's a big boy, I'm sure he-"

"No," Robin cuts him off. "You don't understand. He does this every time, it's - you remember last year, when Steve and Billy Hargrove showed up to school looking like shit? Hargrove tried to go after Lucas, and Steve pulled him off. They beat the crap out of each other. Hargrove hit him over the head with a plate, so hard that Steve blacked out. And the little shits - they put him in a car and took him with them to go to these tunnels to the Upside Down, because we couldn't just leave him in the house, Robin, what if he choked on his own blood or Billy woke up first?"

She does a decent impression of Henderson, there, higher pitched and shrieking, but Eddie is too busy being more and more horrified to comment on it.

"Steve woke up, and what does that dipshit do? Grabs his fucking nailbat, makes sure he's the first one down there and the last one out. They see Steve, and they see-"

"A hero," Eddie says quietly.

"They see someone invincible," she replies, even quieter. "So it's not real when he gets hurt, you know, because they see him take hit after hit after hit for us, and he just comes back up swinging, just keeps going to make sure every one of us is safe."

Eddie thumbs over the spot on his hip, where the first I don't need to go to the hospital had appeared, and feels - he doesn't know. "For us?"

Robin pushes the heel of her hand into her eyes, rubbing away what he's going to pretend aren't tears. "Fourth of July, Starcourt Mall. We got captured. He made sure their attention was on him. They tortured him, barely touched me."

She wraps her arms around her stomach, hugging herself with her palms pressed against her sides, fingers splayed wide like she's holding something close. There's more there, it's obvious, but, well. It's just as obvious that she doesn't want to talk about it.

"Then he crashed a stolen car into Billy Hargrove's Camaro with me riding shotgun."

Eddie gapes at her. "What the fuck?"

She raises and lowers one shoulder. "Billy was going to hit Nancy and Jonathan and the kids. I mean, it might have been the drugs, but I was on board with the plan."

His mouth opens, then closes again. "This is so fucked. You know this, right? Tell me you know this."

Robin makes a face. "I wish I could say that and know for sure that it wouldn't be a lie. I mean, I've only been in on this for like nine months, but it kind of sucks you in."

"Jesus fucking Christ."

Her expression turns a little wry, a little wait and see, you're one of us now. "Yeah."

Eddie doesn't know what the fuck to do with that, so he settles for watching Steve. Steve, who was captured at Starcourt mall, who told Eddie that he'd been captured by Russians who didn't like his attitude and apparently wasn't lying, whose experience fits the words that are still etched on Eddie's skin. "….he got tortured?"

Robin doesn't say anything, so after a few moments, he turns to look at her again.

"What's that face you're doing?" she asks, which is rich when she's the one looking at him like he's a puzzle she's trying to figure out.

"It's just-" He gestures at Steve in a motion he hopes conveys the sheer fucked up everything. "He was tortured!"

Steve Harrington was tortured, and then he lied and said the others were hurt more, and Eddie didn't want him to be his soulmate because he was one of the popular crowd.

Robin's still staring at him, her brow furrowed, when Dustin's shriek echoes across the clearing.

"This is a stupid idea, Steve!"

Everyone turns to look at them, and Steve throws up his hands. "I would have thought you of all people would agree with me!"

"What, agree with you going to get yourself killed, and all of us with you?" Dustin demands.

Steve rolls his eyes. "A little credit, please? I survived demogorgons and demodogs and Russians and the Mind Flayer and, uh." He pauses. "What're we calling the creepy bats?"

"Demobats," Dustin says with authority, like Steve Harrington talking about demogorgons and the Mind Flayer is nothing out of the ordinary, even though it's definitely messing with Eddie's head.

"Right, demobats," Steve agrees, as though they weren't in the middle of a screaming argument, then promptly picks it back up. "I think I can manage an angry jock!"

Dustin snorts. "Right, like you managed Billy Hargrove?"

The silence that follows that is deafening.

"Dude," Steve says softly. "Too far."

Dustin's expression drops, looking somewhere between chastised and extremely guilty. "You're right, I know, I'm sorry."

Steve jerks his head towards Max and Lucas, an almost imperceptible movement, if Eddie wasn't watching him so closely.

Dustin looks over to them, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry," he calls. "Anger over Steve's stupidity blinded me and made me just as stupid."

There's a pause, then Lucas calls, "Even stupider!"

"Even stupider!" Dustin agrees.

Max rolls her eyes at them, but she doesn't look as stricken anymore. "You're both dumbasses."

Steve's watching her when Eddie turns back to look at him, but he must think that's as good as it's gonna get, because he focuses his attention back on Dustin.

"Anyway, Nancy agrees with me, so we're doing it. This was just a courtesy heads-up."

Eddie glances over at Robin, relieved when he sees her looking over at him in the same way. They share a look that he's pretty sure is mutual exasperation over whatever Steve's thought of that is apparently going to get him killed.

"Hey Dingus!" she calls. "You want to share that with the rest of the class?"

"We're going to talk to Carver and the team," Steve replies. "We can't fight Vecna and avoid them at the same time, not with how hard they're gunning for Eddie."

"What?" Eddie demands, scrambling to push himself to his feet. "No no no no, come on, Wheeler, I thought you agreed that was a terrible idea!"

"That was before we ran into them at War Zone," Nancy says. "Steve's right - Jason isn't going to stop. We have to get him and the others off our backs, or they could ruin the whole thing."

Reluctantly, they all gather in the camper again.

"All right," Steve says, clapping his hands like they're all in kindergarten and ignoring the unimpressed looks everyone gives him. "Game plan."

"We divide into two teams," Nancy picks up, just as serious business as she was when they were plotting to take down Vecna. "Team one stays with the RV and keeps making weapons. Team two heads into town to run surveillance-"

Erica gives an unimpressed huff. "Run surveillance, who needs to run surveillance when you've got me? I was at his last little inspirational production, and I know there's supposed to be another town hall meeting tonight. Two guesses who's going to be there to try to run it again?"

Steve and Nancy exchange a glance.

"All right, team two heads into town to make sure we're at the meeting before Jason gets there," Nancy says.

"So who's on team two?" Dustin asks.

"Me and Nance," Steve replies immediately.

"And me," Erica chimes in.

"And Erica," Steve agrees without hesitation, which makes Nancy give him a funny look.

"Steve is my bitch after our last 'operation' together, and he knows it," Erica says, complete with air quotes around operation.

Steve just shrugs, looking resigned, and - yeah, okay, with what Eddie knows of Erica Sinclair, he'd probably do the same thing.

"No one listened to me last time," Erica adds. "I'm gonna make damn sure they regret that."

Nancy raises her eyebrows, but doesn't protest.

"That's it," Steve finishes. "Maybe Robin or Lucas, if you one of you wants to, but no one else. Sorry guys, but it has to be people that no one would believe would be friends with Eddie."

Which - ouch, but yeah, Steve has a point. Still-

"Buckley?" he asks. Lucas he gets, because Jason and the others must have trusted him to let him in on the initial freak hunt, but Robin?

Robin shoots him a withering glare. "I've played soccer, and I'm in the marching band, did you forget? The band that goes to every one of the basketball team's games and plays for them, the band that you usually disparage in the same breath as the jocks when you do your little table speeches? You think I haven't commiserated with some of the soccer players and cheerleaders about perfectly good lunches crunched under your heels?"

Eddie - doesn't actually know what to say to that. A week ago, he would have jumped all over her for conforming to the school's expectations, pumping up the jocks and riding the coattails of popularity, but - but this isn't a week ago. Monsters are real, people are dying, Eddie's probably going to die, and these people are the only ones who know anything about how to stop it.

This is the party, and he's just been an NPC this whole time.

"Oh," is what he settles on, hating how stupid it makes him sound.

"Hey, those table speeches were cool!" Dustin protests.

"They were obnoxious," Robin says with a sniff.

"They're Eddie," Steve says, and Eddie turns sharply to look at him.

He's rolling his eyes, and he sounds just as fond as he does exasperated, the same tone he's heard him use on the kids when they're being little assholes, and it twists something in his gut at the same time as he makes him want to hide behind his hair.

"It's not a bad thing to rail against primitive social constructs such as popularity," Steve adds.

Eddie - stares at him, his brain screeching to a halt as he attempts to process what Steve Harrington just said to him.

He manages to catch Nancy looking at Steve in a way that's a little bit impressed before Dustin is shouting again.

"Hey!" he yells, slapping Steve on the arm. "I said that to you last summer, you can't just take credit for that!"

Steve slaps at Dustin's hand. "You said I needed to move on from them, you didn't say anything about railing against them!"

"It's the same thing!" Dustin protests.

"Can't you just be happy I listened to you?" Steve asks.

"Oh, for once." Dustin rolls his eyes. "When are you going to realize all of my advice is genius?"

"Again with the ego, man, come on-"

"Boys!" Robin shouts.

The two of them startle, looking over at her with twin expressions somewhere between sheepish and irritated.

Eddie valiantly rallies his brain back into working order. "I still say this plan is stupid. What do you really think's going to happen when you publicly align yourselves with the freak?"

"Oh, we're not going to publicly align ourselves with you," Nancy says.

"We're going to publicly tear Jason down," Steve adds, and there's a gleam in his eye that Eddie hasn't seen since he stalked the halls of Hawkins High with Hagan and Perkins at his side.

So the party splits again.

Nancy, Steve, and Erica head out on their side quest. Robin does end up going with them, though she makes it very clear that she's just there to sit in the back with her hand on the walkie in case things go to shit. Eddie stays with Dustin and Lucas and Max, and tries not to feel -

Well. There's a whole lot he wants to feel. Anger and bitter resentment and fear and self-hatred and outwardly directed hatred and a sick hope and confusing fondness, all tangled up into a messy ball that seem to cancel each other out.

So mostly he tries not to feel exhausted, and tries not to let it bounce too hard the other way into mania. It mostly ends up in him alternating between goofing around with Dustin and obsessively checking over his handy work on his shield.

Eventually, after far too long, the wandering half of the party returns - and even without saying anything, it's clear it was a success. The four of them are so damn pleased at something going right that it seems to be catching, both Dustin and Lucas crowding in and demanding details.

"Jason's a suspect now!" Robin says gleefully.

"He's a person of interest," Nancy corrects. "But it's enough that I don't think he's going to be rallying many people to his cause."

Eddie stares at them, aware his mouth is open and he probably looks flabbergasted, but he can't seem to make himself do anything about that.

"How did you guys manage that?" Dustin asks.

"I told you they were going to regret not listening to me," Erica says, tone just as smug as her face.

"Excuse me," Steve chimes in, in what's clearly supposed to be an imitation of Erica's voice. "But is anyone else going to get to speak at this one, or are the police and the mayor going to let a seventeen year old boy lead a town hall meeting again?"

"Again?" Robin straightens up, jumping on that with all of Nancy's fierce tenacity. "Can you clarify that for the press, Chief Powell? Is Jason Carver involved with the investigation into these murders?"

Nancy bats her eyelashes, lowering her voice and looking as dumb and concerned as possible. "Wait, wasn't Jason dating Chrissy? Now, I may have missed the last meeting, but I've watched every episode of Magnum PI and Miami Vice. Why is the victim's boyfriend leading the investigation? Isn't that, uh, a confliction of interests?"

"Watch what you're implying, Harrington," Erica growls out.

Steve raises both eyebrows. "You about busted in my door looking for my brother and his dumb friends. I just think we all have a right to be concerned about someone who shows violent tendencies to a child being involved like this."

"I saw what that freak did to Patrick!" Erica says, making her voice high and whiny.

"You were at the scene of the third crime?" Robin jumps in, still clearly Nancy. "Was anyone else there who can confirm your version of the events? No? So we only have your report of who was there?"

"Patrick McKinney?" Nancy asks, wrinkling her nose. "Bummer, man, the way people close to you keep dying. Glad I graduated already."

"I remember him when you came to my house," Steve as Erica says. "Wasn't he the one who said you guys were taking things too far? What a coincidence!"

Robin tilts her head, looking like she's trying to remember something. "Didn't Fred write that article about the basketball team and hazing rituals? If I remember right, Jason Carver was the only one he mentioned by name."

Nancy smiles, and it looks - strange, on her face. All haughty and smug, with too many teeth. "Hazing rituals, is that what's going on here? Couldn't hack it with the legacy Billy and I left for you, huh, Carver? Who's next? You're looking for Lucas Sinclair, right, you pissed that he's the one that scored the winning shot when you missed it?"

"And then Tiffany Callahan shouts Chrissy wasn't happy!, and half of the cheerleaders are talking about how she was upset and kept saying she didn't want to talk to Jason about it," Robin says. "Jason looked like he was a second away from lunging over and strangling her, and Tiffany's soulmate got up in his face."

They keep going, tossing pleased little comments back and forth, roping Lucas and Dustin and even Max in, crowing about how Eddie's out of the limelight and -

Part of him wants to stay, well aware that he's literally watching a campaign unfold in real life in front of him, that he could let himself be folded into this strange little party and bask in their jubilance at a quest completed. But the other part of him is just going too much, it's too much.

He steps back, quiet and unseen, until he can duck around the other side of the camper and crouch down. His forearms brace against his knees, head hanging down between them, as he tries to just - to just breathe, not let himself vibrate out of his own skin.

This is turning into the slowest of slowburns omg, but they will get there eventually!

----

Part 9

Taglist (hopefully I got everyone, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Power: a Bloodline x Rhea Ripley fic.

Chapter 11: Joseph & Jonathan

Demi sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands as quiet sobs shook her shoulders. Jonathan and Joseph stood nearby, watching her with a mix of concern and helplessness.

“I just don’t understand,” Demi choked out between sobs, her voice breaking. “What the fuck does he see in her?”

Jonathan moved first, kneeling in front of her and gently pulling her hands away from her face. “Hey, look at me,” he said softly, his tone uncharacteristically tender. “You’re letting her win if you let this eat you up. You know that, right?”

Joseph sat down beside her, his arm draping across her back. “Demi,” he said, his voice low and steady, “Joe’s choices don’t define your worth. You’re better than this, better than her. Don’t let it break you down.”

“But why her?” Demi whispered, her teary eyes darting between the two of them. “She’s everything I’m not, and I don’t get why he even—”

“Stop that,” Jonathan interrupted, his tone sharper now but still filled with care. “Don’t compare yourself to her. She’s not even in the same league as you.”

Joseph nodded in agreement, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re the one who has all of us wrapped around your finger. You’re the one who makes Joe feel something real. Rhea? She’s just… noise.”

Demi sniffled, trying to steady her breathing, but the pain still lingered. “It just hurts so much,” she admitted.

“We know,” Jonathan said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “But you’re not alone in this. We’ve got you, always.”

Joseph leaned closer, his presence solid and reassuring. “Let it out, Demi. Cry, scream, whatever you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

Demi looked between them, their unwavering support grounding her. For the first time since Rhea walked into the house, she felt like she could breathe again.

Demi’s eyes were still red from crying, but there was a glimmer of something else—longing, a need to feel whole again. “Will you please make me feel alive again?” she whispered, her voice fragile yet filled with quiet desperation.

Joseph leaned in first, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder, his hand trailing softly down her arm. “Anything for you,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm.

Jonathan tilted her chin toward him, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck. “Always,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. His hands moved to cradle her face, his thumbs wiping away the remnants of her tears.

Demi closed her eyes, surrendering to the comfort of their touch, their presence grounding her as the pain in her chest began to ease.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Rhea stood by the patio doors, her gaze shifting between Joshua and Joe. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

“What the hell are you even doing here, Rhea?” Joshua finally broke the silence, his voice sharp and filled with anger he barely contained.

Rhea crossed her arms, leaning casually against the doorframe, though her demeanor carried an undercurrent of unease. “I needed to talk to Joe,” she said, her tone even but guarded. “It’s… important.”

Joe’s expression was unreadable, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared her down. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it now,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of the warmth he usually carried when speaking.

Rhea hesitated, glancing at Joshua, who looked like he was ready to pounce. “Not in front of him,” she said, her eyes flickering back to Joe. “It’s private.”

Joshua scoffed, stepping closer to Joe, his body tense. “You think you can just waltz in here like nothing’s wrong? After everything you’ve done?”

Joe raised a hand, signaling for Joshua to hold back. “Enough,” he said, his voice firm. His piercing gaze locked onto Rhea. “Go on, Rhea. Say what you came to say.”

Rhea’s eyes darted briefly toward the hallway, where Demi and the others had disappeared moments ago. “Not here,” she insisted, her voice softening. “Please, Joe.”

Joe studied her for a moment longer before sighing, the weight of the situation clearly pressing on him. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “But this better be worth it.”

Joshua watched as Joe motioned for Rhea to follow him outside, his jaw clenched tight. His fists curled at his sides, the sight of Rhea in their home making his blood boil.

As the patio doors slid shut behind them, Joshua muttered under his breath, “This better not blow up in his face.”

—

Demi had never felt so alive. Joseph’s lips on hers, tasting like the whiskey he had been sipping on all night, and Jonathan’s fingers tracing patterns on her thighs. She hadn’t known what she was missing, but now that she had a taste of it, she couldn’t get enough.

As Joseph kissed Demi and he felt her lean into him, a mix of emotions coursed through him. He was drawn to her fragility, to the way she let herself be vulnerable in front of him and Jonathan. It wasn't just physical-though that was undeniable-it was the way she trusted him, the way she sought comfort and safety in him.

Joseph’s hands roamed over Demi’s body, feeling every curve and dip as if committing them to memory. He trailed his fingers down her spine, causing her to arch into him with a whimper. Jonathan took this opportunity to slip his hand into Demi’s shorts and he began rubbing slow circles on her clit

I won't let her regret it. I'll make her feel alive again, no matter what it takes. Joseph's thoughts turned briefly to the chaos in the other room, to Rhea's sudden appearance. And then there's her. Always lingering, always stirring up trouble. He tightened his jaw. Whatever Rhea's here for, it won't undo what we have now. Demi needs us. She needs me. And I'll be damned if I let anyone take that away.

Demi’s breath hitched as Joseph’s mouth began exploring her mouth as Jonathan continued to tease her pussy. She could feel herself getting wetter with every rub, her hips moving in time with Jonathan’s fingers.

As Jonathan watched Demi between them, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the soft light, he felt something indescribable stir deep inside him. She was raw-beautiful in a way that went beyond her physical allure. There was something profoundly human about her in this moment, stripped of her defenses, laying herself bare before him and Joseph.

Jonathan pulled his fingers away from Demi and Joseph broke the kiss, which incited a whimper from Demi. Joseph pulled off her shirt and Jonathan pulled her shorts down. Both men quickly undressed as Demi braced herself for what was going to happen.

God, she is stunning, Jonathan thought, his gaze lingering on the curve of her cheek as one final tear slipped down. Not just because of her looks, though she was undeniably breathtaking. It was the way she let herself be seen, the way her vulnerability pulled at something primal in him.

“Tell us what you want us to do, Demi..” Jonathan said.

“Make me feel alive again..” She pleaded.

Joseph positioned Demi on top of him and Jonathan got behind Demi. Demi felt Joseph’s dick against her pussy, and she leaned forward to kiss him. Joseph entered her slowly, filling her pussy with his dick. Demi moaned as Joseph began to fuck her slowly, her body shaking with pleasure.

Jonathan could sense her pain even in this state, the cracks in her foundation that she tried so hard to hide from the world. Yet here she was, letting him and Joseph see all of it. She doesn't realize how strong she is. She doesn't see what we see. She's more than the chaos, more than the heartbreak. She's everything, she needs to feel me..

Jonathan reached around Demi and began to rub her clit as Joseph fucked her slowly. Demi felt Jonathan’s dick against her ass, and she leaned her head back to kiss him. Jonathan entered her slowly, completely stretching her out and filling her ass with his dick… so raw and free.

He glanced at Joseph, who was lost in his own world with her, and felt an unspoken understanding pass between them. This wasn't about rivalry or jealousy. This was about her-about giving her the strength she needed to rise again.

Jonathan pressed another kiss to her neck, his voice catching slightly as he whispered, “We've got you." He meant it. In this moment, there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her safe, to make her feel whole again. She's so raw, so real, so hers. And I'm lucky just to be here, to see her like this.

Demi felt both men inside her, and she moaned as they began to fuck her slowly. It wasn’t about how quick they could get her to cum, it was about how powerful they both could get her to cum. Demi leaned her head back to Jonathan’s shoulder as he whispered to her, “Do you love this?”

“Ye… yes… don’t stop..” Demi moaned, feeling every inch of both men inside of her.

Her vulnerability was breathtaking-not weakness, but a raw strength that struck Joseph and Jonathan deeply. Watching her bare her soul like this wasn't something he took lightly. It made them both feel protective and honored, as though they had been entrusted with something sacred.

“Look at how your body is reacting to both of our cocks inside you baby.” Joseph said.

“Keep going!” Demi cried out. Joseph reached up the grasp her breasts as the speed picked up a bit, Demi was so tight, even thought both men knew she had been with Joe and Joshua the past nights, they couldn’t understand how she was still tight, it was almost like trying to put on a glove that was four sizes to small.

How can she look so beautiful even when she's broken? Her dried tear-streaked face wasn't something to pity-it was a reflection of everything she'd been through, everything she'd survived. Joseph couldn't stop staring at her lips, parting slightly but still set in determination to keep this twisted encounter going.

“Do you see how beautiful you are?” Jonathan said as he rested his chin on her shoulder. Demi opened her eyes as she saw her skin glistening with some lovemaking sweat, her chest was slightly red from the experience.

“Ye.. yes…” Demi moaned. Jonathan kissed her neck again and Demi didn’t understand the magnitude of the pleasure levels she was experiencing. Her arousal only grew as Jonathan whispered to her, “Do you love this?”

Demi moaned in response, “Yes.”

She's the glue holding us together, he thought, his fingers tracing absent patterns along her arm. Without her, none of this would make sense. None of us would make sense.

Joseph thought back to all the moments he'd watched her, observed how she moved, how she laughed, how she commanded attention without even trying. Demi wasn't just a part of this dynamic-she was the center of it. She carried them all in different ways, filling spaces none of them even realized were empty until she walked into their lives.

Jonathan sees her fire, her strength. Joshua sees her softness, her vulnerability. Joe sees her loyalty, her submission. And me? He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. / see all of it. Every piece of her. And it's all meant to be ours.

“You were meant to feel like this… you were meant to be ours..” Joseph said as he began to rub Demi’s clit more.

She needs all of us, just as much as we need her, he thought. Jonathan fuels her confidence. Joshua gives her peace. Joe gives her structure. And me... I give her balance. Together, we're everything she could ever need. Everything she deserves.

Demi couldn't help but moan at Joseph's words. She felt her orgasm reaching it’s, her body started tensing up.

She's ours, he thought with certainty. And we're hers. There's no going back now-not for her, not for us. This is how it's meant to be. The four of us, bound to her, bound to each other.

As Joseph watched her body melting into theirs like she belonged there, he felt it more deeply than ever: this wasn't just some fleeting connection. This was permanent. This was home.

"I can't hold it in anymore," Demi moaned.

"Cum for us," Jonathan said, his voice deep and commanding.

Demi let out a loud moan as she came for both men. Her body trembled as she felt her orgasm wash over her. Joseph and Jonathan both groaned as they came inside Demi, filling her up with their cum.

Demi collapsed on top of Joseph, panting heavily. Jonathan leaned down to kiss Demi's shoulder, his dick still inside her.

"That was amazing," Demi whispered, her body still trembling.

"Yes, it was," Joseph said, kissing Demi's forehead.

Jonathan chuckled, "I can't wait to do it again."

—

The waves crashed against the shore as Joe and Rhea stood on the beach, the moonlight casting silver reflections on the water. Rhea's voice was soft but tinged with a sharp edge as she spoke,

"You used to bring me here all the time."

Joe stopped walking, his expression tightening.

"Why are you here, Rhea?"

Rhea smirked faintly, tilting her head. "Are you still mad about me trying to take Joshua?"

Joe's laugh was low and humorless, his arms crossing over his chest. "Joshua's still here, isn't he? And from what I've seen, I think he's moved on to Demi."

Rhea shrugged, her tone turning smug. "Well, I hope Demi's much smarter than she lets on."

Joe's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. "She endured what you endured from Jonathan, and she's still here. She didn't try to convince his twin to run off with her."

Rhea's smirk faltered slightly, but she masked it with a bitter chuckle. "Quite frankly, it's funny how quickly you moved in."

Joe's lips curled into a faint smile, his gaze cold.

"Demi was already in the picture when you tried to come back, Rhea. You were too caught up in your own games to notice."

Joe’s voice was cold, cutting through the tense silence. He looked at Rhea, the frustration from the last few moments still thick in the air. “What do you want, Rhea?” His words were sharp, like a demand, but there was something deeper buried underneath — a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Rhea stood her ground, staring back at him with the same intensity. There was no hint of the carefree, confident woman he remembered — now, she looked almost uncertain, vulnerable in a way he had never seen before.

“I want what’s mine,” she said, her voice steady, though there was an undeniable edge of desperation beneath it.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his patience already wearing thin. “And what exactly is that?” he asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and incredulity.

Rhea’s jaw tightened. She clearly wasn’t going to back down, and for a moment, Joe felt a flicker of something — pity, maybe. But he quickly shoved it aside.

“I want you to look at me the way you used to,” she said, her voice softer now, but still firm. “I want you to remember who I am, what we had. I want you to remember that I belonged to you. I want to know where I stand, Joe.” She paused, her expression slightly strained as she continued. “With you. With all of it.”

Joe felt a cold shiver run through him at her words, but his expression hardened. He had been down this road with her too many times before, and he wasn’t going to be pulled back in.

“Rhea,” he began, his voice low but powerful, “you don’t get to come in here and try to undo everything that’s happened. You made your choice — a long time ago. And it wasn’t me. It wasn’t us.”

She stepped closer, and Joe held his ground, his eyes not leaving hers. “You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to drop everything for you. That’s not how this works.”

Rhea’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. Then, with a sigh, she took another step forward, lowering her voice. “I’m not asking you to drop everything. I just… I need to know if you feel it too. If there’s something still there. I want to know if you can still see me, Joe.”

Joe shook his head, his resolve firming. “Rhea, I’m with Demi now. I’m not doing this with you. I’m not going to throw everything away again just because you can’t let go. You had your chance. You made your choice.”

The words cut deeper than Joe expected, but he stood his ground, unwilling to let her break him again.

There was a beat of silence before Rhea's demeanor shifted. Her confidence wavered, and she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small photograph. She held it out to Joe, her voice quieter now.

"Do you remember the last time we had sex?"

Joe's expression darkened, his patience thinning.

"Not fucking now, Rhea. I’m getting tired of repeating myself so please tell me more clearly this time why the fuck are you here?"

Rhea stepped closer, pushing the picture into his hand. Her voice broke slightly as she said, "It's a boy."

Joe's gaze dropped to the photo, his body stiffening as he processed her words. The sound of the waves faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of his heart.

Rhea stood there, her arms crossed as if bracing herself for his reaction. "Now you know why I'm here," she said softly.

Joe didn't look up, his eyes locked on the photo of the newborn baby as the weight of her revelation settled over him like a storm.

Rhea stood still for a moment, her gaze lingering on him. Then, with a frustrated exhale, she turned away, starting to walk back toward the house where a taxi was still waiting for her. But before she could leave, she paused and said, almost to herself, “I’m not the only one holding on, Joe. Don’t think you’re the only one who still feels the pull.”

Joe didn’t respond. He watched her walk away, her figure disappearing into the night, and for a moment, he felt an emptiness he hadn’t anticipated. But just as quickly, he shook it off. He was done.

[babyrunsforfanfic]

New Years Kiss | s.h.

summary: in which you kiss a stranger on nye

steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings/tags: fluff, meet-cutes at a party, badly written kissing scene, mentions alcohol drinking i mean they meet at a party it happens ok, reader bought a building in hawkins to turn into a bakery but i barely mention it, they share a piece of gum while kissing ok that may gross some of y’all out idk ok just a warning, there’s poteintial for a pt 2

wc: 990ish

•••

you weren’t sure why you even attended tommy hagan’s traditional new year’s eve party. it had been something he’d been throwing before you even moved to hawkins; since the seventh grade according to what his girlfriend, carol perkins, had told you.

you’d only been in the small town of hawkins, indiana for less than a week— literally arriving the day after christmas.

you wanted a fresh start, a clean slate if you will.

so, in all your infinite wisdom- you purchased an empty business space, planning to turn it into a local bakery/coffeeshop. it’d take some work, a lot of work actually- but you were excited.

in any event, moving to hawkins had caused enough of a stir in the local townsfolk that you’d managed your way into hagan’s invite list. which, is how you’d ended up perched on tommy’s patio, a cup of warm beer pressed to your lips.

you took a slow sip, eyes wide as you took in the people outside- all crowding around a radio that was gearing up to start the countdown. several other people were setting up small sparklers, as well as passing out glow sticks to anyone who walked too close.

“hey there,” a soft voice greeted from next to you, and you flinched as you turned your head. a man was grinning at you, in a soft looking red sweater, brown hair swept back. “shit, sorry- did i scare you?”

“no, fuck uh-” you laughed as you shook your head, offering the man a shy smile. “sorry i was a little zoned out there.”

“no worries,” he shrugged, before he nodded shyly to the concrete next to you. “can i join you?”

“yeah, free country ‘n all.” you took another sip of beer, feeling blood rush to the skin of your cheeks as you shook your head. “you from around here?”

“yeah, my whole life.” the man shrugged, sending you a fond-looking smile. you decided up close he was even more attractive, if that was even possible. his eyes were dark, several moles dotted his cheeks and neck, and he kept sweeping back that insufferable hair of his. “you though, you’re definitely not from around here.”

“and why’s that?” you cocked your head before you took another sip of beer, eyebrows raised slightly.

“because i would’ve definitely noticed you.” you let out a nervous giggle as you blinked up at the man, who grinned back down at you, before he leaned into your space and bumped his shoulder against yours. “y’know there’s this saying, on this holiday.”

“oh?” you curiously turned to him, pausing for a moment to sit your cup of beer down. “and what saying is that?”

“COUNTDOWN IS STARTING!” tommy hagan hollered, and you turned just in time to catch carol launching herself at him, and the boy swung her into his arms.

you turned back to the man next to you, cocking your head as he grinned.

“that you should kiss a stranger… for good luck and all.” he’d leaned closer, and you sucked in a sharp breath- his cologne heavy around you. it was strong, masculine, and you watched him pop the gum he had in his mouth.

“oh, is that right?” you murmured, tilting your head slightly- feeling his breath against your own lips. “good luck?”

“mhm,” he hummed, popping his gum again.

“FIVE!”

“well,” your voice was soft, and you let him curl his hand around your cheek. his thumb and pointer directed your face up, while the rest of his fingers curled against the back of your neck. “we can’t break a new year’s tradition, can we?”

“FOUR!”

he grinned at you, and tilted your chin up slightly- before he leaned in closer.

“THREE!”

“no, don’t think we can do that, sweet thing.” his voice was gruffer, and you licked your bottom lip as you blinked up at him.

“TWO!”

“no?” your voice was soft, and the man just grinned wide at you- and it was clear he was no longer nervous about this.

“ONE!”

“hm,” he hummed, before he leaned forward- and connected your lips to his.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

whoever this was; he could fucking kiss.

he had you bowed to his body, hands directing and tugging your face higher so he could kiss you deeper. his tongue lapped at your bottom lip, running along the seam so he could try and pry your lips open. when you relented, his tongue quickly twisted with yours, and you couldn’t help the keen you let out into his mouth.

he chuckled against you, teeth matching with teeth, and you were both suddenly laughing into each other’s mouths. he tilted your face higher then, using the hands he had on your face in a casual force of dominance that caused you to clench your thighs together. his lips were back on yours, softer maybe, but his tongue still slid into your mouth when you relaxed your jaw slightly.

when you pulled back, you had a piece of mint gum in your mouth- and you popped it against your teeth. the man grinned at you as he leaned forward again, pressing a softer kiss to your lips.

“steve, my name’s steve.” steve murmured into your mouth, and you repeated your name back; nodding when he said it back to you.

“steve.” you murmured, and you leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “like it.”

“oh you’re gonna be fun, aren’t you?” steve’s voice was gentle, and you dipped your head in a shy nod, which granted you a soft chuckle that fell from steve’s lips. “yeah?”

“maybe, maybe not.” you shrugged, and steve shook his head fondly as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek.

“god am i looking forward to this fucking year.” was all steve said, and you cocked your head slightly in question.

“what do you mean by that?”

steve responded by pressing his mouth to yours.

[damadisangue]

There is a truth that no one ever tells about becoming gods and monsters. There's a story no one hears - maybe it's because you killed them all, he seems to hear her voice whisper. It has a smell, victory; it tastes like burnt flesh and molten metal. It has a taste, victory; blood, the inconsolable tears of the hero that has lost, dispersing between the last lines of the fairy tale. The dragon ate you whole, Alex had laughed, tilting her head towards her shoulder and watching humanity cry.

Plic.

Wesker turns, breathes in, his monster-god nature has made him more sensitive to everything, the smells sting his nostrils, the sight showing him a living darkness, which moves at his command. "Al." she calls him, and he turns - a Pavlovian reflex. Alex meets his eyes, sleepy and warm - the sheet rolled up at the bottom of the bed, leaving her naked and exposed. He feels her move behind him, then resting her chin on his shoulder and rubbing the tip of her nose on his neck. "Can't you sleep?" A god does not sleep, he would like to answer her, and in the end it would only be the truth - another gift-pledge requested by the Uroboros. Alex seems to catch his answer anyway, following his gaze and staring at the still dark sky - red and orange bursts in the distance, the staunch defense of a dying world. "It's almost finished." she whispers, and if before the Progenitor had made him an apex predator now, with the Uroboros crawling under his skin, around his heart, he can even perceive the small ripples on Alex's skin, the softness of her nipples against his back - the smell of her cunt, a strange mix of his seed and her orgasm. Alex puts her hands on his shoulders, inviting him to turn around - to look at her: naked and pale, the virus has sanctified her, making her white everywhere, except between her thighs, in her eyes, where she is red and alive, pulsating like the frenzy with which they had fucked just before. "It hurts?" she asks, touching his chest — the Ouroboros reaching out towards her, touching and caressing her breasts, her pink and now hard nipples.  "No." he replies, sighing when she touches his new heart everted between his ribs - wonder and shame of a virus that was devouring the world. Alex runs along its blackish veins with her fingertips, focusing on the faint orange luminescence that it emits with every heartbeat - curious, delicate. "Good." is all she tells him, sliding onto him and brushing his cock with her cunt. Wesker inhales sharply, Alex's scent becoming more intense, brutal.

Exciting.

“Fuck me, Al.” she whispers, tracing his lower lip with her thumb and smiling when he bites it, letting blood drips.  "Fuck me, brother." she repeats, opening up to him and inviting him. Wesker lets his hand slide between her thighs, a tentacle curling around her neck, barely squeezing it. Alex moans, Wesker sinks his fingers into her cunt, finding her wet and supple - still soft from his tongue from before. And she is so beautiful that his heart aches for her.  She's beautiful, and she is his; she is while he is deep-knuckles in her, watching her as she arches back and whispers his name - the Ouroboros unfolding like the great and terrible beast that it is.  She is beautiful, and she is finally safe - in his memories he mixes the little girl with the peeled toes of her shiny black shoes and a deep-rooted antipathy for gingerbread men to the woman who had extended a hand to him under the red and white aegis of Umbrella, binding him to a chain worse than love.

Flesh and blood and understanding.

Alex tightens around his fingers, dripping on them - and the world dies while she moans, outside the Tower a silence that finally has the flavor of peace. He flips her over between the tangled sheets, taking her chin between the fingers of the same hand that until a few moments before had been between her thighs and thrusting into her - eliciting a surprised gasp and a moan.  He is hard and it is almost painful the way she bends under him - a body that he had seen fade and thin out year after year.

Nevermore.

Wesker taps his ring finger under her chin, inviting her to look at him - and Alex does, her sclera completely black, her iris a deep red, almost that of a freshly cut artery. And he's so deep inside her — he can almost feel the outline of his cock if he places his hand on her flat, taut abdomen. Alex sketches a half smile and does something that makes her cunt seem even tighter The Uroboros vibrates, the wind coming through the open windows of her loft brings with it snow and ash - between them an orange glow that turns both gold.

Like gods. Or monsters.

Wesker thrusts himself into her, leaning down and kissing her - the virus closing in on them, a black and shiny alcove. In that darkness their names are lost  and they become only desire and need. 

Stunning masterpiece from the lovely @madbedlam

[mychemicalrachel]

Hi! I’m super late to the party, but if you are still taking spicy prompts, I would like to request Jordeclan + 22 Thank you :)

[pwp prompts]

Thanks so much for the prompt, it's perfect for Jordeclan! It turned out a bit longer than I intended, so I hope you like it <3

22. Praise

It started with four simple words that put Declan’s teeth on edge;

"We need to talk."

He wasn't unfamiliar with them, but they weren't something he enjoyed hearing either– especially now, with his hand down the front of Jordan's pants, with her nails pressed into his shoulder, with his mouth on her neck.

"Declan," she swallowed, he could feel it, "I just… I have to be honest with you."

Over the years, a lot of girls had broken up with him. It was kind of inevitable due to the nature of the mask he wore; he lured them in with mystery and charisma and when they realized he had as much depth as a wet piece of cardboard, they left, and he found another girl, and the cycle continued…

But he knew, since the moment Jordan walked into his life, that she was different and he was different with her. When she shifted, he awkwardly extricated his hand from inside her panties and turned to face her.

“The thing is,” she said carefully, unusual since Jordan was not known for doing anything with care. Her reckless nature was something he admired. She pushed a hand through his hair, soothing him, nails scraping against his scalp, biding time to consider her own words. “Well, frankly, the thing is, last time we had sex, I kind of… faked it.”

She bit her lip and watched him process her straightforward statement– simple, and yet anything but.

She faked it. The big It.

“You faked an orgasm?” he asked.

That wasn't what he expected at all. He thought maybe it would've been better if she just dumped him.

Jordan grimaced, managing to look both suitably chastised and unashamed. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Declan leaned subtly away. He wondered how hard he would have to pray for a sinkhole to open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Sex wasn’t a new concept to Declan, though doing it with Jordan was something he was still getting accustomed to. She was so very different from every girl before– energetic and vocal and confident– though he recalled her reaction was familiar: writhing and moaning and coming suddenly with his name on her tongue.

Now that he thought about it, perhaps it was too exaggerated. The idea that she faked that kind of passion made him uneasy. “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”

Jordan reached out, trailing soft fingers and sharp nails over his jaw, down his neck, gripping his shoulders. “Don’t be upset, darling. It wasn’t you, alright? It was your technique.”

Declan wanted to fucking die.

“You just kind of jammed it in there and started jackhammering and it was–” Jordan sighed, “well, it kept going on and on and on–”

“I think I get the point,” Declan interrupted. “Thank you.”

“The reason I’m telling you,” Jordan stressed, her fingers under his chin, “is because I love you and I want you to try again. I want you to do better.”

Right. As if they were talking about a failed exam that Declan could just retake rather than having sex with his girlfriend. The pad of her thumb moved over his cheek where he knew his skin was dark red, flushed with embarrassment and hot with shame. How many other girls he fucked had left his apartment unsatisfied, and he’d never even known?

“We’re still learning each other,” she told him. “This is new to both of us. I want to be open and honest with you about everything, including this.” She kissed him, tender and gentle, sweet and slow, like honey on a summer day.

More than anything, he wanted to make her feel good.

“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth, and he felt more exposed than if he’d actually be naked. “I don't know how–”

“Touch me. Slowly.” She grinned at him, all sharp teeth, and her dark eyes gleamed. “A girl likes a bit of foreplay, you know.”

So he touched her. His hands traveled over her bare stomach, featherlight, almost ticklish, trailing up to the hem of her lacy black bra. He loved the feeling of her, soft and smooth under his palms, delicate and delicious. She leaned forward, capturing his lips, and in the same swift motion, managed to unhook her bra. It fell into his lap. He thought he could spend hours just undressing her, taking his time to explore every inch of her. He wanted to worship her like the goddess she was. He cupped one breast in his hand, kneading it between his fingers.

“Okay, no,” she said, not entirely unkind, but not entirely kind either. “You’re not making bread, Declan. Softer. Tease me a little.”

He stopped kneading her and decided to focus on her nipples instead. He circled one again and again until it hardened into a peak and then he pinched it lightly. Jordan sighed, “Good. That’s good.” Her head tipped back, long brown neck exposed, and the sight of her was tantalizing. “Yes.”

Prompted by her praise, he moved to the other nipple, repeating the motions. Circle, then pinch– hard enough to elicit a gasp. He dipped his head and tested the waters with his tongue, then his teeth when she enjoyed that– nipping, biting. With hands fisted in his hair, holding him close, she breathed, "God, Declan, yes. Good. You’re doing so good."

He worked his way down her body, kissing down her chest, tongue dipping into her navel, taking his time undoing her jeans and pushing them down her long, long legs. When her legs fell open, inviting and sexy, he had to remind himself to take it slow. He wanted to fucking ravish her. Palming himself through his slacks, he breathed, breathed, breathed, until he relaxed.

“Take your time,” Jordan said. She brought one hand to her lips and bit down on a fingernail, anticipation making her fidget or maybe it was her own futile attempt at grounding herself. He mouthed at her thigh, supple flesh against his tongue. He wanted to taste every bit of her, swallowing her down to the very last drop. He kissed the front of her pretty red panties and cast a glance upward to gauge her reaction. With half-lidded eyes, she smirked, tousling his hair. "You're bloody beautiful," she murmured softly. "Like you were made to fit between my thighs."

Declan flushed again, feeling hot all over. He teased, just as she instructed, his teeth scraping against her hips and his hands spread out over the backs of her thighs, her calves, her ass. Pressing his tongue to the wet spot on her underwear, he felt Jordan shiver. 

He wanted to eat her out until she came, and then he wanted to fuck her until he came, too, but now he hesitated. He wanted this to be good for her– better than good. The best she’d ever had. “Tell me,” he said, and his breath was hotter than her skin. “Show me how you want it.”

Without preamble, Jordan tangled her fingers through Declan’s black hair and pushed his face between her legs. The scent of her was overwhelming, muddling every thought in his head until there was nothing left. There was only the smell of her and the taste of her and the sound of her. It pained him to move away enough to get her panties pushed down and then he returned with fervor, like a moth drawn to a flame. His lips circled her clitoris and he sucked hard enough for Jordan to jerk violently beneath him.

“Slow, slow, slow.” she reminded him, panting, pulling his hair so he lightened up, and then she patted his head, sighing, “That’s better.”

She directed him– “to the left” and “use your tongue” and “faster” and “harder”– and was rewarded with praise each time– “so perfect” and “good for me” and “yes, Declan, yes.” It filled him with pleasure to see how she came apart in his mouth, and it was different than before– more real. Her words became indecipherable moans, needy little breaths, and her legs quivered, tightening around his head. Her fingers pulled his hair while simultaneously pushing him closer, his face buried so deep he couldn’t breathe and he didn’t even care. He would gladly die here, drowned in her slick.

Her hips rocked when she came, a pitched whine catching in her throat. He licked between her soft folds, kissing her clit, savoring the taste of her. It was addictive, delicious. He wanted to keep going, maybe coax another orgasm or two out of her, but Jordan tugged on his hair again, dragging him up her body to kiss him hard. Her tongue dove into his mouth like she was attempting to steal her pleasure back. Hands roamed over Declan’s body– he’d forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that he had one of those, and now it ached with desire. He wanted Jordan, all of her, however she would have him.

Climbing into his lap, she ground down against him. The juxtaposition of her, bare and raw, rutting shamelessly against Declan’s still clothed cock made him feel like he was going to explode.

“Jordan,” he said, arms wound around her waist, “please.”

She kissed her way down his neck, tugging his earlobe between her teeth, and he shuddered. “You've done so well," she praised. "I'm going to fuck you now, but you’re not to come until I say. Understand?”

God, he needed to come right the fuck now. Somehow, through sheer force of will, he refrained. He nodded, a jerky motion that shook them both. “Please,” he said, and then more emphatically, “Jordan, please.”

She smiled, pleased, before her fingers trailed down his neck and finally, blissfully, slipped into his pants. He gripped her tight, tighter, and her voice was only a sigh, but it echoed through him, better than any fucking orgasm, when she said, “Good boy.”

[softersinned]

@xfindingtrouble said: ❛  please ,  please ,  please -  ❜ from percy :)

He's perfect like this.

Her grip on his jaw is firm, almost unforgiving, and she keeps his face turned towards her. Everything about him, from the uneven flush in his cheeks to that kiss-reddened mouth, inspires the sort of awe she'd once thought she'd outgrown. Then again, he always does that, doesn't he? Creates such an honest, unexpected wonder? Astoria's eyes are hungry as they sweep across his face, and she bows her head, presses an almost reverent kiss to the flutter of his pulse in his throat.

"I love you like this," she says softly, voice muffled against their neck, lips dragging over their skin. It's hardly news—she loves them any way she can have them, though this is, admittedly, something special—but she says it with all the honest fervor of the first time she admired them. "Watching you come undone for me. I can never get enough of it." Another kiss, this time to the corner of their jaw, barely an inch from the iron grip of her fingers. "I could spend my next century watching you and still want more. Look at me, sweet thing."

She lifts her head so she can meet his eyes. Beneath her, Percy is unraveling, and he brings his fevered gaze to meet hers, and Astoria's lips curl up in an impossibly fond, entirely indulgent smile. (It's the one way in which she will always, always fail him: no matter how hard, how cruel he asks her to be, she cannot keep herself from looking at him like this.) He opens his mouth to speak, and she moves the hand at his jaw only enough to let one of her fingers fall past his parted lips, brushing over his front teeth.

"I'll tell you when you can speak," she says, rather adoringly, loosening her grip only enough for him to nod in understanding. There is something to be said for commanding his silence—not that she isn't perpetually enchanted by the sound of his voice, but simply that she likes to know she can exert such consistent control. Fuck, but his eyes are the most beautiful shade of green. She always thinks she knows this, and then she looks at him and she loses her focus again. Just like that stunning curve of his lower lip, the breathtaking angles of his jaw—

Years, decades of learning absolute control mean that she's able to move only as much as she'd like. Her bent legs bracket his hips, and she hovers just above him, careful not to lower herself too far, her heels digging gently into his thighs to keep him from arching up to meet her. The hand not at his jaw is settled over his sternum, though she lifts it now to give him room to move.

"Up, my love," she instructs. "On your elbows." Percy complies at once, pushing themselves up at an angle she knows they can't keep indefinitely. She releases them and leans forward, reaches to pull the pillows down to their shoulders to help keep them comfortable so she can take her time. Her hands card through their hair, fingers tangling in the silver strands, and she tugs lightly, just enough to make their eyes widen and prompt a sharp intake of breath. The rest of her body doesn't move.

"Gods," she breathes, "but you are beautiful. You are so beautiful." And he is. Astoria is utterly enraptured by the hint of a wrinkle beginning between his eyebrows from the persistence of his thoughtful frown, as much as by the promise of laughter lines around his mouth. She has memorized the location and shape of each scar, has learned the landscape of his body a hundred times over now with her fingers, her lips, her teeth, her tongue. "So perfect for me. My sweet love. The whole of my heart. You have been so good for me tonight."

One of her hands moves to his chin, and she drags the pad of her thumb gently along his lower lip. She presses her heels harder against his thighs; she thinks she might leave bruises there. "Speak," she instructs warmly. "Tell me who I belong to."

"Me." The answer comes readily. They know exactly what she wants to hear. "You belong to me. You're mine."

"That's right. I'm yours. I am yours, unconditionally and entirely. I spent a hundred years waiting for you without even knowing who you were, and every second was worth it, to have you here with me. To have you like this. I would have waited a thousand to have you here." He flushes a beautiful pink with pleasure at that, and Astoria leans forward, presses her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss. "And who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Yes." She releases his chin, curls her hand very gently around his throat. She feels the tension in his arms, his thighs; he wants so badly to move, to wrap his hands around her hips and pull her closer, closer, closer, but he refrains, waits for instruction. "You are mine. You're so precious to me." Her free hand moves, and she pushes her hair back, only for it to fall around them in a curtain of waves, as if to block out the rest of the world. "You mean more to me than anything or anyone. Oh, Percy." She kisses him again, and again. "My Percy. You've been so good for me. You're always so good for me. Tell me what you want, beloved."

He tries to speak, and he can't quite manage it; Astoria takes mercy on him. Another night, she'd tease, she'd torment, make him speak if he could, but she's as desperate for him as he is for her, now.

"Do you want me to touch you?" He nods. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

They find their voice this time. "Yes."

She releases him, lifts her head. "I'll do anything for you," she breathes. "I'll give you everything you want. Everything. Say it for me. Beg me."

"Please. Please."

"Sit up. Fuck." She lowers herself just barely as he follows her instructions, but still not enough. He lets out a desperate whine that very nearly breaks her. She's aching for him, wet and needy and clinging desperately to the ever-thinning last threads of her self control. "Fuck. I love you. I love you so much. My perfect darling. My sweet perfect darling. I love to hear you beg for me."

Percy's arms wind around her, his hands at her back, his fingernails digging into her skin at her shoulders. "Please," he practically whimpers, and she leans forward to kiss him again, as if even a moment with so little distance between them is intolerable. "Please, please, please—"

"So beautiful," she murmurs. "So beautiful, and mine. Only mine. Do you have any idea how much I adore you?"

"Yes," he says at once, his voice vehement, his expression fierce, and somehow, she loves him more for it.

"Keep your eyes on me," she instructs, her own voice nearing a whine. "I want to watch you come for me. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"My beautiful love," she whispers against his mouth, "so good for me, so perfect, always so perfect, and mine. You're so good for me." Slowly, tortuously slowly, she lowers herself onto him. "Fuck. Fuck. I love you." She could say it a thousand times, and still need to tell him again. "Tell me what you want, darling. Tell me exactly what you want."

They hold her so close, so tight she almost thinks they want to climb into her chest, settle within her rib cage. When they ask her to bite them, voice breathless and uneven, her skin breaking under their fingernails, she sinks her teeth into the scarred flesh of his throat. His blood is richer than any wine, sweeter than honey, and she only takes enough that he'll taste a hint of copper on her lips and tongue when she lifts her head and kisses him.

He comes undone beneath her, chest heaving, hips stuttering in their movements, and all the greatest artworks of the centuries can't compare to the shape of their parted lips and the mess of their hair and the desperate need in their eyes as they pull her closer, closer still.

[matriarchjojo]

───𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

B. KEISUKE, H. KAZUTORA + BIMBO!READER

18+, threesome, horny bois, brat taming, choking, begging, body worshipping, praise, oral, possessive behavior, mutual masturbation

your best friends both had a big crush on you, you knew about because they would joke about it a lot, but after some time they became more needy and possessive, and since you love their friendship and don't want it to break just because of them wanting to fuck you, so you thought it'd be a great idea to try out a threesome!

All chars are over 18 ⊹ reader's skin color is not mentioned ⊹ mdni

The three of you were sitting on the comfy couch of your shared home and cuddled, baji had his arm around you while leaning his big frame against you, and kazutora was lying down on your soft thighs. it was already nightime, and you were watching another horror movie. And every time you would jump at a shitty jumpscare, they would laugh at you.

So mean.

Baji scooted closer to you and started playing with your hair completely forgetting the movie as he was looking at you, waiting for you to look back at him. When you did he smiled at you and you happily gave him a little peck on the lips, it was normal for you three to kiss but they would always try to turn your little kisses into whole make-outs..until the third party stops it.

Baji pulled you back in by turning your head back to him with the arm around your neck and started to kiss you de But before he could slip his tongue in your mouth, kazutora complained, "Stop trying to make out with my future wife." He sat up, sliding his hand around your waist and pulling you towards him.

Baji laughed. "Ha! your future wife? Keep dreamin' Tora, this woman needs a real man to take care of her needs"

you already felt an argument coming and rolled your eyes "oh shut up, you couldn't even make her cum if your life depended on it" tora snapped back, and baji got irritated as his ego got hurt.

"Look who's talking! Ya never even had a single fucking girlfriend!"

You knew you couldn't really do anything to make them stop arguing, but what you do know is that they're sexually frustrated that's for sure, you would know if they would have sex, and they didn't.

you knew they jerked off every single night, though. The walls are paper thin, and your room is in between theirs, so you could hear their groans, and sometimes you would hear them moan out your name.

You wouldn't bring it up, though. But that sparked an idea in your empty little head.

"Let's have a threesome!"

You all of a sudden cut their back and forth off, their heads turned to you, and they stared at you in disbelief and silence.

"Wh-what?"

"Huh?"

They both asked,completely baffled. you pouted your lips at them. "I just think that would stop your frustrations.. and you would stop arguing," you said, seeing absolutely nothing weird or inappropriate with it.

Kazutora gulped. "a-are you..serious or are you joking?" Baji looked like he was about to ask the same question. It wasn't uncommon for you to make sexual jokes at all, so the question was more than justified.

"I'm serious, I wouldn't have a problem with it! I love you two, and I want you to be happy!" You smiled and wiggled your feet happily. "Do ya really want that?" Tora and baji came closer to you and tora placed his hands on your shoulders while baji turned your face to him with his thumb on your chin and Index finger under it, you blushed a little bit and nodded.

Baji immediately placed his lips back onto yours and slipped his tongue in, while kazutora was kissing along your collar bones and neck "mhh" you whined, as baji's tongue was slowly gliding against yours, and sometimes he would softly suck on your tongue.

You pulled your head back and broke the kiss, making both of them look at you "le-let's go to my bedroom first.."

—

All of you three were laying on the bed in your underwear, you could see the outline of their hard cocks in their boxers, both of them were pretty big from what you could see. Kazutora opened his bun and let his pretty hair fall onto his shoulders, baji did the same and pulled his hair Band holding his low ponytail out of his long hair, letting his Black locks fall onto his toned chest. Baji still had his cross necklace and rings on, and honestly..you are not complaining, not at all. He looks hot, both of them look hot. you three all looked away from each other awkwardly until you spoke up

"Should i..undress first?" They saw you in your underwear before but never naked, so this would be exciting. They both mumbled a 'yes' and all of you sat up, you began to unhook your bra and let your tits pop out while the two men watched closely. Kazu bit his lip and baji sighed deeply at the sight of your pretty tits and hard nipples, you lifted your ass and pulled your panty thong down, their cocks twitched when you sat back down with your legs slightly spread so that they could clearly see your little clit between your pussy lips

"F-fuck.." kazutora groaned and felt his hands starting to sweat, while baji ran a hand through his hairline and agreed with Tora "yeah.."

You lifted your hand and bit your thumb nervously. "u-uhm..now you two.." they both didn't waste any time pulling their boxers down slowly and let their cock spring free, you didn't know where to look first!

Bajis cock was thick and long, about 9 inches and some veins running along his shaft and he was uncut, with a little trail of hair from his belly button to a light bush on his pelvis

Tora's cock was on the thicker side too but probably an inch smaller than baji, he was uncut too with one pretty vein decorating his thick cock and different from baji, Tora only had a few stubles on his pelvis.

Your thighs immediately started rubbing together. "Y-you're both really big.." You smiled and got on your elbows and knees to look at them better. The two of them were so horny right now, they could just throw you onto the bed and Start fucking you Till you scream

"Baby.. can you lay down and spread your legs?...wanna.." he gulped "wanna see you play with yourself," Tora asked shyly trying to hide his hard cock under his hands. Baji looked at him from the side and he actually liked his idea. You felt your ears heat up and your pussy throb "okay, Tora"

you replied softly and laid your head on your pillow to spread your legs and let them see the slick pooling between your pretty pussy lips, baji's big hand started caressing your thigh softly "already so wet for us.."

You bit your lip and placed your hand above your chest, Tora started caressing your other thigh and smiled softly down at you "c'mon..show us how you play with your pretty pussy.." he whispered before kissing your knee and squishing your thigh softly

You really liked the special attention the two of them always gave you but now you all of a sudden felt really nervous and flushed.

But you did as they asked you to do and started rubbing slow circles on your clit "ngh~" you whimpered behind your hand and closed your eyes, you suddenly felt your legs being spread further apart, both of the men placed one of your legs on either side of them.

"Fuck, baby..keep goin' yeah?" Baji growled deeply as he began stroking his cock to your cute moaning and you slipping two fingers inside of your needy little hole

Kazu did the same and laid his head on your knee "pretty girl.." The stroking from both of the men and your fingering made wet noises erupt in the room, furthering your arousal. Your fingers weren't enough, you kept almost brushing against your sweet Spot but you never actually hit it, making your whines turn into painful little cries

"C-can't! Need your help..please!" Your teary eyes were begging them more than your words to help you, Tora smiled softly and pulled your fingers out of your twitching cunt "pretty baby needs our help, hm?"

Baji scooted closer to you until his hot and sticky cock was pressed against your plush thigh, he began to rub his middle finger along your wet pussy lips as kazutora rubbed slow circles on your twitching clit.

"Mnghh~ don't tease me!" You wailed, and your hands started gripping the sheets.

"What? No 'please'?" Tora teased and started kissing up from your hip to your tummy, "guess ya don't need it that badly, hm?" Baji purred and slapped his finger against your hole, creating a lewd and wet noise.

They obviously wanted you to beg, but you pouted and refused to give them what they want when it's supposed to be about you right now. You should get what you want!

"No!" You said in a bratty tone, thinking baji and Tora would stop teasing you, but little did you know baji was a brat tamer, so he liked your bratty behavior. Tora knew that about him because he would brag about what kind of girls he put into the submission. It was annoying. But then again, both of them will brag after this that they finally got to fuck the hottest girl in the group.

Baji took ahold of your face, sinking his fingers into your cheeks and making your lips pout more. "Open up, baby." he rasped, dark chocolate eyes looking deep into your wide ones. You furrowed your brows and shook your head.

Baji suddenly stared down at you with a blank expression, his Hand left your face. You thought he was already done but then his hand gripped your throat before his other hand went from your pussy to your face.

"Ah!" A little moan escaped your lips when his hand met your cheek with a loud smack."Ya wanna say that again?" You whimpered and looked up at him with your innocent puppy doe eyes "didn't fuckin' think so. Now open up" he ordered in a deep and raspy tone

You opened your mouth wide for him and his hand lightly smacked you again "lemme see that tongue, dumb bitch" you hesitantly Stuck your tongue out letting a little drool drop onto your chest "good girl." He praised before spitting on your tongue and licking it with his, leading to him and you kissing each other with so much need that he growled into your mouth.

Kazutora felt left out, and so he dipped his head between your legs to lick a wet stripe up from your home to your needy clit, then flicking your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. Leading to you throwing your head back and breaking the kiss with baji, "you're just as a needy bitch as she is, always looking for attention"

Kazutora didn't even deny it and just nodded with him Still sucking on your clit.

"A-ahhh! Nhh~ tora, " the way you moaned out his name was so pretty. It made a little moan escape his throat and his brows knit together in arousal.

Now baji felt a little left out and jealous that the first Name you moaned out Was the one of the needy virgin. His big veiny hand grabbed your hair and slammed you back onto the pillow

"Ya gonna show me how good your mouth feels, baby?" He whispered against your ear, and you nodded. Earning another light smack from the strong and long-haired man "use your fuckin' words." Baji's eyes furrowed down at you to intimidate you more, he fucking hated when the people he slept with didn't talk enough.

"Y-yes!" You stuttered and moaned directly after because Tora slid his tongue all of a sudden in your little hole. "T-t-Tora!" You cried out.

Baji had enough of you keep moaning out kazutora's name and slapped his cock against your lips to catch your attention

Your eyes were immediately locked onto his thick cock in front of your face, his tip was flushed a pretty pink, and precum was oozing out of his slit.

And before it could drip onto the sheets, you stuck your tongue out and licked it up, to then suckle on his tip.

"Mhh..good girl...that's a good girl" he growled and closed his eyes, getting lost in the Feeling of your warm and wet mouth, you slowly ease his cock into your throat "that's it.." he groaned with his hand pushing your head closer to his pelvis, till your nose hit the soft little hairs above his cock.

Tora started sucking on your clit more, making you moan onto baji's throbbing cock.

Tora couldn't take it anymore, he needed to feel your pussy so bad, he sat up and placed his heavy cock on top of your cunt before slapping your clit with it "you gonna let me put it in, baby?"

You couldn't really answer with baji's fat cock in your throat, so you just whined, caged his hips between your thighs, and pushed him tightly against you.

"Guess that's a yes.." he chuckled and slid his sensitive head along your slick and saliva dripping pussy lips "fuck..that's a pretty pussy.."

It was obvious that you loved getting praised, cause after those words left kazutora's lips your pussy twitched against his tip, he could swear he could've came right then and there.

Tora slowly slid his cock through your pretty lips into your warm and slick walls "ohhh fuck..." he ran a hand through his sweaty hairline to swipe his hair out of his face to see your heaving chest and shaking body.

Baji grabbed your hair tighter and groaned deeply while he felt his cock throb as you hollowed your cheeks and let him fuck your throat, the Hand that was holding your head went down to your neck. And as he felt the bulge forming in your throat every time his cock would enter it, he really had to hold himself together to not immediately cum.

"God. I don't think I can let you go after this, baby—nhh.." kazutora hissed as he started to slowly rock his hips back and forth, your pussy felt so fucking amazing, your soft walls were just the right amount of tight, and don't even get him started on how perfectly warm you are.

Kazutoras cock was way too big, and his slow rocking made you feel every inch of him.

Tora looked down to see where you two were connected and saw your pussy suck him in every time he pulled a little bit out "so fuckin' good—ohh.." kazutora couldn't tear his eyes from your pretty pussy while he unconsciously began to thrust faster.

"Mgghhh!!" Your gurgled moan went straight to baji's balls and triggered his orgasm. He couldn't hold it anymore, and so he just came down your throat "oh fuck, fuck..baby.." his moaning and groaning was so deep and sexy, mixed with his hot load trickling down your throat led to you clenching down hard on kazutoras cock.

"F-fuck- mhh..d-don't do that, babe..fuck.." he stuttered cutely. Baji pulled his cock out of your mouth and looked down at your pretty fucked out face with your make up all smudged because of your tears and spit.

"Look at how pretty this dirty bitch is" his hand gripped your cheeks making you look at kazutora who is pounding into your pussy like a puppy in heat "fuck..so pretty.." he leaned in close to you to press his lips onto your spit and precum covered ones, tasting a mix of your and baji's taste

Meanwhile, baji's hand left your cheeks to go down to your pretty clit and circle his index and middle finger on it.

"Mnggh—m-aah!" You cried against kazutora's lips. "m-more! Please!!" The men didn't know who you meant, so both just went harder."A-AHHH!"

It was too much, way too much

And just as you thought it couldn't get even more unbearable, kazutora gripped your throat so tight your eyes started to roll back into your head

All of your words were just mindless babbling and moaning with more spit dripping from your mouth

"So dumb, baby..f-fuck!" Kazutora moaned against your face while baji's fingers circled your clit faster, making your clench harder and squirt a clear white Fluid out of your pussy, onto the bed and tora's cock.

"F-fuck! She just squirted on me, oh my fucking- ugghh.." baji's eyebrows furrowed together as he watched kazutora

"don't you dare cum in her, fucker" Kazu just groaned, thrust harder, and huffed "t-too late- nghh—" you screamed out in pleasure and gripped Tora and baji's hands.

They both laid down and cuddled you, Sandwiching you between both their strong and sweaty chests

"I hope this..wasn't just a one-time thing, though, right?" Tora asked still breathing really heavily, baji snaked his hand around your waist and kissed your cheek "yeah I hope so too, I wanna feel that pretty pussy too tomorrow" Kazu nodded "and I wanna feel your pretty throat~" he looked up at you with his cute and charming smile.

You smiled at both of them and felt your heart melt at how sweet both of them are,

"Only if you two won't argue anymore!" The two of them chuckled, baji kissed your cheek, and Kazu kissed the spot between your tits "we promise, " baji cooed, caressing your cheek.

You know they're probably still gonna argue but not over kissing and spending time with you, now they're gonna argue over who's allowed to nut in you. But you won't mind, you love your boys after all

You just feel bad for chifuyu who has to put up with the two of them bragging about how they finally got to fuck you, but maybe they could just invite for next time.

[dadsbongos]

skipping through a john hughes' movie

8.3K words

warnings - reader has major anxiety (but it’s the 80s so people just call you insane), speedrun friends to enemies to lovers, allusions to children-having but no actual kids or anything

summary - Your Home Economics teacher assigns a project - take care of an egg for a full week and present your report on it. You assumed it would be a solo project, so imagine the surprise when your golden-girl cheerleading ass was paired with Eddie “the freak” Munson. At least your best friend, Chrissy, seems excited for you. ~~

There was one bright side to Ms. Vin’s painfully boring sixth period Home Ec. class, you and Chrissy were designated seat partners since the beginning of the year. Meaning every project - every quilt, dish, quiz, and assignment in the books - was done as a top-tier team. This one, despite being what you’ll assume is a solo project, is no different.

“So, how’re you gonna decorate your egg?” Chrissy grins, setting her chin into her palm, “I was thinking Barbie meets Madonna but on, like, a really bad bender.”

“I dunno, I might just draw whatever I want on it until time’s up,” you pick up one of Chrissy’s sparkly pens, “Mind if I borrow this?”

She shakes her head and beams at you, “Take whatever you want - my pens are your pens, doll face.”

You glare and she giggles.

“Ick,” you uncap the pen and lean back into your chair, taking the violently shiny pink pigment to your skin and doodling a flower over your thumb, “Ick, I say, Chris.”

Meanwhile, Eddie is busy braiding a section of his bangs while Gareth draws on their shared table.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I should do it,” Gareth murmurs.

“Do what?” Eddie pauses, finally realizing his poor friend had actually been talking to him.

“Were you not listening?” Eddie shakes his head, “Jesus. I was saying that my sister wants my egg when we’re done with this whole thing, but I don’t think I should give it to her. She’s just gonna put it under someone’s pillow or some shit.”

Eddie nods solemnly, watching as Ms. Vic begins handing out eggs, “At least you’ll pass, man. Knowing my luck, it’ll slip right outta my hands the second I grab it,” then he points at the table right in front of them - yours and Chrissy’s table, “Only good thing about this being a solo project is I don’t have to worry about fucking up someone’s grade.”

Since the beginning of your senior year, you’ve felt it. The stares. You’ve heard them - the whispers. And it certainly doesn’t help when people like Eddie Munson don’t shy away from mentioning it.

Chrissy side-eyes Eddie and no matter how much she may enjoy his presence, she can’t excuse him now. She lays a hand to your shoulder, “Hey, he’s, like, the only person who talks about it.”

“But everyone thinks it,” you meet Chrissy’s eyes and don’t notice that Ms. Vic is only leaving one egg per table, “Everyone’s just weird around me.”

Everyone except Chrissy.

You were always quiet in the crowd, and that’s mostly because you hate crowds. But it’s also because of the incident last year - being quieter means less people notice you which means less people talk about you which means eventually the incident stops getting brought up. Unless it’s a group as vindictive as Eddie and his band of freaks.

“So, many of you already know what this project is about, but I just want to go over it again. Just in case,” Ms. Vic stands at the front of the room, an empty carton of eggs in one hand and the other beginning to write on the chalkboard, “This will be a paired project, not a solo like I’ve been hearing!” you and Chrissy smile at one another while Eddie and Gareth share a nod (though with a lot of groaning and mumbling from Eddie), “You’ll have one egg to care for from this point until class next Monday. Then, your team will have to present to the class your method of caretaking, why you decorated your egg the way you did, any mishaps and accidents, and so on and so forth. I will then grade your pair by both presentation and how roughed up your egg is.”

She steps away from the board to reveal a list of names. And there’s something hot in your veins, freezing cold on your skin when you see your name.

You pray to God, but He isn’t there - and part of you now thinks He never was.

“These will be the pairs! Go ahead and move to sit by your partner!”

Your jaw drops and there’s a raucous from behind - Eddie laughing, “No fuckin’ way!”

“Mr. Munson,” Ms. Vic snaps, “we don’t use that language in school! I don’t care if you’re older than the other students.”

Eddie merely mutters under his breath while you put your head in your hands, “That felt uncalled for.”

Your name is right there on the chalkboard - right there, right next to Edward Munson in thick, unforgiving white chalk.

MONDAY

Your name is right there on the chalkboard - right there, right next to Edward Munson in thick, unforgiving white chalk.

Chrissy hisses as though your partner stings her and pats your shoulder, “Sorry, girl. Good luck.”

���Easy for you to say,” you groan.

Chrissy got paired with the chess club captain - Corey Watts. A sweetheart who’s the easiest, most agreeable person to work with since a corpse.

There’s a clang and screech and squeak of metal scratching linoleum, and Eddie has finally slammed himself into the seat beside you.

You straighten up and plaster on a grin, “Hi, Munson.”

“Munson?” he pouts and tilts his head, “Aw, c’mon, I know you’re all pissy about this, but don’t be so cold. We’ve gone to the same school together since we were little, I’d say we’re on a first name basis.”

“I feel more comfortable using ‘Munson’,” you grab the egg and hold it softly, “Unless you prefer Edward?”

He retches, holding his stomach, and you hate how you laugh. It’s a little too loud, you think, but Eddie seems to shine under the sound.

“How do you wanna decorate it?” you hold up the fragile egg.

Eddie holds up a pair of scissors from the table’s tin to his head, “What d’ya think, sweets? Wanna give the little tyke his daddy’s hair?”

You gasp and cradle the egg to your chest, “You will do no such thing! That’d be so weird!”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point,” he sets down the scissors and holds out a hand for the egg, “You can pretend it wouldn’t be fun all you want, I know you would’ve laughed.”

“I would’ve gagged when you made the whole room smell like burnt hair,” you point across the classroom to the counter that holds the hot glue guns.

“Fine, what about James Hetfield?” he suggests, kicking his feet up onto the table.

You swat his shin and furrow your brows, “Who the hell is James Hetfield?”

His big eyes widen impossibly further, “Oh my God,” he looks at you like you said the ocean was neon pink, “you’re so out of the loop it’s fucking insane.”

“If he’s from one of your bands then I’m not out of the loop,” you roll your eyes, “It’s just not my thing.”

“Metallica should be everyone’s thing,” he plucks the egg from your grasp, where it was still pressed gently to your chest, “I’ll show you later. Just say ‘yes’ so we don’t have to fight in front of the baby.”

“Fine, fine, but you’re gonna have to do it yourself, ‘cuz I don’t know who James Hetfield is,” you lean forward, resting your cheek on the table, “And you’re gonna show me what? Metallica?”

“Hell yeah,” he says it like you should already know the answer, “you’re missing out, sweetheart.”

“You’re nuts, Munson.”

If he were just a little more comfortable, he’d call you nuts. But Chrissy is burning a hole into the side of his head and even if he doesn’t feel that close to you, she’s his friend (even if it’s secret) and he doesn’t like hurting his friends. So he lets it slide and passes you the egg with the promise to retrieve a couple googly eyes and a hot glue gun.

He makes you glue the eyes on, not that you really trusted Eddie Munson with such a task - he might actually try gluing his hair on if you did.

But you can feel it - his eyes on you. Not your hands, but your face; your tongue between your teeth - a habit for when you’re trying to focus. 

“Why’re you staring, Munson? Last I checked, I’m not the one who reeks of cigarettes,” your eyes draw to his and you grin sardonically, “Gross, by the way.”

Eddie’s twirling a piece of hair in front of his mouth but you can see the way his lips are pulled high - the way his eyes crinkle with the tellings of a smile, “Your teeth are sharp.”

“Huh?” you rear back, laughing half in earnest and half in shock.

“Your canines,” he nudges his head towards yours, “they’re sharp.”

“Yeah, they’re canines! Obviously, they’re gonna be sharp.”

“But they’re sharp like mine,” he lowers his hair and opens his mouth as if you would inspect his teeth, “Two freaks with stupidly sharp canine teeth.”

A couple of people stare following your outburst, but you can’t bring yourself to care much. Not when Eddie’s hunched over, brows scrunched and tongue out in concentration as he now tries coloring the egg in black marker like it’s wearing clothes.

“You should probably take it home,” Eddie hands you the egg and you reach into the pile of yarn he’d gotten for hair, “I don’t trust myself to not lose it.”

“Sure,” you’re a little surprised at how down-to-earth Eddie seems, considering what all your peers had said about him, “and then switch off between classes? Just so one person isn’t doing all the work.”

Clearing a spot on the table, Eddie lays his head down and nods, “I’m fuckin’ exhausted already.”

He’s right. It’s a little too peaceful. Nothing like your usual crowd (not that you’re all too enamored with the loudmouths of your usual crowd).

“I think you should take the egg during lunch no matter what, though,” you hiss when some hot glue touches the pad of your finger and that sends Eddie sitting straight up, “My table’s riddled with jocks, so I think he’ll survive at yours. Just try not to step on him during your table rants.”

“That was only three times,” he huffs jokingly before taking the hand you burned, “Lemme see.”

“It’s fine,” you’re almost tempted to rip your hand away, but more than that - you want him to keep it. His palm is warm and, despite the calluses, feels nice against yours. Weird. 

“Just don’t want our princess hurt,” he releases your hand, “Looks fine. Shouldn’t scar.”

“Yeah, I figure,” the bell rings and you shoot up from your seat, “Uh, sorry- do you mind taking him now? My next hour is taken up by cheer practice.”

“Thought you guys practiced after school,” he’s whining but he holds his hand out for the egg anyway.

“It’s either more practice or regular gym and the regular gym coach scares me.”

Eddie hates to admit it, but the golden girl, golden cheerleader, golden little smile you shoot him would’ve made him agree no matter what.

TUESDAY

“Fiskle is a good partner,” Gareth, weirdly enough, isn’t complaining about a project as he speaks to the lunch table, “Said she’d take care of the egg the whole time, I just have to write up the presentation.”

“I’m not looking forward to taking care of an egg,” Dustin shakes his head, “Sounds nerve-wracking and boring at the same time.”

“It is,” Gareth nudges his head towards the head of their lunch table - to a suspiciously silent DM, “Eddie got paired with the psycho cheerleader.” 

Mike and Dustin glance at each other, confused, then turn to stare at the cheerleaders. 

“Oh, shit,” Jeff laughs at the freshmen, “you guys don’t know.”

“Know what?” Mike tosses up his hands, a brow quirked, “They all look normal.”

“Bland, even,” Dustin agrees.

“People don’t even talk about it that much,” Grant takes a glance at you from his peripheral.

“But why shouldn’t they?” Gareth’s eyes narrow, “‘Cuz why does she get to go around like that and it’s all good, but we just like a game and we’re nutbag cultists?”

“Well, what the fuck happened?” Mike throws a fry at Gareth, “Stop stalling ‘n’ tell us.”

Eddie sighs, loud and heavy, and finally looks up from your shared egg. He can see a smudge of glittery pink pen over the face, and he hates how it makes him think of you. And he hates that every time he thinks of you, he has to justify it - only to himself and only because he isn’t big enough to admit that he finds a cheerleader pretty. Still.

“You want to know the tale of the nutso cheerleader, young paladin?” Eddie looks at Mike, then Dustin, “It’s a harrowing story, not for the faint of heart. Or children.”

“Get on with it,” Mike jeers, throwing yet another fry.

“Get on with it,” Chrissy teases, pinching your arm, “You’re so adorable when you lie to yourself.”

“Shut up,” you huff, “I’m serious, though. Sure, Munson’s not that bad, but it isn’t like we’re gonna be friends.”

She sets you with a pointed look, “It’s totally possible, though.”

“As if.”

“Well, I think it’s for sure,” Chrissy’s eyes fly past you and an impish grin raises to her lips, “His little minions are staring at you pretty hardcore.”

If you hadn’t turned - oh, if only you hadn’t turned - then nobody else would’ve noticed. Andy wouldn’t have noticed and turned to Patrick who turned to Jason Carver.

Jason is Jason and Jason is an asshole, so he stands from his seat and squares his shoulders like he’s really about to fight a pair of freshmen just for looking at cheerleaders. You wouldn’t put it past him, though.

“Jason,” Chrissy whispers, “c’mon, don’t.”

But Jason doesn’t listen well, “What’re you freaks staring at?!”

Immediately, Mike and Dustin go pale - snapping their bodies back into their original position. Eddie’s hands settle on the table, ready to stand.

You reach out and grab Jason by the sleeve, “It’s not a big deal, Carver, just leave them be. They’re kids.”

“They’re old enough to know staring isn’t polite,” Jason’s loud enough for them to hear and you hate seeing how the boys flinch, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they’re planning something.”

“They’re- “ you groan and stand, pushing Jason back by the chest, “It’s fine, Jason. Seriously. Leave them alone. Please.”

Jason is an ass, but he always thinks he’s doing what’s right. Sees himself as a knight in shining armor - little does he know, all the joints are rusting and everyone cowers under his fist. His brows draw and he frowns, “What if they hurt you?”

“They’re kids,” you toss up your hands in exasperation, “I’m fine, Jason. You’re just making a scene.”

Chrissy stands as well, her lithe hands settlinh on her boyfriend’s shoulders, “Yeah, just sit back down and enjoy lunch, okay? They didn’t mean anything by it.”

Jason waits. One second. Five seconds. Ten uncomfortable seconds pass before he relents and takes his seat at the table. You watch Eddie settle back into his seat and you don’t get the same opportunity before the bell suddenly rings.

Hellfire files out of the cafeteria quicker than usual and you can assume why. Jason is hot on their tale, Chrissy hot on his. You meet Eddie at his table and wave. 

He takes up his bag and holds out your egg, “Thank you, sweet princess, for extending your neck in the name of a couple freaks.”

You roll your eyes at his sarcastic tone, “Yeah, okay. I think more people should.”

He agrees. He’s only unwilling to thank you sincerely because while he does appreciate it - it’s what you should do, right? Yes, it’s kind, but there’s that undeniable part of him that grows increasingly bitter about how only Chrissy stood up with you. But it’s easier to play up the part of the freak than be vulnerable with someone like you (a stranger, a cheerleader - same difference).

“Wow, you’re a regular Josie, aren’t you?”

You tense and his eyes anxiously fly to your face, but you’re smiling. Big and bright as you hold the egg carefully.

“You good?” he tilts his head, smile nothing if not mocking.

“Sorry, I’m just…” you giggle, fit with nerves and insecurity, “I loved Josie and the Pussycats - I hated that it ended.”

“Aw,” he pouts and the two of you finally exit the cafeteria, “that must’ve been tragic for you.”

“It was. My little 3-year-old self couldn’t get out of bed. And then when I got older and rewatched it, I was just as inconsolable.”

“Oh? And when’s the last time you watched Ms. Josie and her rock band of the ages?”

“Last week.”

You like his laugh. And his smile. It’s sweeter than what the jocks pull - a whole lot sweeter.

The minute bell rings and Eddie decides to swallow his pride - a consolation prize for Josie and the Pussycats ending.

“Thanks again, I really didn’t feel like getting my ass suspended defending those little shits,” Eddie scratches the side of his nose.

You shrug off the gratitude, “‘s no big deal, Eddie,” he hates the giddy in his chest when his name flows from your mouth, “It’s fine, honestly. You know, everyone thinks I’m, like, some superficial bitch. Or whatever.”

Eddie smiles, cat-that-ate-the-canary and snarky, “Yeah.”

“Oh my God,” you grab his arm and gasp, “I thought you were against the system!”

“I am!” a spark flutters through the arm you’re holding, even under the leather jacket, “Until it proves me right.”

You huff and grin and wave him off. Your cheer skirt flutters as you turn and walk down the hall, but your voice echoes through the walls, 

“Dick!”

The bell for class to begin shrills and Eddie just watches you go. He’s ashamed of falling into the stereotype - but then again, he’s a super senior that deals drugs, so that isn’t actually new, is it?

WEDNESDAY

Five minutes. You’re trying not to freak out. You’re five minutes late. 

Sorry, Chrissy mouths, frowning.

Five minutes ago, you were supposed to meet Eddie at his van so you could take your egg home, and cheer practice was nowhere near done. Despite being captain, Chrissy didn’t really call the shots of when to end practice and you can’t blame her.

None of the girls notice you’re anxiously glancing at the clock every other second, and honestly, if they did, you doubt they would care.

Then, the doors slam open - each girl jumps and attention snaps to the jingling chains and clanking rings that storm through. A circus of boos ring around the gym and Chelsea Rivers even throws a pom-pom at poor Eddie.

But in true Munson fashion, he catches it with the hand not holding your egg and holds it above his head - muttering as if in prayer and tossing it back.

“What’d you do, freak?” Chelsea jumps away from the pom-pom, it tumbles and the tassels just barely brush her sneaker.

“Just some casual demonic ritual, don’t worry about it!” he cheers, blowing a kiss when Chelsea kicks the pom-pom away.

“He’s fucking with you,” you pick up the pom-pom and hand it to Chelsea, then calling to the rest of the squad, “Chill out, girls, he’s here for me!”

Eddie kneels as you approach, presenting the egg as though it’s a prize on a game show.

“Thanks,” you wring your hands, “Uh, practice should be over soon, but I totally get it if you just wanna leave the egg here ‘n’ go.”

“No, no,” he holds the egg to his chest when you try to grab it and sits back on the bleachers, “I will be patient and celebratory of your cheer duties, as I should be.”

“If you insist,” you bow and that’s how you know you’re starting to spend a little too much time with Eddie for the sake of a project, “then I guess I just have to give a proper show.”

Eddie’s loud as he watches you all. Every stunt - back handspring, round-off, pike, tumble - no matter how repeated, earns you a ‘woo!’ and banging on the bleacher. 

“Eddie,” you wave him off, grinning, “Seriously, you’re being distracting.”

“I’m being supportive,” he points to where the egg is now nestled on his bundled-up leather jacket beside him, “Now stop whining and be the mom he can be proud of.”

You flip him off and he gasps, covering the egg’s googly eyes.

Chelsea leans close and while Eddie can’t hear her whispers, he already knows what she’s saying. He’s been down this road and it always leads to the same dead end. She moves away, eyes flickering between you and Eddie and he can’t help but groan.

You pull back from Chelsea, eyes narrowed, “Huh?”

“I said,” she crosses her arms, “is he making you uncomfortable?”

If it were Jason here for Chrissy, nobody would be saying anything. And you’re perplexed until you remember who Eddie is to these people, and you don’t understand how they can think that until you remember you used to believe it, too. Maybe not to the full extent they do, but it isn’t like you ever approached him in the halls.

You were even initially mortified to be working with him, and now you’re giggling at his jests.

Eddie stands and you watch him until you can find your muscles again. You rush to him without responding to Chelsea and you can hear the questions that the other girls are raising behind you.

Maybe if people see how much you actually enjoy being his project partner, they’ll get over themselves.

But the most cynical part of you doubts it.

“Hey,” your hand wraps around his, your lips tugged in a frown and Eddie has to look away lest he be tempted to fix it, “you don’t have to go, y’know?”

The way you’re pouting at him is dangerous. It reminds him of sick, twisted feelings. Reminds him of the stereotype he is - where the freak falls for the cheerleader that’s nice to him. Reminds him of just how badly he wants to kiss you under the bleachers he hides under during pep rallies (‘cuz of course, who wouldn’t? You’re a cheerleader. A gorgeous, competent, kind cheerleader).

It’s dangerous because it’s unreal and it makes him overthink. If he can’t do so much as get the girl, how will any of his other dreams come to fruition?

So Eddie just laughs, “I’m not very welcomed.”

“Well, what if I want you here?” you look down at your white sneakers while he stares - wide-eyed and sweet - at you, “Hate to admit it, Munson, but maybe your hollering is good for something.”

“In that case…” he glances at the lone egg on the bleachers, to your squad, to you. You, sweet and smart and so, so unattainable, “if I must be a cheerleader’s cheerleader, then how could I ever refuse?”

THURSDAY

Ms. Vic’s sixth hour Home Ec. class has gotten more interesting since Eddie’s been your seat partner. 

“Not a single dick on this desk,” Eddie ‘tsk’s and shakes his head, “Shameful. What the hell do you and Cunningham even do over here?”

“We talk, like friends do,” you rub a thumb over the smooth shell of the egg as Ms. Vic passes out a packet to each pair, “Is that what you and Gareth do? Draw dicks all over the table like children?”

Eddie hums and leans over as if to check, “Yep. And demons. Sometimes both at once.”

“Dick demons?”

There’s a lull as Ms. Vic comes by to set down your team’s packet.

When she’s gone, Eddie nods curtly, “Demons’ dicks.”

“Gross,” you open the packet.

It seems straightforward. One column for mishaps. One for cracks. One for shatters.

Obviously your egg hasn’t shattered.

“Check for cracks, please?” you pass the egg to Eddie.

“Just mark whatever you want, it’s not like she’s actually looking at it.”

“No way, if we don’t properly do this and then later she catches us in a lie, we’re…” you shake your head and wave your hands about, “It’s just not gonna happen. I’m not lying on an assignment, Eddie. Now stop whining and inspect the egg.”

“Fine, here you go, sweetheart,” he makes a show of himself, what else is new? He hums and nods and ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, “Yeah, we’re clear.”

“Har, har,” you take the egg to double-check it.

“Oh my God, do you distrust me that much?”

“Yeah.”

“Cold-blooded!” Eddie rocks his head back, “How could you, sweet princess?”

“Easily.”

Gareth watches in terror, only because he’s known Eddie for a long, long time. He’s seen Eddie get crushes and he can tell that the crush he had on you last year is striking again at full force. He’s seen the way light dies a little in Eddie’s eyes when he sees the guys you hang out with - not out of jealousy, but realization. Eddie always gets his hopes up and then remembers how different you two are. How different your circles are. He’s seen the more bold girls come and fuck with Eddie for free weed, and he’s seen how it hurts the poor bastard (not that said poor bastard would ever admit it).

Chrissy, meanwhile, watches in glee because she can see how much you’re enjoying yourself. She likes that you’ve made another friend - an actual friend - outside the circle jerk of jocks and preps. A friend who isn’t judging you for being the “psycho cheerleader”.

FRIDAY

A regional cheer competition was the talk of Hawkins High. Until seventh period, the cheer squad was gone and everyone who actually cared about where they were was overcome with concerns about if they would win. Hawkins had a reputation of flailing last minute when it came to stuff like this and Coach G was increasingly - visibly - sick of it.

Hellfire never cared for that, or at least they didn’t until Eddie was just staring at the jocks’ lunch table for something other than trying to rile them up.

Eddie finds it unrelentingly bizarre how miserable he feels. He hates the ball of muck and tar that’s collected in his chest - sticky and thick and aching. He knows you’ll be back by the end of the day, but that doesn’t mean his stupid heart doesn’t clench at your current absence any less.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

The other guys have noticed it, too. The table is quieter than usual because nobody’s prodding Eddie and he isn’t leaping for interaction either. It’s weird.

Eddie’s not dumb, though. He knows why he misses you. He knows why it stings to see a you-sized gaping hole at the table.

Gareth knows, too, and that only makes him more nervous.

SATURDAY

“I brought the egg,” you pull the fragile thing from your shirt’s front pocket, “Figured you’d wanna see your son.”

“Aren’t you adorable,” Eddie pushes open his trailer door and takes the egg, “Thanks, Mama.”

“Don’t call me that,” you’re hot in the face and your giggle is nervous. You aren’t dumb enough to not know that he’s why.

“Aw, why?” he leans in close, lips wide and teeth on display.

“‘s intimate,” you whisper it like it’ll burn you to be uttered.

“You’re precious,” Eddie nudges his head further into the trailer, “My room’s down here.”

You see a familiar body in the kitchen of the trailer, though; making coffee for his thermos before heading off to a grueling shift at work.

“Hey, Mr. Wayne!”

He turns and waves and that’s enough from such a naturally stoic guy, “Just Wayne, girl, you know that.”

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Eddie holds open his bedroom door for you, eyes fluttering between you and his uncle, “How’d you meet?”

“We’re not friends,” you shrug, “And we just see each other for volunteer work: cleaning up waste ‘n’ stuff. He usually gets stuck with Chrissy and I because he doesn’t bother getting into other teams and nobody likes working with teenagers.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get sweeter.”

Your eyes trail after Eddie as he hurriedly picks up scattered items on his floor. His shirt rises from time to time. Sometimes there’s a peek of the course, dark hair on his tummy that leads to his jeans and sometimes there’s a view of his boxers. You just try to be respectful - eyes slamming to the clock he keeps on his nightstand, then the handcuffs right by his bed.

“Volunteer work is, like, completely mandatory for the cheer squad, Eds.”

He shrugs and pretends his heart didn’t clench at the precious nickname on your tongue, “But you could volunteer anywhere, and you choose waste cleanup.”

“It’s not even that big a deal, we aren’t even doing actual work with the waste, we clean up the aftermath of other cleanups. We’re the just-in-case crew.”

“Still,” he insists, “so cute, I could eat you up.”

“Shush, hush,” you swat at Eddie and step over a twisted, tossed shirt left behind in his bedroom’s doorway, “Anyway, handcuffs?”

Eddie immediately grabs the cuffs and throws them into his overstuffed laundry basket, “You’re delusional. You never saw any handcuffs.”

“I think that’s manipulation,” you pluck the egg from his hands and look around the room. It’s still messy, but you don’t think any other room would fit Eddie, and you don’t think you’d want to be in any room that wasn’t Eddie’s.

Then you see it. Right on his desk. Next to the ashtray and dust-ridden sunglasses that look two-sizes too small for his head.

“Uhh,” you pick up the small blue box and shake it by your head, “had big plans for tonight, Munson?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide at the box of condoms in your hand. You can see endless possibilities in those baby browns - actions, words, every response he has planned. Irreverent denial, acceptance, laughter, joking insistence. But eventually, he settles to square his jaw and his eyes are back to usual.

He nods curtly and folds his arms, “Yes, princess, I brought you to my trailer after saying we should go to your house and then intentionally parade myself for an ass kicking by hooking up with the state’s golden girl.”

“I am not the state’s golden girl,” your nervous breakdown last year soiled such a title for the rest of your life.

“And why not?”

“As if you don’t know what happened.”

He does but he keeps quiet. Shrugs. Throws himself onto his bed and smiles when you kneel on the mattress next to him.

“Who cares? ‘s not like anybody important even talks about it.”

He’s instantly smacked with guilt, but then again, he’s nobody important - not at all. Not until you’re giggling at him.

“Yeah, whatever,” you lay the egg in your lap and watch it tilt, rock, then balance, “Imagine if this was a real baby, it would not be this well off.”

“I dunno, I’d think baby Munson would love watching you practice your, uh,” he blinks up at the ceiling and waves his arms out wide with flair, loose and flimsy, “jumps and kicks.”

“I think baby Munson would get used for football practice by Jason ‘n’ his goons,” you turn to Eddie as he smiles and it brings one out of you, too. You raise a hand and make it look like you’re palming a football, “His soft spot would look gnarly as hell, though.”

You like the way Eddie laughs at your jokes. Your jokes usually fall flat with your friends. 

You once heard that in order to find someone funny, you first have to find them smart enough to be capable of making a joke. And if Eddie’s enjoying himself this much at a simple jab, then he must think you’re some kind of Einstein. Or perhaps he’s just that willing to freely enjoy himself.

Either way, you like it.

SUNDAY

You know that feeling you get when you’re walking up to a group of people and they instantly stop talking, and you know they were talking about you? 

What’s worse than that?

When they don’t see you coming and don’t stop talking.

You can see it in their faces that you weren’t supposed to hear what they were saying, but they shouldn’t have been saying it in the first place.

In a handful of measly minutes, the week leading up to now was smashed and you can only watch Eddie’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. Then it drops into realization.

A handful of minutes ago, you were first walking into Eddie’s trailer to finish up the presentation you two started yesterday. The door was unlocked and you could hear him and his friends in his room - the door was cracked just enough for you to hear them when you got close. Before you get to open the door, you hear your name.

You freeze and the hum of Eddie’s guitar pauses.

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” Gareth tenses, looking between Eddie to Mike and Dustin, “you need to back off your partner,” when all Eddie does is stare like he’d heard the date of his own death, Gareth continues, “I get it, you know, she’s nice and all but come on… you know better than that. She’s a walking hazard sign.”

Eddie looks over to Dustin and Mike - for assurance, support, affirmation, he isn’t completely sure - and they only look away.

Gareth puts up three fingers, “She’s a cheerleader, it’d never work out, your social standings are way too different,” his ring finger goes down, “Even if it did work, you’ll get your ass beat by her family, like, every Tuesday,” his index finger goes down and he’s flipping Eddie off, “She’s completely mental.”

Eddie immediately snaps to attention, body rigid and stiff and hands frozen on his guitar, “She is not mental, Emerson.”

Mike butts in, “I mean… you guys don’t call her the psycho cheerleader for nothing.”

Dustin shrugs, “Not the most intense freakout, but… with all things considered, I don’t know, Eddie.”

He doesn’t know you’re there - silently begging for backup. So he sits back and bites his lip, “Whatever. Fuck you guys.”

Silent defeat.

Silent admission.

His bedroom door creaks as it opens and each head whips around to face you. Egg and papers in one hand, the other wrapped loosely around the knob.

You look defeated, sound defeated, “You what?” your eyes fall to your white sneakers and suddenly the room is just a little too hot, a little too stuffy. Your throat swollen and eyes burning, “I didn’t even think you guys cared about that sort of thing…”

Wasn’t their whole deal about the system being bullshit? 

You could understand when Eddie thought you were like the other cheerleaders before you two actually met, but now it was different. He was still actively using a name that burned you when you thought that you two might actually be able to be friends. Maybe more.

You hate that you ever hoped for more.

You hate that you already miss him.

You kick at the floor of Eddie’s cluttered room, “None of the other cheerleaders even call me that. But yeah, they’re two-faced.”

None of them can gather the courage to so much as look at you, even Eddie - who you thought prided himself on being big and loud and unafraid.

You roll your eyes just to hide the disappointment and tears and you’re trying so hard to sound stern, but there’s no way to keep your voice from shaking, “Here’s the egg. Do the final yourself, and if we fail - it’s your ass, Munson… Might go fuckin’ crazy on you or some shit,” you sniffle and laugh dryly, walking away.

Eddie suddenly finds himself and stands just as he hears you mutter a borderline acidic “stupid dick”.

Not that he can even blame you for saying it. He’s dug his grave and when you’re already driving away and he remembers he doesn’t know where you live - he knows that he must lie in it.

His best option - his only option - is to write a good presentation and apologize like hell at school tomorrow. Maybe you’ll forgive him.

Or maybe he’s doomed.

MONDAY

Eddie managed to catch you right at your locker during zero hour.

“Do you think you can just say whatever you want, Munson?” he rears back, eyes wide. You laugh, bitter and dry and only a little teary-eyed, “You think that just because you’ve been screwed over, that gives you the right to turn your back on someone because they’re a cheerleader. You think we’re all the same and you didn’t bother defending me ‘cuz I’m just another cheerleader to you,” he opens his mouth but you put up a finger to shush him, “I bet the people here aren’t even people in your head, are they? We’re just faceless masses that you lump in with the ones that pick on your friends. It’s bullshit, Eddie.”

“And what? You’re so special because you’re what?” he shouldn’t be talking like this - he should just grit his teeth and bow his head, but you’ve struck a chord and he’s never been good at backing down, “You’re… the quiet one, right? That’s your little calling card. You’re the nice one that can smile and laugh at the freak’s jokes and that makes you better than the others.”

“I didn’t say that,” you snap.

“You didn’t have to,” Eddie’s face is stone cold and it’s more unnerving than the worst horror movie, “I’m not a fucking idiot. That’s your schtick. Your gimmick. You’re the sweet one that even the losers like because she sticks up for them, but we’re not friends, and we never would’ve been.”

He should shut up. He needs to shut up. But right now there’s a burning ball of anger and hatred and it’s all at himself and the jocks and the school that would end you if you two did become friends.

“We could’ve been friends,” you stand tall, but your voice wavers just a little. Just enough for him to know you’re insecure, “We really could’ve.”

“Your friends would eat me alive and mine would eat you,” Eddie has to look away, lest he’s swayed into begging forgiveness on his knees at the sight of your crestfallen face, “It’s better like this. No little cheerleader has to get hurt, and I’m just a good memory with a bad ending. That’s how it would’ve gone anyway, now we’re just skipping to the finale of a John Hughes’ movie.”

Chrissy doesn’t recognize the boy in front of her. This isn’t the Eddie that always made her feel safe. This isn’t the Eddie that was always going to be a friend after high school was done. This isn’t the Eddie she’s proud to know.

“Fine,” you shake your head. There’s something inside you that’s screaming - shouting that this is wrong. Your Eddie wouldn’t say this. He isn’t like this, “Do you really think that, or are you just being pissy?”

“We both know I’m just being pissy,” he’s quiet. It’s odd. You hate it.

Chrissy shakes her head and tugs on your arm, “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

If you two leave now, you’ll actually be two minutes early, but you have no idea how to carry on and you’re sure Eddie doesn’t either. So you leave with nothing more than a “Talk to me when you get your head out of your ass, Munson.”, and he doesn’t follow.

It’s like that for the rest of the day, too. Between classes, when you’re meant to be trading the egg - he initially tried not taking it, but it hadn’t worked. Not at all.

With Chrissy, concerned and tender, you’d leave. One arm looped with your cheer captain’s and the other carefully carrying your egg. And when he returns the egg, it’s nothing different.

Only when you’re sat by each other during sixth period Home Economics does he finally get the chance to speak.

“Alright, yeah, I know,” Eddie sighs and reaches into his metal lunchbox and pulls out two slightly torn pieces of loose leaf, “I fucked up, sweets. I know. I’m sorry, really, I’m sorry. What can I do? Just say the word and I’ll do it - whatever you want.”

You take one of the papers he holds and wrinkle your nose at the resounding stench of weed, “Do you keep drugs in there or something, Munson?”

Without hesitation, he nods, “Yeah. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t think you carried it to class!”

“Never know when an emergency will strike.”

You hate the grin that wants to creep over your face, “You’re an idiot, Edward.”

He grimaces, shaking his head so theatrically, his hair flutters around his shoulders, “I’ll literally let you stab me if you just never call me Edward again.”

“So dramatic,” you swat the boy in the arm and shrug, “And maybe I’ll forgive you, if we ace this presentation,” you hold up your paper and shake it about.

“Then thank God I’m the one who wrote it,” he grumbles.

“I believe in you, Eds,” you punch his shoulder and watch his chest puff up - big and proud.

It deflates as soon as your names are called. Ms. Vic gestures to the floor beside her desk and smiles - kindly and ignorant to the teenage angst festering between you and Eddie.

You clutch the presentation - lips pressed and hands clammy. There’s a burning, aching that lies on your heart - guts entwining and sweat breaking over your skin. Sure, you’re a cheerleader and sure, you’re technically popular, but in no way do you actually enjoy being around throngs of people.

You put up with the pep rallies and the games and the parties and the crowded lunch tables because that’s what’s best for your image. And that’s what’s best for Chrissy’s image. And Chrissy is your best friend and you just want her to be happy and you don’t want her to be stuck with you like you’re stuck in these situations.

Eyes scorch at you and you realize how long you’ve been stalling. God, they must all think you’re a freak. Your knees strike straight and you think you can feel your lunch coming up.

“Uh- “ you clear your throat, shake your head, anything to just rid yourself of this feeling, “The- so…”

Air is short and thin and there’s an overwhelming need to run. You’ve felt like this before. You know it. You deeply know it.

You’ve felt it many times - before every rally and game and party and in front of every single crowd - but only one time has it been this severe.

Last year - second semester, fourth quarter, Mr. Perry’s first hour U.S History class. The second week until the end of school, your parents took you out of Hawkins for a family emergency and just your luck - an exam was taken that day. An exam you couldn’t make up no matter how much you begged and an exam that dropped your A to a C.

When you earned the title of school psycho for flipping your lid on Mr. Perry on the last day of your junior year because you got a C+.

But nobody understood, they really didn’t. It was more. It was different. It was so, so different.

And now you’re practically hyperventilating in front of your classmates and now it isn’t even about the stupid fucking presentation. It’s about knowing that tomorrow you’re gonna get those weird stares and miserable glances. It’s about knowing that no matter what you do and no matter how hard you try - you’ll always be nothing more than Chrissy’s neurotic best friend prone to a nervous breakdown at the slightest sign of danger.

It’s about knowing that Eddie will call you crazy with his stupid friends at his stupid lunch table with his stupid smile and those stupid laughs. 

Ms. Vic leans around to see your eyes clenching shut, head turning down, but before she can - Eddie takes a rather obnoxiously large step in front of you.

He beams at Ms. Vic, hands flying to your shoulders, “A moment.”

She nudges her head towards the classroom door and calls the next group.

Once in the hall, you’ve let the tears fall. You’re crumpling the paper in your hand and nearly wailing, “Oh my God, I- I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie squats down so your downturned gaze is forced to lock with his, “Hey, no,” his hands find yours and he squeezes, rings biting at your palm, “it’s alright. You froze up, so what?”

“I could feel them staring at me,” you sniffle and whimper and hiccup, “I don’t wanna go back in there, I can’t look at them. I can’t do this, Eddie. I fucking hate this.”

This overwhelming dread whenever you’re faced with too many faces and too much judgment. This need to cry and hide and run like a child when you’re overwhelmed. This painful, exhausting, languishing need for people to just like you and be proud that they know you. 

“Goddammit,” you rip your hands away and cover your eyes with your arms, “I wanna go home.”

Eddie waits a moment and you’re convinced he left. He’s better off that way; delivering the presentation alone so that Hawkins’ local nutjob can’t fuck up his last chance to graduate. Then you feel a hand on your cheek, tender and affectionate.

“Wanna look at me, sweets?” you shake your head and keep your eyes down, “Alright, hey, don’t worry about them, baby, you got this. You’re a rockstar here, remember?” your brows furrow and you purse your lips, “Don’t let a couple dorks with eggs stop you from killing this presentation.”

“We’re dorks with an egg,” you mutter. You look away, “Do you think I’m crazy? Like your friends do.”

“No,” he shakes his head, then remembers last night, then gently brushes his thumb over your cheek, “I mean, sure, I dunno anybody else who explodes on teachers or anything, but you’re not crazy. You just do crazy shit sometimes, sweetpea, ‘s totally different. Not even that crazy, just a little odd, maybe.”

You shoot him a disbelieving stare.

“Really, honey, you’re completely fine. Got some cold feet, that’s all. We just go back in there and kick ass, right?”

“It’s gonna be so fucking weird, Eds.”

“Just don’t let it be,” he stands and you hold your head up this time, still clutching the presentation he wrote last night, “Really, I didn’t stay up all last night writing this just for my pretty partner to not read it.”

“Fine,” you jam the toe of your sneaker into the linoleum floor, “Okay. Fine.”

Eddie holds his arms out, “Hug, for my brave knightly duties?”

“Hug,” you meet him in the middle and squeeze your arms around his waist, Eddie’s arms looping around your neck - his lips dangerously close to your forehead, “Thanks, Eds.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You two return inside and Ms. Vic moves aside for you. She mouths a quick ‘are you okay?’ and no, no you aren’t, but you nod and swallow the marble in your throat all the same.

“Hi,” you do your best to appeal to the people who would throw you overboard for a misplaced giggle, “sorry.”

Your eyes flutter to Eddie and he winks. You take his hand and he squeezes yours - a loving three times. 

You keep your eyes on the paper, brows furrowing, “‘We decided to model our egg after James Hetfield, the lead singer of Metallica, and that made it all the more important that we don’t crack it’?” you shoot a quizzical look to Eddie, who only nods excitedly, “‘Our main method of egg-watching was to switch between the two of us during each passing period. That way we could both get the real experience of this project and wouldn’t let one person burden the other.”

Some of Eddie’s words don’t quite make sense where they are. Some of his wording is simply too clunky. A lot of it - most of it, in fact, is misspelled. But you’re slowly forgetting that this is being delivered to a room of other people, and you’re having fun. Weirdly enough.

You’ve had a lot of fun, actually.

Maybe forgiving Eddie won’t be quite as hard as you originally thought. 

Chrissy, as usual, cheers you on the loudest. She cups her hands so her clapping can be heard over the mild applause of everyone else - including Ms. Vic’s. Gareth gives you a thumbs up and you start to think that maybe in another universe, this is the final stretch of a cheesy coming of age movie. Written and directed by John Hughes.

Eddie releases your hand and part of you is terribly embarrassed over how much you miss the warmth of his palm on yours.

You two wander back to your seats as Gareth and Sally are called to present. You feel bad for tuning them out, but it’s forgotten in the way sunshine flits through the window and lays kisses to Eddie’s profile.

He grins suddenly, his eyes catching yours and you look away. There’s a chuckle in his throat and you feel his fingers loop with yours once again. You find the courage to stare at him again and he hasn’t looked away from you yet.

You don’t know where this puts you and Eddie, but you do know that tomorrow shouldn't be boring. No day following today will be boring with Eddie Munson.

There’s stars in his eyes as he watches you. His pretty lips whisper, “Wanna go out?”

You squeeze his hand and nod, earnestly bashful.

Because yeah, maybe going out with Eddie Munson will be a form of social suicide, but it isn’t like your standing was all that great in the first place. Besides, you had more fun this week in the sparse moments with Eddie - and your stupid James Hetfield egg - than you think you’ve ever had at Hawkins before.

[miekasa]

slow hands

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genre and warnings: fluff, some angst? but hardly, levi is the sweetest, please do not mistake his quiet affections for apathy or lovelessness

+ word count: 3k

+ summary: based off of a request about physical affection and acts of service being levi’s love languages—which i agree! i’m so happy you asking about that, i could write essays about how physical touch is important to levi, but instead, i will leave you with this for now lol

i. in crowded spaces (so you don’t get lost, or so he claims)

Levi isn’t particularly fond of the way you like to go shopping in the inner walls. He is, however, fond of you; so he forgoes the prissy upper-class men and overall stingy aura of Wall Sina’s inhabitants just so you can get your favorite kind of bread and fruit.

Today, it seems like everyone and their mother wanted to visit the outdoor markets, despite the scheming merchants and obviously overpriced merchandise. From the crowd to the noise level, none of it is really up Levi’s alley; but he has to admit, watching people fail to successful haggle the price of eggs is immensely amusing to him.

What isn’t amusing is the way you keep stopping in the middle of the square, distracted by anything remotely shiny or with a pleasant smell you come across. Levi stops in his tracks, sensing a lack of your presence behind him; he turns around, and sure enough, you’re standing a few meters away, squinting at the price written above the basket of apples in front of you.

He sighs, trudging back to you, and watching from a step away as you scan over the fruit scrutinizingly. The merchant behind the stand does his best at selling you his product, boasting about how the fruit is fresh and hand-picked, and some other bullshit.

“These look good,” you muse to yourself, picking up a single, red apple in your palm for closer observation, “I could make a pie for the kids later.”

“Ah, pretty and she cooks, what a woman,” the bearded merchant smiles, adjusting his hat as he looks at you.

He only seems to notice Levi’s presence when he pushes forward just a little bit, looking at the apples, bored, then to the man, who speaks to him next, “Can I interest you in a basket, too, sir?”

Levi doesn’t respond with anything but a slight shake of his head, before looking back to you. You’re standing upright now, having placed your sample apple back with the rest, unfazed by Levi standing next to you; like you were completely unaware you’d left him in the first place.

He holds back a scoff. You can be so unaware of your surroundings at times, he honestly thinks it’s a miracle that you make it back from your missions alive. You’re also seemingly unaware of just how many inner wall pigs flirt with you, as you look completely oblivious to the advances of the merchant, who offers you two baskets for the price of one—the only caveat being that you allow him to take you on a date later that evening.

Levi lolls his head to the side, tired eyes gazing at the old man who tries to cut himself a bargain. He knows you’re prepared to give an overly polite and nonchalant response to wave the man off, but Levi doesn’t have time for your pleasantries today. 

Quietly, he reaches for your free hand, lacing your fingers together firmly before pulling you away from the merchant and the stand.

“Levi!” you call for him, borderline whining, “I wasn’t actually going to agree to a date with him, but the apples—”

“There’s a stand a few streets over that Hange claims is better than anything she’s ever eaten,” Levi grumbles, questioning under his breath about where the hell the piece of shit men in the interior get their audacity from, “And you don’t need two baskets. One is enough.”

Levi doesn’t turn your way, so he misses the fond look in your eyes and the small curve to your lips. He does, however, feel the way you wrap your other arm around his, leaning into him gently as to not disturb your stride as you keep walking.

“But I want to have enough to make a pie for the kids, later,” you tell him, slowly rubbing your thumb against the fabric of his blazer.

Levi scoffs audibly this time. “You don’t have to make shit for them.”

“I don’t have to do shit for anyone,” you smile, “But they’re just kids, Levi. Besides, I know you like pie, too, you big baby.”

Levi doesn’t say anything at that, only choosing to flash you an unamused scowl, before pulling you down a smaller, less crowded street.

“Let’s just get the fucking apples and go home,” he says, decidedly, passing by a group of MPs sharing a flask, “I don’t know how much longer I can stay in the interior without snapping some pig’s head off.”

ii. during long meetings

Levi thinks that if Erwin weren’t Commander, he could probably make a living as a pastor with the way he preaches for hours on end.

It’s going on hour two of this long, drawn-out strategy meeting, and Levi knows that he’s not the only one about to lose his fucking marbles. Albeit, he’s much more composed than some other people around the table; he still wants to retire to his office for the evening. Even the mountain of paperwork waiting for him would be more entertaining than this.

Levi listens, admittedly a little more carefully, when you speak up, offering information about the layouts of a small town destroyed on your last expedition, where you’d lost a member of your own squad. Erwin nods, looking back down at his map to take your words into consideration.

Levi looks to his right where you’re seated, notices the guilt flash in your eyes as you think about your last failed expedition. It wasn’t your fault, and you know that; but he knows, more than anyone, how difficult it can be to lose one of your own soldiers.

Quietly, he lifts his teacup with his right hand, and places it down in front of you. He says nothing beyond an almost unnoticeable nod towards the cup once it’s within your reach, before looking back towards Erwin and Armin.

If anyone else seemed to notice his gesture, they don’t make it known. Except for Hange, of course, who flashes him a knowing grin before resuming her conversation.

Levi knows you’ve finished the tea when he feels your hand resting lightly atop his knee, tapping your index and middle fingers against his pants—a silent thank you. In the middle of his own conversation, he doesn’t turn to you or say much other than slipping his right hand on top of yours, loosely curling his fingers between the slits of yours.

His hand stays there for the rest of the meeting, his thumb rubbing slow, unidentifiable patterns into the skin on the back of your hand; an empty teacup, and a mutual gratitude between the two of you.

iii. when you’re working too hard (or for too long)

If not the gigantic humanoid monsters out to swallow you whole, the paperwork is probably the worst part about being a captain in the Survey Corps. Levi would know, having spent countless nights up reading proposals, approving plans, signing documents, filling out death certificates.

It can be grueling work, even if it is, essentially, reading and writing whilst being sat at a desk. And while, sometimes, he can admit that the paperwork is more bearable than his own nightmares; he knows that for you, it holds no such solace.

If anyone thought that Levi worked himself to the bone, they must not have met you. Your meticulous mannerisms and work ethic could almost make him seem sloppy by comparison. It’s not uncommon to find you training yourself or your cadets into the ground, theorizing with Hange and Erwin, or—Levi’s personal least favorite—hunched over your desk, eyes scanning away at stacks of ink-ridden papers.

You must be five or six hours in by now, if he’s calculated correctly. The last time he saw you was around midday, when he’d been watching you spar with Jean. It’s dark out now, the other cadets and soldiers having retired to their rooms for the evening after dinner. 

“You’ll end up a hunchback if you keep this up,” he drawls upon entering your office. He watches as your head snaps up to him; he figured you hadn’t even heard him enter, seeing as you didn’t respond to his knocking. He wonders how it’s possible for you to be so aloof, yet so scrupulous all at once.

Embarrassed, more likely at your lack of awareness than his comment, you push yourself up a little bit, elbows on your desk and fingers crossed. “You’re not exactly one to talk, you know.”

Levi only hums at your jab, inching towards your desk. He likes the way your eyes track his movements as his proximity to you increases, stepping around your desk to stand behind your chair. 

“Sit up,” he orders, voice soft yet firm.

He waits for you to straighten your back, but frowns when you scoot your chair closer to your desk after doing so. He takes it upon himself to move your chair back, ignoring the terrible squeaking of the wood scraping across the floor. Well, at least that was an indication that the floors were clean.

“I can’t write if I’m this far from my desk,” you complain, just as the palms of Levi’s hands make contact with your shoulders.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to write anything,” Levi replies, digging the heels of his hands into your shoulder muscles. This would work better with your shirt off, he muses to himself, but this would have to do.

You open your mouth to protest, but your words fall short on your tongue, an exhale of relief coming out instead as Levi continues to massage your shoulders. Levi can feel you melting into his actions, your body going slack and the knots in your muscles uncoiling themselves. He counts about five minutes in passing before he hears your breath calm, too; the shallow exhales of your overworked body replaced with deep inhalations and extended sighs.

He lightens his movements as his massage comes to and end. The palm of his left hand runs across your throat gently, allowing him to tuck his thumb and index finger under your chin, and tilt your head backwards for you to face him. Levi’s thumb pads against your jaw line as you look up at him, and him back at you. 

Finally, he leans down, his lips making contact with your forehead for a gentle kiss, “You work too hard.”

“I learned from the best,” and just as gently, you reach your arm up and backwards, your palm clumsily finding its way to Levi’s hair, pulling him down, towards your lips this time, “You take such good care of me.”

“Obviously,” Levi mumbles, stealing another kiss between his words, “That’s my job, brat.”

iv. during dinner time

The Mess Hall is among Levi’s least favorite places, for obvious reasons; but he does enjoy sharing a meal with you, and ensuring that you’ve eaten a full serving to sustain yourself.

He can look past Hange and Nanaba’s overly enthusiastic conversations, despite sitting directly across each other, Erwin’s sloppy eating habits, and the overall rowdy atmosphere of the Mess Hall, as long as he has you beside him to numb the pain. Which is why he’s been exceptionally grumpy these past two weeks, as you’ve taken to sitting with some of the younger cadets during dinner time. 

It’s not unusual and it doesn’t surprise him, or anyone really; everyone can see how much they all adore you. Especially Mikasa, strangely enough. Probably because of the way you treat Eren, and how much he and Armin look up to you; and probably because she was your first pick to fill a vacancy in your squad. 

He walks with you across the floor, the both of you holding your own tray of food—a watery soup, some bread, and a piece of fruit as a treat. He knows you won’t finish your soup, and that he’ll have to give you half of his bread to make up for it; but he also knows you’ll slice up your apple for him to eat in exchange.

So Levi is not too happy when he sees Eren waving your way, the clumsy idiot almost hitting Armin in the head from the uncoordinated shaking of his hand. You smile at the younger boy, turning your body to walk towards his table.

Levi, however, stops your stride before it can begin, pulling tactfully at the back of your shirt, and forcing you to turn back around. He pokes at the nape of your neck, gently pushing you forwards, and in the direction of the table where Erwin, Hange, Mike and Moblit are seated.

You seem to get his silent message, flashing Levi a sweet smile before turning to offer Eren a sorry glance as you continue to head in the direction of the table with your colleagues. Levi hums when you start walking again, following closely behind you, and turning back to offer Eren a not-so-sorry, not-so-friendly glare.

Levi was getting his apple sliced for him today, whether the brats liked it or not.

“You know, you should sit with them sometime,” you tell him, breaking his small loaf in half to dip it into your soup, “They admire you a lot.”

“I think they’d shit their pants if shorty even came near their table,” Hange jokes, earning chuckles from some of your colleagues.

Levi says nothing and refrains from rolling his eyes. He could care less about the admiration they hold for him, or for you. If Eren and Amin wanted to spend time with you that badly, then they should train their asses off and make it onto your squad.

“Oi,” you call to him, mocking his voice and tone, “Here, they gave us yellow ones today, I know they’re your favorite.”

Levi shoves you with his elbow affectionately, before taking the slice of apple from your hold. He chews gratefully, heart beating against his chest in admiration as you carefully place the rest of the slices on his tray.

He squeezes your thigh in thanks under the table once you’ve finished slicing both apples for him. Sure, he could do it himself, and sure he could technically see you in your room whenever he wants, but that’s not the point; Levi will be damned if he catches any of those other brats with his apple slices.

v. when you come home

It’s not often that Levi becomes overly worried about your well-being, as backwards and apathetic as it may seem to other people. He trusts you, and knows that you’re stronger than you look—stronger than him, even—and he has no reason to doubt you; you’ve always come back to him.

But now, it’s going on eleven days since your squad was supposed to return from specially designed and assigned mission from Erwin himself, and Levi was beginning to let his nerves get the best of him.

He knows he’s not the only one getting antsy for some kind of message—any kind of sign at all—that you and your men were okay. Two days ago, Hange had pestered Erwin for the greater part of an hour about sending just one more tracking squad to look for yours; Mikasa and Armin hovered around for any news that you had returned, and that you’d brought Eren back unharmed; hell, even Mike had come to check in with him, rocking on his feet, asking Levi if there had been any news from you.

It’s dark out now, the day coming to a close, marking the twelfth night since your estimated return date. Levi sighs, untucking himself from his desk, intent on marching down to Erwin’s office and demanding he let him go look for you.

“You know we have to give it fourteen days, at least,” Erwin sighs.

“That’s a bullshit rule and you know it,” Hange interjects, having burst into the room only seconds after Levi; hung up on your lack of return just as much as he was.

Of course she is—you’re Hange’s closest friend. Not to mention, you’d taken Moblit with you on your mission, setting Hange’s work back significantly without the presence of her valuable second.

“I know,” Erwin nods, “But the first tracking squad found no evidence of any bodies. They’re most likely alive.”

“All of them?” Hange questions, incredulous and hopeful.

“That’s what we hope for,” Erwin responds, voice heavy. He looks to Levi, “She’ll come back. She always does.”

Levi knows that; he knows. But he still can’t shake this feeling. He opens his mouth to refute, when Sasha comes bumbling into Erwin’s office, heaving.

“Commander Erwin, Captain (Y/N)’s squad has just returned!” Sasha squeaks, “No casualties, four in the infirmary now with minor wounds, but nobody’s in critical condition, sir.”

Levi can barely register the young girl’s words, before he’s storming towards the infirmary, desperately searching for your familiar face amongst the soldiers in the cots. He sees Moblit amongst some of your other men and hastily asks him about your whereabouts.

“She had Eren,” Moblit tells him calmly, wincing slightly as a nurse rubs alcohol into the cut along his arm, “I thought she’d take him here—maybe in one of the smaller rooms across the hall?”

Levi nods, grateful, and moves so that Hange can squish Moblit with her affections, heading towards the hallway. He sees just a sliver of light coming from a room two doors down, and he doesn’t hesitate to search for you there.

He all but bursts through the door, relieved to find you tying and cutting a bandage around Eren’s forehead. Levi wants to scold you for taking care of someone else wounds before attending to your own, but he doesn’t have time for that right now.

You stand up straight after you’re finished wrapping Eren’s larger cuts, with barely enough time to register that Levi’s entered the room before he has one hand around your waist, and the other cradling the back of your head.

Levi can feel that he’s knocked the wind out of you, but that doesn’t stop you from slowly wrapping your arms around him to complete the hug. He tucks his head into the juncture of your neck, ignoring the faint scrapes along your skin.

“You’re back,” he hums, holding you a little tighter against him.

Levi feels your laughter reverberate through his own body, as you mirror his hold on you; your right hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, your fingers loosely coiling into his hair.

“Of course I am,” you hum, reveling in Levi’s shallow breaths that tickle your neck, “I’ll always come back to you, Levi.”

[kyosmommy]

Minors DNI

contains: fem reader, mutual pinning, unestablished relationship (roommates), orgasm denial, edging, cheesy plot, even cheesier porn title, squirting, oral (fem receiving), quick mention of porn, mentions of cunt/pussy/bitch

A/N: This is super cheesy and everything Eren says is straight out of bad porn. Like even my writing is straight out of a bad script in a good way I promise. But I had fun writing it so hopefully you have a good time reading it.

“Sup tiny dick”

“Hey sugar tits”

“Really? sugar tits?” he shrugged, continuing to scroll on his phone. “Anyways I came to ask what you want to eat.” Tossing the takeout menu in his general direction.

“Decide while I get my laptop to order. I’m paying.”

He gives an obnoxiously loud hum as he scans through the menu, accompanied by tongue clicks. His head swayed to the awful tune he tried to create.

“God, do you ever shut up?!”

His humming became louder and gained rhythm, switching to an easier song to hum. Leaving the living room, you dig into your sheets trying to find your laptop. Throwing them everywhere. Your room quickly became a child’s dream and a parent's worst nightmare. Choosing to check other parts of your room; you hear him speak. Well or at least try, only to hear a muffled series of words. Not quite making out what he said through the walls.

“what!”

More muffles.

“I swear I’m going to kill him one day” Whispering curses as you rush to find your laptop.

Finally finding it under some laundry you asked again.

“what?”

“I said, what do you think about sharing this!”

He gave you an exaggerated wide eye look as he pointed to the menu with the corner of his phone.

Agreeing that it would be cheaper and it was a meal you liked, you flopped down next to him, moving and getting comfortable. Apparently comfortable to him meant an arm draped over you and his head resting on your shoulder, watching intently as you typed your password.

“HA! I knew your password was just passw-“

His victory celebration was cut short by wails of pleasure. The screen displayed a girl laying on her couch; fluttering cunt stuffed by what he presumed were her boyfriend's fingers. The agonizingly slow pace made her mewl. His hushed voice asking if she felt good. He took a quick glance at the title before you slammed it shut.

Fucking my pretty roommate

Eren never took you as the type of person to watch porn. Especially the cheesy plot kind. Your whole body tensed under him, feeling every muscle tighten and freeze. His silence makes you nervous. What could he possibly be thinking about?

Fucking you right here and now. That’s it. That’s all that he could think about. Pushing you onto the couch and pounding into you until all you can do is scream his name. And with that a plan formulated.

“Is this what you want me to do to you? I bet you think about me when you watch these. So dirty…”

His breath sets your skin on fire. The familiar twang of arousal seeped between your legs just thinking about it.

But he was right. His name always ended up leaving your lips as your hands worked your pussy. Images of him fresh out of the shower, long hair tousled as he dried it. Sweatpants so low you could see the start of his brown colored trail. Sweaty shirts sticking to all the right muscles when he came back from his work outs. You couldn’t help imagining what he would do to you late at night.

He really wasn’t doing any better. Holding back every time you walked out in a plain tank top, no bra, thinking he was in his room. Your nipples poking out the sheer fabric. Or when you bend over as you do your split chores around the house, pretty ass peeking out your shorts. Quickly retreating to his room to fuck his fist wishing it was your hand instead.

Fuck it.

Lifting his chin from your shoulder you gave him a chaste kiss, thumb tracing the outline of his jaw. Testing the waters first, making sure everything you did was ok. He dove right back in. Cupping your cheek and pulling your neck to deepen the kiss, his fingers lightly scratching your nape.

Pulling away after what felt like forever, his eyes scanned your face. Fixated on the way your chest heaved and your swollen lips shined. Shifting down he latched into your neck, mumbling about how pretty you always look.

He continued down your body. Kissing and nipping your chest, paying extra attention to the swell of your breast that peeked out of your shirt. Your back arched off the couch, he took the opportunity to slip off your bottoms leaving you exposed. Swiping a finger over your covered slit he groaned at your wetness. Bringing his finger up to taste you.

“You offered to pay for dinner. But lucky for you, what I want is free.”

“You are such a dork.” As hard as you tried to sound unaffected your voice still came out shaky. Every nibble and kiss he left made you squirm even more.

Chuckling he moved onto the floor. Looking up at you through lidded eyes.

Propping your legs up on the coffee table he settled between your legs. Breath fanning over your half clothed cunt. Giving you one last kiss to your inner thigh he lost his small amount of self control.

Lapping at your cunt he found your hardened clit and sucked hard. Your legs snapped shut around his head, mewling at the sudden pleasure. He thought about holding you down but this is exactly what he dreamed of. Eating you out through your soaked panties, his spit and your wetness mixed together. His desperate hands explored your body, grabbing and squeezing at any plush fat he could.

Burying his face deeper into your inviting cunt when you screamed his name. His hips rutted desperately into nothing trying to calm his own ache. Shuffling closer his hips met the coach, rutting like a bitch in heat. Groaning into your pussy the vibrations made you keen.

Your words became labored and your cunt fluttered insistently. You were close and he could feel it.

“Wait no what are you doing? please m’s close”

“i want you to really enjoy when i finally make you scream my name” He placed a teasing kiss below your belly button.

Minutes passed, he works you up and brought you right back down. Never giving you that sweet release you craved. Panties and shirts long discarded by now.

“Please! Eren baby!”

“Aww look at you even calling me baby. Almost makes me want to let you cum”

“Yes!”

“almost” His voice dripped with wicked playfulness.

He soothes you with soft kitten licks that only make you clench more. Now having access to your budded exposed nipples he could tease you even more.

Completely leaving your neglected cunt he chose to mark up your pretty plush thighs. Small whimpers caused by harsh bites to your sensitive area. So close to where you actually needed him.

After a while of making you beg he decides he’s had his fun. Diving right back in he continued with no mercy. Pleasuring you like a mad man. Using all the tricks he learned. Remembering what made you whine and using it to his advantage. "So needy", he thought with a smile.

Finally pushing you to release he takes you higher and higher until a stream of pure ecstasy coats his face. Screaming his name, your thighs snap shut once again. A chorus of his name and thank you’s fill his ears.

His face plastered with a playful smirk, chin dripping in your release and pretty freckles covered in your cum. Babbles of what he thought were his name. “Do you ever shut up?” His tone mocking your previous words.