#alcohol writing

[ouralcohol]

Ever Mine

Pairing: fem!reader* x Lt. Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Summary: lovers, a bunch of memories put together because alcohol had no plot, just fluff and soft things, domestic adorable life [wc: roughly 4k]

Tags: 18+ explicit, lovers, so much fluff, smut (i tried.. My first time…), nudity, vaginal sex, oral sex (both F receiving), slight choking, daddy kink (we all love a daddy kink), all characters are 18+.

Author’s note: This was for the dicked down December that my dear Abby put together and I only hope I do it justice because to get as someone as spectacular as @withahappyrefrain is absolutely astronomical… love ya bud.

The moments that made you fall even more in love with Robert Floyd.

**

The first time he held your hand was the first time you felt the moonlight shine upon your face. There wasn’t a person in sight, but you honestly didn’t care. It was finally happening. It was all finally happening with him. He took you by the hand as you began to stroll down the street filled with little antique shops after dinner. It had been a while in the making, as you had been a friend since middle school. Robert always returned home regardless of where he was stationed. Sometimes he flew in just to spend a few hours with his parents before heading out again. While he left, you stayed put. You went to college in your town and you decided to become a teacher. Only because the kids were so damn adorable and you knew that in your heart you felt like you could make a difference.

And you were.

So while he was there, you were here, achieving your dream just as much as he. During the first few years he came home almost every time. You hung out and caught up with each other. Things slowly started shifting when you graduated from school as you wanted more. You wanted to continue your studies, but now you were in the classroom. The years took a toll as teaching was no easy feat. There was a reason why summers were needed for the well deserved break. Robert had come home one summer and you decided that that was when you were going to tell him everything. You knew you were. Apparently so did he as he laid it all out on the line. You will never forget the words he spoke to you in that quiet, dimly lit restaurant.

“It’s you, sweet girl. It’s always been you.” He simply said while adjusting his glasses and staring at you with hooded eyes. Sweet girl had been a term he had adopted ever since you both had graduated high school. It was something that you never found to mean something more. Until tonight. Had he felt this way all along? The way the curls of his lips turned into a soft smile while he continued to stare at you waiting for some sort of reciprocation.

You had been preparing a small little speech from the time you found out that he was coming to see you. You had been thinking of a few words to share. It wasn’t a coincidence that you never had any guys when Robert wasn’t around. You kept thinking to yourself that someone else was going to come along, but alas, that was not the case. It was not the case at all and you learned this from the first time that Robert left for deployment. The empty and hollow feeling that was left in your heart because your best friend had gone to pursue his dream was unlike any other. Though, you felt a thousand times better when he came back and your heart did little flips while your stomach felt all warm and bubbly.

“Why now? Why wait until now? Because I was going to tell you something…” You teased him while taking a sip of your ice water, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow. There was a quizzical look on his face which only made you let out a soft laugh. “I’ve thought about it for a long time… and there really isn’t a reason why we shouldn’t be together.” There was a serious tone in his voice which only made you close your thighs together as he had awakened something deep within your core. The glimmer in your eyes could be seen from thousands of miles away as you couldn’t help it anymore and confessed your feelings for him, “You’re weird Bob Floyd. I was planning to tell you that I’ve had feelings for you for a while… you’re my best friend and you always come back here, to me.” There was a finality to your tone meaning that you were not going back now.

Robert’s eyes never left yours as you ate your food, and now you were leaving the restaurant as a couple. A new beginning to your life that you never wanted to end. The butterflies in your stomach were out of control as the beating of your heart was slow and steady, just like Bob was. He was steady and his movements were so calculated. The man knew exactly what he was doing to you, but you didn’t care. He was yours. Now and forever. Robert brought your hands clasped together up to his lips as he whispered, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

**

You will never forget the first time you danced as his wife. The way the lights dimmed only to have the light from the candles that were sitting on the tables filled with guests that were so happy for the both of you. A lot of people saw it coming, you and Bob becoming one together, but you didn’t care. You had gotten to know him as your best friend and the transition to a lover was easier than you had imagined. He was still your best friend, you were just now kissing and doing other ungodly things to him.

When he placed a kiss upon your bare shoulder right before the music started, you couldn’t help but feel as though the world had decided to give you the best gift of all. Your best friend was someone whom you’ve come to rely on as an equal, a lover, a soul mate. Bob begins to sway you in the middle of the dance floor as a sweet and slow melody starts to play. He kisses your bare neck right under your ear before he whispers some sweet nothings, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

A soft smile that had not left your lips for the whole night was on your face. You couldn’t fathom anyone else, nor did you want to. You couldn’t picture anyone else by your side as you looked at Robert in the face, his beautiful crystal eyes staring right into your soul. Suddenly feeling like nobody was in the room and time seemed to slow down just this once for the both of you. The day the Earth stood still for you and him, as if it were made to just be your world for this little slice of life. There was something in the air that night and you never wanted to be awakened from the dream that was Robert Floyd. He was everything that you wanted in someone to call your partner. He was the person that you knew you could fully trust with everything including mind, body, and soul. You leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his lips while whispering, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.” A saying that had carried you both throughout your time apart, now meaning something even more as you danced with your best friend.

**

Being married to him was a dream and more. Robert Floyd knew how to be a damn good husband to you. He knew exactly what to do and what to say to make things better than ever. It had been easy to fall in love with him. You had an inkling that you had always been in love with him since the beginning but never wanted to admit it to yourself. What a fool you were, but how could you not be? Especially when he had opened up to you throughout the years while he barely said a peep to most people. He had opened up his heart without even knowing it, and now you were both here, two years into your marriage and you couldn’t be happier.

It was a good thing that you kept yourself busy with teaching because if you hadn’t, then you would be a sitting duck waiting for your husband to come home. The times he was home though, it was always valuable and you cherished every second of it. He had been able to take some time off during December which allowed you to get the gifts for the children done faster.

Every year you got your students some crayons, a coloring book, a pop it, and a pencil to take with them. It was something that you did as a tradition, you weren’t sure if your students celebrated Christmas or not, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that you did it because you wanted to. Every year, most years, Bob wasn’t home to help you with your task, but this year was special because he was here with you. So of course, Bob was sitting in the living room with all twenty-two bags in front of him. He was going down the line making sure he had put everything in each bag correctly. It was moments like these that made your heart flutter with love for this man. He just flew almost ten hours, with a connecting flight delay, came home, and got to work on what you had asked him to help with. Robert never ceased to amaze you in every way, and just when you thought you finally had him figured out… nope. The Lieutenant had something up his sleeve that would make your heart swoon in other ways.

He wasn’t a man of many words. Bob Floyd only said what he needed to say when he needed to say it. So, while he was helping you put the bags together in the living room, you were in the kitchen baking some fresh cookies. Tomorrow was your last day before the winter break. A time that would be forever cherished with your lover. You had paid no attention to the time, simply enjoying his company, enjoying playing house with him.

There was a soft Christmas tune playing in the background while you prepared the baking sheets. At that moment, everything was perfect. Your hands picked up the sheet as the door to the oven was opened for you to put the cookies to bake. Once you closed the door securely with the cookies inside, you felt a pair of hands on your waist with a pair of lips to go with them at the base of your neck. “My beautiful wife.” He simply said.

“Yes, Mr. Floyd?” You queried while sighing dreamily and letting your body sink into his. “Have I told you lately just how much I love you?” He asked again in a gentle manner. Your eyes closed at the sound of his velvety voice while your head leaned back. “Once or twice, I’m sure.” You teased him. Bob didn’t miss a beat when it came to physical touch and tonight was no different. He began to slowly move to the rhythm of the song that was playing on this soft winter’s night. “Hmmmm.” A sign of content from you as Bob twirled you so you would face him now.

“You are home for me, sweet girl.” The pilot spoke toward you. The emotion that he was conveying from what he was saying made your heart melt into putty as the warmth in your cheeks was evident. You always knew that Bob was special. However, after you had become a couple things had changed, and he opened up more to you than before. You found himself telling you things that he wouldn’t normally tell others, that’s how comfortable you made him.

Your eyes never strayed from him as you continued to dance in your small kitchen, not even paying attention that time was cruel. Time always flew by when he was home with you. “You know, you’re pretty charming when you want to be, but even then, you don’t really have to try, Robbie.” You shared in a soft whisper with him as he continued to sway you in the middle of the kitchen. “I can’t help it. All I know is that you’re everything right now. You’ve always been everything, sweet girl. Thanks for marrying me. I know this part of the gig isn’t easy…” A soft laugh escaped your lips, “that’s stupid. It isn’t but, someone has to and it might as well be me. You’re worth it all, just promise to always come home to me. Or would you prefer we move closer to Top Gun?” A query that had been simmering in your mind like a faucet dripping, constant, never letting you free from the torment of his job and what it all entailed. “You’d do that for me?” His voice sounded surprised as his eyebrows raised to match his tone. “I’d do anything for you Robert Floyd.” You leaned in for a kiss at the corner of his lips as you whispered, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

And that was that.

**

Even though you had moved closer to his base, he was still on deployment. Somehow as the years went by, the deployments were longer which made your home feel a bit emptier than usual. The transition to teaching hadn’t been easy as it was just a different place and therefore you had to learn a new curriculum. The people you worked with were not the same as the ones back home, and it took you a while for them to warm up to you, but you liked them.

They took you in when you felt like you had no one. Technology could only go so far and sometimes it was radio silent for a few weeks before you heard a response from your husband. It didn’t matter though, as you knew deep down in your heart that he would always come home to you. Always.

A surprise happened when you came home one day, not knowing that he had been able to come home early. When you walked through the door you found a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table. That could only mean one thing right? That could only mean that your beloved was here in the house, somewhere. Your heart skipped a beat as you scrambled to find him, thinking to look in your bedroom first. Robert Floyd was laying in bed, mouth slightly agape while his eyes were closed, glasses resting at the bottom of the bridge of his nose. A warm feeling crept inside you as you stared at the sleeping man for a second before walking over quietly and taking his glasses off.

You quickly took off your shoes and walked to the other side of the bed to get in. You didn’t bother undressing as Robert would most certainly do that for you when he woke. You were sure of it. The immediate sinking of the bed caused the pilot to turn and instinctively wrap his arm around your waist, as if it were second nature.

The feeling in your heart grew four times the size as your hand slowly caressed his cheek. With the simple touch you felt that everything was perfect right in this moment. Not because you were together, but because the faintest smile could be seen on Bob’s face as your warm hand touched it. What kind of effect did you have on the man that he subconsciously knew how to react to the simplest of touches from you that even in the essence of dreams he was able to feel you? You liked to think that he was dreaming about you, the skin contact awakening something in your belly, waking up from a slumber.

You didn’t realize how long you laid there with your husband, you didn’t care. Time stopped for a second time in your life as you just stared at him and even wondered how he could be so real. How someone like him could love and cherish someone like you. How he was sacrificing so much so you could be safe, how he had given every part of himself to you to keep while he went away. How everything that you both did in your relationship was for each other. How someone so perfect was made just for you.

The grip on your waist tightened only meaning that he was aware you were there. “Hmmm.” A content sigh left his lips. “Good morning, sleep okay?” You asked him softly as your hand went from his cheek toward his neck to rest on his shoulder. “Hmmm.” He said again, eyes closed still. “I didn’t know you were coming home early… very nice surprise.” You said barely above a whisper as you leaned down to kiss his lips softly. A craving you’d had since he left you last time.

You never tired of Bob’s lips. You never tired of Bob anything if you were honest with yourself. “Yeah?” He said with a low chuckle. “Yes… lieutenant.”

That did things to him as he flipped you so you were under him while he brought his arms next to your face to rest on each side. Robert looked you in the eyes as he whispered, “Do you have any idea just exactly,” he said when planting a kiss on your jaw, “how” another kiss, “beautiful” and another, “you are?” A slight giggle left your lips as you said, “I have an idea, but you might have to show me, daddy.” The last word that said with a hint of a whine to let him know just how much you needed him at that moment. There was no stalling this time, not with how long he had been gone and out of your embrace.

One of Bob’s hands began to travel throughout your body, starting with the top of your head to caress your hair, down to your cheek and your neck, toward your shoulder, on the side of your ribcage and under your blouse his fingers crept making your skin burn with every touch he made. A delicious shiver went down your spine as this had been something that you missed doing with him. Your hands trailed down his back to grab the hem of his shirt. A simple movement and it was discarded on the floor. “Sweet girl, I missed you so much,” he said barely above a whisper. His voice dropped an octave lower as you could tell that Bob wasn’t playing around right now. A lot of times he liked to tease you, but right now he wanted to cherish you and let you know exactly just how much he missed you.

“Lieutenant Floyd…” you audibly gasped out loud for him as all the sensations in your body coursed through you. “Yes, sweet girl?” He asked playfully while taking your shirt off. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, feeling him harden. You looked into his eyes, a silent plea, but knowing Bob, “Tell me.” He said quietly as he attacked your clavicle which caused you to arch your back in response. His hand wandered under the waistband of your pants and on top of the lace fabric of your panties.

You closed your eyes for a split second relishing on what your husband was doing to you, causing you to squeeze him tighter, a whimper leaving you, “please.” You begged. Bob cupped your cheek as you opened your eyes again to see him staring at you, while his other hand went under the fabric and began to rub that sweet spot. A moan was heard. You took matters into your own hands as you untangled yourself from your husband and took the rest of your clothes off. Another chuckle was heard from your husband as you quickly unbuttoned his pants. He stopped you on what you were doing, “no, sweet girl. It’s about you right now…” you frowned, “but I missed you too.” “Don’t worry, you’ll have time to show me, let me take care of you right now.”

Both of you moved back into position as his hand traveled down to the curves of your breast, squeezing the round bud of your nipple until it hardened causing you to arch your back once more and letting out a gasp. His other hand went back to where it was as he began to work on your clit, knowing exactly how much pressure to put on it. The multiple sensations that your body was feeling caused you to squirm a little in protest, “let go, sweet girl. Let go.” Bob demanded by your ear as you closed your eyes once more to focus on what he was doing to you. Sometimes you forgot just how tensed up you could be, but when he spoke those words to you, you began to relax and enjoy the feeling he was giving you. His lips continued to attack your other breast, giving them both equal attention before moving down your abdomen. Hand tracing circles on your side as he continued to rub your clit at an agonizingly slow pace.

You let out a moan, “Daddy.” You said. Bob grunted as his lips left a trail of his saliva to reach what they were looking for. Now, replacing his hands with his lips, you gasped for air, as one of your hands grabbed a handful of hair. Bob Floyd knew exactly how to work you and you had no complaints about it. He slipped a finger inside of you between your folds while continuing his attack making you rock your hips with his face. A content him left his lips as he sucked and licked at your clit. “Bob… I’m so close…” and you were. Your free hand extended out to grab the sheet as Bob knew what you wanted. His free hand pinched your nipple while he continued to pump two fingers inside of you, quickening up the pace as he knew that you were getting close to your climax.

The rocking of your hips became quicker as he licked as fast as he could causing you to let out a loud moan. You reached your orgasm as your body lost control and shook from the ecstasy that your husband had given you. Your hand gripped his hair as he rode your orgasm out before coming to a full stop and going back up to plant a kiss to your lips so you could taste yourself, “so yummy, my sweet girl.” He told you. You could only smile at him as you flipped him over so now he was under you.

“My turn, lieutenant.” You simply stated before attacking his lips while your hands roamed all over his body and down to the buttons of his pants. You unbuttoned them with ease and helped him out of them and his underwear letting his hardened cock be free from the containment. Your hand immediately wrapped around it as you pumped it a few times, causing him to close his eyes in delight, his mouth slightly agape. A smirk formed on your lips as you soon realized he missed you as much as you missed him. A few more pumps and he was squirming with your touch, but you weren’t going to let him off that easy.

You positioned yourself so the tip was at your entrance, “Lieutenant Floyd.” You said in a sultry voice. “Yes ma’am?” He said with eyes still closed, hands around your hips to serve as a guide if needed. “Let me see you.” You responded. Bob opened his eyes the second that you slowly began to sink down on him, your walls getting used to him before beginning to rock your hips while he bucked his. A low hiss escaped his throat as you arched your head back, enjoying the feel of him inside of you.

The pace was slow, slower than most times as you wanted to cherish this time with him. Your hands rested on his forearms while you continued to rock into him, as he bucked his hips making you moan every time he went as deep as he could go.

“Sweet girl…” he said in a raspy voice.

“Yes, daddy?”

The response that met your ears was a grunt, indicating that the pace needed to be quicker. Without hesitation you began to grind faster as you moaned his name. One of his hands crept up to your neck as he closed his hand around enough to were you could still breathe. The pilot knew how much that turned you on, and the waves of pleasure that were going through your body now were enough for a second wave of an orgasm that started to build once again. Bob bucked his hips quicker. The man sat up as his lips attacked your breasts while letting out a loud grunt and moan as he was also nearing his climax, “sweet girl…” you continued to grind your hips as he sucked on your nipple, making you moan louder, “I’m so close, lieutenant,” you managed to say, as Bob commanded, “let go.” The coil in your belly snapped as he hit the right spot in your clit with each thrust he managed to make, with Bob soon following as his movements became more erratic as you both rode your orgasms together.

Bob fell backwards on the bed, with you following on top of him, not wanting to let go of such closeness just yet.

Robert kissed the top of your head as he whispered, “Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours.”

And he truly was ever yours.

a/n: let a girl know what ya thought, reblogs make the world go round!

[bamsara]

More drunken Narilamb shenanigans for a future chapter of my fic: The Rehabilitation of Death.

I know this chapter is far off but I can't stop drawing doodles of ideas and scenes for it aslkfhlksglhf (Also to everyone who's taken a liking to my AU, hi!!!)

part 1 of drunk shenanigans

[rinneverse]

࿐ ♡ ˚ . 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! — 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒊 𝒚𝒖𝒖𝒋𝒊. ˒ ⊹

me and my roommate get drunk one night and end up fucking!!!! oh my god, this is so awkward…

୨ৎ syn. it’s your final year of uni—after midterms come to a close, you decide to celebrate by getting absolutely SMASHED with your roommate, itadori yuuji. much to your chagrin, this decision comes with a boatload of consequences. how do you navigate the awkward morning after with your golden retriever of a roommate!? (4.8k)

୨ৎ pairing. itadori yuuji x f!reader

୨ৎ cw. modern au, fem!reader, both yuuji and reader are in their final year of uni and are implied to be 21+, alcohol mentions, drunk sex, dubious consent (read prev warning), pet names used (baby, pretty, angel), oral (f!receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, dealing w/ the repercussions of fucking your roommate the morning after (but it ended up alot more fluffier and romantic than i intended because i love him), minors + ageless blogs dni! 18+ content under the cut!!

୨ৎ love, oak! oh christ almighty. i like itadori yuuji a normal amount. i just really really think he'd make the perfect boyfriend ever. first time writing for him so hoping and praying he isn’t incredibly ooc but regardless,, hope u guys like this i wrote it with my entire clit :3 crossposted to ao3 here!

[ main m.list! ┊coming soon... ]

“Yuu~ji!”

Your lilting voice carries through the shared living space of your apartment. Shuffling in through the entryway, the door clicks shut behind you as you peer around the corner of the entrance hallway.

“You there? Yu?”

You hear a muted groan come from the couch in response.

Toeing off your shoes with a giggle and setting them onto the shoe-rack (the same shoe-rack you constantly have to pester Yuuji about—”Yu, don’t just leave your shoes on the floor! The rack is right there!”—every other day), you peek over the back of the fluffy couch in the living area and find Yuuji sprawled on his stomach over it, face shoved in a pillow.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Like I’m dying,” comes his muffled reply.

You reach a hand down to tousle his already messy bubblegum pink hair. He weakly bats a hand at you.

“Surely you can live a little longer for a night out with your favorite roommate?”

With a grunt, Yuuji flips over, lying on his back. He blinks once, twice. Then he grins; that familiar, radiant grin that makes your heart speed up a little in your chest. You can feel your own smile widen in response.

“I think I can do that,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. He tilts his head at you. “You’re not gonna pass out on me again though, are you?”

Your eyes narrow slightly in challenge. Bringing your face closer to his by leaning over the couch, you reply snarkily, “and you’re not gonna force me to shoulder you the whole way home again, are you?”

Yuuji’s eyes widen at the new proximity, a faint rosiness rising to his cheeks that makes you giddy. His throat bobs before he replies, “No, promise I won’t.”

You think you see his eyes flick down momentarily—towards the swell of your chest, exposed by the low-cut top you had chosen to wear today—causing a smug sense of satisfaction to pool in your tummy. You lean further, the urge to be a tease winning out over your usual sense: over the notion that you shouldn’t be flirting with the guy you live with. It's entirely a bad idea (and yet here you are, doing it anyways).

Yuuji’s lips part slightly; when he meets your gaze again, there’s hunger shining in his big brown eyes, hazy and diluted by conflict. You can see the inner strife going on in his head already: he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his roommate. He shouldn’t be a perv.

You shouldn’t be feeling this way about him either, but you just can’t help yourself. Something about the way he’s looking at you fills you with a streak of confidence that throws all common sense out of the window.

“Good. Be ready at 7?” Your tone has noticeably lowered, nearly a purr even as you smile innocently down at him.

Yuuji swallows again, still looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Sure—okay. Sounds good!” He babbles nervously.

It’s cute. He’s cute.

“Cool. ‘m gonna get a nap in then.”

He nods his head slowly. The tension hovers in the air between you, so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Slowly, ever so slowly, you straighten, watching as his eyes never leave your form. You bite your lip and offer Yuuji a softer smile before you turn on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.

You can feel the way his eyes bore holes into your back as you walk away, skirt swishing with every step. You purposefully sway your hips a little more despite yourself and you think you hear him choke slightly, a sound that makes you feel much more smug than it realistically should.

As you close the door to your bedroom, the only thing on your mind isn’t how tired you are from dealing with midterms—it’s how Yuuji looked at you just moments ago, eyes gleaming with raw want, like you were a five star meal served on a silver platter. You clutch your chest as you flop onto your bed.

There’s always been an underlying tension between you and Yuuji. It used to be easier to ignore, something left tucked away in the corners of your mind, leaving you to instead settle for an easy friendship. Something that doesn’t complicate things, especially since you live together. There’s no avoiding any awkward encounters should either of you decide to take that step.

But lately, things have been coming to a boiling point. You’re not sure if it’s the stress of your final year of uni dawning upon you or if its just years of tension finally being pulled taut enough to snap—whatever it is, it has muddled your senses enough to find flirting with Yuuji fun instead of something forbidden. It has you pushing boundaries you never thought you would push with him before.

Oh, well. If there was any time for things to make some bad decisions and get a little complicated with your incredibly handsome roommate, your last year of uni might just be perfect. Screw the consequences.

“Yuu,” you moan, drunkenly stumbling into a wall of muscle.

Thankfully, that wall of muscle happens to be Itadori Yuuji. He wraps a strong arm around your waist, a hiccup bubbling from his lips as he grins down at you.

“Hey there,” Yuuji laughs. “You okay?”

“Yeeeeaaahhh,” you slur. “Are we home yet?”

“Almost there. Hang on a little bit more for me, okay?”

The night air is crisp and cooling against your balmy skin, a welcome relief after spending hours in a bar packed with sweaty bodies and bass thrumming through your veins. It’s breezy, fallen leaves rustling across the ground as the wind scatters them along the sidewalk. A particularly stronger gust has you pressing closer to Yuuji, your little top and skirt doing little to protect you against the autumnal weather.

Yuuji pauses, making sure you’re steady before he shrugs off his jacket.

“Here, put this on,” he says, gently maneuvering your arms into the warm sleeves. His cologne wraps around you in its embrace, warm and musky and tinged just a little bit with alcohol. You smile.

Megumi and Nobara have already made their separate ways home, the former grabbing an uber while Nobara hitched a ride home with Maki. You can’t help the way you giggle and stumble as Yuuji ushers you forward again. “Nobaraaa’s gonna geeet iiiiit,” you snicker, latching onto the hard muscle of Yuuji’s bicep to steady yourself. “Did you see the way Maki w’s lookin’ at her? I wish someone looked at me that way.”

Yuuji is probably about equally as blasted as you are (you went shot for shot, after all), but he manages to carry himself in a more sober manner than you. He lets you latch onto him like a koala as he guides you through the doors of your apartment building.

He’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so—he’s usually a chatterbox when drunk.

“Yuuji? Did’ya even hear me?” you push.

“I heard ya,” Yuuji hums, pulling you into the elevator with him. As the machinery moves up to your floor, it makes your stomach lurch—forcing you to grab onto Yuuji tighter and bury your face in his shoulder.

“Are we there yet?” You grumble into his arm, clutching him tight.

“Almost,” he replies softly. You think you feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the crown of your head, but with the way everything is spinning, you can’t be entirely sure.

Between some time and the next, you’re finally ambling into your apartment, clutching Yuuji’s jacket tight around you. As the door clicks shut, you spin to face him—

—and end up nearly face planting, if not for the way Yuuji surges forward to catch you in his arms. “Woah there,” he mumbles. “Steady. Don’t move too fast, or you’ll fall.”

Despite his words, he has to lean against the now shut door to keep himself upright, you can feel that much. You grasp the fabric of his shirt in balled fists, pressed against the sturdy surface of his chest. You can feel the way his muscles flex and roll as he shifts with the way you’re pressed up against him.

When you look up at him, doe-eyes wide, you’re met with brown eyes glimmering with want. Lust.

“Yuu… ji?” Your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. He inhales in sync, his hands dropping to curl around your waist. He holds you gently, like a porcelain teacup on the verge of breaking.

It's quiet. There's a dazed look in his eyes as he stares at you.

“Can I kiss you?” The question falls from his lips softly—but with the silence of the apartment, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, it’s earth shattering. His eyes drop down to your glossy lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own.

You’re not in your right mind. This is a bad idea. You know this.

You don’t care.

Pulling at the collar of his shirt, you tug him down to you, lips meeting in a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s electrifying, everything you’ve ever wanted and needed in this one moment, warmth exploding in your chest like a dying star.

Fuck. You were kissing Itadori Yuuji—and it’s everything you dreamt it would be.

He pants your name amidst kisses but it’s hard to hear with your heart roaring in your ears, a drum beating an unsteady rhythm that throws you off balance in your very core. You stumble into the shoe-rack trying to hastily drag him over to the couch. Shoes clatter to the floor as you tumble into him, a moan falling from your lips as he paws at you while your hands tangle in his hair.

“I was lookin’ at you like that, you know?” Yuuji groans as the two of you fall back onto the couch. He holds you on top of him, letting you get comfy as you straddle his lap before he continues. “You haven’t noticed?”

His voice is heavy, dragging drunkenly as you stare down at him. In this position, with Yuuji laid back on the couch, you feel like you’re towering over him—giving you some semblance of control, even though you know perfectly well that Yuuji can flip you over and take you just like that. You dip your hands under his shirt, nails gently scratching against the velvet wrapped steel planes of his abs. Pushing the fabric up, you reveal the faint happy trail that begins at his navel, disappearing teasingly under the waistband of his jeans. You bite your lip.

“Hey,”—your name falls from his lips in the form of a plea, desperate and sweet—”Look at me.”

Big hands squeezing your hips force your attention back to him. You finally listen and meet his gaze, finding that his eyes are heavily eclipsed by dilated pupils, leaving a faint ring of hazel in its wake. It’s like a dark sun, or perhaps a black hole threatening to pull you into him, consumed by everything that is Itadori Yuuji.

You think you wouldn’t mind that one bit.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He’s worried, something that makes your heart warm fondly, giving you a moment of clarity amidst the fog of lust that addles your brain. The guys you typically went home with sometimes never found it in themselves to care too much about you. But Yuuji… he’s different. He does care. Yuuji continues, a touch softer, “We’re both drunk… what if we regret it in the morning?”

You slowly reach down to cradle his face in your hands. When you speak, it’s with a bold certainty that Yuuji cannot argue with: “I know I won’t regret it.”

Yuuji nods his head. With that anxiety out of the way, he surges up to kiss you with renewed vigor, tugging his jacket off of you and pulling the hem of your top over your chest to reveal your tits. When he pulls back, his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the pretty lace bra you had opted to wear out tonight.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuji says softly. A groan catches in his throat as you roll your hips down against his, delicious friction against his erection that has you mewling for more.

“Yu,” you sigh out as he unhooks your bra with clumsy fingers, pulling your shirt off as well in one go. The garments flutter to the floor, forgotten.

“I mean it—you really are.” His voice has noticeably deepened, taking on a huskier tone that makes your toes curl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I never can.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, quick and chaste, drawing a path down your jaw, the slope of your neck. He removes a hand from your waist to palm at your sensitive breast, drawing a whimper from you that has his cock twitching in his pants. “I can’t believe you’ve never noticed. Our friends tease me all the time for it, you know?” He sighs, nearly a whine, words slurring together in a lust-drunk haze as he presses a kiss to your collar. “I could never take another girl home with me because I only want you.”

Yuuji’s drunken confession sends you reeling, thighs tightening together around him as you tilt his chin up towards you. Love and adoration glimmers in your eyes as you respond gently, “I only want you, too.”

He smiles at you then, scooping you up in his arms as he rises. “Don’t wanna ruin the couch,” he murmurs, strong hands grasping at the fat of your ass as he carries you with ease. “Your room or mine?”

“Yu—” you gasp, clutching onto him for dear life, “mine, please.”

Even drunk, he moves with you with a practiced ease—as if you’ve done this your entire lives. As he lays you on your bed, he curls over you, lips pressing together messily as his hands fiddle with the hem of your skirt. There’s a brief moment where he pants, “Can I take them off, pretty? Can I?,” as he nips at your lower lip. You nod your head; immediately he’s sliding them off, leaving you in your lacy undergarments and feeling unfairly naked compared to him. You cross your arms over your chest shyly.

Yuuji smiles sweetly as he kneels, pressing a kiss to your navel.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. I wanna see you..” He trails off as he hooks his fingers under the band of your panties, eyes flicking up to yours in silent question. You can only manage to nod your head—words have entirely escaped you at this point. If you spoke, you weren’t sure what, exactly, would come out.

The way he pulls the fabric off of you is almost reverent, his eyes never leaving your body as he sets your panties to the side. His breath is hot against your skin as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Baby,” Yuuji starts, the pet name falling from his lips with ease, like something familiar, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

Calloused fingertips press into the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he pushes your legs open, even going as far as hooking a leg over his shoulder as he settles between them. His breath is hot and heavy as he grows closer to your core. It’s embarrassing, and you want to press your legs together, but Yuuji doesn’t allow this. He’s firm in his place, holding your legs wide open, baring you to him.

He starts gentle. A kiss to the apex of your thighs, a gentle finger running along your sensitive, weeping slit. A shiver runs down your spine as he parts you open, eyes raptly on you.

“Don’t stare,” you whine. “It’s embarrassing.”

He murmurs a soft apology, taking one more second for himself before he dives right in: tongue lapping at you voraciously, pulling the sweetest of moans from your lips as he eats you out like a man starved. You try to press your thighs together once more but he holds you open, unyielding in his grip as his tongue dips in your slit, then draws upwards, making circles around your clit.

He’s messy in the way he eats you out. He doesn’t hold back, either: he laps at you like he’s a dehydrated man at last finding an oasis, drinking in your juices like it’s the finest of nectars. Slick covers his chin as he raises his head to look at you, half-lidded eyes meeting yours as he eases a finger into you. It slips in with ease, aided by how wet you’ve gotten on just his tongue alone.

Your back arches as he pumps his finger into you. You need more. “Yuuji,” you plead in a broken moan. “Need more—want your cock inside me, I can take it.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he’s nodding his head like an eager puppy, withdrawing his hand and rising to pull his clothes off. You whine, a soft plea of, “hurry, need you now,” that has Yuuji clumsily fumbling at the button of his jeans. He doesn’t even pull them off fully, letting the fabric pool at his ankles as he takes his dick in his hands and presses his hips to yours. His shaft presses against your messy slit, pulsing and needy.

“Fuck,” he curses, a soft whine sounding deep in his throat as his hips cant against yours. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as you take in the sight: Yuuji, desperate, grasping your legs and nearly folding you in half as his cock rests on your pelvis, your navel. He’s big. The thought of someone his size fucking into you should be scary, but you know Yuuji will take care of you—or perhaps that’s the liquor in your brain telling you that you can take it, that you need him inside of you now.

“You’re gonna feel me so deep, baby,” he mumbles, entranced by the sight. You buck your hips slightly, barely moving thanks to the hold he has on you.

“I can take it,” you repeat, your breathing growing heavier with every passing second. “I need it. Give it to me, Yuuji.” Your hands grasp at the sheets beneath you as finally, finally, he slides the tip against your slit, catching a few times against your clit (”Yuuji, stop teasing me!”) before he finally eases into you, his fat tip breaching your weeping cunt. The stretch burns, but the sensation is not an unwelcome one.

Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as Yuuji hunches over you, pressing further into your pussy. It feels like it should almost be fucking impossible how deep he reaches inside you like this.

“Baby, baby,” Yuuji whines against the shell of your ear, breath hot and wet. You can feel his chest heave against yours as he struggles to regain his bearings. “You’re so tight—don’t think I can pull out, you feel s’good…”

As he bottoms out, you think you might die like this. His cock fills you so perfectly, pulsing and twitching inside you as he forces himself to still—to give you time to adjust.

You don’t want time, though. You really will fucking die if he doesn’t move soon.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down to you to messily slot your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as his hips buck into yours. “Yuuji,” you breathe out against his lips. “Fuck me.”

“Okay, baby.” He nods, pressing his sweat slick forehead to yours as he moves his hips. He starts slower, long strokes that force you to feel all of him, deep and all-consuming and overwhelming your senses with him, strong arms caging you against the bed as he fucks into you again and again and again.

Yuuji’s pace picks up, your moans a sweet melody in his ears that spurs him on, making him lose all ration in his brain—it’s evident, in the way he growls almost animalistically, hips starting to rut into yours with reckless abandon. His balls slap against your ass, accompanied by a lewd squelch with every thrust into your messy cunt.

“Yu, fuck—please,” you sob with every thrust. He angles his hips a little differently until he finds the perfect spot—that sensitive little part of your cunt that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. Once he finds it, he narrows his focus on it, bullying his cock relentlessly into your pussy until you’re sobbing.

Your nails scratch along his back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. Yuuji groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck, mouthing and biting at the sensitive flesh as his hips pound into you.

“G’nna cum, don’t stop, ohhhh god,” you gasp out as Yuuji nips at the flesh of your collar. You claw at his back, toes curling in the air when you feel him slide a hand between your slick bodies to thumb at your clit, adding to the orchestra of sensations that are driving you mad with pleasure.

“Cum for me, angel,” Yuuji urges you breathlessly, fucking you with a renewed fervor. His hips are starting to stutter, and his large hands are grasping your thighs in a bruising grip as you convulse around him. His voice alone is enough to tip you over the edge; you’re falling into him, into oblivion, orgasming so hard your vision goes dark for a moment.

A long moan of his name falling from your lips is enough to push him over with you, white hot ropes of his cum coating your pulsing heat. You feel utterly breathless, boneless, as Yuuji slowly eases your legs down. The ache is pleasant.

“Baby,” Yuuji pants softly, breaking the pleasant silence as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. “I’m still… can I..?”

Oh, god. He is still rock hard inside of you. Your pussy is still fluttering with the world-shattering orgasm he had just given you—you’re not sure if you can take more.

But Yuuji looks at you with pleading eyes, your name falling from his lips with such desperation that you’re nodding your head, opening your arms for him. He smiles down at you, and as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hips slowly start to rut into yours again.

You’re not sure how many rounds you go with Yuuji—the rest of the night is a blur of moans and groans, of him making you cum again and again and again, as many times as you can possibly take.

You wake up with a pounding headache and a foreign weight slung over your chest.

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss quietly to yourself, voice raspy with remnants of sleep. “How much did I drink last night?”

Blinking open bleary eyes, you squint against the light that filters into the room—your room, which doesn’t make any sense because you never bring home your one night stands. Your hand brushes against the strong arm slung over you, and that’s when you hear an all-too-familiar snore.

“Oh, fuck.” You repeat, dread creeping into your groggy voice.

That was Itadori Yuuji in bed with you. That was your fucking roommate, naked in bed with you. You’re wearing his overly large t-shirt, and there’s an ache between your thighs that explains exactly what had transpired when you returned home with him last night.

You don’t remember too much, typical of nights where you have a little too much to drink. What you can grasp—mere wisps in the back of your mind—are fleeting moments of mind-numbing pleasure, or of sweet-nothings being whispered into your ear. Whatever scraps of memory you do have are enough to make you want to scream into a pillow out of sheer embarrassment.

You feel the arm around you tighten as Yuuji pulls you into his chest and you squeak.

Oh, that’s just fucking mortifying.

“Mmh… huh?” Yuuji mumbles sleepily. He slowly blinks, eyes focusing on you after a few moments. “What are you doing in my bed..?”

Your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, grasping at the sheets to keep your lower body covered as you do so. Your mouth opens and closes as you look for the right words to say.

Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow. He seems to have come to a realization without you having to say it out loud.

“Oh. This isn’t...” Yuuji frowns. He’s calm in a way that confuses you—why isn’t he freaking out like you are? “We got really hammered last night, huh?”

You slowly nod your head in agreement. “Do you… remember anything?”

Your attention is drawn to his lips when he bites his lower one in thought, then drifts downards when you catch the blooming hickeys on his neck in your peripherals. Oh, god, did you leave those? What were you thinking?

All too slowly, Yuuji’s eyes meet yours. The way he looks at you is almost unbearable. There’s a sinking sensation in your chest: you think he might apologize, or tell you that last night was a mistake. That he won’t let it happen again. Quickly, you blurt, “You don’t have to say it. I get it.”

Yuuji tilts his head, his train of thought forgotten. “Say what?”

“I get that you regret it.” The words start tumbling out of your mouth and there’s little you can do to stop it. “It’s okay, you won’t hurt my feelings. I know you’re too kind to just say it outright like that—“

Yuuji opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel onwards, looking down at your lap. You’re too mortified to look at him directly.

“—And I understand if you maybe want to avoid me for awhile? I know things will be awkward, so seriously, take whatever time you need—“

Your onslaught of words is cut off by Yuuji cupping your face in his hands as he leans forward to kiss you. It’s gentle, and while it only lasts for a heartbeat, to you it feels like it lasts a lifetime.

Stunned, you lift a hand to your lips, ghosting your fingers over them as you stare at him. You’re absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” Yuuji starts softly, his thumb brushing your cheek gently. “I didn’t know how else to stop you.”

You blink at him, making a noise in the back of your throat. It’s an exhale of breath, of one you didn’t even know you were holding until just now.

“I don’t regret it. And I really hope you don’t, too.” Yuuji sighs gently. When his eyes meet yours, he looks unsure, but he continues, “I meant everything I said last night. You’re beautiful, and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Have been, for awhile now.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage. You think your heart might explode in your chest. It beats an uneven rhythm, pulsing against your ribcage as if it’s bound to break out any moment now.

“I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, yanno? But now that, uh...” He clears his throat. “Last night happened… I might as well come out with it.”

You nod your head as his words sink in. Yuuji visibly gets more distressed with every second that passes in tense silence, so you say, “Okay. I see.”

He swallows—you know what he wants to ask: ‘Do you like me like that, too?’ but he doesn’t voice it out loud. It hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You carefully deliberate your next words.

“Will you take me on a date, Yuuji?” you ask bluntly.

“What?”

“I said—”

“No, no, I heard what you said.” His eyes widen slightly, stark relief visible in his irises. “Are you sure? I mean—I’d love to. Yes. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, angel. You name it.”

You smile fondly at Yuuji—you think if he had a tail, it would be wagging ferociously right about now. “First, you can get me a glass of water and some ibuprofen. Then we’ll talk about date plans, ‘kay?”

Yuuji nods his head fervently. He rises out of bed—and quickly realizes that he’s still naked. “Oh—shit, don’t look,” he stammers, lunging for his boxers that were conveniently laid out on the floor as he blushes. Once he’s got those pulled on, he turns towards you. You’ve politely averted your eyes.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he murmurs, grabbing your attention by gently grasping your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Anything else I should grab ya?”

You feel your face warm up at the affection as you shake your head. With a smile, Yuuji shuffles out of your room to go fetch your requested items.

As you sit in the quiet of your bedroom, listening to Yuuji rustle through the bathroom, you think that maybe fucking your roommate wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!

[ivymarquis]

The Neighbor

Hello friends I fucked off for a month but I’m back and I bring Price smut as an apology for my absence. @sky-is-the-limit’s “Im here to do what your boyfriend cant” prompt has lived in my brain rent free ecer since I read it and while I didn’t follow it verbatim, I did keep in spirit with the theme :)

Also womp I was gone for the Price challenge by @glitterypirateduck but this actually checks off a couple of the prompt options (first time being intimate, a confession/secret is discovered/revealed) so I’m submitting it.

There are a lot of tags. Make sure you read them.

Pairing| John Price x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 4.8k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Accidental voyuerism by virtue of living in an apartment, the reader has a dogshit boyfriend at the beginning of the fic (there is no cheating), slut shaming (from the dogshit boyfriend), these two idiots are down bad for each other, sex toys, oral (F!receiving), unprotected PiV, gratuitous squirting because I’m me, not really heavy on BDSM elements but mentions of the following: bondage/restraints (John uses his hands, nothing crazy), something akin to subspace from how good the nut is, aftercare, John is a prick to the now-ex, very brief angst due to a quick misunderstanding, very vaguely implied somnophilia, rampant abuse of italics. Lemme know if I missed anything.

His neighbor is clearly used to Price being deployed.

She’s a sweet thing, really, and on the whole isn’t that disagreeable of a neighbor.

He just has one problem with her (not even her, really) that is a thorn in his fucking side- her boyfriend.

The boyfriend was not an issue when they first met- wasn’t in the picture at all.

And no John most assuredly hasn’t had it out for the guy since Day 1. The fact that John had gathered himself up to ask his pretty neighbor out when he came back from his latest mission, only to find out about the new boyfriend, does not color his impression of the other man. He’s grown and this is not the first time his advances have been turned away for whatever reason.

But there are, to his knowledge, no true redeeming qualities about the man and he is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

He catches bits and pieces through the walls. The boyfriend is not attentive, caring, or sweet to her. She is treated as a guest in her own home, and twice he’s heard bellowing shouts that had Price at the door with his fist banging against it- both to shut him up and make it exceptionally well known that if the boyfriend thinks intimidating a woman is going to fly, that Price will not hesitate to kick the door in.

The most appalling part of it all is that John has a front row seat to just how atrocious he is in bed.

For the life of him John does not understand. It’s not even like the lad’s a good lay.

He’s heard many stories of women tolerating absolutely atrocious behavior from the muppets they were with because he knew how to make them see stars.

That is exceptionally not the case here. And John is rapidly finding his patience wearing thin at continually being subjugated to his pathetic performance.

So what the hell is it about the boyfriend that keeps his neighbor so enamored with him?

John stares at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan turn as he tries to tune out the thumping of the headboard against the wall.

He thinks that if the man was just a bad lay and completely incapable of getting her anywhere, that would be one thing and John would continue to be frustrated but ultimately understand. But it’s the way he seems to actively ruin it anytime she has the audacity to enjoy having sex with him that truly grates on John’s nerves.

It’s not often, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then. The thumping of the headboard is accompanied by her sweet voice moaning lowly in short staccato notes as the boyfriend appears to finally be doing something right.

The thumping comes to a halt, and John groans in frustration.

“Why’d you stop?” He can hear his pretty neighbor lament through the thin walls.

“Why the fuck are you being so loud? Trying to give the neighbor a show?”

John squints his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The fucking muppet can’t do anything right.

If the neighbor was his, John wouldn’t give a fuck who heard. Let all the neighbors know that he could fuck the sense clear out of her pretty little head. John could show the muppet what loud is.

“No! I’m not trying to do anything- it just felt good,” she defends herself.

“Well, be quieter about it, no one needs to hear that. You sound like a whore,” the muppet snaps at her irritably, and John is nearly at his fucking limit when the god damn headboard starts to thump against the wall again.

“Get out.”

Oh.

John is impressed- pleasure and pride coursing through him as his sweet neighbor stands up for herself rather than letting that ungrateful swine continue to berate her.

Good fucking girl.

“What did you just say?” The thumping stops.

“You don’t get to call me names. Get off of me and get out.”

For all his sins, it seems even the muppet has a line he’s not willing to cross.

There’s a shifting as he presumably pulls out and gets off the bed- the words are muffled but the tone is clear. The muppet isn’t above laying into her verbally though consent is (smartly) a line he won’t toe.

And good thinking on his part- John would probably tear through the drywall and turn him into a chew toy had that conversation gone in any other direction.

The door slams loudly, announcing the boyfriend’s departure.

John can’t help but keep his attention on his neighbor to see what her reaction is going to be. It is taking every ounce of self control he has to not follow the boyfriend and wring his neck in the parking lot.

There’s no conventional guide for how to address this situation with your neighbor. ‘Hello, I’ve fancied you for quite some time and that ungrateful prick somehow swept you up before I got the nerve to ask you out. I've had to hear you have the most lackluster sex ever for the past several months, and equal parts want to check in on how you’re doing emotionally after his latest stunt, and also want to bend you over and pin you to the mattress until you’re squealing. May I come in?’

He can’t say he is too surprised to hear things slamming about in the apartment- his pretty neighbor sounding more pissed off than upset, catching snippets of “Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that” and “Motherfucker couldn’t find my clit with a map and a headlamp but can find the audacity to call me names-”

Okay, John has to fight back the urge to laugh at that last one lest she hear him. She’s quite the viper when (finally) provoked, and it just endears her more to him.

She doesn’t appear particularly distraught, the slamming and huffing and muttering concluding with her tossing herself on the bed.

It’s a very common occurrence that after the neighbor’s rendezvous with her lazy boyfriend, John is treated to a show where she finishes herself off with her toys.

The boyfriend, like many inadequate men, is threatened by them and John has heard the snide remarks.

Hilarious, he finds it, that a man incapable of getting her off is so adamant that she gets rid of them.

She hasn’t listened, clearly, as the low sound of her vibrator can be heard through the wall.

John is soon graced with the sound of her panting moans. His cock stiffens in interest at her voice, which is a frequent occurrence. She makes such pretty noises, mewling and whimpering as she works herself up.

Tonight is a whirlwind of emotions for his pretty neighbor, and at the end of the day her no-good boyfriend left her high and dry.

John will gladly enjoy the consequences of the boyfriend’s actions, one hand wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in time with her whines.

What he wouldn’t give for a chance to make her see stars. He’d be so good to her.

The reality of his job makes dating a logistical nightmare, part of what stayed his hand for so long.

He’s not blind. His neighbor is kind and sweet with a killer smile and wandering eyes. He’s caught her more than once ogling him when he’s returned home in uniform, or more nondescript tactical clothing.

Feeling her gaze on him always makes him puff up with pride, enjoying holding her attention no matter how fleeting. If he takes his time after a run and makes a point to pull the hem of his shirt up to wipe at his brow where she can see it, that’s his business.

So John thinks he’s dreaming when he hears that lovely voice whimper his name from the other side of the wall.

He stiffens, quietly waiting to see if he hears it again.

“John- Oh, fuck- please,” is all he needs to hear before he’s well and truly lost any semblance of patience.

Only having the presence of mind to dress himself enough to not warrant any errant looks from the other neighbors, he is at her door in a second.

It’s only after he knocks that he realizes he may well have killed whatever momentum she’s built for herself- given her muttering as she approaches the door- but he fully intends to make up for the stolen release.

She opens the door without looking through the peephole, obviously expecting it to be the ex based on the vitriol poised to spill at John’s chest, approximately eye level with where the (hopefully ex) boyfriend would be.

Once again he has to stifle a laugh, finding her a comical vision when the anger on her face melts away as her eyes flick up to his face with the realization that it is him at the door and not the object of her ire.

“What are you doing here, John?” Christ, he’s always been a sucker for pretty doe eyes. If he held even an ounce less of restraint he’d be mounting her right here for everyone to see.

“I’m here to do what your sorry excuse of a boyfriend can’t.”

Even as he reaches out to pull her in for a kiss, he’s watching her body language- gauging if she stiffens or shifts away.

She doesn’t.

In fact, her arms loop behind him and pull him closer, tugging on his hair and his shirt.

John’s not wasting any more time than he already has, walking her backwards into the apartment and shutting the door with his foot before reaching back to lock it- he’s got no desire for any interruptions from wayward former boyfriends.

They separate for a moment as she paws at the hem of his shirt, clearly wanting it off of him. John is all too happy to oblige, preening under her attention. He’s always had the stockier build of a man who’s fitness came from utility in the field, opposed to the hard defined abs of someone who spends most of their time in the gym.

It’s cute, the way she has to pry her eyes up to his face- clearly liking what she sees and flustered by the fact that John can see her staring.

“I broke up with him,” she clarifies.

“Good,” is his simplistic response, although if John’s being honest with himself he doesn’t really care about the finer details. The little prick never deserved to have her and John finally has his chance to prove himself worthy.

“The bedroom’s this way,” she prompts between kisses.

Their clothes are peeled off in turns as they stumble towards the room. The layout is inverted to John’s own flat nextdoor, so despite having never stepped foot inside before he guides her to keep her from crashing into something behind her.

By the time they are collapsing against her bed, they’re stripped of everything except a scant thong on her and his own boxers.

She’s just so delightfully soft in his grip, John can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of her.

The feeling is reciprocated as she pushes up off the bed to grind against him. As much as he’s relishing in them dry humping and making out like teenagers, he’s wanted her for so long and now that she’s finally willing and pliant underneath him, he’s itching for a taste of her.

Kissing his way down her body- starting at her jaw, the column of her neck, across her collar bone, down her sternum; latching onto each nipple and teasing them to hardened peaks before continuing his path down.

He’s compelled by the urge to turn her into a chew toy as he reaches her belly, although he stifles that urge and keeps his teeth to himself.

He can’t quite resist giving a small nip as she squirms, clearly excited by the implication of where he’s heading.

There’s a damp spot on her underwear already as he kisses along the waistband while his hands tease with the elastic on either side of her hips.

The sound of her breath hitching in anticipation makes him smirk, attention drifting further south.

The fabric is in his way as he presses a kiss against her clothed cunt, gripping handfuls of her hips to keep her still as she bucks in his grasp.

“Easy, sweetheart- we’ve got all night,” he soothes before moving his attention up one thigh to the backside of her knee.

Those sweet thighs are splayed open for him, giving John unfettered access as he continues to tease.

“When’s this sweet cunt been eaten last, hm?”

He knows he’s heard her give that undeserving muppet head, but can’t recall any reciprocation occuring. There’s not much that can shock John at this point in his life, and he’s willing to roll the dice by dragging up her now-ex because he knows this poor thing hasn’t been eaten until she’s begging him off in ages.

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” she answers breathlessly, anticipating having her thighs twitching in his hold.

Out of the corner of his eye, John spies a torn condom wrapper that didn’t quite make it into the bin. Well that keeps him from having to ask two questions, then. Smart girl.

“What a shame,” he tsks lightly, peppering kisses back up and down her thigh.

Deciding that she’s waited long enough and he’s had his fun being a tease, John is quick to remove the scant lace and pull it off of her legs before tossing it to who-knows-where.

The sounds she makes as he makes a meal out of her is music to his ears. Each hitched moan and breathy whimper makes him stiffen in interest.

His attention shifts to focus on her clit, tongue circling the sensitive nub as his hands hold her hips in place.

As focused as he is on what’s right in front of him, it takes a moment for John to realize that she’s stifling her noises. One hand is fisting the sheets beneath her while the other is clamped across her lips.

Well. That simply won’t do.

The ex may have trained and shamed her into silence, but John didn’t make it as a military captain without learning how to break someone else’s bad habits.

He ignores her whimper of protest as he stops, one hand abandoning the softness of her hip in favor of grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth.

“None of that,” he admonishes gently, pressing a kiss to one thigh. “Let me hear you.”

“I-I’m too loud,” she protests and for a split second John sees red.

To his credit, he does not leave her wet and leaking on the bed to go bludgeon her ex to death with a blunt object.

“No such thing, sweetheart,” he soothes before having a thought to tease her. “Who are you worried is going to hear you?” He asks kindly, a shit eating grin as he speaks again, “the neighbor?”

Her wide eyed expression is thoroughly scandalized and John can’t fight the chuckle that escapes him.

He hasn’t released her wrist yet, deciding that it’s time to get back to his meal. If she abandons gripping the sheet with her free hand to cover her mouth again, he simply plans to hold both of her wrists.

It’s tentative at first, still not entirely trusting John at his word that he wants to hear her.

But John is all for positive reinforcement as a motivator, crooking his fingers to stroke that one spot that makes her see stars to encourage more from her.

She’s a quick study, although when she releases the sheet John is watching her like a hawk.

Rather than clasping over her mouth again, John is pleased when her fingers end up burying in his hair.

More than happy to let her guide him, John takes his cues from how she pulls at his hair. The feel of her thighs twitching as she breathes in staccato breaths is all the reward he needs.

“You’re getting close,” he says against her cunt, pointing out the obvious before getting back to work. She’s anxious, he thinks, the closer she gets to her climax. Poor girl doesn’t know what to do with herself with an orgasm she hasn’t had to put all the work into.

“D-don’t stop,” she stammers, rewarded immediately with John redoubling his efforts.

He’s not going to stop. Pretty thing like her deserves nothing less than laying on her back and enjoying getting her cunt eaten out.

“O-oh fuck,” is his only warning before she’s gushing on his face and John is like a kid on Christmas morning.

He doesn’t even know if she realizes she’s squirted, too caught up in the pleasure of her high.

He’s always thought it was hot- now that he knows his pretty neighbor is a squirter he is more than willing to get on his knees and pray to whoever is listening that this isn’t a one time event. He’ll do anything to get her to keep him.

Even as her high fades he doesn’t let up on her, continuing to work his middle and ring finger inside of her. All he wants is to see her cum- wants to see those eyes roll as she squeezes them shut in anticipation.

Despite pulling his face away from her wet pussy, he doesn’t leave her clit unattended for long before his thumb is gently circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

Kissing his way back up her body, John can’t help but be pleased as she pulls him in to make out with him. Snatched gasps and bucks of her hips grace his ears as he works her from orgasm to the next, the wet sound of his palm slapping against her.

“John Im gonna cum again,” she whimpers in warning.

He feels like a god with the way she stares up at him reverently, eyes wide and desperate for another climax.

“Come on,” he goads, “Show me- let me see your face when you cum.”

Christ if her leg twitches any harder it’s going to start vibrating, serving to only encourage him.

“O-oh,” she mewls, “God- don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t-“ she’s pleading with him like he wouldn’t sit at her feet if she asked him to.

The bewildered look on her face is darling, and John nearly finishes untouched; he's so wound up it’s not going to take much.

A few choice thoughts keep his own eminent climax at bay and buys him enough breathing room. She bucks and trembles in his hold, a high pitched squeal escaping her as he proves not only can he make her cum twice, but he can make her squirt like a faucet twice.

As soon as she’s starting to come down from her high she’s pulling at him, drawing up her knees to spread her legs in invitation.

“Greedy girl,” he teases as he kisses her- wet fingers abandoning her cunt in favor of manhandling her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he positions himself.

“Please, please, please-“ she begs so prettily for him, pleading for him to do exactly what he’s been fantasizing about for months.

He’s not a small man and mindful of that fact, but she’s well prepped and takes him easily. The desperate whimper that escapes her sears into John’s memory.

The buildup of everything finally gets to him as he wastes no time setting a steady pace.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Let me hear you,” he encourages as she cants her hips in time with his, whines of pleasure escaping her on each thrust.

“John, please,” she begs, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as she watches where they’re joined.

“Eyes up here,” he instructs and Christ he almost loses it when her gaze flicks from between their bodies up to his face.

His hands find hers, fingers lacing together as he lowers his torso in order to kiss the ethereal creature underneath him.

She whimpers into his mouth, her sounds only encouraging John.

Everything about her is warm and inviting, from her soft skin to her warm cunt and the way she sings for him at every thrust.

Maneuvering them so he can grip both her wrists with one of his hands, the other immediately dives between their bodies to find her clit again.

His pretty neighbor has spent months not having an orgasm she didn’t give herself, and John is determined to prove to her that he can give her as many as she can handle.

“John I can’t cum again,” she pleads even as her thighs shake on either side of him.

“Yes you can,” he assures her. “One more time for me, yeah?”

Now, should she insist she’s done and satisfied then John would leave her clit alone and finish up their fun. As it is, though, she nods in acquiescence before the trembling in her thighs increases.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers continuing their steady pace around her clit as she creeps closer to the edge.

She’s babbling in his ear as he presses a kiss to her temple and he knows she’s almost there.

“Good girl,” he praises again, a cocksure grin pulling at the corners of his lips at her immediate response.

“My good girl,” he ups the ante, testing her response to John staking a claim on her. And God did it ever work. That last little bit is all it takes to finally tip her over.

She clenches down on him like a vice and John immediately loses it, groaning low as the haze of his orgasm washes over him.

It’s everything he wants- she’s everything he wants as he recovers enough from his climax to finally notice that the bed is an utter mess beneath them.

It’s not his immediate concern however, more interested in soothing her through the come down of her high. She’s shivering underneath him, eyes glossy from the intensity of her last orgasm.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs reassuringly. “Just breathe for me.”

He gathers her up in his arms, listening as her heartbeat relaxes in time with his own.

Eventually when enough time passes she’s more alert and happily snuggling against his chest. After giving her a chance to rest he herds her along to the bathroom so she doesn’t give herself a UTI. She tries to brush him off but her legs are taking their sweet time cooperating again.

Of course, she’s not exactly a recruit taking a piss test so he gives her her privacy and she’s able to return on her own albeit on shaky legs.

John pets at her head idly, attention drifting in post coital bliss as his hand strokes down along her back.

“I can’t believe you’re actually in my bed,” she giggles deliriously after a stretch of quiet.

“Only reason I wasn’t here sooner was because of that muppet,” he assures her. He doesn’t want her thinking that this is a one time thing for him. He’s wanted her for so long he can’t possibly be expected to turn her loose at the end of the night.

“I only dated him because I didn’t think you liked me,” she scoffs at herself.

“Oh, it was nearly the first moment I laid eyes on you. But with my work I kept talking myself out of doing anything,” he tells her. “Kept telling myself you deserve better. And then you brought the muppet home and kept him around,” John grouses good naturedly at her. “Think they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I plead temporary insanity,” she jokes, snuggling closer against his chest. “But I got rid of him. And you finally made your move.”

He hums in agreement, sleep pulling at him now that he has her tucked up against his side.

John doesn’t remember falling asleep but he wakes with a jolt to the sound of pounding on her door.

He’s only been out for an hour or so when he checks the clock on the nightstand, his neighbor sprawled out next to him.

Well, now he knows she snores. The sound is light enough to have never heard it through the wall, but curled up next to him she’s like a cat purring loudly in his ear.

And he’s exceptionally pissed right off at the fact someone has woken him up. Especially considering he has one guess who it is.

He fully debates answering the door buck ass naked to teach the prick a lesson about banging on doors after midnight but settles on tossing his joggers on.

Much like when she opened the door for John, the ex is automatically trained at where her head would be rather than looking at John’s face.

“My eyes are here,” he quips sarcastically. “Why the fuck are you banging on the door this late.”

“Why th-“ the ex starts to parrot back before cutting himself off. “Why the fuck are you in her apartment? Why isn’t she answering?”

“She’s asleep,” John answers simply. There’s no obligation to explain the why and how he ended up in her apartment.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s asleep? How is she asleep after she just dumped me? And why the fuck are you here?”

The boyfriend (the ex boyfriend, he thinks with glee) is either oblivious or…

Well. The ex boyfriend is oblivious. Let’s just keep it at that.

“I’m here because you can’t do your job right. She’s asleep because I can. What part of that is confusing?”

“That stupid slag’s been fucking you behind my back-“

“No.” John is somewhat mindful of not giving a full on “screaming at recruits” bellow, but his voice booms into the corridor outside the apartment anyway. “You watch your fucking mouth. This” John gestures vaguely at his own presence in her flat, “just happened after she dumped you. You don’t get to hurl insults.”

“She hopped off of my cock and straight to yours- what the fuck else is it?”

“You couldn’t get her off,” John hisses in annoyance. “I’ve had front row seats to your shitty little performance more than once. Not 5 minutes after you leave and she’s having to handle it herself.”

“I can’t be expected to compete with a fucking vibrator!”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t need one to get the job done. Poor girl could barely get her legs to work to go to the loo and not give herself a UTI. Your skill issues are what started all of this.”

“You know what? Fucking have her. I don’t need this shit.”

Ah yes, because John needs the ex’s permission to date a newly single woman. Absolutely. That’s entirely how that works.

“Never needed your blessing. Now fuck off. I’m trying to sleep.”

The ex responds with a two finger salute as he spins on his heel and storms off.

John is almost tempted to grab him by the back of his neck and turn him into a chew toy. Given his military career, his patience for muppets giving him attitude is virtually nonexistent.

But the siren call of his pretty neighbor is a stronger pull than the muppet can ever hope to achieve. John’s succeeded in his mission to run the prick off, and he’s going to try to get a few more hours of sleep before seeing if she’s interested in another romp in the morning when she wakes up.

The bedroom is dark and poorly lit but John immediately picks up on the silence.

Rather than being sprawled out and snoring like when he left her, she’s quiet and curled into a ball.

She’s awake.

“Sweetheart?” He calls softly.

She jolts, fabric rustling from the sheets falling off her as she sits up.

“You’re still here,” the surprise in her tone cuts, although he knows she didn’t mean for it to.

She seems to realize how that comes across and clarifies further, “I- I heard the door shut.”

It falls into place for him then- she woke up to the sound of the door and John nowhere to be found. She thought he’d left.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he consoles, making his way back to the bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he assures her while gathering her back into his arms.

Sleep comes back readily once the two of them are situated back in the bed.

Come morning, John’s got the patience and the presence of mind to throw a towel on the bed. He finds out for himself that his neighbor makes the prettiest noises with her arse propped up in the air and her face still buried in her pillow.

He can’t help but laugh later when she texts him that one of the neighbors made a noise complaint.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[frownyalfred]

Alcohol tips for newbie writers (or non drinkers!):

At bars, people who order “chasers” after their shots are ordering something to wash down the taste of their shot with. This can be juice, soda, more alcohol, or even pickle juice

Hard liquor is generally sold in stores as shots (tiny bottles), fifths, liters, and handles or in ml (50, 100, 200 etc)

Most people can’t finish an entire fifth of hard liquor (vodka, etc) on their own without being very ill

Conversely, many people can finish an entire bottle of wine on their own without being ill

Liquor can be “bottom shelf” or “rail” or “well” -- all synonyms for the cheapest version of alcohol a bartender has. Bars generally keep several “levels” of alcohol stocked

You order a drink with the alcohol first, then the mix -- e.g., a “vodka soda” or a “Tito’s and tonic”

When you “close out a tab”, you pay for all of the drinks you’ve had that night. Either the bartender already has your card (you “opened a tab” earlier) or it was quiet enough that they just kept an eye on you and tallied your bill up at the end

“Doubles” are drinks or shots with double the standard pour of alcohol

In the US, most shots (pours) are 1.5 oz by default. 

Mixed drinks (gin and tonic, vodka lemonade, cosmos, etc) are generally made up of 1-2 shots and a mixer 

If you don’t specify which type of alcohol you’d like in a mixed drink (vodka cranberry, for example) the bartender will put whatever the “house” liquor is -- and this depends entirely on the establishment. A dive bar will pour rail by default, whereas a nicer tavern might make all vodka cranberries with Tito’s

PLEASE TIP YOUR BARTENDERS THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU I PROMISE

[blue-jos10]

‘wow dr minyard how are you so calm and patient even with the insane ones?’

‘i’ve had practice.’

[heich0e]

“Miya-san!”

Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.

You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.

“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”

“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.

“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”

“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.

“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”

Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.

“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.

Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.

“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”

“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.

He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.

Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.

Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.

“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.

You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels. 

“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.

“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.

You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.

“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.

It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.

Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.

“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.

Osamu’s chest pangs.

The light turns green.

“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly. 

“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.

“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.

“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”

“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.

“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”

“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”

“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.

Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.

He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.

“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.

Your eyes widen.

Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.

“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”

Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again. 

After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”

Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances. 

The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road. 

Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. 

“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.

You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.

“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”

You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.

“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”

“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself. 

“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“

“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”

You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them. 

You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.

“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.

He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.

“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”

Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.

Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.

“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”

You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.

He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.

‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”

[saleeba]

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off. 

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person. 

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad. 

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends. 

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for. 

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.” 

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it. 

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words. 

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though. 

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other. 

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel. 

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests. 

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again. 

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude 

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late. 

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole  – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry. 

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head. 

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home. 

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up. 

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision. 

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs. 

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now. 

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely. 

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy. 

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s. 

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.” 

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release. 

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,” 

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste. 

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once. 

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions. 

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones. 

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.  

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail. 

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

[stevebabey]

"Alright, here we go!" The bartender announces, leaning up to place the drinks on the bar.

"That's one whiskey, neat—" He says, sliding the lowball cocktail glass with amber liquid in front of Eddie.

"—And one Whammin' Slammin' Booty-Bangin' Pina Colada."

He places the extravagant cocktail in front of Steve. It's decorated to the nines with a straw, an umbrella, a piece of pineapple, and a little bit of tinsel on a toothpick. A whole party decoration in a drink.

"You guys have a good night." The bartender says warmly, already moving down the bar to tend to other customers.

Eddie stares down at the whiskey in the glass before him and pouts a little. Beside him and watching his boyfriend closely, Steve rolls his eyes.

"Oh, quit being dramatic," Steve says, sliding the cocktail across the bar so it's in front of Eddie, who had ordered it. He steals the glass of whiskey back at the same time.

"It happens every time."

"It happens most times."

"That isn't much better!" Eddie protests, even as he leans down and takes a long sip from the straw while they both get to their feet and leave the bar. Steve's hunting for a table they can snag, his eyes narrowed in focus. Eddie follows him blindly, his cocktail cupped in both hands.

"I'm serious, Steve! What is it about this adorable face—" He says, gesturing to himself, barely letting go of the straw to talk. It doesn't seem to faze him that Steve doesn't even glance back. "—Says I don't want to enjoy a Whammin' Bammin' Big Booty Colada?"

Steve comes to a stop, pausing his search for a moment to look back at Eddie. His expression seems unimpressed on the surface but Eddie can see his lips twitching up at the corners.

"We've had this conversation too many times, babe." He sighs halfheartedly and takes a quick sip of his own whiskey, eyes casting back out across the bar. "You have scary dog energy, you know this. You specifically dress like this on purpose."

Eddie picks up the pineapple wedged on the edge of his glass and bites into it, sending it down with another sip of his cocktail as Steve leads them further into the back of the bar. He finally spots a spare empty table.

"C'mon, I think I found one." Steve urges, one hand snaking back to make sure Eddie's following.

"Is it a crime to wish to not fall victim to stereotypes?" Eddie prattles on, following Steve duly by slipping his hand into Steve's outstretched one. His cocktail wobbles precariously as he takes another gulp.

"Like when that waitress gave me your awful black coffee! And you got my delicious delicacy that I paid extra hard-earned money for..."

+

i like to think that when steve and eddie go out, people always lean into their assumptions and are like hmm ok preppy boy with the polo? oh he gets the fruity cocktail! and eddie is always like >:( i don't want this expensive puddle of piss gimme the bonanza supreme cocktail pls. like excuse me i paid for that.

[lavendermin]

Drunk Jing Yuan doing something to my brain cause imagine when he was still a lieutenant (around young adult and still reach HCQ era I believe) but imagine how loose he is compared to our current general, he certainly have a different tolerance effect

Young lieutenant jing yuan who is getting a little too drunk and is blindly letting his heart slip past infatuation. Living life too fast, too foolishly, with a heart almost freshly squeezed of its naïveté.

When he’s drunk he thinks he could be in love. You’d be the perfect victim—so kind and trustworthy. The idea of having a tender little romance with an elder healer’s apprentice is tantalizing indeed.

You haven’t drank all night despite being generously dragged along by your master to a friendly gathering of prominent figures. And though Jing Yuan is familiar with these faces, it’s clear you are not.

cw | alcohol, fluff

Alcohol or not, he can’t bear to see you look so uncomfortable—like a lost little lamb. When you excuse yourself quietly to take a quick walk around the gardens, he follows suit. The false moons are high in the Luofu’s sky, listening to your quiet woes beside sleeping blooms.

Though the alcohol is prominent in his system, his footing is steady as he makes his way to you sitting by a small pond.

“Sit.” Your command catches him a little off guard. “Before you make yourself a fool if you fall in the water.”

“Not the most common greeting I’ve had the pleasure of receiving, but it’s not distasteful,” Jing Yuan chuckles as he takes a seat next to you.

Your eyes widen, a deep-set panic quickly flashing in different stages on your features.

“L-Lieutenant– I wasn’t aware it was you, I swear!”

“Quite alright. And you’d be right. I am quite drunk, I’ll admit.”

There’s still hesitation, given your rigid posture in his presence. It’s sweet how hard you try to please, but these small cracks in your front are all the more endearing. Some sense of a more natural you.

You sigh, something bone-deep and exhausted. “Apologies, lieutenant. I’m just quite used to the strong smell of alcohol from the many that stop by the apothecary for remedies in the morning after a night of reckless drinking. Master is no different. I meant no offense I just… thought it was master coming for that same remedy as well.”

He laughs at this, a little too loose as the alcohol begins to work its way through his system. Everything moves so quickly and you seem so far away despite being right next to him.

“Quite impressive for the elder healer to depend on his apprentice for such important remedies,” he complements. It makes your hands fidget in your lap, clearly not used to the attention. Always working from the shadows.

“It’s really nothing spectacular. You’re much too kind.” He makes you nervous. In a good way.

It’s so easy for him to want more of you. A splendid respite.

He’s sure he’s smiling stupidly at you, his head resting on his palm as he sits rather lax. The alcohol bids him not to care.

“I’m quite fond of you, if you’ve noticed,” he admits quietly. A bit too forward as the drinks begin to talk.

His words make your face burn hot.

“Surely you’ve had far too much to drink,” you squeak as he slumps against you. Warm and much, much bigger than you. Your hand is immediately on his face, cool and soft where the alcohol warms his cheeks. “How much did you have? Come, quickly. I’ll prepare you a remedy. What if you have alcohol poisoning? Can you walk?”

Jing Yuan follows obediently as you drag him by the arm, walking perfectly fine as you fuss over whether he feels like he may pass out or worse.

“Sit, please,” you motion to the small bench by your bedside.

“Quite the prepared one, aren’t you,” he comments as he watches you quickly run to and fro gathering the ingredients you packed for this small trip. The room is only slightly spinning.

You’re rambling and giving a light scolding, deep in concentration, when he quickly pulls you by the waist. Close. Too close.

Your breath is in your throat, heart beating loudly in your ears. “Lieutenant, you shouldn’t be standing. You need to–”

Before you can finish, his finger is gently on your lips to quiet your nerves. A gentle thing as he sways you both subtly in his hold, your body slowly releasing tension.

“This will pass. What I need,” he presses a chaste kiss upon your temple, “is you.”

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[bamsara]

Now that booze is Real in COTL I'm legally obligated to post my shitposts and comics for the Drunken Gods chapter of TROD

The entire chapter will be half plot development and half pure dumbassery shenanigans. Written snippets below:

[aimseytv]

grief in a bottle

[indulgentdaydream]

Hello luv, first of all... I LOVE NURSE!READER!!! OH god the last lines were soooooo heartwarming for my social worker heart!! LOVE LOVE IT 🩷🩷

So, may I request a Jason x reader again but with a little something... Jealous Jason because reader and Roy know each other longer than Jay and reader and then he gets all jelly and and—! Oh god I love a jealous petty man.

Missy when she fucks up the queue and queues this post for NEXT YEAR by accident 🫣🙃 NEXT YEAR?? LIKE THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED LAST FRIDAY AND I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE THAT IT DIDN'T GO UP

anyways AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH your words are already heartwarming ♥️

I loveeee jealous jason imma cook this up so quick just you wait and see (i wrote this when i first made the draft and i found it funny to leave it. It’s literally been a month I’m so sorry)

I also made this into headcanons because I had a VISION and did not think to give it any justice. (koi youre seriously my number 1 supporter i hope you enjoy this garbage I just threw up, really)

Pining!Jealous!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: slight jealousy (not too overly consuming), alcohol consumption

Roy had invited Jason to hang out at the bar

Bros being bros

except...

Roy brought you along (because he KNOWS Jason has got a fat crush on you whether or not he’s told him)

(He tried to convince roy it’s not a crush, but always fails because his whole demeanour changes when you walk in the room)

examples:

he's always going to be standing beside you, consciously or not

jason isn't always a tense guy. But he for sure isn't as long as you're talking to him/looking at him/etc. (but if you put your hand on his arm/touch him in any way, it's game over)

your name is brought up, he's listening SO INTENTLY

like a dog when it hears its favourite word

Anyways

The three of you are sitting in a booth

It was originally you and roy before jason showed up, the two of you on either side

Jason shows up and just sits right next to you. No hesitation.

You and roy are laughing away, recounting stories and telling jokes.

Jason is just... really quiet

unusually quiet

He doesn’t look at you guys, rather looking out across the bar, trying to hide the fact he’s feeling this way

That he's feeling unreasonably jealous of his best friend

who literally brought you FOR JASON

He knows it’s stupid. He trusts both of you. You two are the two people he trusts the MOST

He hates that he’s like this, but he can't help it

Roy's better than him. You've known him for longer. He's making you laugh harder than Jason ever has. He's better looking, too. Older. More experienced.

His thoughts are clogging up his head. He's really not listening anymore, just holding his beer, eyes scanning the bar floor, watching the other patrons.

Then Roy is standing in front of him, saying something about using the bathroom.

He is giving a VERY pointed look at Jason.

a "make conversation with your crush or I'm shoving an arrow down your throat" kind of look

Jason felt a little stab of genuine anxiety shoot through him.

He's talked to you alone before. Many times. You two were friends, of course. He doesn't know why this is how he's feeling right now.

Then your hand is resting on his forearm.

Poor boy is still so caught up in his head he just looks down at your hand for definitely a second too long before finally meeting your gaze

Your gaze with those stupidly pretty eyes.

Then comes that horrendously pretty voice, "You alright?"

He nods. Shrugs. Like a stupid teenager who doesn't know how to handle his emotions.

He has to admit he's still a little tense about your attention being focused more on Roy. But not to you. He'd never admit it to you. You'd probably find it unattractive and then he'd really never have a chance.

“Yeah, no, im enjoying the talking. Always forget how well you and roy know each other”

“Oh yeah he just knows how to get me going. You know how he is”

Jason doesn’t know how he does it.

Like some leap of faith.

Some, jealousy super-powered leap.

He tries to be non-chalant about it.

“It’d be nice to do this again sometime. Maybe without Roy around.”

BOY'S HEART IS POUNDING

Sipping on his beer, looking down at it instead to avoid eye contact with you so he doesn't lose his cool.

Or someone show on his face that he is actually shitting bricks

You don't respond for a second and the alarm bells start going off in his head

WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY THAT WHY DID I SAY-

"It would be nice," you say, "Could we make it a date instead?"

He's smiling, turning to nod at you, "Course we can."

But his internal dialogue is just straight screaming at himself

"IDIOT YOU SHOULD'VE MADE IT OBVIOUS YOU WANTED IT TO BE A DATE IN THE FIRST PLACE"

The things jealousy will make you do

Roy comes back and sits down

Jason's into the conversation now

It doesn't really matter that Roy is still making you laugh

because he's not the one holding your hand under the table

AH I HOPE YOU LIKE -missy

I also love a jealous petty man (as long as it doesn't become toxic and he doesn't use it as an excuse to be an asshole)

[k-atsukibakugou]

the bathrooms at house parties are really only used for one thing

pairing: katsuki bakugou x f!reader w/c: 4.0k warning/s:  fem!reader (has a pussy, wearing makeup + skirt), established relationship, toxic relationship, cheating, alcohol mention (tipsy sex), blood/biting/marking/cutting mention, unprotected sex, degradation/name calling (not really but just in case), hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving)

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

“you know you're a terrible friend, right?” your voice was already broken, growing more and more uneven the more your chest heaved against his, your words nearly silent against the blond’s skin, painted lips planting a kiss on his before travelling down his jaw and neck to the collar of his shirt. your airy voice was just loud enough to be heard over the heavy bass music shaking the wooden door, near deafening on the other side of it, the party in full swing, whooping and cheering, and a near constant clink of beer bottles tapping together breaking through the music occasionally, the celebrations downstairs continuing as if the two of you had never been there at all.

“i am, huh? what about you? abandoning the party you set up, just for a quick fuck?” katsuki was too breathless for his mean tone to carry any of the usual bite, the words only coming across as a hushed, panted attempt at his typical bullying. it made you return an equally breathless giggle at him, pulling back from kissing his neck to stare up into his carmine eyes studying you with half-lidded, smoky eyes; your dark eyeliner smudged around them just the way he liked. leaning back on the sink to rest your back against the small mirror behind you, your eyes sparkled staring into his, mischief and lust swimming around the depths of your pupils. he couldn’t wait to have them rolling into the back of your head, exactly like they did every time you met like this, rushing, locked in cramped, darkened rooms whenever you both had a free moment, not a second thought for the time or place, only thinking of feeling one another.

even here, your game of kings cup and bursts of dancing cut short when your eyes met his ruby red ones across the hall the moment he walked through the door, only breaking the intense contact to answer a heavy tap on your shoulder; the birthday boy tilting your chin up for your punishment drink, the cup half full of random splashes of everyone's alcohol; your’s and eijiro’s hard lemonade, ochako’s gin and tonic, momo’s prosecco and jirou’s fruity vodka, and you thought you could taste juuuust taste the beer denki dug out too. eijiro flashed his sharp white teeth down at you in a lopsided grin when you dipped your head back further and opened your mouth, your eyes locked up into his scarlet ones as you tried your hardest not to choke on the gross mixture of the drinks, cheering with high fives, whistling and whooping with everyone when you swallowed it with a sour face, missing the way katsuki’s scarlet eyes tracked a stray droplet of the liquid down your jaw, to your neck, to your chest before it disappeared into your neckline.

while you were celebrating, receiving a boyish slap on the back from hanta, katsuki was still surveying you, only pulled from his focus on you by his friends shoving him in greeting, dragging the fashionably late blond into the kitchen, denki passing him a can while mina handed him a fresh cup, pressuring him to catch up before you could even get in a greeting. katsuki had already downed half the cup by the time the redhead let go of your jaw to greet his final friend to arrive. you wiped your chin, catching any last stray drops from the foul drink with your finger, sucking into your mouth, your heart jumping to your throat catching his gaze once more, cherry red eyes locking to your lips over the rim of the plastic cup, stormy pupils glued to your dark lips wrapped around your finger.

not even an hour after he showed up, here you were: your skirt hiked up around your hips and your hair mussed while your heartbeat thrummed under the skin of your throat against his soft lips, the centre of them stained red from whatever he was drinking before pulling you in here, the empty cup abandoned on the edge of your sink beside your own, both of you preoccupied with exploring hands under shirts, lips and teeth clashing, both of you trying to take everything you needed from each other; desperate to feel his hot skin against yours already, one kiss from him already getting your breath hitching in the back of your throat, your blood burning hot with need.

“oh please, you know that is nowhere near what you’re doing, this has to be some kind of record, you couldn’t even wait, what? a week?” you teased, catching the way his eyes flashed a shade darker in the mirror ahead of you when he spun you around, a threatening squeeze of his rounded fingernails into the fat of your hips and the sharp point of his canines serving as a warning to shut your mouth before he’d do it for you. you were right, he knew it, but he also knew you weren’t much better, maybe even worse, parading around in the shortest skirt he knew you owned; he could picture you clear as day digging through all of them for this one, picking it for the way it hugged your figure, for the ease katsuki would hike it high on your hips to leave your thighs on display, so little of the fabric covering you he hardly even needed to tug at it to admire the curve of your ass. biting your lip, you submitted to his threats, not having the time you typically would to play with him, to mock his obsession with you, your addiction to each other, instead settling in more against the sink, pushing your ass back against him, “you got a condom, ‘ki?

“i’ll pull out,” his warm breath and soft lips on the side your neck reminded you of every time you’d ended up exactly like this, katsuki always determined to kiss you anywhere he could reach in the time you had, but never leaving any evidence, the same couldn’t be said for your lipstick marring his jaw, clearly this rule was being thrown to the wind tonight, dull fingertips digging into your clothed tits as his teeth latched onto your neck, finally laying his claim on your skin after nearly a year of this, letting his fingertips leave ten cute bruises on your skin beneath his hands, ignoring the way you tried to push him away from you (with next to no effort, not really wanting him to stop), whispering sternly to him, “oi.”

“shut up, no one out there is sober enough to notice.” his lips didn’t move far from the side of your throat while he gruffly responded in your ear, sliding your shirt up your stomach to expose your tits to him, hot fingertips toying with your hard nipples as his mouth moved, stormy garnet eyes watching you shiver at his unusually bold behaviour before he moved back up toward your face, nipping hard beneath your ear to force a gasp from you, “‘n i know you need it, sweetheart, need it rougher than what he gives you, i could cut you and you’d thank me. or don’t you remember when you were on your back, voice all high, beggin’ me to fuck you like a bitch in heat? use me, katsuki, that sound familiar?”

you flushed hot hearing him mock your high-pitched moaning, your mouth snapping shut, not wanting to admit you thought of it constantly, replaying his growls and deep groans in your mind when you needed to cum. when you stayed quiet, not admitting anything, he continued, one thick hand travelling up your bare navel to your chest to settle at your neck, holding your jaw like the redhead had earlier, keeping your face forward for him to stare down in the mirror, “next time you tease me like that, you’ll have handprints to try n’ explain to him.”

it wasn’t so much a threat, as it was a promise, no venom coating the words, only desperation underlying his arrogance, damn near begging you to give him a reason to make you his. you melted more into his touch hearing his voice dropping at the mention of his handprints littering your skin, giving up trying to dissect his tone, instead just revelling in his rough, impatient hands roaming your body, slipping between your thighs to stroke the slippery, sensitive skin there, the very tips of his fingers tugging at the tiny amount of fabric there. katsuki’s frenzied touches to your pussy sent electricity through your nerves, the feel of his warm hands on your more addicting than any other date could ever hope to be, his eyes far more captivating, always keeping your gaze locked on his in the mirror, your eyelashes fluttering to break the intense contact the moment his fingers sunk into your dripping cunt with a low groan.

“see, baby? you still need me, you always will.” you were too distracted to respond, to try and argue despite how wet you got looking at him, focusing on keeping your sounds of pleasure as soft as you could, making sure the music remained the most prominent sound in the house. katsuki had already let go of your face, but hypnotised by his sculpted form, you kept staring forward at his reflection, his free hand now pressing on the small of your back to keep you arched in front of him, keeping your needy cunt on display (katsuki addicted to how your body reacted to him, it didn’t tease or mock him, it never lied about how much it needed him). your pussy was the star of the show, evident by the way he toyed with you; plunging and curling his fingers deep inside you until you keened, only pulling them back to rub your clit, taking his time to warm you up, hardly needing to when you fucked him only five days ago in an unused supply closet, shelves covered in a thin layer of dust disturbed only by his handprints and your ass.

you got lost staring at him, your heart racing anytime his strong hands were on you, thinking about what he was saying with his hand around your neck; he was right of course, katsuki had always been the only one to satiate you, to scratch the itch deep inside you that no nice guy you’ve ever dated would be able to, the kind of itch only he could relieve, a frenzied fuck that had you both out and done in under thirty minutes, half of that time spent toying with each other, instead of making love for hours into the night. his thick fingers, sharp teeth, venomous words and stormy glare doing more to you than all the others before him combined, locking knowing eyes with him across a room getting you closer to cumming than some of their cocks.

“quit thinkin’ so loud.”

his words brought you back down to earth, back to focusing entirely on his body heat on your skin, one of his hands squeezing your hip so tight you were worried he’d keep his promise and leave a dark mark on your skin for days to come. attentive eyes were locked on your reflection, he waited until your mouth dropped open to spit back some bratty retort at him, certain it would’ve been dripping with attitude if he didn’t sink himself into you, cutting you off; barking out a laugh at the way your eyebrows furrowed and you immediately bit down on your bottom lip to stay quiet, he thought you looked like your eyes were about to cross like some lewd manga kaminari and sero would froth over. not even giving you a moment to adjust to him, not like you really needed it with how effortlessly he got you wet, katsuki started fucking you urgently, his hips slamming into your ass over and over again, almost as if he was suddenly aware of the time constraint you were on, someone sure to notice the pair of you missing soon enough.

hard porcelain dug into your hips, your hands gripping the edge of the sink doing little to hold your body up against the strength of katsuki’s hips pumping behind you, no concern for the way he kept pushing you forward, your head nearly bumping the mirror if not for him gripping the hair at the back of your head.

“nothin’ to say now, huh, baby? you know i’m right, he doesn’t fucking compare to how i fuck you, or you wouldn’t keep crawlin’ back.”

katsuki’s arrogance was well-deserved, even if you wouldn’t say it aloud, the barely-there brush of his calloused fingertips over your clit had you hissing, your hips bucking into his touch, demanding more. he’ll give it to you, finally giving up the cat and mouse once he was satisfied with how you sought after him, circling two fingers around your swollen clit, lust-filled eyes flashing at the surprised moan that escaped you, your palm not fast enough to cover your mouth to muffle it. your shining eyes rolled at his cockiness, now stuck back in your skull at his ministrations, drawing you closer and closer to your end while you desperately nodded your head as much as you could in his grip at his words rather than squealing out a “yes, yes, yes katsuki!” like you wanted to.

katsuki kept a tight hold on your hair, his grip close to your skull, keeping your head up while the rest of your body slumped over the sink, your chest nearly touching the mirror with how deep your back arched, only getting deeper the more you slid against the slippery porcelain of the sink. your body was entirely supported by his hand, and the sink at your hips, your arms and legs weaker and weaker the longer he fucked you, the fat of your ass rippling with every slap of his hips against them, every thrust back inside you forcing another gasp and whine from your throat, muffled as much as you could with your hand, “you’re really about to cum?”

his voice was back to being mean, low and mocking, nearly black eyes watching your face contort with his words, his rough tone like a lightning strike straight to your cunt, your muscle squeezing around his cock enough to have him following you soon after. you couldn’t even nod if you tried, the only motor skills your brain was concerned with being your hand, buried under your skirt, circling your swollen clit until you were trembling, thighs tense and your knees shaky. still with a vice-like hold over your mouth, your eyebrows furrowed in the centre, your eyes squeezing shut, your tits bouncing against the mirror.

usually he’d be watching your face in the reflection, or the way your tits were spilling out more and more with every rut of his hips, instead, his eyes were glued to the way your cunt and thighs glistened in the dim yellow-y tinted light, admiring the white ring of your cream around his cock. the sight of your cunt so wrecked had his hips stuttering in your beating cunt, having only just enough composure left to pull out of your heavenly pussy, leaving you shaking and slumped over the sink without his strength to hold you upright.

your body felt like unset jelly, your head swimming with pleasure, your body still recovering from waves of aftershocks that had you whimpering when he was muttering to you again, pulling you off the sink with strong hands, “c’mere, baby.”

delirious, you blindly let him guide you to your knees in front of him, his leaking, hard cock level with your glassy eyes, wide and cockdrunk staring up into his. without another thought, you sat up straighter on your knees, reaching a hand out to stroke his cock, wet with your cum, your eyes flicking down when you licked your lips before staring back up at him through your eyelashes, parting your glossy lips to take him eagerly into your mouth, any remaining lipstick you might’ve had after kissing him now smearing down his cock.

“shit,” he hissed when you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling slowly with your hand wrapping around the rest of his hard length, slowly taking in more of him until your lips met your hand, whimpering around him at the taste of yourself on his skin. his hand shot to the edge of the sink when his head bumped the back of your throat, gripping the edge warmed by your skin until his knuckles were turning white. his head fell back to stare at the ceiling with bitten lips, sure if he kept looking down at your pretty face he’d cum down your throat far too fast, garnet eyes flicking down to you when you whined around him, eyebrows squeezed together, your tongue gliding over his skin clouding his mind. katsuki swore again under his breath, squeezing the sink impossibly harder, grounding himself when he pulled out of your mouth, the soft pop sound drowning out your sound of disapproval.

“stick your tongue out.” you obeyed his gruff demand, at the stage of your encounter where you were too dumb to argue anymore, your games at the very back of your mind, resigned to listening, obeying. katsuki’s eyes looked darker, menacing to the untrained eye, but you knew the black was swimming with pleasure, your kneeling form reflected in his endless pupils. his eyelashes cast shadows over his face, kissing the tops of his cheeks, the light hitting the tops of your cheekbones when you tilted your head up toward him, your mouth falling open in front of him while he jerked his wrist over his length; only thrice more until his cum was spilling from the tip to your eagerly awaiting tongue. your lips shined under the light, saliva, your own cum, and now his reflecting under the downlight; your eyes shining with something else katsuki could’t place, the sparkle swiftly replaced with your usual fucked out expression, your mouth closing around the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking over the head to savour the last of his salty taste.

about to take him further into your mouth, desperate to make him shake like he always did when you pressed your tongue to the vein running along his cock– your eyes go wide staring up at him, a gentle, irregular knock echoing in the small room, your heartbeat spiking at the dull sound, jumping away from the blond at the noise, like a child caught in the cookie jar. you sobered up immediately at the noise, your mind suddenly clear and your blood cold, your body lost in anxiety instead of the intoxicating air surrounding katsuki.

katsuki returns a fist of his own on the wall, a louder slam of his hand on the wall than the soft rap of knuckles on the door, yanking his pants back up his hips with his other hand, belt between his fingers when you scramble to your feet, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “occupied, fuck off.”

whoever interrupted you was sent stumbling down the hallway at his brash response, searching for another bathroom while you both tried to recover from the sudden adrenaline surge, katsuki sliding his belt back into place while you sucked in a deep breath, letting it out in a soft laugh before turning around to face the mirror. the silver surface reflecting back your smeared makeup, looking just as debauched as you felt. with another slow, deep breath, you wiped a thumb under your plump bottom lip to clean any remnants of lipstick, cleaning yourself up as best as you could, trying to ignore katsuki shifting from foot to foot behind you while you tugged your skirt, straightening it against your thighs, trying your best to not to look like you were just fucked stupid in the upstairs bathroom of eijiro’s birthday party. katsuki looked perfectly dishevelled, his hair spiked around his head like usual, his belt done back up loosely around his hips, the accessory serving no real purpose other than to watch the way your mouth watered when he tugged it free from the loops. shaking your head, you dropped the thought of his thick fingers around the leather, instead leaning closer to the mirror when you smacked your lips together, your thoughts of him interrupted by katsuki's gravelly voice, “you should head down first.”

your gaze flicked back over to his, he looked as if nothing had changed between his arrival and now, minus his stained, swollen lips, the same couldn’t be said about you, reaching under the sink to search for your lipstick, hoping the cute tone could save you. rubbing the colour onto your lips with your ring finger, you admired the same colour still on katsuki’s jaw, running your fingers over your hair when you were satisfied, you hummed in agreement, “yeah, i’ll go get the cake ready, you’ll come down in two?”

you did a quick twirl, waiting for his approval on your state, his eyes raking over you to make sure your skirt was over your ass, your shirt back in place, and your face clean of lipstick, spit and cum.

“i look alright?”“wouldn’t fuck you if you didn’t, sweetheart.” you rolled your eyes at his teasing, like a switch for his cockiness was flicked back to on, a proud smirk painted on his face, carmine eyes already feeling like he was trying to see through your clothes to the skin beneath, a signature expression around you. he doesn’t move when you shove his shoulder, your uneven movements barely even disturbing a hair on his head when you stumble past him to exit the cramped bathroom, alcohol and adrenaline swimming in your veins making each step downstairs wobbly.

with a lasting stare down at you, mostly watching the way your hips move from side to side, vermillion eyes locked onto a single wet spot on your skirt, the patch easily explained away if anyone could see straight enough to ask you about it, he could already hear your sweet voice now excusing it, “the sink splashed back at me!”, or “ugh, i knocked my drink over when i was fixing my lipstick.”, sure your friends would believe either excuse without a second thought before realising the truth of the spot. katsuki only turns back around to face the mirror when he can’t see you anymore, roughly rubbing at the blooms of colour on the underside of his jaw. he does little more than smudge the pigment around, the colour now covering his fingers and in patchy lines than in the clean kiss marks they were when you’d first locked the door. satisfied he was as clean as he was going to get it, he turned back around, swinging open the door to follow you out.

hearing your laughter in the living room, katsuki makes his way down, sauntering down the stairs far slower than you had, turning left at the end where you swivelled right, circling around to the kitchen from behind, second nature to him at this point to cover his tracks without even needing to think about it. rounding the corner into the kitchen, katsuki’s eyes found you again, drawn to you, a need panging deep in his stomach watching your skirt swish around your thighs as you twirled around in the kitchen, spinning a final time to walk a cake over to eijiro, his name messily written in red icing underneath too many burning candles. you placed it at the head of the table, gently setting it down in front of him, the birthday boy drunk and oblivious to where you and his best friend had disappeared to for the last twenty minutes, even more oblivious to the evidence still on your skirt and low on your throat when he smiled sweetly up at you.

“happy birthday, baby, make a wish!” you plant a kiss on your boyfriends cheek, transferring your fresh lipstick in a perfect kiss stain, identical to the ones katsuki just finished ruining, eijiro slurring back his affection with a bright, lovestruck smile, “i’ve got everythin’ i need with you, baby.”

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[superblysubpar]

<- part three | part five -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Steve drives you to work all week.

the song: Smoke by Caroline Polachek

also for your listening pleasure: Do You Believe In Love by Huey Lewis & The News, We Are the Champions by Queen, and In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel

6,475 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / wearing steve’s clothing, but size isn’t mentioned / for the purposes of this fic, you drink coffee and you take it sweet / alcohol mentions/consumption - you are tipsy in this / brief descriptions of car accidents/injury with some blood/ slight descriptions of panic/anxiety happening to Steve | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday

You slam the alarm button down when it goes off on Tuesday morning, sitting on your bed, fully dressed, one hour too early. 

Your knee bounces up and down, your teeth rip at the skin next to your thumb, and you stare at the clock, counting down, literally, to when your ride will be here. 

Steve had offered, when he dropped you off last night, to pick you up all week. It was supposed to rain off and on till Friday, you shouldn’t have to bike so far, it was the least he could do all babbled out of him as you sat in his passenger seat still wearing his clothes. 

What was the surprise, to both of you, is that you’d said yes to his offer. 

He’d blinked at you, you blinked at him and he nodded, fingers fiddling with the radio dial as he murmured, “Cool, cool.”

You’d sat in his passenger seat in silence, both staring out the windshield at your apartment complex until Steve cleared his throat and looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Oh!” You quickly snapped off the seatbelt and pushed the door open, pausing to look down at the clothes you had on and the wet ones in your hands. “Um, I’ll, I can change quick and-“

“No!” 

He snapped his jaw closed and rubbed at his temple, blowing out a breath before he gestured, “I meant, like, don’t go to the trouble. It’s late, and, I’ll see you, and it’s fine, I don’t even wear those pants to sleep in because they’re too hot and-“

“Steve?” You interrupted, lips twitching against a smile. 

“Yeah?” He replied limply.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

“Tell me about it.”

He smiled. You smiled. Something was definitely wrong with your stomach and so, sure you were about to be sick in his car, you mumbled something about seeing him tomorrow and quickly closed the door, then climbed the stairs up to your front door. 

Steve waited to back out of his parking spot until you were safely inside where he couldn’t see you fall backwards against the door with an exhale and you couldn’t see him rubbing his face at the exit of the complex mumbling the word ‘idiot’. 

Which is what you felt like, when you woke up with the sunrise, still wearing Steve Harrington’s clothes. 

And you were still feeling like it after you showered, scrubbing at your skin till it stung because you felt like you needed to wash off any evidence of the smell that clung to your body like it was supposed to. But somehow that didn’t stop you from spending longer on picking out an outfit, or taking more time to get ready. Reasoning with yourself that it was because you didn’t have to bike, that you woke up early, it’s nice to dress up and take care of yourself every once in awhile, it feels good to be put together for no one but yourself. 

This is what you’re currently telling your reflection, avoiding eye contact with the sweatshirt as you stomp out of the room towards your kitchen. 

But as you move down your hallway, something, or rather someone, outside the window catches your eye and you grab your bag and leave your apartment to figure out what he’s doing. 

Steve’s crouched down next to your bike, large fingers working on something with the chain with a furrow between his eyebrows. He doesn’t hear you approaching, which is probably why he shoots up at the sound of your voice, the back of his head smacking right into the metal bike rack.

“Harring-“ his name cut off with a sharp empathetic wince as his eyes shut tight and his jaw pulses after he curses under his breath.

“Sorry,” you rub at your elbow, scuffing a converse on the ground as you squint at him, “Believe it or not, that wasn’t on purpose.”

Steve exhales what you think is supposed to be a laugh, as he blinks at the ground, “Yeah, I…” 

His words get lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth somehow because all he can think now is:

Pretty.

The word makes his tongue feel too big for his mouth, like he needs to say it or it’ll just keep sitting there and he’ll suffocate as it swells.  It’s not like he’s not thought that word around you before, he has. But the urge to say it hasn’t ever quite made him feel like this, like he’s gonna die.

“You…?” Your head tilts, eyes squinting to inspect him more, heartbeat thrumming faster as Steve stares at you intensely.

“Don’t,” Steve finishes, standing up slowly, your red helmet swinging in his fingers. 

“You don’t?” The two of you blink at each other.

“Believe you,” Steve offers.

“Oh, right.” 

You hate that you feel so warm under his stare, hate that you’re wondering if he likes your outfit. You hate-

“I, um,” Steve gestures to the bike, “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to say yes to me driving you. Since you, you know, hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

The words slip off of your tongue so easily, you bite down on it in fear that more lies will fall out. 

The words to Steve are, however, exactly what he needed to hear to remember who the hell he is. 

Steve grins, two freckles lifting as he asks, softly, fondly, “Yeah?”

“I,” you swallow, wondering if it’s possible that Steve Harrington possesses the power to erase ‘how to speak’ from your list of skills and abilities simply because he’s got nice eyes and smells good.

His grin settles, a smug smirk keeping his lips in a flat line before he whispers, “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes narrow, arms crossing over your Journey t-shirt as you snap, “I don’t hate you. I despise you.”

Steve’s gaze darts over your face, before golden iris’ are settling on yours. He takes a step closer, dangerously closing the gap between your bodies as he whispers, “Yeah? Well I detest you.”

His chest rises and falls, bumping your crossed arms, the toe of his Nike’s touching the tops of your converse. So close you can count freckles on his nose and see green in his eyes.

“Wow,” your words hushed, but dripping in sarcasm, “Another big brain word and it hasn’t even been a week. Would you like a prize?”

Steve’s eyes flash, his lips twist up as he leans in even closer, “Yeah,” murmured as the tip of his nose almost touches yours, mint toothpaste fanning over your lips, “I would.”

Your breath leaves your lungs, held somewhere so it can’t escape as his nose brushes the bridge of yours before it’s suddenly gone. 

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” spoken over his shoulder with a grin as he heads towards his car. 

Steve faces his car again, biting the inside of his lip out of your sight as you close your eyes out of his. 

Were you just going to let him kiss you?

Your legs feel wobbly as you make your way across the pavement towards the maroon car, and even more so when, nestled inside and buckled, Steve’s hand rests on the back of your seat as he says, “You look really pretty today, by the way.”

His forearm flexes in the corner of your eye as he looks over his shoulder to back out of the spot, spinning his steering wheel with the other hand effortlessly. The movement and skill makes your legs press together under your skirt, and you bite the inside of your cheek, adamant on ignoring what your body wants to tell you.

Steve fiddles with the radio dial as he comes to a stop sign.

“You know,” you bite, mad at yourself for falling for this, mad at him for starting it, just mad, “I haven’t forgotten that you have five days left to get me, of all people, to sleep with you. And as much as it pains me to say this, we’ve been in each others lives for quite awhile now, and I know you, Harrington. This isn’t working, it’s not going to work, and the fact that you think-“

He says your name roughly, tight, like the word burns his throat to say it. He leans over the console, ducking his head to catch your gaze causing a strand of hair to fall over his forehead. 

“Have you ever thought, for one second, that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as much of an asshole as you think, but because I know you hate me, I’ve never even tried to give you a compliment because that’s just not what we do? Tell me, honestly, if I’d have told you that you looked pretty, before today, before this bet, you wouldn’t have bit my head off then too? Or, god forbid, would have believed me?”

His breath is sharp, his gaze pierces into you, making something in your chest spark and sizzle, it’s not unlike the swell of pride you get when you win, and it’s better. 

It’s addicting. 

A horn honks and Steve blinks, facing the windshield and moving the car forward again. 

“I don’t hate you,” the words are a whisper, not as easily said as earlier.

“Right,” Steve clears his throat. He glances over at you with a small smile, then back at the road as he sighs, “Just despise.”

You hum a feeble agreement, and let Huey Lewis & The News fill the silence, asking if you believe in love. 

Steve’s fingers tap along to the song, his lips part, every other word softly exhaled as he sings under his breath. Which makes it hard to convince yourself that his words were just words, they meant nothing, and yours weren’t true either.

Steve Harrington doesn’t think you’re pretty and you hate each other. 

Despise. 

Whatever.

Your hands rest in your lap, thumb catching on a loose thread in your skirt that you are indebted to now. 

Not because Steve thinks you look pretty in it. 

But, because, if you instead search for where the loose thread begins, that brain space cannot be occupied by trying to figure out other times Steve wanted to call you pretty, or how you would have reacted, or how there’s two coffees in his cupholders next to your elbow. Focusing perhaps on, how the snag happened in your skirt could even make it so you don’t think about how, somehow, the leather of the seats and the coffee in such a tight space only make his normal scent of something minty and woodsy better and-

“Before you ask, no it’s not poisoned, and no, this isn’t me trying to woo you or whatever.” He gestures to the coffee, as if he’s reading your mind, “Could you hand me mine? Think it’s the front one.”

You’re shocked to learn that one of them is for you, and even more so when he grabs the cup from you and sips, grimaces, then coughs. 

“Ugh,” he licks his lips and holds it over to you, “That one was yours.”

You hand him the other cup, staring down at the one he handed back to you.

He bought you coffee and seemingly knows how you take it. 

As he pulls into the Family Video lot, expertly avoiding the kids skating and running around in front of Palace Arcade already, he sighs.

“You know,” he puts the car in park and looks at you, “I don’t have cooties.”

Haven’t even thought of the fact that if you took a sip, your lips would be where his had been, your body warms at the ‘kiss through contact’ possibility like a thirteen year old girl with a crush, heartbeat erratic still from the gesture of getting you the coffee.

“Actually, I was wondering if you did in fact poison this, because you despise me.”

“Detest,” Steve offers quietly with a smile.

“Detest,” you agree.

“I took a sip of it though. How would it be poisoned?”

“Maybe you’re like Westley and built up some sort of tolerance to this particular poison.”

Steve stares at you, blinking in silence until finally he asks, “What?”

“The Princess Bride?” You unsnap your seatbelt as he starts to get out of the car, talking over the roof of it. “Harrington, you have to have seen The Princess Bride?”

Steve swings his keys on his finger as he follows you to the front door, squinting. Both of you loving to have something to discuss that feels like easily navigated territory again. 

“Is that the one with Daisy?”

“Buttercup,” you correct immediately, stopping on the sidewalk to face him, “That’s our first movie today. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Fine,” Steve shrugs, but then nods to the cup in your hand, “If you take a sip and say thank you really sweetly.”

You scoff, “I don’t have to do shit, I’m the manager. And that was an if.”

Steve nods, holding his hand out. “Okay, then give me the coffee.”

“But...” you hesitate, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafting up to your nose. 

He definitely knows your order.

“Thought you said no ifs, ands, or buts?” Steve grins.

Your lips scowl before you mutter, “Don’t be cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” He smiles wider than he has all morning, showing off perfect, dazzling teeth. 

You roll your eyes and lift the cup to your lips. His eyes remain on yours, drinking you in just as much as you drink the coffee, gazes unwavering upon each other. 

It’s hard to swallow the perfectly made to your specifications coffee when he whispers, “That’a girl. See, was that so hard? Now, what do we say?”

“Thank you,” you grit, but Steve’s hand stops yours from unlocking the door.

“That wasn’t very sweet…” he tsks, sing song lilt to his voice.

With his hand over yours on the handle, you sigh, focusing on getting to watch a favorite movie instead of the way it engulfs yours. Batting your eyelashes, you force out a cheery, “Thank you, Harrington.”

Steve smirks, shakes his head no. He leans in, just like he had at your apartment. 

Just like when you almost let him kiss you. 

“First name, honey.”

That sparking, sizzling, simmering feeling is happening in your chest again.

Steve’s breath in is yours out as you murmur, “Thank you, Ste-“

“Jesus Christ! Thank fuck you’re alive! I’ve been…”

Eddie’s shout drifts off as he jumps out of his van, his eyes darting between you and Steve who’s starting to stand up straighter, hand dropping from the top of yours.

You clear your throat as Eddie grins at you, then Steve, then you again as he steps closer.

Eddie’s gaze looks over your outfit and your cheeks warm as he hums, raising his eyebrows over bright brown eyes that see right through you. 

“Well, don’t you look nice today.”

  Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday

  He was already on thin ice, and now, you were planning to fully cut a hole in said ice and let him meet his demise in the cold, dark water beneath it.

  Eddie doesn’t seem to care, as he winces with fake sympathy, and tosses an M&M in his mouth as you glare at him with your arms folded over your chest. 

  “What do you mean, you can’t take me anymore?” 

  He shrugs, but takes a step away from you, seemingly out of harms way.

  Physical harms way at least.

“I have to go back into the shop, Wayne needs me. I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you?” He puts on a nice, big, Munson level show - hands folded in prayer, big pouty lips, and blinking sad doe eyes. 

  You stand in front of the counter, rubbing your temple from the fluorescent that’s been blinking all morning. 

  “I didn’t eat lunch, I didn’t pack a lunch, because you promised the diner, you made a big deal about tradition,” you start towards him, hangry and looking for vengeance. 

  Eddie quickly sidesteps around the corner, standing directly across from you as you both go in a circle around the main counter where Robin sits, typing at the computer. 

  “Beer, on me,” he pleads, quickening his pace, “Tomorrow. A whole pitcher, just for you. I won’t even make fun of you when you get a gutter ball every turn!”

  “I don’t want beer, Munson! I want a strawberry shake and a damn cheeseburger!”

  “I can take you.”

  Steve’s quiet offer makes you freeze, Eddie grins and backs out quickly towards the front door, pointing, “What a wonderful idea Steve! I wish you both a lovely first date!”

  “Eddie!” you shriek, stomping towards the door, but he’s gone. 

  The bell chimes as he dashes through it with a salute, Steve clears his throat while you stand frozen, staring at the closed glass doors. 

  After Eddie had found you yesterday, and thoroughly bothered you about your outfit, and what he didn’t interrupt, because there was nothing to interrupt, he’d shown up at your apartment with far too many questions and far too much of an opinion on your relationship with Steve Harrington.

  Not a relationship. A friendship.

  No. 

  A mutual understanding. A common ground. An agreement of ceasefire of your overt…hatred. A, maybe, slow ascent to friendship, one day, perhaps. 

  Which seemed to please the idiot who was betting against Steve winning, well into the night. So, he agreed to take you out to lunch the next day, honoring your tradition, yet assuring you that the conversation was in fact, not over. 

  Robin finally breaks the silence, calling your name, then, “You good?”

  “Yeah,” you mumble, crossing your arms, “Just debating sleeping with Harrington so Eddie loses three hundred dollars.”

  There’s a choking sound behind you, and you spin to see Steve’s mouth stuffed with Red Vines.

  Your Red Vines. 

  “Are you kidding me? What did I say!”

  You stomp towards him and he holds up his hands in surrender, talking around the candy, “Hey, remember me? Steve,” he swallows, backing away and tripping over his heels. “I’m the guy who brought you coffee two mornings in a row and has the ability to bring you to a delicious, cheesy burger, fast?”

  You’re inches from him and he yelps, wincing before you even attack, then a shouted, “I’ll pay!”

  Stopping in front of him, you snatch up the package of Red Vines and growl, “And a shake.”

  Robin gapes at the two of you, then looks at Steve, “You brought her coffee? You never bring me coffee.”

  Steve glares at her while he grabs the package of candy back and holds them high above your head, ignoring your protests. 

  “You can have these back when you learn to say please.”

  “Can you pass the salt?” You speak around the fries in your mouth.  

  Steve sits across from you, eyebrows raised. 

  “Please,” you grumble. 

  You shake the salt over the basket sitting between the two of you after he hands it to you. The basket holding the fries he ordered immediately and flashed the waitress a smile and wink for so you got some food fast while you waited for burgers and shakes. 

  He watches your shoulders relax after a few bites, and decides he can attempt conversation, “Better?”

  Your head nods, fingers covering your mouth full of food as you say, “Yeah. Thank you.”

  Steve nods too, looking anywhere but you while you lick salt from your thumb or suck on the straw in your glass of coke. 

  “Glad I could help.” He risks stealing a fry for himself, his stomach grumbling in protest as it watches you eat and it gets nothing. 

  “Sorry,” you fiddle with the straw wrapper in your hands, shrugging, “I know I much more resembled a ravenous wild animal than a normal human being back there.”

  “Glad you said it,” he mutters, ducking when you throw the folded straw wrapper at his face. He catches it, playing with it between his own hands, staring at the table. “You were pretty upset though, what’d you mean about tradition?”

  You shove fries in your mouth, buying time to respond, wondering how much you should tell Steve. 

  “Um,” you cough into your fist, squinting out the window at the sky turning gloomy. 

  “It’s okay,” Steve waves it off, “I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me.”

  He shoves fries into his own mouth, right as the waitress brings two burgers over, sliding a strawberry shake onto the sticky tabletop. Steve’s chewing becomes frantic, holding up his hand and you’re saying the words before you can even register what you’re doing.

  “Could he get some extra pickles please?” 

  “Of course, hon,” she sways off, delivering another shake at a different table while Steve blinks at you. 

  “What?” You avoid his intense gaze, looking at your burger as you lift it to your lips. 

  “Didn’t think you were paying that much attention to me,” he finally says, smiling at the waitress when she drops off a small container of pickles. 

He looks at his burger, not you, so maybe that’s why it’s easier to keep talking about it.

  “Kind of make it hard to not pay attention, Harrington.”

  The pair of you sit in silence, chewing your burgers as rain starts to tap softly against the window, the red neon sign next to you flickering and making his yellow tshirt orange. 

  “Wish I knew you were watching sooner,” Steve looks up to find you already staring, “Wouldn’t have acted like such an idiot, maybe this would be a different story.”

  Your heart thuds in your ears, too warm under the softness of his eyes.

  “Acted?” You manage to push past your lips, tilting your head. 

  Steve smiles, and grabs for the shake, waiting for you to protest him putting a second straw into it. When you don’t, you surprise yourself by offering up, “It’s from the night we met.”

  He blinks at you, wrinkle forming between his brows as he sucks on the straw between his lips. You look away from them as you clarify, “Eddie. The diner. It’s a tradition from the night we met.”

  “Oh,” Steve nods, pushing the shake away and returning to his burger, adding another pickle. 

  “Yeah, I,” you close your eyes, then open them to look down at your food, blurting out, “Met him, after I threw that beer. In Brendan’s face. He took me to the diner, here, for pie, and I sort of spilled my guts to him.”

  Steve’s jaw pulses, the furrow of his forehead only deepening as you explain, not lessening. He takes another bite of his burger, ketchup smearing against the side of his mouth, offering you a reprieve from staring at his lips as he speaks around his bite, “Got it. That’s when you guys started dating, right?”

  You blink, lips parting but nothing comes out other than a shocked, “Ha!”

  Steve looks up at the scoff, taking in your wrinkled nose and how your eyes stare at his lips as you laugh, “Eddie…Ed,” you giggle, “No.”

  “You and…never?” Steve sits up straighter, eyes bouncing between your own. 

  “Not even a little bit,” you laugh, touching your lip, “You’ve got…”

  Steve swipes at his lips while he asks, “But you said you spilled your guts, I just assumed after what that asshole said and did that Munson like comforted and you and…”

  He trails off as you lean forward, rolling your eyes. 

  Your thumb swipes over the corner of his lip as you shrug, “Yeah, we bonded over assholes and crushing on people who’d never give us the time of day while sharing cherry pie. Best friends ever since.”

  Steve’s heart thrums as your fingers linger on his jaw, before you sit back again.

  And then you lick the ketchup off of your thumb. 

  He finally stumbles over the words, “I love pie.”

  “Yeah?” You grin, grabbing the shake.

  Steve nods, keeping eye contact as your cheeks hollow around the straw. But then he rolls his shoulders back and grabs the shake out from your lips and back across the table.

  “Except cherry. You’re delusional for choosing that over lemon.”

  “You’re delusional,” you yank the shake back towards you, “If you think you’re having any more of this.”

  Steve leans over the table as you begin to sip the shake again, only to wrap his lips around the second straw, noses bumping as he tries to drink it faster than you at the same time. 

  Your feet are intertwined under the table as you push at his shoulder and he tugs on the glass, both of you making a slurping noise as you get to the bottom, then grabbing at your temples from brain freezes while laughing.

  “I can’t stand you,” you push the glass towards the middle of the table. 

  “That’s better than detest, I’ll take it.”

    Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday

  Steve holds out the bag of popcorn to you, and you grin, taking some as you lean into him, a little tipsy, in the backseat of his car. 

  You, because you were last out to the car, and Steve, because he doesn’t do well in the front seat when Robin is driving. 

  Which is saying something, because Eddie isn’t doing so hot as it is.

  “No, Buckley!”

  “Give me a break, Eddie! It is super dark outside, and I’m a new driver, never attempted driving in the rain, and I don’t know wiper speed to rain droplet ratio!”

  You snort, nose in the popcorn bag as your shoulders shake. 

  Steve shushes you, mumbling, “You’re kind of a menace tonight.”

  “Eddie’s,” you hiccup, blinking up under heavy eyelashes at Steve’s profile, mesmerized by the freckles that dot it, “Fault. Got me all that beer.”

  “No comments-” Robin begins to talk over her shoulder.

  “Ba-ah-ah,” Steve points forward, stepping on an invisible brake in the backseat while Eddie grabs her chin and keeps it locked straight ahead.

  “From the peanut gallery,” she finishes loudly.

  “No peanuts back here,” you throw a piece at Eddie’s ear, “Just popcorn!”

  Steve remains facing forward, watching intently as Eddie directs Robin on slick roads towards her house. “You didn’t have to drink it all.”

  “Oh,” you sigh, sliding over to the window and pressing your forehead against the cool glass, “But I did, Harrington. For I am the champion of bowling night!”

  He opens his mouth, but you sit up straight again, and press your finger to his lips, softly saying (but thinking you’re singing), “No time for losers.”

  Steve smiles behind your finger, eyes soft and melting you a little. 

  Which you almost say out loud, but the song on the radio grabs your attention. You squeal, which makes Robin jump, which makes the car sway and Steve grab your shoulders, pushing you back on the seat as you yell, “Turn it up!”

  “You’re such a loser,” Eddie grumbles, but does as you request. 

  Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes plays a little louder, but no one can tell, because you’re loudly singing over him.

Eddie rolls his eyes at the way Steve watches you, and Robin bites her lip, fighting back laughter as you shout, “You all love this song, don’t lie to me!”

  You scream into your fist, dramatically singing, tossing your head, pointing at each of them. 

  “And all my instincts,” you take a deep breath and whip over to Steve, kneeling on the seat, “They return!”

  You shove your fist into Eddie’s face, who pretends to bite it, refusing to sing. But finally melts at your pout, mumbling along with you, “Without my pride.” Robin happily joins in, in a high falsetto, when you whip your fake microphone over to her, “I reach out from the inside.”

  As they all join in with you for the chorus, you fall backwards, laughing, catching Steve’s eyes. 

  You’d like to blame the beer, the cozy dark backseat, the way Steve smells, the rain, the fucking song. And while you can’t blame them for something that was inevitable, you can pretend that without this specific combination you never would have. 

  If you were sober, and In Your Eyes came on, you never would have touched the two freckles on Steve’s cheek, your fake microphone falling limp, palm flat against his chest. 

  If it weren’t dark, and he didn’t smell so good, you never would have let those same fingers drag down his jaw, only to linger on his lips. 

  And if it weren’t raining, and Robin hadn’t taken a second to look back in her mirror and say, “Holy shi-“

  It never would have happened. 

  Eddie shouts, Robin screams, and something heavy and warm is on top of you as the car spins on the water that’s flooded the streets. 

  Your ears are ringing, muffled words lost in the sound, and you can’t move, something holds you down. 

  It takes a second to realize the car isn’t moving anymore, and there’s hands on your cheeks. When your eyes blink open, there’s golden hazel ones that remind you of a scared boy looking at you intently.

  “Are you okay?” He gasps from on top of you where you’re both horizontal in the backseat now.

  “I’m fine,” Robin says sarcastically from the front seat, “Thanks for-“ Eddie shushes her.

  “Of course,” you grumble, hands that were clutched in Steve’s shirt loosening and pushing at him.

  His hands shake on your cheeks, fingers touching a spot on your forehead that has you wincing and his chest moving up and down faster.

  “Harrington,” you push at him more, his hand cups your cheek, eyes turning glassy as you insist, “I’m fine, get off.”

  “Hey,” you shake his shoulder as stares at your forehead, breathing harder still, “Harrington, relax. We’re all fine.”

  The side of his face flashes with red and blue, his heartbeat thuds against your chest as his breathing continues to ramp up. Your hands cup his jaw, thumbs delicately swiping over his cheeks. 

  “Steve. Look at me.”

  His shoulders shake with a stuttered breath and then his hand quickly reaches forward, gently cupping the back of your head as the door behind you opens. 

  Someone speaks, but neither of you hear them, eyes remaining on each other as you whisper, “Take a deep breath, Steve. Please?”

  You nod as he does, your hands loosening on his cheeks as he starts to let his weight hover over you instead of pushing you down. 

  A voice from behind you asks Steve to get out first. He’s held back as paramedics help you out of the car and lead you over to the back of the ambulance. Robin stands next to you and you shake your head, the words I’m so sorry easily able to read off of your lips and Robin stops them with her hand up. 

  Eddie stands next to him, watching, just as intently, and he clears his throat. 

  “That was…” he starts, looking at Steve, then back at you, now getting your forehead looked at. “Glad you were back there, man.”

  Steve nods, numb, as he watches you wince and say, “I’m fine,” to the EMT stitching you up. His fingers graze down the bridge of his nose and his swipes underneath it, nodding when Eddie says he’s gonna go check on Robin. 

  Everyone is fine, save for your head injury. His car is fine, save for a ding on the back bumper.

  Your side. 

  He saved you.

  He protected you. 

  He was scared for you. 

  Your heartbeat picks up as your gaze on the wet asphalt beneath your scuffed sneakers catches bright Nike’s approaching. 

  “How’s the patient?” 

  Steve’s voice is soft, scared, not a thing like you’ve ever heard before. 

  Which is maybe why when you look up at him, nothing comes out of your parted lips.

  Rain drips from the tip of Steve’s hair, curling around his ears, a droplet caught on his cupid’s bow, darkening the green shirt he wears. 

  The EMT stares down at you, waiting, then she smiles, staring at your forehead as she offers, “She’ll be okay. No concussion, probably a little sleepy from the pain meds she just took, but overall just a little dinged up. Nothing a little night of tender loving care from her boyfriend can’t fix.”

  “Oh, no, I’m-“

  “He’s not, we’re not-“

  Steve and you talk at the same time, stopping when the other speaks. 

  “Oh, my mistake,” she hums. She looks down at you as she inspects her last stitch, smiling softly, “Well, maybe some tender loving care from a friend then. Can I count on you handsome? Get her home safely?”

  Steve nods, cheeks pink as he waits for you to stand, his hand resting by your elbow just in case, then hovering near your lower back as he walks behind you towards his car. 

  “Dingus!” Robin shouts from Hopper’s truck. 

  Steve turns to look at her, and as he holds the door open for you, he leans down and murmurs, “I’ll be right back, you’re…you okay?”

  “Mhm,” you nod, blinking from the pain of the movement. 

  Steve doesn’t look like he believes you, but nods, and closes your door softly, running over to the truck, squinting in the rain. 

A soft tap hits the glass of your door and you jump, rolling the window down for Eddie, the boys swapping places without you realizing.

  “Hey sweetheart, how you doing?” He folds his arms on the frame of the door, bent down to take a closer look at your head. 

  “I’m fine,” you answer without thinking.

  Eddie’s lips twitch, fighting the urge for the joke, “Of course you are. You okay with Harrington taking you back? Hopper always can? Need me to stay over?”

  You watch Robin grab Steve’s jaw, pushing and pulling him to inspect him while he rolls his eyes and pushes her off. A much more physical approach, but the same as Eddie’s nonetheless. 

  When you don’t say anything, he follows your gaze and sighs. “Yeah, you’re okay. Fucking hell, I gotta figure out where I’m getting three hundred dollars from, thanks a lot you Peter Gabriel loving dork.”

  “Eddie, I-“ you protest and he waves his hand, smiling.

  “Save it, you’re hook line and sunk for him. You have been since the day I met you, fine.”

  He kisses your temple, opposite of your cut, and taps the hood of the car before jogging over to the truck, swapping with Steve again. But he pauses in the middle, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and pointing at the car, then pats him and jogs off again. 

  Once Steve is back in the car, you wait for him to drive, to say something, but he looks at you expectantly and then you realize-

  Your seatbelt. 

  “Sorry,” you murmur, and then it’s silent. 

  No radio. 

  No talking.

  Just the swish of rain on the pavement under spinning wheels. The rhythmic pit then pat of it hitting his windows, the slosh of the wipers back and forth. Steve’s breathing. 

  You don’t realize you’ve been soothed to sleep from it all, the combination of alcohol and adrenaline fading, until the car is coming to a complete stop, engine off, and your door is being opened. 

  Steve leans over you, unbuckling the seatbelt, whispering, “Come on, trouble.”

  “Mmm,” you protest, eyelashes fluttering, head hitting the headrest with a frown. “Steve.”

  “I know, just a few more minutes then you’ll be in bed, come on.”

  His hands slide into yours, gently pulling you from the car, guiding you towards the stairs. Your lead filled eyelids blink with each step, as you mumble, “Keys.”

  “I got ‘em, come on,” his hand presses to your lower back, then roams higher, pressing lightly when you sigh from the feeling. 

  A door opens, a hand wraps around your waist and a shoulder supports your head. 

  Steve blinks in the low light of your lamp that must be on a timer, taking in your space for the first time. He closes your door, keeping his hand on your waist to steady you as you sway while he bends down. 

  He watches you, as he unties a sneaker, patting your ankle as he quietly says, “Lift your leg up for me, honey.”

  You do as you’re told, blinking down at the boy who gently removes your shoe, then the other as you rest your hands on his shoulders for balance. 

  “Steve,” you gulp around his name, blinking back tears.

  He looks up at his name, frowning as he stands, large hands cradling your jaw as he tuts. “Hey, what’s the matter? What’re these for, huh?”

  His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, catching big tears that spill over your lashes as you blubber, “I’m so so-sorry. Everyone could have been really hurt. I hate Peter Gabriel. I’ll ne-never listen to hi-him again.”

  Steve laughs, and you frown, blinking at him through tears, “It-it’s not funny. Stop laughing at me.”

  He clears his throat, nodding, “Right. It’s not funny.”

  His lips twitch when you frown more, fingers curling around his wrists that still support your cheeks.

  “Bedroom?” He asks softly.

  “Harrington,” you sniffle, eyes rolling, “I hardly think this is the time to try to make a move.”

  He shakes his head, “I meant so I can set you up before I leave, smartass.”

  You point down the hallway, but then sigh, “Can you get me a glass of water.”

  He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

  “Please?” you pout your lips out.

  Steve nods towards your bedroom, “Yeah, I can do that.”

  He watches you wander down the hallway, and click on a light in your room, before he heads to your kitchen. As he fills the glass up, he takes the opportunity to glance around at pieces of you he’s not normally let in on. Wondering where certain trinkets are from and what they mean to you. He notices the large collection of vinyl. He grins at the stack of Family Video tapes that are clearly over the rental limit, even for employees. 

  And he’s ready to say something sassy to you about it, when he reaches your room, but you’re already laying in your bed, eyes closed and curled up on your side.

  In his sweatshirt. 

  He sets the glass of water on the nightstand, then lifts your comforter, pulling it over bare legs exposed from small sleep shorts. He leaves a quick note about leaving your front door key in your mailbox. 

  Steve hesitates before clicking off the light, taking in your slow, even breaths, the shadows on your face, peaceful with sleep. 

  He kisses your cheek as he turns off the light, lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than he probably should have. 

  “Goodnight, honey.”

AN: thanks for your patience in this chapter and the next! This chapter is actually what sparked the core of this whole series, and I’m excited to finally share it with you. It was originally being written in the winter, and the events of this chapter are heavily inspired by a moment that happened between my parents before they were married! My dad and mom were in the backseat of a car, an accident happened, and my dad had leaned over to protect my mom, and she says that's when she knew she was in love with him. Take that for this story however you'd like 🤭 So while it’s not exactly what happened anymore, the essence is still there and I hope you love it, it definitely holds a special place in my heart. Also, I simply can’t help myself from including The Princess Bride in all of my series it seems. Thanks for being here!

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