#and i imagine it gets even worse when he's in the middle of being shoved back into the tree

[kissthesunandmoon]

Cellmates by proxy (Yautja x f reader SMUT MDNI)

Part 2 here!

(You were abducted by an intelligent unknown species who wish to study other forms of intelligent life, due to limited space however you are forced to share a cell with none other than a Yautja. You earn his respect which turns to fondness, which turns to more when your ovulation shifts your hormones.)

Being abducted by aliens was nothing like how they depicted it in the movies, there was no beaming light that pulled you from your bed, no flying saucer that engulfed you, no tiny bug eyed men with grey skin and bulbous heads. You had simply set your alarms, snuggled up under your covers and fallen asleep in your bed as you did every other night. It was routine. What was not routine however, was what greeted you when you finally awoke.

It was the lights that stirred you, so bright that they infiltrated even your closed eyelids. Then the feeling of being without your blanket, you had reached for it still half asleep but of course it wasn’t there, instead your hand brushed against a cold floor. You slowly opened your eyes, still feeling groggy and confused, however the instant realisation that you were clearly not in your room sent a surge of adrenaline into your body bolting you upright.

The room was bright and sterile, you felt your heart stutter in your chest as you attempted to process your surroundings. Where the hell were you? You practically jumped to your feet walking forward to press your hands against what appeared to be a white sealed door, you could see the line in which the two halves met in the middle and attempted to pull it open with your hands. It was a futile attempt, a cheap shot at that.

You could feel your breathing quicken as panic was setting in, and just when you felt this situation couldn’t get any worse, you heard something from behind you. From the back half of the room which for some reason you had neglected to check, erupted what sounded like a low animalistic growl. Shit. That couldn’t be good.

You turned slowly and just as soon as you did, you stumbled backwards, your back hitting the sealed doors. Sat against the wall at the other side of the room was, something, it had a body very similar to a human but with almost reptilian skin, and you could see plenty of it considering all it wore was a loin cloth. As your eyes travelled up, they fell on its face, deep predatory eyes and mandibles which clicked and chittered occasionally under your scrutiny, you could see what appeared to be dreads which dangled down, laying against its shoulders. Across its neck was what appeared to be some kind of metal collar that looked to you like some form of shock collar. Considering its body, you could only assume that it was male, whatever it was.

You felt your chest heaving, could hear the blood pumping in your ears, and feel your legs trembling underneath you. Whatever it was, it stared back at you. You swallowed feeling your mouth go dry, opening your mouth you let out a breath you didn’t even realise you had held before speaking “Where am I?” Was all you managed with your shaking voice. He didn’t respond, he just stared at you.

After about an hour, you had moved to sit on the wall next to the door, too terrified to go near him as he continued to just sit in silence. Finally the door opened and in came your apparent captures, you had never seen anything like them. They looked how you would imagine the offspring of a human and some kind of jellyfish, humanoid bodies with nearly transparent skin, they seemed to absorb the colour of the room as they entered.

They took you that day from your shared cell and into some kind of medical room, they poked and prodded you, weighed you, measured you, took blood from you and inspected you from head to toe, although you were grateful that they never made you remove any clothing. Afterwards, they shoved you into a shower room with a bag full of human toiletries where they allowed you to clean yourself before you were escorted back to your room. Of course, he was there when you returned, his eyes studied your body as if trying to determine just what they had done with you.

This routine continued for the next few days, they took you every single day, studied you for an hour or so, made you wash yourself and then brought you back to your cell. You had stopped resisting by now, you never got your way, they would simply drag you out with rough hands, or you would be convinced by the idea of a warm shower. You hated them with every fibre of your being, but it just wasn’t worth the fight. Never once did they attempt to take your roommate, apparently these beings feared him too. You wondered if they had tried in the past and he had reacted in a way which had earned him the collar, you had never seen him in action but from his stance alone you could guess that it would have ended in blood shed. Perhaps they had bitten off more than they could chew abducting him, you on the other hand were nice and docile. You were no longer scared of him however, you didn’t mind sitting near him now and you finally felt safe enough to sleep around him. Although you could feel his watchful gaze on you constantly, but you reminded yourself that If he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now. He had still not spoken a word to you of course and you weren’t even sure if he could, but you didn’t mind, it was a comfortable quiet as you tried to adapt to your new reality.

—————————

On the third day they came into your cell around mid day, bringing both yourself and your roommate some food. It wasn’t good food by any means, but it was food nonetheless, they set yours down in front of you before moving towards him. You watched them, they were acting unusual today. They looked almost nervous, exchanging glances between them before moving towards him, and that’s when you saw it. One of them, behind its back, was holding a syringe, a big one. It placed the food down in front of him trying to act as nonchalant as possible, your eyes widened as you saw its grip tighten, its thumb moving to the end of the syringe ready to plunge it into him. You figured they must have been trying to sedate him, so that they could finally study him as they did you.

The collar allowed them to keep his behaviour at bay, but no amount of shocks could convince him to leave that room with them. You didn’t have to intervene, it wouldn’t make any difference to you. But you were cursed with something that none other in the room inherited, humanity. You had come to terms with what they did to you, after all they never did anything too invasive to you. But even you would not want to be completely unconscious around them. And as you saw that disgusting creatures arm twitch, you lurched forward almost involuntarily, your hand wrapping around its rubbery skin. It whipped round to face you, dropping the syringe in the process which rolled across the floor and directly in front of him. His eyes flickered towards it, and then back to you, with that creatures wrist still locked in your hand.

Before you could even speak it brought its other hand up and with its fist gave you a strike right across your face, a hard one at that. You stumbled backwards with a sharp gasp, falling to the floor. You brought your hand to your face feeling blood trickle from your nose, running down your face and to your neck. Before you could even wince at the sight, your cellmate stood, grabbing your attacker by his neck and smashing his head open against the wall. They shocked him with a simple flick of a button, and by the roar he let out, the voltage must have been extremely high. Not that it mattered, that thing was already dead, a crumpled mess on the floor. The others grabbed you by your arms ready drag you out of the room, perhaps to punish you, but he lunged forward startling them enough to let go and scamper out of the room, the braver ones staying only a moment longer to drag out the dead body of their friend with them. You felt his eyes on you as you stayed crouched on the floor, trying to cup your nose, the pain had completely dulled your senses. The whole ordeal had happened so fast, in a matter of seconds, you barely had time to process any of the events that had just unfolded. He came to you slowly, not wanting to frighten you, and took your face between his hands, tears and blood running down it. He helped you wipe off the blood and analysed your injuries, your nose wasn’t broken thankfully but you both knew you would be sore for a while. As he looked into your eyes, you saw something gentle behind them and for the first time, he spoke. “Why?” Was all he asked. You couldn’t believe that this whole time not only could he understand you, but could speak to you. You didn’t dwell on it however. You could taste the blood in your throat, and trying not to spit any out you replied “It was going to hurt you” he just stared at you once again.

—————————

It had been two weeks now in this place, and you and your cellmate had bonded significantly since you had saved him from being drugged and he had finally spoken to you, not long after your incident he had told you his name, T’orak. He never said it out loud, but he felt a great deal of respect for you for defending him, and also a little shameful that he hadn’t noticed the creatures intentions, if he had you would have never had to have intervened, and he could have saved you the pain and blood loss. After that you two slowly began to speak about anything everything, he told you about his species and their customs, his home planet and his “brothers” who he claimed would be on their way for him by now. You spoke of yourself, of course he already knew a lot about humans, but he was always interested in hearing about you. He had also become far more protective of you, your captures were no longer allowed to touch you at all, at least not within your cell. He had killed for you once and he would do it again.

He was starting to grow quite fond of you indeed, and one day when they had taken too much blood from you making you far weaker than you had been, he had held you. Without a word he pulled you sideways into his lap and let you rest, without question or protest you allowed yourself to curl into him and drift off, when they tried to take you the next day he simply gave them a warning growl as you slept against his strong chest. They didn’t challenge him, not after they had witnessed just what he could do. It was funny, his kind always valued strength and courage, however in your vulnerable states he felt increasingly drawn to you, that urge to protect you had festered deep within him. And you had started to enjoy his company more than you would like to admit as well, his protectiveness over you was comforting, and a little alluring.

—————————

On this particular morning when you awoke, you knew something was up with you. You felt warm, even warmer than this room typically made you feel. Your breasts were slightly tender, and on top of everything, your libido was through the roof. You were confused for a moment, trying to wrap your head around what was happening to you. Then you had a thought, you calculated how long you had been here and aligned it to your cycle. This was around the time you should be ovulating. Fuck. The hormonal changes had hit you like a truck out of nowhere, and you could feel it. You tried to ignore it, to force it down, but you could feel it building within you. Sitting around with nothing to occupy you was only making it worse, you needed a distraction, or a remedy. It was starting to make you feel uncomfortable how aroused you were slowly becoming. You felt relieved when they came to take you, at least their irritating curiosity with you would distract you, and a shower would surely help? Wrong. The hot shower on your skin only made you feel worse, so much worse.

When you returned to your shared room you had sat slightly further away than you usually did, a little embarrassed by your own primal feelings. Especially around a male, a male outside your own species no less. He watched as you fidgeted, trying to get comfortable, his lingering eyes certainly offered you no relief. “You are restless today” he began, his voice snapping you from your thoughts. “Did they hurt you again?” There was something to his tone, a glint to his eye that told you that if you said yes, collar or not, severely outnumbered or not, he would rip out as many throats as he could before he fell.

You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek slightly. “Do not lie to me little ooman, you are clearly distressed, did they do something?” You just shook your head again, I mean how could you tell the dangerous alien that you shared a room with that you were overrun with hormones that were turning you on. However, he was clearly not satisfied with your answer as he stood, moving towards you. You backed yourself further into the wall, “I’m fine I swear, they didn’t do anything-“ you were cut off when he crouched down grabbing one of your wrists. Subconsciously you pressed your legs together, he noticed, his eyes studied you for a moment before you saw them fill with rage. “Did. they. touch. you” he asked motioning to your thighs pressing together. “what? No? NO they- they didn’t do anything I swear” you replied after realising what he was insinuating. He still wasn’t satisfied, wrapping his large hands around your calves he gave you a tug towards him, and then he began throughly inspecting you. Checking your body for marks, bruises, anything that would explain your discomfort.

The entire time you continued to struggle against his grip, attempting to swat his searching hands away. You wriggled so much that you ended up flat on your back on the floor with him practically on top of you. Unsurprisingly, this little game of his was not helping your condition, now frustrated, he decided to just pin your wrists on either side of your head, leaning down to look at you. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or-“ he cut himself off with an inhale, and then another one. Oh god, could he scent you?

You tried squirming harder, he removed his hands from your wrists and used them to pin your hips stopping you from moving. “Your pheromones smell different” you didn’t say anything, but continued to try to struggle away from his grip. He pinned you harder now. “You are….in heat?” You could hear your heart drumming in your ears, but there was no use lying to him, he knew. “No! Well…kind of? I’m just ovulating, I’m fine” He let out a sound you hadn’t heard from him before, a deep rumble, almost like a purr. “I see, and this is causing your discomfort, you are wanting” you would have denied it, but it wasn’t a question, and it also would have been a lie. God this was embarrassing. “It’s nothing, really, it will pass” he studied your expression for a while “interesting, your kind handles this sensation with much higher composure than the females within my own, they would have demanded my cock by now”

His words stunned you momentarily, forgetting briefly how blunt he was, you didn’t even know what to say and so instead you just continued to look up at him, waiting for him to let you go. Instead however he moved himself further down your body. “Wait- What are you doing?” You asked watching his descent until he parted your thighs, sitting between them. “I can sense your discomfort ooman, your arousal is causing you great frustration, I can help ease it.” You blinked at him for a moment, your lips parted but no words came out. “With your permission of course, if you tell me to stop, I will obey” he said softly, looking at you. You knew you shouldn’t entertain this, you should tell him to stop, but that ache between your legs was only growing with his words, you couldn’t even deny that you wanted it. After a few moments of your silence, he reached to hook his fingers in the band of your pants, pulling them down before reaching up and removing your top at well.

He didn’t shy away from your body, letting his eyes soak up every inch as he spread your legs again. He purred. “Do I have your permission?” You barely even registered what he was saying before you felt yourself nodding, and without another second, he took the underside of your thighs in his large hands, putting your legs on his shoulders and lowered his head to you. He started gingerly licking you, and then once he allowed himself to taste you, he let out a low growl before pressing himself into you, his tongue exploring you skill-fully. You let out a breathy moan as you felt your back arch, your hips pressing yourself into his mouth. He brought his hand up to press on your stomach, holding you still, his other hand on your thigh. “Oh fuck, you’re good at this” you let your fingers intertwine with his dreads, holding him to you. But by how he was lapping you up, you didn’t think you’d even be able to pull him off.

His tongue caressed your clit, before sliding to explore inside of you, he had now moved both of his hands to hold your hips, helping you roll them into him. You could feel his mandibles digging into your thighs, but you didn’t mind, if anything you found it added a delicious pressure to them. He pulled away momentarily to look at you from between your thighs, “when my brothers come for me, I may have to bring you with me, I have grown fond of you little ooman, and now I will crave this sweet pussy every day” you whimpered at his words, and you knew that you would crave him every day. “When we are on my home planet, I will mate you, provide for you, protect you and eventually breed you” and with that he was back down devouring you. You felt your legs begin to shake, and he felt it too. He pulled you impossibly close against his mouth, bringing you closer, the room was filled with your pants, moans and the wet sounds of his tongue against you. With one final roll of his tongue, you felt your muscles tense as your orgasm crashed down on you, your head tilting back and your body arching, he continued to lick at you until you were whimpering and moving away from his mouth.

Before you could even regain your composure you felt him lift your hips again, he had removed his loin cloth and was waiting for your consent once again, you nodded. He began pushing himself in, the stretch was like nothing you had ever felt before, it set your nerves alight and numbed them all at the same time. Once he was half way in, his large hand came to rest next to your head, and you clutched onto his forearm to ground yourself. You panted wildly, partly due to the pain, partly due to the pleasure that was building with each inch he pushed into you. It took a few minutes, but eventually he had managed to push himself completely inside of you. He hooked your leg on his hip, looking down at you. And then he began to move, your jaw went slack at the first grind of his hips and his name rolled off your tongue. He growled at the feeling of you, rocking himself in and out of you at a pace that was dizzying. Locking eye contact with him you asked “did you really mean that about-“ you were cut off by a brutal snap of his hips choking a moan from you, before you continued “about me being your mate?” He slowed his hips for a moment, leaning down closer “I have wanted to make you mine since you took a fist to your face for me”.

(I hope that you all liked this one as much as you liked my last one. This is part 1 and is mainly just a back story/gentle ease in. I will be making a part 2 in which reader and T’orak go to yautja prime and become official mates, and YES there will be lots of mating and more graphic SMUT than in this one, this was just the taste test, a free sample of you will ;) )

[fiastomatocheek]

SNIFFLES AND SNOOPY SNUGGLES

requested: yes | req: could you do a fic where lucy wakes up sick and luke takes care of her the whole day?? 🤍

pair: dad!luke hughes x f!reader.

genre: fluff, domestic, comfort, family life.

warnings: none (except extreme dad!luke fluff and sick toddler adorableness).

summary: lucy wakes up sick with a stuffy nose and a mild fever the morning of your check-up appointment. with your usual baby-planning check-in split between different days this week, luke stays home with lucy while you go alone.

fia’s note: another dad!luke moment, i imagine luke has the softest spot for little luce, always. and in this one, she’s feeling really sick and doesn’t have her mom around, so she’s tired and cranky and ends up having a little tantrum. but luke being the patient, gentle dad he is and does his absolute best to comfort her. even though it’s not the first time lucy’s been sick, it’s the first time he’s taking care of her alone for the whole day, and he’s just doing everything he can to be her calm and steady safe space. 🍅

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @hopefulsuitcasemoneyzonk @kell9rs @alwaysclassyeagle @nokiaholland @macka @silvenyy

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | yap & fic

“Babe, is Luce fever better?”

Luke’s voice was still raspy with sleep when you walked back into the bedroom, fresh from checking on Lucy. You rubbed at your temple, your fingers still cool from adjusting the thermometer under her arm.

“No, it went up a bit. Still not too high, but she’s definitely fighting something. Her cheeks are warm, and still all sniffles.”

Luke sat up immediately, running a hand through his hair.

“Do we need to call the pediatrician?”

You shook your head. “Not yet, just miserable. I already gave her medicine at 4 in the morning, she slept okay, but I’ll call if she gets worse. Just… keep an eye on her, okay? I have to head out soon for my appointment.”

Luke blinked, then nodded. “Right, your appointment. The baby plan thing.”

“And of course. I’ve got her.”

“You’ll go in next week. We’ll meet in the middle with science.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap.

“Cool. Teamwork makes dream babies.”

“Luke.” You rolled your eyes. “Focus.”

“I am focused. On you,” he muttered, grinning as you shoved his chest lightly.

You smiled faintly. “I made you toast, eggs, and salad, it’s on the counter. And there’s pumpkin porridge in the little yellow bowl for Lucy. You don’t need me to tell you what to do. You’ve got this.”

Luke crossed the room and kissed your forehead, then leaned down and pressed a longer, lingering kiss to your stomach.

“I’ll check on Luce in a few minutes. Love you, babe.”

“Love you, Snoopy,” you whispered with a tired grin.

Thirty minutes later, after he finished his breakfast, Luke padded upstairs, knock very softly on Lucy’s door before opening it and there she was.

His little girl. His baby.

Her curly hair was all tangled around her cheeks, her nose stuffy and red, lips slightly chapped, eyes barely open. She looked like a crumpled-up tissue in her pink bunny pajamas, breathing through her mouth and looking so… so tired.

Normally, she’d beam when she saw him, she’d laugh, squeal ‘Snooooopy!’ and throw herself into his arms.

But this morning, all she did was let out a weak, raspy.

“…Daddy?”

Luke’s heart cracked in two.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, hurrying to her bedside.

Lucy’s small arms lifted weakly toward him, and Luke gently scooped her up, cradling her close as she flopped into his chest like a limp kitten. She clung to him immediately, forehead pressed against his collarbone.

“Hey, Luce, hey, baby” Luke murmured, rocking side to side.

“Daddy’s here. You okay?”

She gave the smallest shake of her head.

She sniffled weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“My nose is broken.”

Luke chuckled softly and rubbed her back. “Not broken, Luce. Just clogged up like… like the locker room showers when uncle Quinn takes too long.”

“Daddy, is… is Mommy here?” she mumbled, clinging to his hoodie.

“She’s at her doctor thing, remember? She’s checking to make sure everything’s good before we try to get you a little sibling.”

Lucy made a tiny face and leaned into his neck. “I don’t want sibling if they cry a lot, Daddy.”

Luke laughed again, then dropped his voice to something slower, softer.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re tired and sniffly and grumpy and I got you. Daddy’s here.”

She gave a little hiccup, and he felt her tears soak into his shirt.

Luke would hold Lucy and sat in her rocking chair for almost another 30 minutes, wrapped in her bunny blanket while Luke murmured quietly and ran his fingers through her curls. Usually she was climbing all over him, full of energy and sass. But right now, all she did was sniffle and breathe in that shallow way little kids do when they’re trying not to cry.

“I know, Luce,” he said quietly.

“I know you feel yucky. But you’re strong, and you’re my girl, and we’re gonna beat this cold together, okay?”

She nodded sleepily against his chest.

After helping Lucy brush her teeth with the tiniest smudge of kid-safe toothpaste and gently washing her face with a warm cloth, Luke carried her downstairs for breakfast.

He’d already crushed his toast and coffee earlier, so now it was Lucy’s turn. He set her down at the table in her booster seat and tucked her blanket around her like a cape.

“Okay, pumpkin porridge, coming right up,” he said, warming it just a little in the microwave.

She rested her cheek on the table. “I don’t wanna eat.”

Luke crouched to her level, spoon in hand, he leaned closer and whispering conspiratorially

“You gotta eat a little, baby. It’ll help the medicine work. and plus if you get better by the weekend… I’ll take you skating with Nana.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up for just a second. “On real ice?”

“On the big rink,” Luke said. “With your sparkly skates.”

She gave a tired smile. “Pink laces?”

“Only the pinkest.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “But just a lil’ bit. Not a lot.”

Luke fed her slowly, talking between bites. She got through almost half the bowl before her sniffles got louder and she whispered.

“I miss Mommy.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Me too, Luce. She’ll be home soon, and maybe we’ll FaceTime her before your nap, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

Luke picked her up again, one arm under her legs, the other cradling her back. Her head fell against his shoulder, her thumb slipping into her mouth.

“You’re the best, Snoopy,” she mumbled.

“Even when my nose is broken.”

“And you’re still my best girl,” he whispered.

Lucy had napped off and on in Luke’s arms after breakfast, her fever had started to ease by early afternoon, not gone, but definitely lower, like her little body was finally cooling down after the worst of it.

Luke had been keeping notes on his phone just like you would’ve done, recording the time she ate, her temp every couple hours, when he gave her Tylenol. Hockey brain or not, he was on it.

But by mid-afternoon… Lucy hit a wall.

And so did Luke.

That’s when she asked for juice. Not the apple one. Not the mango one either. No, the blue juice. Which didn’t exist. Luke gently tried explaining that blue juice wasn’t real juice, and that sent her spiraling into meltdown number one.

She started crying, exhausted tears streaking down her warm cheeks.

“Nooooo! I want blue juuuuice! Mommy gived me it before!!”

Luke sighed, crouching beside her on the floor.

“Luce, I swear, if there was blue juice in this house, I’d give you the whole bottle, baby. But I think you’re thinking of that blue cup.”

She pushed the water bottle away.

“Not the same!”

“I know,” he said, brushing hair from her forehead.

“I know it’s not the same. I miss Mommy juice too.”

She sniffled, hiccupped, then screamed.

Meltdown number two hit fifteen minutes later when Luke tried to give her a lukewarm bath to cool her down and help her feel clean. She kicked the water. Then screamed because she was wet. Then cried because her cloth was off. Luke ended up sitting on the bathroom floor with her wrapped in two towels, her head tucked under his chin like a grumpy burrito.

“You’re alright, Luce,” he whispered, rubbing slow circles on her back as she whimpered.

“You’re just tired. Daddy’s tired too. We’re just two sleepy sickos trying our best.”

“You’re not sick,” she grumbled against his chest.

“I’ve got a sick heart ‘cause I miss Mommy too.”

She looked up at him, pouting. “Do you think Mommy coming home soon?”

Luke kissed her nose. “Wanna call her and find out?”

You answered on the first ring, your face lighting up on the screen.

“Hi, baby!”

Lucy’s eyes immediately watered. “Mommyyyy…”

“Aw, hey, Luce,” you cooed, already softening your voice.

“You okay? You look a little better.”

Luke held the phone so both their faces were in view. His hair was sticking up on one side, his shirt had tiny porridge stains, and there was an unmistakable look of war in his eyes.

“She’s doing better,” he said hoarsely.

“Fevers dropped. No appetite for fake juice. She tried to fight me in the bath. I think I lost.”

“She had a meltdown?”

“Multiple,” he muttered, blowing a strand of hair off his forehead.

“We’ve cycled through every emotion known to mankind since 1 p.m.”

You smiled sympathetically. “Poor you.”

Lucy sniffled and leaned into Luke’s chest.

“I want Mommy to cuddle me…”

“I’ll be home soon, sweet girl,” you promised.

“You’re doing so good with Daddy. Can you be my strong little girl just a little longer?”

Lucy gave a weak nod and looked up at Luke. “I’m being strong…”

Luke squeezed her tighter.

“The strongest.”

You got home, stepped inside quietly, placing your bag on the counter. You expected to see Luke on the couch, maybe watching cartoons with Lucy asleep on him.

Instead, you found him crouched on the living room floor in front of a full disaster zone, blankets everywhere, toy blocks under the coffee table, a knocked-over juice cup (apple, not blue), and a tired, sniffling Lucy passed out in her little nap nest on the couch, finally sleeping peacefully.

And Luke?

Luke was on his knees, one hand raking through his hair, the other gathering building blocks into a bin like he was on the penalty kill with zero energy left in the tank.

You smiled softly, walking up behind him.

“Hey, hero.”

He looked over his shoulder, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms.

“Hey,” he breathed. “You’re home.”

You knelt beside him and leaned in for a kiss.

“Looks like the two of you survived.”

He chuckled, tiredly.

“Barely. She cried about blue juice, threw a fit over her hoodie, accused me of stealing her cough.”

You laughed. “And yet, still standing.”

“Barely.”

Luke’s hand found yours. “I don’t know how you do this everyday.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Because you do it with me.”

His lips grazed your temple. “You know… we’re really doing this again?”

You turned your head and smiled at him.

“Yeah. We are.”

His hand slipped to your belly, just resting there with that quiet, reverent touch he always had.

“I’ll fight a hundred tantrums if it means I get more days like this. Even the hard ones.”

[householdcryptid]

Imagine someone like Craig makes a sexual comment about reader and pope FLIPS OUT. I feel like pope is super protective. Also I feel like pope is really body positive rather someone is super skinny or curvy he could care less. Body hair doesn't scare pope

you are totally correct, pope would not care at all what size or shape your body is. i genuinely think he doesn't even factor that into his like...attraction I guess? like obviously he thinks you're sexy/beautiful/handsome but that is NOT the first thing he notices about you. idk if this was supposed to be a nurse!reader or a shy!reader, but I did sunshine cause I felt like it fit them :) cw: uhh, pope being pope, gunshot wound mention (not in any crazy detail though), craig being craig, slightly sexual comment made by Craig. 1K Words :) she's short and sweet

It all starts with a comment from Craig. Just one, tiny little comment, harmless by your standards. Some of the whacked-out patients at the clinic spew much more vile shit at you on a day-to-day basis. “If Pope’s not up to the task, I’d be happy to fix that attitude, Sunshine.” You’d been in a mood, considering Pope had been caught in the line of a shotgun’s buckshot two days ago. He was fine, thank God (or whatever deity watches over him and his fucked up family), but you’d been on edge. Snappy and waspish in a way you’re normally able to control. The comment hardly makes you look up. Tossing Craig a middle finger is easy by now, but Pope isn’t so forgiving. He’s up as fast as he can manage, gunning straight for his brother with a slight limp in his normally steady step. “Fuck did you say-?” He’s almost growling, voice gone sharp, gravelly. It shouldn’t make heat stir in your belly, but it does. His hands, open palm, collide with Craig’s shoulders, gripping the fabric of the taller man’s tank top, knuckles white. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut-” You’ve never seen him in action, not like this. Not that this is as bad he gets, either, you’re sure. It’s jarring nonetheless. “Andrew,” You call out, surprised, voice raising an octave, a frown working its way across your face. You’re crossing the room after him on instinct, hand settling on the back of his shoulder. He goes stiff beneath it, breathing hard, nostrils flared and eyes wide. That wild look he gets— like a hurricane barely contained— turns to you, just a bit. The slightest tip of his head in your direction. Craig is smirking, hands held up plaintively at his sides. You barely bite back a curse in his direction, choosing instead to focus on Pope. 

“Drew, let ‘im go.” You murmur, shaking your head slowly. “He’s just bein’ a dick,” Your gaze cuts to Craig then, who at least has the decency to look the tiniest bit apologetic. “It’s alright, c’mon.” You mumble, hand sliding from Pope’s shoulder to his back, rubbing gently between his shoulder blades. “You’re gonna rip your stitches. Sit down for me, lemme check.” It takes a minute, two, but then his fingers are unfurling from Craig’s shirt, and he’s shoving him away like the touch burns. “Fuck outta here.” He barks, gruff and a little mean, sniffing once and turning to face you finally. You nod, lead him back over to the couch where he’d been stationed for the better part of the day. You know it’s been killing him. This sitting around, doing nothing, staring a TV, feigning interest in whatever bullshit Craig and Deran are talking about, or, God forbid, Smurf coming over to ‘comfort’ him. He hates to be in one spot for too long, despises being useless. When Craig is out of ear shot, you squat down in front of him, fingers curling in the bottom hem of his shirt and lifting it. “You don’t have to do that, y’know?” You murmur, peeling back his bandages tenderly, looking over the handful of stitches you’d had sewn into his skin. He tilts his head, frowning like he doesn’t understand what you mean. “Defend me like that.” You clarify, sparing a glance up at him, eyebrow arched. “I can handle it. People have said a lot worse, believe me.” His frown only deepens the more you speak, eyes gone dark with a thinly veiled rage, thick fingers clenching at the edge of the couch cushion he sits on. “M’not gonna let him talk to you like that.” He grumbles low, pointed. “No one gets to talk to you like that.” His gaze doesn’t let up, and something in his tone lets you know there’s a threat hidden there. Something dark, primal, biding its time. Affection blooms in your heart despite it, something that never ceases to unnerve you. The violence and anger that reside in him should not be as endearing as you seem to find it. Or maybe it isn’t that, that draws you into him. Maybe it’s the devotion, the allegiance he has to you. You know, deep down, that he’d burn the world to keep you safe and happy. You smile in spite of the heavy tone he’s just set, shake your head in that gentle, fond way that makes his stomach tighten. He relaxes minutely when your hands find the sides of his neck, leaning into your touch. “You’re sweet.” You state quietly, tipping your head forward just enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, nose brushing against his own gently. He sighs heavily through his nose, resting his forehead against yours, eyes sliding shut. The tension bleeds from him all at once, his hand sliding up your forearm to cup your elbow. He’s never known a feeling like the one you give him. Something tight in his chest unravels when you touch him, leaving him to feel… bare, vulnerable, and he hates it as much as he craves it. “Let’s go home.” He mumbles, nose pressing to the apple of your cheek, fingers dimpling the skin of your upper arm. Your home, he means. Not his little condo that resembles a prison cell more than an actual home, but your apartment. Where it smells of coconut and his shampoo sits next to yours in the shower. And you can’t deny him anything when his voice drops to that soft, breathy tone. Especially not when he’s actually asking for something, a rare act at best. You reward him with another kiss, humming quietly in confirmation. “Yeah, big guy,” You whisper. “Let’s go home.”

[rubiehart]

LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: reader’s parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s newly flourished relationship from a life long friendship and them being eachother’s only place of solace.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

[graciescott27]

I will fall in love with you over and over again — y. itadori

Sukuna apparently knew his girlfriend in a past life?

cw: pure fluff, Sukuna

wc: 863

Yuji Itadori was no stranger to crushes. From the little girl in his kindergarten class he would share goldfish with to Jennifer Lawrence, he tended to think a bit too much about girls. Of course, given his hyperactive personality, none of those little crushes lasted long. Not once had his attraction to a girl persisted long enough to actually turn into something past a few casual thoughts.

Never once did he think the girl to break the streak would be you. 

You were his closest friend since you were kids. He hadn’t thought about you in that way until you were in high school. Somehow, being fifteen and that close to a girl made everything weird. You two talked too frequently. You hugged too much in public. You spent too much time at his house. He couldn’t help himself but to grow a little… obsessive.

As Megumi and Nobara had stated many times, he was a loser. No way he was going to actually ask you out. You were out of his league by miles. And you were his best friend. He wasn’t going to ruin that just because of a little crush that may or may not have gone away in a few days. So he swore to just suck it up and act normal.

Yuji was never one for normal, though.

Somehow, after months of him floundering, he ended up dating you. The story itself wasn’t even romantic, either. You were just spending the night at his house like you normally did on Saturdays. While you were on your phone, he started stuttering sheer nonsense, and you just asked, “Are you trying to ask me out or are you having a heart attack?” He laughed and told you that it was both. And then you kissed his cheek.

Truthfully, he couldn’t have done it without Sukuna. The King of Curses was surprisingly soft at times, and tried to help Yuji figure out his feelings. It didn’t work much, but at least the idiot figured out that it’s not the end of the world to ask out someone you’re close to.

Yuji still couldn’t figure out why Sukuna cared, though. It seemed ridiculous to him. Someone who had been trying to kill him for months just… decided to help him get a girlfriend? And even worse, he listened to him?

He figured it out in the middle of month four of your relationship.

You were sitting on his bed next to him, curled up in a pile of blankets and pillows, your phone shoved into your face. It had to have been at least 12 AM. Normally you were half asleep on top of him by that point. Yuji just later next to you, eyes darting between whatever was on your screen and your face.

He was grateful that you had in earbuds because not even two minute later, that irritating, grating voice popped out of nowhere.

“You’re an idiot,” Sukuna scoffed into Yuji’s ear. “I had to waste weeks trying to get you with your little princess, and now you’re just sitting here?”

Yuji raised a brow. “Why’s that a problem?”

“Because. When I knew her, she was practically worshiped. One of the strongest sorcerers I ever fought.”

“When did you fight her?” Yuji’s face scrunched in confusion.

Sukuna groaned. “Seven hundred years before you did.”

“So she’s, like, reincarnated?”

“Whatever term you would like the use,” Sukuna replied casually. “Her name was different then. Her face is still recognizable, however. Same sharp tongue, same clear morals.”

Yuji nodded slowly, looking back at you. He couldn’t really imagine you being some great, powerful sorcerer. Sure, you were at least three times smarter than him and you were good with your cursed energy, by you were too peaceful. You never really liked being a sorcerer. You would much rather have a normal, casual life. Yuji respected that.

“So that’s why you helped me?” Yuji asked quietly, still looking down at you. You had already fallen asleep.

“Did you think that I would help out of kindness?”

“No.”

“Good,” Sukuna hummed. “I did it for purely selfish reasons. I wanted to see her face.”

“Does she really look that close to how she did in the past?”

“Extraordinary similar.”

Yuji smiled at that. He couldn’t picture you in any era other than modern day, but he figured that you probably would have looked just as beautiful. “Cool.”

“If she didn’t have such a strong hatred for curses, perhaps I would have taken her for myself and—“

Yuji cut him off with an almost-scream. “Nope. Don’t. I don’t need details.”

“As you wish.”

After that, Yuji wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Sukuna had stopped talking. He had gotten just a bittoo occupied with staring at your relaxed expression while you slept. Maybe he could see it now. You might have been some princess centuries ago and your family was made up of powerful sorcerers. Maybe you were a rogue who used your powers to survive on your own, or you were some sort of scholar.

But now, you were just a sixteen year old girl he was hopelessly in love with.

@graciescott27

[backtothefanfiction]

Insecure | Joel Miller Imagine

Prompt: “YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO INSECURE!”

Summary: Being Joel’s- well- whatever you are, isn’t easy.

Warnings: ANGST!!!

A/N- just a quick one before bed to keep me in the habit… and I just needed to write something angsty. A bit open ended, but yeah, hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to give feedback and reblog if you like!

Joel was handsome- you knew that. Had always known that. Heck you had wanted to jump his bones the very first time you saw him. So you understood when women, girls and sometimes even other guys did a double take or just stared at him. But it was like he was oblivious to it.

You had been travelling and working with him for 7 months now and no matter what town, city or QZ you dropped into, it was the same fucking story. He’d walk in all swagger, some dickhead would feel threatened because Joel turned his girl’s eye. They’d end up in a fight and he’d get you both kicked out because he was both too ignorant or stubborn to just concede. He’d then get frustrated and go take it out on something- hunting game or punching things or if that still didn’t work jacking off in the middle of the night when he thought you were asleep.

2 months into it you had gotten drunk with him in some cabin in the middle of nowhere that thankfully still had a stash of liquor hiding under the kitchen sink. With a little liquid courage you had drunkenly admitted you’d heard him on those nights. You had teased him and offered to help if he wanted it. You should have just kept your mouth shut, shouldn’t have offered anything because Joel really was oblivious. He thought it was just sex. A way for you to both blow off some steam at the end of the fucking world. But for you… well… it was everything.

Even when you got back home, on those particularly tough days, he sought you out. You would fuck and talk until you both fell asleep. He seemed to smile more around you. Open up to you about the past. But where you thought you had a growing relationship, he just thought you were a good friend. Because at the end of the day, if it’s not clearly spelt out for him, Joel won’t see it… Or maybe he does, he just refuses to acknowledge it- and that just makes it worse. Especially when he starts coming to you for other stuff.

He would come to you for dinner. And you would play the happy little housewife role too; laying the table, learning his favourites so you could cook them for him. If he got hurt for any reason, it was you and your first aid kit he would come to, to patch him up.

He would invite you to other peoples gatherings as his plus one. He moved some of his stuff into one of the drawers in your dresser. For all intents and purposes you were a couple… but you weren’t- and he always made that abundantly clear when others asked.

“So how long have you two been together now?” Tess had asked over dinner.

“Oh we’re not together.” He had hastily said before shoving another forkful of food quickly into his mouth, not even sparing you a second glance.

But Tess saw it. She saw the way the light dimmed in your eyes when he said it. Saw how distant you became. After all this time, he still wouldn’t call it what it was.

The three of you ate in uncomfortable silence after that, but he seemed none the wiser. He didn’t see the looks of pity Tess shot your way. Didn’t see the apology in her eyes as she left.

“Did I do something wrong?” He finally asked, breaking the silence as you began clearing plates off the table, scraping the scraps into the bin, before placing them into the sink.

At his words, you wished you had the luxury of being dramatic, throwing down the plates and smashing them, but resources were scarce enough as it was. Not to mention you’d just have to clean up all the pieces when he inevitably left to avoid this conversation. But all your anger and frustration was still there, bubbling up under the surface like a pot of boiling water, just waiting to simmer over. “No, Joel.” You seethed under your breath, trying to keep a lid on it, but you had sat too long in the silence just thinking about it all- realising how silly you had been to even think someone like him would actually want to be with you.

“Really, Darlin’, because it feels like-“

“JUST STOP!” You said, dropping the glasses into the sink on top of the plates with a clatter, your hands flying into the air searching for some sort of mercy. “Please stop!” You said again, forcing yourself to breath and take a moment and try as much as you could to keep your cool, because you knew him. You knew the moment he heard you raise your voice or get stressed with him, he’d just shut down and check out.

“Stop what?” He tried to say confused, which only made your blood simmer more.

You took in a deep breath and counted to five inside your head before you spoke. “Why did you have to say that?”

“Say what? Darlin’ I’m so fucking confused right-“

“No.” You said, shutting him down, willing him to think, to listen, to see- for once in his life. “Why did you say that in front of Tess.”

“Say what?” He asked again confused. His foot began to tap on the floorboards as he began to feed off your energy, himself growing equally as irritated as you.

“That we weren’t together.”

“Because we’re not.” He said bluntly.

“Really?!” You asked exasperatedly.

“Yes, really!”

“Joel, you practically live here. We do everything together. I cook you dinner. I do your laundry. WE SLEEP TOGETHER!”

“You offered all those things!” He stressed.

“Oh my god! How do you not see it?!”

“See what?!” He retorted.

“You invite me to places as your plus one.”

“Yeah, because we’re friends.”

“Oh my GOD!” You sighed, your hand running through your hair as you turned away from him, unable to look at his face. “YOU KNOW, YOU MAKE ME SO INSECURE!” You shouted at him as you sharply turned back to face him. “I literally put myself out there for you, every- single- day- and it’s still never enough. What is it Joel? Am I just not good enough for that?”

“We’re just us, why do you want to put a label on that?”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” You screamed at him.

It was like detonating a bomb. His face was a picture. He really hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t wanted to see it.

“You think I did all this for you, just because we were friends?” You asked him, when the silence between you grew too much.

When he remained silent, you sighed in defeat and turned back to the sink. You rested your hands against the cold porcelain, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. This was it. You’d lost him, you were sure of it. Any second now he’d say he was gonna grab his things and go and that would be it. Unwilling to face a goodbye, you reached for the tap and turned it on.

You didn’t hear his footsteps move closer to you over the sound of the running water. When his hand reached past you to turn off the tap, it made your blood run cold.

“No.” He finally said into the silence. “No, I didn’t think you did all those things just because we were friends.” He sighed. “I just… after Sarah’s mom- and then everything that happened to Sarah- I just…” His voice kept trailing off, unable to find his words. His hand reached to rest over yours on the edge of the sink, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. “I was just so scared about getting attached. If I put a label to my own feelings, it’d just feel worse when it’s inevitably snatched away from me again.”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to work out what he was saying. He sighed as he hung his head, unable to meet your eyes, his own guilt and shame weighing heavy on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He eventually said. “I’m sorry that I made you feel insecure, or like I don’t appreciate everything that you do.” He said, his eyes slowly lifting to find yours again. “I never meant to make you feel like that. You are enough- more- than enough, I’d be nothing without you.” He quietly confessed. “I’d still be picking fights and killing guys and beating one out in frustration most nights. Barely eating. Wearing the same flannel and pair of jeans for he fifth day in a row… I’m sorry- okay… I’m sorry.” He said and his words began to make you soften, your body leaning further into him. “But I still can’t put a label on this.” He said; and your face fell.

You took a moment- you breathed deeply. One, two, three.

“Okay.” You conceded.

“Okay?” He questioned.

It wasn’t the answer you were looking for- the outcome you had been hoping for- but for him… it was close enough. “Okay.” You confirmed,

“Okay.” He slowly nodded and agreed. “I’ll do these.” He offered, nudging you out of the way of the sink.

“Okay.” You quietly agreed again…. But only time would tell if it was really okay… or if this fight was just on hold for another day.

[calumfmu]

sugar coated melting.

Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

Famous!Steve Harrington x Assistant!reader (modern!au, with 40's Steve) 7.5k+ words

cw: older Steve Harrington, smut, loss of virginity, inexperienced!reader, AFAB reader, angst (what's new), mentions of death, swearing, 18+, mdni

Working with one of the most famous actors in the world was draining, exhausting, taxing, everything you could negatively describe. He was such a high maintenance person, he made your job seem like a constant boot camp run for the Navy Seals. Your best friend had cackled at that supply of information.

Steve wasn’t a bad person, no. He was handsome (obviously, he had been voted most handsome of the previous 2 years in a row), kind (to most people—who weren’t you), and compassionate (he let you eat his leftovers that one time you had gotten stuck on set for 16 straight hours). You were getting paid to say nice things about him if anyone had asked.

Life working as his head assistant was just a drag. It was everything you had dreamed of doing when you were a kid, working in Hollywood with big A-listers, attending red carpets, seeing the way movies worked. The job wasn’t the problem, it… was him.

A script was shoved into your hands as you thought of giving it to the man. The look on his face was burned into the back of your mind, irritation crossing his features as you imagined giving him the bad news. He always took things out on you, attitude forward as he said some slick remark.

Last minute script change, typical of productions like these. Something that anyone could expect while working on these things. Anyone with a normal level of patience would handle it well, take it with stride.

Your fingers rapped against the trailer door, aluminum warm to the touch from the sun beating down on it. Movement sounded behind the door, mumbling a few words out at you.

The door swung open, Steve rubbing at his eyes with his hair sticking in every direction. Fuck, he was asleep. It made it so much worse delivering the news.

“Heyyy, boss,” you beamed, voice raising a few octaves. You held out the script to him, cringing slightly. “Nothing too crazy, just a sliight chan-”

“No,” the door slammed in your face, your eyes closing as the bright reflection shone on you. Your smile immediately dropped, the reflection of your face on the white aluminum door looking back at you.

Red seethed through you, frustration prickling at the back of your neck. You knocked again, this day becoming even longer with each passing second.

“Mr. Harrington.” You were met with silence, ear pressing to the door to hear any movement. You waited a beat, knocking more urgently.

“Don’t want it, tell them no,” he grumbled behind the door, his voice sounded across the trailer, muffled through the closed door.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the patience to not go off on him. You were his assistant, not his agent, not the director of the film, not anything else. What did he realistically think you were going to do about a script change?

“‘M just delivering it, Mr. Harrington.” Your voice was level. “I don’t even think it’s your lines that changed.”

A faint note of music came through the door, Steve deciding to tune you out. Looking towards the sky, you squinted, finding prayer between the clouds.

“Mr. Harrington!”

Another PA walked by you, speaking into the earpiece she had with a clipboard in hand. You raised a hand to greet her, faux smile crossing your lips as you pretended everything was okay. She waved back, making her way in between the trailers and out of your eyesight.

As soon as she disappeared, your fist came up to bang at the door, louder than before.

It opened in the middle of your fit, you nearly stumbled into the trailer. You cut your eyes at your boss, biting your tongue at the swear words that threatened to come out.

The man was well past 30 years old, but still acted like a spoiled brat.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth, grabbing the stack of papers from your hand. He barely glanced at it before tossing it on the small couch behind him. Your eyes followed it, noticing the mess of bottles on the floor around it.

He followed your gaze with his own eyes, stepping into your eyesight as he closed the door slightly.

“Anything else, Yn?” A pinch of attitude at your name. Typical.

You smiled at the man, frustration disappearing as you were just grateful this episode of his didn’t last as long as it did last week.

“No, sir, that would be it for me,” you gave him a slightly bow, clasping your hands in front of you before swiveling on your heel. Descending the mini set of stairs, you rolled your eyes, back to him as you descended. “Fucking twat.”

“I heard that!” His voice was far behind you, your feet moving fast across the blacktops. You smiled back at him, waving as confusion crossed your features.

“Sorry sir, I said it was fucking hot!” You lied straight through your teeth. “Outside, you know? Pardon my language.”

You rolled your eyes once more, turning back on your mission to get back inside the building. You and him both knew what you said, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Nothing you did would get you fired, trust, have you tried.

It was like you were in your own personal Purgatory. You assumed Steve liked you, he wouldn’t fire you even on your worst days. You had fucked up many times, forgetting things, slipping up on his to do list, calling the wrong people for the wrong events. More recently, he had heard the rude nicknames you had for him, and he just didn’t seem to care.

You had heard him one time, whisper under his breath about “best help in Hollywood”. It was sarcastic of course, his eye roll you’ve been well acquainted with to follow.

The last few weeks have been more of a hell for you, Steve becoming more temperamental and moody, you becoming the worst employee on planet Earth. You begged to be fired at this point, your shot at unemployment looking more and more appetizing.

A sudden ring cut through the air, your back pocket buzzing. Pulling it out, you nearly ripped your hair out, Steve’s contact popping up on the screen. I could ignore it, you thought. This could finally be my chance at escaping him.

Your thoughts were cut short, the phone ringing again as Steve's name popped up. He didn't even let the first one finish before trying you again.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," you breathed, hand pressed into your brow as you answered. "Hi, sorry, sir. Did you need me?"

"Need you to come back," you heard him say, voice muffled as he seemed to be doing other things on the other side of the line. Your feet responded before your brain did, autopilot in motion. "Script's not fucking working, and I just-"

Something fell in the background, and your footsteps faltered. You ignored it, rolling your eyes yet again at his antics.

"Are you okay, sir?" You asked, seeing his trailer in the distance. One of the trailer windows had its blinds half up, he paced back and forth.

You approached it, listening to him as he rambled on the phone, speaking about how much he hated this director and his damn agent for giving him these roles. Fighting back laughter, you cosigned with him, not choosing to mention that this stupid role was worth $13 million.

You raised your fist to knock at the door, it swinging open before you could even make a noise. The three dial tones of the phone call ending rung in your ears, Steve grumbling at you to enter.

"A-are you sure, sir?" Hesitation filled you, you weren't used to stepping into his trailer. You think you'd been in it once during the last seven months of production, grabbing his left behind cell phone before they traveled to location.

Steve didn't look at you the whole time, just muttering words under his breath as he held the brand new scripts in his hand. He was pacing, feet burning holes in the carpet of the trailer.

You slowly stepped in, apprehensively closing the door behind you. Hands clasped in front of you, you stood in close proximity to the door, eyes shifting over the large trailer.

He had clothes thrown over one end of the vehicle, previous scripts sitting on the makeshift table, and a half full glass of a dark colored liquid next to it. You eyed it, brow furrowing as you swore this man had been sober for the past few years--or at least, that's what the news outlets said about him. Not like you kept up.

"Sir," you interjected his thoughts, causing him to stop in place. He still didn't look at you. "Why am I here?"

Curt answers were the easiest way for you to pretend to be nice to him. You knew you couldn't be outright rude, this was your boss after all. Saying stuff under your breath and if he accidentally heard was another thing.

He ignored you.

"How is this supposed to be the Oscar nomination when they have me acting like this?" He exhaled a small shout at the end of his words, your eyes squinting at the volume. "Does this make sense to you? It's like they want me to make a fool of myself, no?"

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "I'm not sure how you want me to answer that, sir."

He waited a moment, sighing loudly as he collapsed on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. You looked at him then, seeing the way his chest heaved as he shook his eyes. The sun was setting now, golden hour lighting inching through the windows over his figure. His bed head was still wild, even more messy than it was previously.

"W-what would you like me to do, sir?" You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you felt the awkwardness creep into the air. This was the longest you had been in a room with him, at least, with no one around.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you took note of your 'shift' being almost over. It was a quarter to seven, your freedom lingering in the distance.

"Sir?"

"Enough!" He cut out, breaking his silence. You jumped at the words, ducking your head as his outburst came. This was the Steve you knew, the short tempered boss who was always so moody whenever things didn't go his way.

You opted for silence, not daring to speak as you awaited his next choice of words.

His arm left his face, palm running down his features as he stared into the ceiling of the trailer.

"Sorry, I just," his voice was significantly lower. He sat up on the edge of the couch, his palms resting on his thighs. "I just need you to take me home."

Your eyes closed briefly, irritation quickly crossing you as you realized this was going to be a longer day than you imagined. If Steve had needed you longer than you were scheduled, then so be it.

"Why?" The word wasn't supposed to come out, replacing the 'okay' that sat on the edge of your mouth.

His gaze cut to you quickly, searching your face as you stood there. Eyes burning slightly, you felt tears prickling. The pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and Friends rerun marathon looking further away from you could bring you to tears.

"Because I employ you, do I not?" The harshness in his words did nothing but fuel the 'Hollywood Tell All' feature you planned for the day you quit.

"You do, sir, yes," You muttered, hands dropping to your side in defeat. "I just thought you'd drive yourself like normal. You know, day ends, and I'll see you here the next day, eight sharp like normal."

"I can't--no," he answered, standing up as he gathered his things. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You just need to take me home. You can drive my car."

The words to protest him were lost in your throat. You complied with his actions, eyes to the floor as he finished gathering his things. Following him out of the trailer, you sighed, feeling like you were walking into a lion's den.

The walk to the private lot was silent, Steve grumbling to himself as he texted someone on his phone. You noticed his phone ringing several times, his thumb finding the red button to end it each time. Curse words came out of his mouth every few seconds, a few from your own mouth being added to the mix as you thought of ways to leave.

As the two of you came across an old school beemer sitting deep in the parking lot, he threw the keys at you, settling into the passenger seat. Reluctantly, you slide in the driver's seat, feeling the leather interior beneath your fingers.

"Nice car, boss," You whispered, checking out how the car didn't even look a day out of 1985. Steve side eyed you, nodding at the compliment before returning to his phone.

"Get us there in one piece, yeah?"

You sucked your teeth as his comment, shaking your head before starting the car. It was like it was impossible for him to be a decent person. Here you were, doing something for this man which may or may not be in your contract, and he couldn't even say thank you to a compliment about his car.

The ride was silent save for an old tape that played in the car. Some band from the 80's you noted, a little too old for your taste. Steve's fingers tapped away at his phone, not focused on the LA traffic you sat in for most of the drive. He gave you directions to his swanky high rise, ignored you as you struggled to keep up with him.

You pulled into an underground garage, valet men coming immediately, opening the door for you as they took the keys. Everything happened in such fast motion, you barely noticed he was half way to the elevator. Jogging to catch up with him, you turned your own attention to your phone, thumb hovering over the Uber app.

Steve took a call, fingers rapidly pressing the elevator button as he spoke (yelled) at the person on the other end.

"No, Robin, I'm not doing that, okay?" He said, voice gruff as he glanced at you. You heard the static voice of the person on the other line, seeming to be yelling at him too.

The elevator dinged, the two of your bodies stepping in as the doors opened. The transportation app on your phone lagged, loading bar stagnant on your screen.

"No, I get it, it's been years. Fine, I-" Steve groaned in frustration, eyes repeatedly shifting over to you as you tried to tune out the phone call. You stared at the numbers the elevator passed, the first floor blinking by before you could say anything. Your phone remain in your hand, screen dimming as it began to time out.

"Robin. I know."

The voice on the other line picked up, the woman's voice growing even louder. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear slightly, grimacing at the volume. The elevator stopped at a floor labeled 'P', doors opening to a mini lobby that ended in double doors. He went over to unlock them, key fob in his hands as a beep sounded through the empty room.

As he stepped through them, phone balanced on his shoulder with his ear pressed to it, he looked at you. You stood right outside the elevator, doors closing behind you as you didn't know what to do.

He held open his front door, hand waving at you in frustration. "Well, are you coming in?"

You pressed your lips together, another wave of irritation pulling at your teeth. Eyes half rolling, you nodded, entering the doors as he closed and locked it behind you.

Steve moved fast, throwing his jacket over a couch that lay in the middle of the giant room, toeing off his shoes by its side. You stood in place, not sure what to do as your boss made his way around his home.

You took note of the place, not picturing that he would live in a place like this. It was modern, with a touch of old school fashion. Retro furniture, expensive nonetheless. Floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city. However, not a touch of life, no personal pictures, no sign of family, or anything personal that may shine light on what type of person he truly was.

You stepped in further to the place, watching as Steve made his way to a cabinet in his kitchen. Observing him over the breakfast bar, you saw into the open kitchen, watched him as he grabbed a rocks glass and a bottle of something pushed far back into a cabinet.

He continued on the phone, placing it on speaker as he began to open the bottle. He struggled at first, face turning up as his hands twisted on the cap.

Slowly making your way around the room, you glanced around, expecting him to yell at you for even being here, despite inviting you in.

"Steve," you heard the voice on the other line say. His eyes drifted towards the phone, pouring a hefty shot. "All I'm saying is, I miss you. And care for you. I love you. I want you to be okay today, alright?"

Steve grunted in response, not noticing your proximity to him. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to gain his attention.

The woman on the phone waited for more of a response. Once it was clear she wasn't going to get one, she sighed. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Yeah sure," his tone was rude, eyes boring into the glass of dark liquid that sat in front of him. His fingers danced at the rim.

"Eddie would've wanted you to come."

Steve's body language immediately stiffened, finger moving to hang up the phone before throwing back the shot of liquor. His face grimaced at the taste, slamming the glass back on the table.

You didn't know what to say, looking anywhere but at your boss.

"Fuck, I forgot you were even here," he suddenly said, hand running through his hair. His hand was on his hip, eyes glossy as he looked at you. You chewed at your bottom lip, nodding as he stared at you. He pointed to the alcohol, shrugging. "Drink?"

Declining, your head shook. "I don't drink, sir."

"Ahh," he said, grabbing the glass and bottle as he headed towards the couch. "Good girl."

He threw himself down on the furniture, exhaling loudly as he stretched out. His eyes were closed as you stood across the room.

"Hey, I-I think I'm gonna go," you said, beginning to walk towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As you crossed the room, Steve's voice called out to you. Your movements stopped, turning on your heel to look at him.

"Stay?" He asked you, eyes huge as they looked in your direction. You took note of his features, blinking at him as he awaited your response. Your boss was approaching his 40's, however, in this moment, he looked just like a little kid. Pictures of him in his teen years you had seen on the Internet were pushed to the forefront of your mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Harrington," you muttered, wanting to leave the scene.

His eyes fell to the floor briefly before he spoke out, "Steve."

"Huh?" You were confused, this sudden change in his attitude.

"You can call me Steve," he said, shifting his body as he relaxed into the couch. "We've known each other for a few years now, figured we should might as well be on a first name basis."

Fighting back the eye roll, you were reminded in the ways your boss had made your life into chaos.

"I bet you a million dollars, you don't even know my name, sir."

His gaze softened, laughing out loud as your hard exterior slowly came back.

"Yn." He muttered, smile dancing at his mouth.

You didn't know what to say, stuck between dashing out of his apartment or staying and seeing what type of Steve Harrington you were going to get today.

"I figure I should apologize for the way I've acted today," he said, turning forward as his gaze left your way. You didn't know why, but your feet followed it, walking closer so you could sit next to him. Lowering your self on the couch, you felt self conscious, like he was going to snap any second.

You snorted, "Today?"

He was staring at the bottle of alcohol in front of him, smile still on his face. Laughing at your comment, he shrugged.

"I have been a dick, haven't I?" He whispered, shaking his head as the smile slowly dropped from his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes unfocused as he stared in front of himself. "Such a fucking dick."

You didn't know why, but you felt the need to comfort the man. He was clearly going through something at the moment, if the look alone on his face was any tell.

"Hey, not too bad of one," you wanted to reach out to grab him.

"Don't lie," he laughed, head turning your way. His eyes met yours, deep brown staring into the color of yours. You noticed moles dotting his face, slight lines of aging covering his features. He was still youthful, his eyes telling the tale of a once young boy who was within. "I've been terrible. And you don't deserve that."

A pang hit your heart, feeling the weight of his words. You didn't really deserve his treatment. No matter if he paid you or not.

He continued his words, eyes staring past you. "And yet here I am, sitting here with my assistant. Drinking for the first time in years." A laugh bubbled out of him, hands running down his face as he leaned further back into the couch. "You know I'm supposed to be in Indiana right now?"

You shook your head, not wanting to interrupt him. Making yourself comfortable, you took off your shoes, slipping your feet underneath yourself.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in Indiana, it's the 20th anniversary of, uhm," his voice cracked, eyes welling up with a tear that was blinked back. "It's the anniversary of one of my friend's dying, and I'm not there."

Breath catching in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, sir," you muttered, hand reaching out to rest at his thigh. The touch was inappropriate, but so was this interaction you could say.

He looked down at your hand, watching your thumb as it brushed over his jeans.

"It's okay," he responded, eyes finding yours again. "It's been so long."

You nodded, eyes scanning his face as he forced the corners of his mouth to be turned into a smile. You saw right through it, recognizing the pain of a lost loved one straight through. "I don't think that matters."

His face dropped, sincerity crossing his features as he dipped to glance at your hand once more. Silence over took the two of you, the faint sounds of the streets of LA below you, Steve's staggered breathing as he willed himself not to cry. You were patient, finding comfort in the air as he found his words.

"We were all so young, and it feels so long ago, almost like it doesn't exist anymore," he finally said, voice even. "But I know it does. I just have to face it, I've been running from it ever since it happened."

He gestured to his surroundings, and the puzzle clicked into place. This fame and jerk persona that Steve carried himself in, hid the real him. He ran from all of his problems, like anyone else would, especially when dealing with something as traumatic like he had.

You didn't know the details, didn't care to ask, since it seemed to affect him so much. All you knew was that person who had passed so long ago did matter to him, in ways that you couldn't imagine.

Letting him continue his mumblings about the person he used to know, you found out that his name had been Eddie, the one you heard on the phone before. Robin, long time best friend of his, was trying to get him to come out to reconnect with everyone, he hadn't seen much of them since the 'accident', as he had called it. He kept in touch with everyone over the phone, but seeing them in person was a whole different story. It opened up old wounds that he was afraid of what it might bring out.

The story was slightly confusing, him mentioning something about how they all had nearly lost their lives, details that would leave you wondering what this man had gone through. None of this information was available about him in the public, his childhood always being a vague story that never connected.

"So you have kids then?" You questioned, confused on how you never picked up on this detail. There had to have been at least five of them, names you had never heard before now.

Steve laughed suddenly, shaking his head as his hand rested on your own thigh. The two of you were much closer now, as his story unfolded. Your thighs were touching, each other's hands on resting upon each other, mere inches away from your faces.

"No, I don't have any. I guess, I should stop calling them kids now, you know?" His laugh was low in his throat. "They have kids of their own at this point, so they're far from it."

"Oh..." You were dumbfounded, all of this information being at a loss to you. You weren't here to understand, just here to listen.

"You know what, I'm sorry," he suddenly said, removing his hand from your leg. You wanted to whine at the absence, cold replacing his warm touch. "Maybe you should go, actually. This is pretty, uhm..."

"Unprofessional?" You supplied, inching closer as your boss sat there, wide eyed looking at you. In the dark light of his apartment, you could see the way his brown eyes glimmered at you. "I guess we're even then, me calling you a twat earlier."

Steve cackled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of the events earlier.

"I knew you said that!"

You blushed, fighting back your own smile.

"It's not my fault, you were acting like one." Your lips pursed together, observing the older man in front of you.

Silence crept over you, the first break in conversation since his phone call ended earlier. Steve stared at you, eyes darting over your features as his teeth scraped over his bottom lip. You felt shy under his gaze, not knowing what to think of the moment as your boss was closer in proximity than he had ever been in your life.

"Can I make it up to you?"

His voice was low, and you were nodding before you even knew what he meant. Grabbing your cheek in his hand, the man leaned forward, capturing your lips into his. The gasp in your throat was lost in his mouth, a shuttering moan coming out instead.

His lips were soft, slightly chapped as they moved against yours. Fluttering your eyes closed, you leaned into the kiss, moving your hand so it rest at the curve of his hip, belt loop curling in your fingers.

He tasted of whiskey, the remnants of the few shots he had earlier lingering on his tongue. Steve pulled away slightly, muttering, "This okay?" against your lips as you nodded, pulling him in by his hair with your other hand.

Your breath grew more shallow as the kiss continued, leaning back as Steve began to tower over you. He shifted in his seat, covering your body with his own as he began to push you back into the couch. His figure was large over yours, scent of vanilla and cedar nearly suffocating you.

With your back flush against the couch, Steve removed himself from your lips, pressing a slight kiss against your jaw. You arched into the touch, palms running over the tight muscle of his back.

"S-steve," you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips kissed over your neck. Each press of his mouth sent fireworks down your spine.

He returned his lips to yours, moving with a passion that was lacking previously, confidence replacing the apprehension he once felt.

Your legs spread, inviting him to nestle in between, the thick material of his jeans rubbing against your own. A bulge was present, the thought of what lay underneath sending goosebumps over your skin.

Steve was lost in the kiss, his mouth nipping at yours as he reached down to unbutton your pants, slipping a hand to run over the front of your panties.

"W-wait," you muttered, grabbing his wrist as you pulled away from the kiss. He was confused, mouth red and swollen. His fingers pressed at your covered clit, a small shot of pleasure running through you.

"What's wrong, Yn?" The hand connected to his elbow that propped him up, ran through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. Concern crossed his features, searching your face as doubt crossed it.

"I just, uhh," you felt shy, avoiding his eye contact as the words stumbled out. "I've never really done this before?"

His eyes bulged out, sitting up suddenly as he leaned over you. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you pressed the palm of your hand to your forehead. Way to ruin the moment.

"Oh," he breathed, eyes wide as he scanned you. "We don't-- fuck, sorry. I'm so, uh, wow."

He stood up suddenly, leaving you laying on your back as embarrassment colored your cheeks. You didn't know what to say as the older man panicked.

"Maybe, uh, maybe this was a bad idea," he shook his head, hand reaching down to palm at the front of his pants. Your eyes followed his hand, noticing the prominent bulge.

You spoke out, shaking your head as you didn't make any effort to move. The turn of events tonight made you realize how much you did want the man who stood before you.

"No, we can, it's okay," you said, reaching out to grab his hand that hung by his side. He looked down at your grasp before bringing his eyes to meet yours. "It's alright."

He hesitated, sputtering over something to say.

"Steve, it's okay," you pulled him down, his knees straddling the sides of your hips as he reluctantly settled into the couch. His eyes ran over your body, lingering at the spot where your pants were unbuttoned, cotton panties exposed.

"A-are you sure?" He questioned, moving to lean back down over you. You nodded, leaning up on your elbows to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth, palm caressing the front of his shirt.

"I want to, it's fine."

You knew it was now or never, this moment with your boss being an opportunity that you couldn't have passed up. You always had a crush on him growing up, the face of Hollywood you would see in your teen magazines, posters covering the room of your friends. Working for him would've never had you imagining that it would lead to this moment.

Steve took control of the situation, kissing down your neck as his hand returned between your legs, pants thrown across the room somewhere. It had happened so fast, you barely noticed the cool air that pulled goosebumps from your skin.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay?" He muttered, freshly shaved stubble prickling against your chin. You could barely get out a moan as your underwear was pulled down your legs, catching at the crook of your ankles.

You felt his fingers brush over your folds, pressing lightly at the slick entrance. His thumb rubbed in small circles over your small bundle of nerves, an eye-rolling feeling that spread your legs apart. His fingers pushed inside, his own moan coming out over yours.

The feeling of the intrusion had you panting, spreading your legs wider while his thick fingers worked you.

"M-more," you begged, throwing your head back as his fingers found a rhythm. He stretched you out over two fingers at this point, thumb collecting slick as it rubbed over your clit.

Steve's fingers curled inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot deep inside. The look on his face was one of admiration, mouth slack as he looked down at you falling apart under his touch.

"That's okay?" His voice was husky, deep with arousal as your hips began to move in time with his fingers. Your orgasm was approaching, hips moving on their own accord as you chased that high.

"God, yes, Steve."

Pushing your shirt up past your bra, Steve gaped at the sight before him, your fingers dipping inside your bra to toy at your own breasts.

"You look so perfect, angel," he muttered, leaning down to capture your lips into his as you fell apart. That white blinding of your orgasm crept in, starting at the base of your spine and blossoming through your entire body. Against his mouth, you shouted out, squeezing your eyes shut as he fingered you through the high.

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, legs spasming from the shocks of the orgasm. You hissed at the over stimulation, Steve pressing into your clit one last time before removing himself from you.

You felt shy suddenly, the haze from the orgasm clearing as you realized you had just done unimaginable things with your boss. Seeming to read your mind, Steve pressed small kisses around the perimeter of your face.

"It's alright," he said, hovering over you. Against your thigh, you could feel his bulge rub against you. "How are you feeling, good?"

You nodded, words at a loss in your throat. You reached up to place a hand on his neck, the other at his waist as you played with the hem of his shirt. His eyes fluttered close briefly before glancing down at where you were slightly tugging his shirt up.

He made eye contact with you, chewing on his bottom lip. "I need words, angel. Gotta make sure everything is 100% okay, okay?"

"I'm alright, Steve," you gasped, looking down where your own hand rubbed at the exposed part of his abdomen. You needed more, wanted to feel him all over you. You began to pull his shirt over his body, watching as he glanced down at you with hooded eyes. "Just need more of you."

He slowly nodded, sitting back on his knees as he unbuttoned his own pants and slid them down his legs. You giggled at him as he struggled to get them off, the smoothness he had previously disappearing as he nearly toppled off the couch.

You pulled your own shirt and bra off of you, dropping them on the floor next to the couch. "Nice own, old man," you laughed, returning to your spot against the couch.

He frowned at you, lip jutting out in an over exaggerated pout. "Heeyy, I still got it."

You were left breathless, the laughter disappearing at the tip of your tongue as his figure returned to cover your body. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, the wetness pooling at the head leaving you gasping.

Steve reached down to rub his cock against the length of your cunt, spreading the slick all over as you arched into him.

"Fuuckk, Steve." You hooked your ankle over his hip, warmness pooling in your belly at the thought of him being inside you. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your nipples as they shook with each moan you gave.

"You sure about this, Yn?" He asked, leaning down to dart his tongue over the skin of your breast. It sent shivers down your spine, another wave of heat rushing to your core. "I don't want to do anything you'll regret."

"'M not gonna regret this," you gasped, feeling the way the head of his cock slightly pushed at you. It burned, fuck, he was big.

The slight intrusion had you gripping at his back, leaving crescent moon marks in the skin. Your breath came out ragged, a whine scratching at the back of your throat.

Steve grunted at you, pushing in slowly as he buried his head into your shoulder. He stopped every few inches, hips stuttering slightly as he fought back to urge to fuck back into you full force.

Being an all new feeling, you couldn't help but mewl at every burn of the stretch, a fullness you had never experienced before.

He pressed to the hilt, hips flush against yours as Steve gasped for air in tune with you. He pulled his head back to make eye contact with you, forehead resting against yours. You felt the slight grinding of his hips against yours, the fullness becoming too much as you were stretched over him.

"You gotta bare with me, baby." The nickname had you moaning, fingers reaching down to dig at the plumpness of his ass. You could barely keep your eyes open, senses overwhelmed with Steve. "'S been a while for me."

Nodding, you gasped as he reared his hips back before they stuttered into you again. The movement sent a wave of slick between your thighs again, pleasure blinding you.

He found his rhythm, hips fucking into you slowly, languidly as you fell apart beneath him. You rocked with every movement of his hips, hands running over the tan skin of his body above you.

Finding his lips, you moaned against his mouth, savoring the feeling that was building up in your abdomen as the two of you moved in sync.

Steve gave you words of affirmation, hips drilling into you over and over as his cock brushed over your deep bundle of nerves. Bliss approached you once more, wetness dripping all over him as you were brought to that high again.

"Gonna cum, Steve," you whispered against his mouth, back arching into him. He reached down between you, fingers toying at your clit as they began to rub in small circles.

"Cum for me baby," he breathed, voice low as your eyes rolled back. His voice brought you over the edge, high shout escaping your lips as that pleasure took over you again.

As he fucked your through your orgasm, his own approached, hips losing their rhythm as you felt his release deep inside you. A low groan of his came out, a breathy fuck being the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes.

Your body felt light, head foggy as you came down from your orgasm. It was pure bliss what you felt, heart pounding in your chest as sleep took over you.

You shot out of bed, frantically searching for your phone as you realized the sun was creeping through the curtains. Crisp, white sheets were pooled around you, swallowing you up whole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered, trying to search for your device in the darkness of the room. The dark curtains were drawn, only allowing a sliver of light in, but enough for you to realize how late in the morning it was.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, anxiety crept over you, realizing you weren't in your room. A tossing figure lay next to you, his body half covered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, everything from last night came crashing back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

"Hey, Yn, what's wrong?" Steve's voice was groggy, as he blinked in the darkness of the room. He glanced towards the curtains and then to you, noticing the way you covered your frame with the corner of the sheet.

"What time is it?" You half shouted, looking on the bedside table for your phone. Steve was no help, slowly stretching out his limbs as he yawned.

"Too fucking early for you to be that loud," he muttered, sitting up on his elbows. The sheet pooled around his waist, exposing his bare abdomen and a deep V that cut below his waist.

You quickly looked away, blush deepening on your face. "We have to go, Ste-Mr. Harrington. We're gonna be in so much trouble."

You heard him chuckle at you, sighing as he relaxed once again in the bed. His arms circled your waist, pulling you down into him as you continued to panic. He lay behind you, your head resting on his chest as he buried his face into your shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "Called in today, came down with something apparently."

You shook your head, resting your hands on his where they rested on your stomach. "Can you even do that?"

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" He laughed, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. The anxiety that built up in your spine disappeared at his touch, the familiarity of his body replacing it. You turned in his arms, now chest to chest with the man.

His eyes were closed, sleepiness still evident over his features.

"Are you going to fire me?" You whispered at him, watching as his brow furrowed before he squinted open his eyes at you.

"What? No, what are you talking about?" He seemed genuinely confused at your question, hand rubbing at your waist. Relief took stake in your chest.

"I slept with my boss last night," you laughed at yourself, voice dropping even lower as you saw a smirk cross his face. He was smug, shaking his head with laughter as you playfully slapped at his chest.

"Pretty sure I'm the one with a lawsuit pending if anything," he said, laughter dying as you placed a small peck to his lips.

As you pulled away, he leaned into it further, tongue darting out to lick at yours. A wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach.

He towered over you, mouth nipping at you as you sighed into the kiss. The two of you moved in sync, you moving onto your back as Steve leaned over your figure. A breathy moan escaped your lips, only to be cut off by his phone ringing.

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, separating himself from you as he reached for it on his side of the bed. He answered it quickly, realizing it was his publicist as he placed it on speaker. "What d'you need, man?"

His lips returned to yours briefly, before kissing down your neck. The sheets were slowly pulled off of you as he made his way down, nipping at your chest, then your nipple, and soft kisses pressed to your stomach.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible as his publicist droned on about some appearance he had to make in the next week. Steve was staring up at you, making small confirmation 'mhm's' in response to the phone call. A coy smile was on the corners of your mouth as you looked down at him wide eyed.

'Stop' you mouthed through gritted teeth. He nipped at your hip bone in protest, shaking his head at you.

You couldn't tell if it was Steve's mouth pressing to your heat or the next word's of his publicist that made your stomach drop.

"While we're at it, Steve, how about we talk how Page Six has pictures of you with a mysterious somebody in your apartment building?" They grumbled, voice staticy as it came through the phone. You felt Steve smirk against you, tongue lapping between your legs. "Aren't we a little too old to bring people back to your own place like that?"

A moan escaped you as you gripped at his hair. Steve looked up at you, wide eyed as he reached up to slap a hand across your mouth. 'Shhh', he mouthed, his own laugh threatening to spill out as his publicist's voice faltered at the noise.

"St-steve?" It said, apprehension in the tone. "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Really, man?"

Steve laughed as his hand remained over your mouth, muffling the sounds of your own laughter. They would recognize it if they heard it. He grabbed the phone from where it lay abandon, speaking into it as his thumb hovered the 'end call'.

"Something came up, gotta take care of it," he grimaced at you as you licked his hand. "Bye!"

He hung up right as the voice protested, tossing his phone aside as he leaned over you once again. His long hair hung in his face, eyes raking over your naked body.

"Now... where were we?"

an: I had to sneak in a line from All of Us Strangers because that movie was so moving. If you know, you know. I promise one of these days, I won't make Steve an asshole right off the bat, he'll be lovable.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open!

[captain-hawks]

BEST FRIENDS & BAD IDEAS

♡ — jean kirstein x f!reader

Big aspirations and even bigger dildos—in which a poorly thought out plan makes it incredibly hard to act like your feelings for Jean Kirstein are platonic. Not when they’re anything but. And especially not when you’re half naked in his lap.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.7k

prompt — cockwarming, creampie

additional content — NSFW, 18+, best friends to lovers speed run, dildo use, implied masturbation, unprotected p in v, praise kink, jean kirstein’s big dick

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” Jean growls, and his low, rough tone sends you off-kilter, shoving you headfirst over the precarious edge you’ve been foolishly dangling from.

In retrospect, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.

–

In the long list of questionable decisions you’ve made today, one of the first catalysts guaranteeing inevitable disaster was your lack of foresight to lock your bedroom door before stripping off your shorts and underwear and preparing to lower yourself down onto the ridiculously large dildo that had been delivered in an even more comically large Amazon box this morning. 

Your best friend of many years and college roommate, Jean Kirstein, came home just as your makeshift “stand”—you’d hastily attached the suction cup at the base of the dildo to the last clean plate in the cabinet for lack of a better surface—went flying across the rug, ripping the few inches you’d manage to ease down onto right out of your lube-slick channel. You’d hit the floor with a thud, growling in frustration. This, understandably, had the unfortunate effect of attracting the concern of said roommate, who swiftly burst into your room as if you were in the middle of being robbed. 

The concern quickly morphed into hysterics as he spotted the giant purple dildo wiggling uselessly a few feet away from where you were lying on your stomach, punching the carpet and yelling at him to get out with as much dignity as you could muster.

“That’s my shirt,” he commented dryly, ignoring your pleas for him to forget everything he had just seen. 

“Well it was in my drawer,” you spat back, trying to push the dildo-plate behind you, although the damage was already done.

Jean leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I have so many questions.”

“Our business hours are between 8 and 5, so you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Sorry,” you said with a dismissive wave, subtly kicking the plate and dildo beneath the bed. 

The suction cup chose that moment to pop off, and all ten inches came rolling back into view right where a bar of sunlight was stretching across the floor from the window. It would have almost looked artsy. 

If it weren’t a fucking dildo.

“I thought you ordered a lamp,” he observed mildly, motioning to the huge cardboard box you’d yet to take out to the recycling bin. 

“I’m gonna order you a fleshlight if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, shoving on a pair of sweatpants.

Jean crinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That thing’s so big, the landlord might start charging us for three tenants if he sees it. Is this a cry for help?”

“I’m trying to prepare myself for seducing Eren at the party Saturday night,” you whisper-yelled, as if anyone else was going to overhear you in your otherwise empty apartment. 

“Jaeger?!” he barked out with a disbelieving laugh. 

“Everyone says he’s huge. I don’t want it to be a disaster.”

“He’s not that fucking big!” he exclaimed incredulously. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you like, go be somewhere tonight? Go get so high with Conny you forget you saw anything? I’m gonna go try in the bathroom instead.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can shove a giant, sparkly purple dildo inside of yourself imagining it’s Jaeger’s dork ass?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jean.”

He groaned. “The bathroom sounds like an even worse idea. You’ll slip, hit your head on something, blood will go everywhere, and we’ll lose the security deposit.”

“Or my plan will work, I’ll get laid this weekend, and you can stop complaining about how grumpy I’ve been lately,” you reasoned matter-of-factly. 

Jean’s hand came to rest on your shoulder as you attempted to push past him to leave the room, aforementioned dildo jiggling menacingly in your hand. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said a little more softly, raising a brow as he cast another look at the offending object.

“I have lube!” you shot back defensively.

Jean glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something about regret under his breath before exhaling, “Let me help you.”

–

In all the years that you’ve known Jean, you’ve done an excellent job at keeping your little crush on him your best kept secret. A secret kept under the most formidable lock and key, buried deep in the depths of your psyche. Tucked away in the very back of a dusty, old cabinet like an expired can of corn. 

Objectively, you know Jean’s handsome. You’re well aware. 

With his intense, hazel eyes—ones that see everything. 

His tall, solid form. 

His sinfully curved, pink lips (and his habit of idly sliding his tongue along the bottom one). 

His long, dexterous fingers—a dangerous thought. 

That fucking mullet he let grow in, which shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is when he rolls right out of bed and leaves his room looking like a pillow-rumpled supermodel. 

He’s hot, okay?

And sure, you’ve drunkenly kissed at a few parties over the years. Jean’s seen your ass more times than you can count. Definitely your boobs that time he ran into the bathroom to puke while you were showering. Sometimes he has a habit of putting his head on your lap when you’re both on the couch, nudging you till you card your hands through his soft brown hair like a damn dog. 

But it’s always been platonic. 

Friendly. 

Two people who are just very, very comfortable with one another. Comfortable in knowing that neither intends to ruin their stable, solid friendship by carelessly sprinkling feelings into the mix. 

Comfortably going so far as to share the sordid details of your sex lives (or lack thereof, lately) while leaning against the kitchen counter eating take out food without batting an eye—though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to one up him sometimes when you feel that familiar, unwelcome twinge of jealousy yawning awake inside of you.

But this?

This is asking too much of your restraint to keep your heart walled off and your mouth clamped shut. In your defense, it was already left in pitiful tatters after grinning-and-bearing it throughout the seven-month-long nightmare that was Jean dating fucking Pieck. 

—

The next phase of your slew of terrible ideas today began with Jean sitting at the head of your bed, back against the wall, holding the dildo between his legs. Like your own personal fucking dildo holder. Grinning like this wasn’t the single most awkward thing the two of you have ever done (save for the time you both fell asleep with your head in his lap on the couch and woke up to his accidental boner poking you in the ear—neither of you ever mentioned that again). 

And it would have been totally fine if it worked out like you imagined in your head the moment he pitched it—you sinking down onto the silicone schlong a few times, stuffing in as much as you could while he held it still. Then letting him carry on with his day while you lay there in bed for a little while with it lodged inside of you, getting yourself used to the stretch. Totally fine. 

The reality of the situation was far different, entailing a sticky, slippery mess of lube coating of your hands and a dildo that bent and flopped in every direction as you tried to carefully impale yourself on it while maintaining some sense of dignity. 

You had given up fairly quickly, butting your head against Jean’s collarbone and sighing as you asked if he thought Eren would go slow. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“…do you trust me?” Jean had asked carefully, like his next suggestion wasn’t going to send you spiraling.

Like “Just sit on my dick, as a friend!” wasn’t the most fucking confusing statement your heart, brain, and vagina had ever heard.

–

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament, straddling Jean Kirstein’s lap with far more inches of him than you’d realized he’d been keeping tucked away buried to the hilt in the velvety heat between your thighs. Raw, skin-to-fucking-skin, because you’re both in a miserable dry spell with not a single condom to be found between the two of you. And somehow the combination of “known you for half of my life” and “just got tested” and “IUD” sounded better than one of you being tasked with trudging to the pharmacy.

Or, god fucking forbid, going down one floor to ask Conny for one.

Nope. 

You have three days to prepare yourself for whatever may come with Eren, so sitting on your best friend’s intimidatingly large dick sans condom the least of your worries. Even if it feels so incredible you’re literally silently choking on the moan threatening to spill past your lips. 

Even if you fucking swear you heard his breath hitch when the thick head of his cock began to slip past your entrance, stretching you open wide as he breached your damp channel. 

Even if he hardly had to touch himself to get hard for this. 

Even if his gaze darkened when you choked out, “Jean, your dick is huge.”

This was a terrible idea. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

“Doing what?!” you ask, exasperated.

He rests his hands on your waist, “Doing this,” and squeezes firmly, “on my dick.”

“This isn’t even sex,” you tell him, ignoring the way the close proximity of his hazel eyes sets a flurry of emotion stuttering in your chest. “It’s like, cockwarming at best. You can’t come from cockwarming if you’re not even turned on.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know how tight you are?”

“That’s obviously why I was worried about Ere—”

“It’s like this,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your throat. It’s a loose hold, only meant to prove a snarky point, but a spark of arousal seeps through your body anyway at the mere suggestion. His eyes widen a fraction at the traitorous way your walls clamp down on him even harder in response. “What, you into being choked?”

“I’m into a lot of things, Jeanie,” you tell him haughtily, trying to ignore the heat blistering beneath your skin.

“Like dumb idiots named Eren Jaeger?” he counters, making to grab for the tongue you’re currently sticking out at him. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Jean sounds like he’s jealous. 

Which he definitely isn’t. 

But you poke the bear anyway. 

“What, are you jealous?”

He shifts slightly, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan as your cunt spasms around the pressure from his cock. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his brow furrows as the corners of his mouth tilt downward slightly. “I just think you deserve better.”

You tug on his earlobe, letting out a weak laugh in an attempt to dispel the sticky, messy feeling of hope trying desperately to cling to the arousal stirring in your gut. “Says the guy who’s currently fucking me.”

Jean scoffs and deadpans, “I thought this wasn’t sex.”

Who are you kidding? Certainly not the tension coiling ruthlessly in your abdomen. 

You move a little, trying and failing to relieve the sensation of hot wax dripping down your spine. Instead, you let out a tiny, strangled noise when your throbbing clit presses down against his pelvis, the resulting flood of pleasure setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.

The way he growls out your name through gritted teeth is a warning, but his low tone only serves to stoke the flames licking their way up between your thighs. 

You move again, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, head hitting the wall behind him with a resounding thud. 

You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but his hands find their way back to your hips, calloused fingertips pressing directly against your skin as he slides them up beneath your shirt. His shirt. 

The next time you rock against him, his grip on you tightens. And then, you feel it—he tugs you forward. 

You lean further into him, without really meaning to, forehead coming to rest against his. “What are we…”

“Just keep going,” he murmurs. 

He shifts again, sinking down lower so his back is pressed against the mattress, and you realize the angle gives you more purchase to grind down against him when he pulls at your waist, thumbs lazily skimming your hip bones. 

“Jean…” you whisper, not really sure what else you intend to say. 

“I want you to feel good,” he says softly, pushing his hips against you, even though he’s snugly bottomed out. 

It feels so fucking good—

—laying atop Jean while he stares back up at you, pupils clearly dilated in arousal—

—watching his eyes fall shut as you run a hand along the stubble on his jaw—

—knowing he’s well aware the slickness between your legs is no longer from the lube, your cunt gushing with arousal at the feeling of being stuffed deep with his thick cock. 

So you tell yourself you’ll figure the rest out later when you start to shamelessly grind down against him. 

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” Jean teases when you cough to cover up a gasp.

Your answering moan is nearly a whimper, and Jean’s muscles tense beneath you as he continues to guide your hips. He doesn’t try to pull his cock out from where it’s lodged inside of you, doesn’t start thrusting and fucking up into you. He just lets you chase the clitoral stimulation you so desperately need while you’re cockwarming him, groaning along with you at each needy drag. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

This is far more intimate than you bargained for, the gentle slide of his hands up your back scraping your heart out bit-by-bit. 

“Holy shit, you don’t know how close I am to coming right now,” he moans in a gravelly, unsteady tone. 

All you can do is whimper his name when the rubber band suddenly snaps in response, your body trembling as a wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over you. 

And then Jean’s hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you fiercely as you whine and shudder through your orgasm, moaning into your mouth as you card your fingers through his hair. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, pulsing with need as your tight cunt spasms and contracts, relentlessly squeezing his shaft while you soak him with your release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s groaning, both of you too drunk on pleasure to move when he suddenly climaxes, cock pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep in your pussy. 

Chests heaving, Jean slowly sits up, forehead falling against your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally murmurs, “Don’t fuck Jaeger.”

You tilt his head upward, finger resting just below his chin, skimming the stubble that’s there. Too many emotions are swimming in his hazel eyes, more than you can identify—save for one that you recognize with a jolt of clarity. It’s the way you look at him, when he’s not paying attention.

Longing. 

Desire. 

Soft, gentle, unfiltered affection. 

This time, you’re the one to close the distance between your mouths, brushing your lips against his. 

“Who?” you ask, smiling into the kiss. 

Jean chuckles, the sound like warm honey, and he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head. Though you remain seated on his softening length, cum begins to seep from your slick heat, pooling on his balls and abdomen. 

He goes to move, but you don’t budge. “You wanna get cleaned up?”

You shake your head, the corner of your mouth tilting upward with a smirk. “I’m comfortable.”

Jean bites his lower lip, huffing, “My cum’s dripping all over, and I’m two seconds from getting hard again if you keep squeezing down on me like that.”

Feigning a look of innocence, you flex the muscles in your tight, soaked channel one more time for good measure. He chokes, and you grin. 

“Good.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[yeonzzzn]

Can you write any stuff about Jungwon obsessed with your tits, like, I can't stop imagining him grabbing your tits anytime, even if it doesn't mean anything sexual, he just loves them. Imagining him just cumming on your boobs and spreading all of it over them, I just need him :(

jungwon is sooooo a tits guy, I don’t make the rules here I just follow them 🤷🏼‍♀️ 🤭

jungwon being titty obsessed would be an understatement. specifically obsessed with your tits. he has to have his hands cupping them literally all the time. in sexual ways and non sexual ways. it doesn’t matter the time, day, or place, he wants or has his hands squeezing them.

he doesn’t care who is watching either. he’ll walk up behind you in the middle of you talking to your friends or the other members and just grab your tits as if it’s completely normal to grab your girlfriends breasts in the middle of a party as you speak to whoever it is.

jungwon makes cooking hard. he’ll stand behind you, resting his head on top of yours as he watches you cook with his hands pressed against your tits, softly squeezing them. it almost always ends up with you either sending him out of the kitchen with a pout on his face so you can continue cooking or you bent over the other side of the countertop as he fucked into your cunt with his hands still very much on your tits as lunch/dinner is forgotten about.

cuddling with jungwon ends up the same way. either fucking on the couch/bed with his hands squeezing your tits tightly or him just sleeping peacefully behind you hands still wrapped on your tits. even cock warming is the same. you’ll be making out and straddling his lap with his cock deep inside you but neither of you moving, yet his hands are still up your shirt squeezing the fat.

it’s way worse when sex is involved. it doesn’t matter the position he has you in, one hand always has to be on your tits. if one hand is working on your clit, the other has both titties in the other hand. one hand squeezing your ass? the other is squeezing your tits. he has you in doggy? hands on your tits. cowgirl/reverse cowgirl? hands on your tits. missionary? hands on your tits. bend over any type of furniture? hands on your tits. pressed against the wall? you guess it, his hands are on your tits.

you love it even more when he grasps your titties when he’s wearing rings. the cool of the metal against your skin makes the sensation so much more pleasuring. making goosebumps on your skin and sending chills down your spin.

jungwon’s personal favorite is cumming on your tits. he’d be fucking into you until the point he’s about to bust, sliding out of you so quick to pump his cock a few extra strokes until his hot cum is dripping onto your breasts, making sure every last drop of it was landed on them before both hands are back on them. his fingers and palms spreading his seed every inch of your tits, loving the way you look so fucked out with his cum covering one of his favorite parts of you. it would always be enough to get him hard as a rock again and shoving his cock back into your pussy just to repeat the process again and again.

so yeah, jungwon being so obsessed with your tits is an understanding. there’s no word possible to describe how much he loves them.

[alphajocklover]

No longer a Spider, finally a Man

**Hey! First time doing a fanfic muscle growth. Or at least posting it. I hope you guys like it! Please tell me how I can do better, and send in story suggestions if you want!**

Peter Parker loved being Spider-Man. He loved saving people, he loved using his powers to make a difference, he loved swinging through the sky line. But he also hated it. He hated the pressure, the responsibility, the fact that he nd his loved ones were in constant danger, the fact that he was always lying to everyone. He hated that he could never be normal. But then again Peter had never been very normal. Even before becoming Spider-man he had been a nerd. Smart, socially awkward, and tormented by the popular kids. That didn’t exactly change after becoming Spider-Man either, though his social issues had definitely gone to the back burner with him constantly fighting crime. If he was being honest his social life had only gotten worse since becoming a superhero. He had gained some muscle and no longer needed glasses, yes, but he couldn’t exactly show that. He hadn’t had time for his friends, his normally fantastic grades were slipping, and Flashes bullying had only gotten worse.

As Peter, out of costume, walked to Midtown, he wondered what it would be like to be a normal teenager. Not just what it would be like to not be Spider-Man, but to not be a nerd. He wondered what it would be like to be a regular teenage boy. Maybe if he wasn’t Spider-Man he could have even been… cool or something. Probably not, but it was still a nice fantasy. Just as he was imagining this, his spider-sense went off. He looked around, prepared to jump out of the way of any danger, but, even with his super reflexes, he couldn’t get out of the way before the strange something hit him right in the middle of his chest. Peter stumbled back, not realizing that the reality stone, one of the infinity stones, had lodged itself inside of his heart. Normally such a thing would kill someone, or at least hurt them, but due to the magic nature of the stone it phased through his chest and inside of him without harming him. Peter blinked. What… just happened? He had sworn something had just flown into his chest but… wouldn’t that have killed him or something? Before he could investigate further, an alarm on his phone began to ring. Crap, he was late for class! Peter ran into the school as the power of the reality stone seeped into his blood. He turned a corner, just a hallway away from his classroom, when he almost ran straight into a wall of muscle, his super-reflexes being the only thing that saved him. As he skirted to a halt, he came face to face with his biggest tormentor (supervillains and news editors notwithstanding) : Flash Thompson. The most popular jock in school and Peter Parker's personal bully. The blond quarterback sneered cockily at Peter before he spoke

“Hey there Puny Parker. Running late again? I thought geeks like you were supposed to be punctual and shit?” Flash said with a cocky mocking laugh.

“What do you want, Flash?” Peter asked with a scowl, trying to keep his patience.

“Just checking up on my favorite nerd.” Flash mocked, grabbing Peter’s arm. Before Peter could react, Flash had shoved him up against the locker, peters arm pinned behind his back. What the heck? He had super powers, enhanced reflexes, he should have been able to see that coming. Peter didn’t realize that his subconscious desire to be normal was repressing his powers. Unable to fight back, Peter was shoved into a nearby open locker and locked inside. Peter sighed. Stuck in a locker again. Peter didn’t notice as the orange light in his chest began to glow. He closed his eyes and deeply wished… to stop being a loser. To be normal. To be… anything else than who he was. The orange light grew brighter and brighter… until it completely consumed Peter. Suddenly he heard something

“Parker… Parker!”

With a start Peter Parker woke up, looking around in shock. He was… in a classroom? He was sitting at a desk at the back of a class he didn’t recognize, one that he seemed to have been sleeping through. Had all of that been a crazy dream? He looked over to see the remedial math teacher, Ms Jones. What was he doing in remedial math? Before he could say anything, Ms Jones spoke once more

“Mr Parker, please try to stay awake during class. Your grade is already low enough.” She said, sending a chuckle throughout the room. Peter spoke without thinking, his voice deeper and fuller than he remembered.

“Sorry teach. I’m still tired from our ‘study session’ last night. Thanks for the extra tutoring by the way~” he said. Did he just… flirt with a teacher? He did! And weirdly enough the slight embarrassed blush on Ms Jones face suggested that it was working. Ms. Jones spoke again, more timid this time

“While.. just don’t be late tonight.” She said with a slight wink, before walking over to the front of the classroom again. This caused the class, which now that Peter was looking consisted mostly of the football team, too laugh loudly, one punching Peter on the shoulder in a playful manner. Peter felt a smirk he couldn’t control come over his face, and his eyes involuntaries followed Ms Jones' ass as she walked back to the front of the class. In a daze, Peter tried to figure out what was happening. Wasn’t he just in a locker? What was he doing in remedial math? And why was he acting so weird? Before he could wonder any further, the bell rang and class was dismissed. Peter ran out without talking to anyone, and headed to a nearby bathroom. He looked in the mirror and froze. It was Peter but… completely different. He was bigger, taller, with wider shoulders. He had full, bouncy pecs that were barely contained by his tank top, shredded abs that he could grate cheese on, and truly impressive biceps. Peter had gone from a geek who gets stuffed into lockers to a huge muscular jock! Peter wanted to be shocked, to be horrified, but… he felt another smirk cross his face. He began to flex his muscles cockily. He smirked and felt his thoughts turn. He looked fucking amazing! I mean, of course he did. He was big Pete Parker, the big man, the quarterback, the stud! Slowly Peter began to forget about his old self, too absorbed in the strong, dull thoughts going through his head. He wondered what he and his best bro Flash would do after football practice? Maybe beat up some geeks, or find a hottie to hook up with? Peter had a lot of girls to choose from already, including MJ, Liz, Gwen, Charlie and of course Ms Jones, but… he wouldn’t mind another. Pete smirked and strut out of the bathroom, not noticing a light orange glow between his pecs. Life was fucking sweet.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 22

Obito Uchiha + Oral fixation

Still haven’t ever finished Naruto, but I am obsessed with Obito anyways. I devoured an entire bag of potato chips as I wrote this. Not the longest, but I enjoyed it anyways.

2024 kinktober masterlist

You should have known that Obito had a thing for having his mouth filled, or at least having something to curl his tongue around. With the way he always twirled dango sticks around his tongue, or would suckle his own fingers when you two were alone and he was deep in thought.

He wasn’t eh type to admit that he had any weaknesses, even if that weakness was the fact that he liked for his mouth to be kept busy. You didn’t even mind when he started sucking and licking at your fingers instead of his own, since it only caused problems when you actually needed your hand for anything. Obito didn’t whine, but he always looked sad when you took your fingers from him, so you got good at doing tasks with one hand.

In the beginning you had thought it was just hands, not even your hands specifically since you had caught him deepthroating his own fingers a couple of times when you had walked in on him pleasuring himself. Of course, that thought was quickly smacked out of you, or should you say sucked out of you?

When you two first got intimate, Obito seemed to hold himself back from doing something he really wanted. It took some coaxing on your part, telling him you wouldn’t be grossed out by anything he did, for Obito to finally do it.

You had thought it would be a lot worse when he ducked down and just attached his mouth to your pecs. It felt strange, in a way, since one half of his lips was natural skin, and the other had some scar tissue, but it wasn’t gross or anything.

Obito didn’t even seem to need you to do anything else as he just licked and sucked, not even seeming to care that it was your nipple when he just got to have his mouth on you. a certain calmness always fell over him when he got to just lay there and suck, lick and mouth at you, his lips rubbing against your skin with little plan in mind.

The first time you brought up cockwarming, Obito had frozen in the middle of what he was doing and just stared at you in complete silence. It made you think you might have said something wrong, that maybe you were the one who weirded him out and not the other way around.

That was until Obito went as far as to use kamui to get you two away from wherever you were, just to drop you into another much safer location, his gloved hands shaking as they shoved your pants down and groped at your cock.

Hed gone down on you many times before, with it being one of his favourite activities and all that, but this time Obito seemed so much hungrier and needy. A grimace flashed across your face from how hard he dropped to his knees, his mouth wrapping around you soft shaft before you could comment on it.

You were used to him immediately bobbing his head, his tongue swirling around and trying to taste every inch of skin. But this time Obito seemed to settle down, exhaling loudly out his nose and relaxing, leaning his weight against your legs and just, enjoying the fullness of his mouth.

Obito had been nice enough to bring you two somewhere you were able to sit down, your lover almost draping himself over your lap as he kept his mouth securely sealed around your base. The Uchiha almost purred when you ran a hand through his hair, his eyes fluttering for a moment before they finally fell shut, Obito seeming to float off somewhere else.

The aborted slow movements of his tongue got you hard, but Obito didn’t seem desperate to get you off. Instead, he just seemed like he wanted to stay there forever, and maybe he did. You knew his life was stressful and there were many plans even you didn’t know about, so you could only imagine it was nice to just be somewhere else, somewhere much more comfortable and softer.

The fact that you could give it to him, even if it was in a different way, made it worth it. It honestly became comfortable after a while, even if your balls ached and you could feel the insistent throbbing all the way up into your stomach. It made him happy and relaxed, and Obito was never the type to leave you hanging when he felt like he owed you.

so, who were you to stop him, even if the drool soaking into the seat was getting uncomfortable. You loved him enough to sit in drool for a while.

[duelacadatoolshed]

it's a bitch convincing people to like you {Evan/Reader/HABIT}

Part 1/4

{ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 }

Summary: You really, really love your boyfriend, but you also really wish he'd told you he was occasionally, and very literally, possessed by the most irritating murder-goblin you could ever imagine before HABIT woke you up instead of Evan one morning. Except how would he have even started that conversation?

Warnings: violence, brief graphic imagery (like a sentence, courtesy of HABIT, naturally), knives, implied HABIT cruelty & behaviour. Unedited.

A/N: emhposting in 2024. based on this post if U wanna see the full fic concept. I have like 4 chapters locked and loaded but I can't promise anything beyond that. Future chapters do contain darker themes and sexual content. but I love writing HABIT and I like his dynamic with the reader here. like it if you like it, or comment, or anything. Print it out and eat it. If you hated it send it to your enemies.

The only thing worse than enduring HABIT was the thought of letting Evan suffer him alone. That's what you'd remind yourself when it's the middle of the night and your Advil is wearing off and the wounds along your body have started to ache again. Evan was sleeping soundly next to you, arm across you, holding you tightly, which he tends to do now more than he doesn't on the nights that he's home. Sometimes you wonder how the hell he even gets to sleep; you know he's not faking it because he always wakes up screaming. Still, you prefer those nights to the ones where HABIT wakes instead. That was how you'd meet him that first night.

The feeling of nails digging into your side wakes you.

"You're new," you hear the incredulous, raspy voice of what you think is your boyfriend, and you try to shove his hand away, mumbling that that hurt. Like a lightning flash, however, your hands were pinned to the bed either side of your head, as the creature wearing your boyfriend's face straddles your hips. But you don't notice the malevolent grin, nor the cruel glint of intrigue in his eyes, still waking up. You actually were a little excited by this unexpected show of dominance, and couldn't help the sleepy, flirty grin that spread across your lips.

"Oh, it's like that?" You purred, hips shifting beneath him, "good morning."

For a moment he seems caught up in you, then he looks around.

"Where the fuck are we?"

"Evan," you start to grow more confused, watching him, noticing more and more how out of character he was behaving, "we're at my place, remember?" He looks around again, slower this time, then back at you. There's no missing the malevolence in his eyes this time. This time, when you whisper his name with concern, he grins.

"Not quite."

He calls himself Evan's worse half. He calls himself HABIT. He calls you Little Rabbit with a dark grin.

HABIT talks more than he doesn't. That first night he paces your room, tearing things apart looking for some sort of weapon even as you insist you don't have -

"Not even a box cutter for arts and fuckin' crafts? What the fuck is wrong with you, don't you have a fucking hobby?" He bites out, and you, still utterly confused and now downright terrified, tremble in the corner of your bed. He bemoans not being able to stay and have fun, says he's got a schedule to keep, but before he leaves, he approaches you. When your foot lashes out, kicks him, he snags your ankle. His grip is so fucking strong, so tight; your lip wobbles, there's tears in your eyes.

"I'm gonna go, because I'm a busy man, but I promise you - I promise," and he grabs your chin forcefully, making sure you're looking him in the eyes when you start to cry, "I'll be back for you." He watches the first of the tears trail down your cheeks, looking almost hungry as he does so, "I can see why he likes you," he muses, "fuckin' soft little rabbit," he wets his lips, and you squeeze your eyes shut, quietly asking why this is happening, but all he does is laugh, "I'm gonna have fun with you." But it makes your blood turn to ice in your veins.

This wasn't normal, this wasn't the man you'd been falling for in these past few months, this wasn't a side of him you'd seen before, or even felt he was capable of having. Part of you thinks you should break up with him, terrified of what this could all mean, what he could be capable of, but another part has begun to love him, and wants answers.

It takes a bit of online investigation, but soon you come across EverymanHYBRID and The Seven Trials of HABIT. Things... start to make a lot more sense after that. Days later, there's a banging at your apartment door in the dead of night. You know it's not your boyfriend, not really.

"Go away, HABIT," you tried feebly, yawning. He shouts that he'll make a scene if he has to, and it'll be all your fault. If your research proved anything it was that HABIT making a scene usually ended with bloodshed. You didn't want that on your conscience.

You open the door. HABIT's laughter is mean when he calls you obedient.

You don't ask if he's okay, or why he's covered in blood, or whose blood it is, you really would prefer not to know. He seems surprised that you're not, almost gleeful at how nonplussed you appeared as you looked him over, gaze only pausing to linger on the knife in his hand.

"Are you going to kill me now?" You sighed, as if resigned to your fate. HABIT cocks his head to the side, regarding you curiously.

"What, no response? No fear?" He passes the knife back and forth between his hands. You simply ask him to close the door, turning your back on him as you head back into the apartment, "this isn't how this is meant to go," HABIT says, sounding almost annoyed, but he at least closes the door.

"I'm not going to scream in terror just because it gets you hard," you sniped back, heading to the refrigerator, "you want a drink? How long since you've eaten - fucking ow!" You felt the blade against your back barely a second before it bit into your skin. It's only a shallow wound, enough to sting, but he holds the blade there like it's a threat, hand around you throat, pulling you against him.

"You have a lot of fucking nerve, rabbit," he snarls in your ear, and your traitorous body is unfortunately kind of into it in this moment. Whatever fucked up fantasies you may or may not have were much healthier staying just that. So you just try and focus on all of the awful shit you know he's done, and how he's covered in someone else's blood - actually not that, he's kind of hot covered in blood.

"So do you," you bit back, not fighting his hold, refusing to struggle or give the kind of reaction he was hoping for, "kill me or piss off, HABIT, do you want a drink or not?" Before he can even properly answer, you turned your face to his for a moment - wow he's closer than you were expecting, "and if you say some edgelord shit like you want to drink my blood, I'm gonna kill myself."

For a few seconds the two of you are locked in a starting contest; you bored, HABIT scowling. He twists the tip of the knife in your back, but you force yourself to remain stonefaced, simply muttering a deadpan 'ow'.

"Have you restocked your fridge since I left?"

"Went shopping this morning."

"What do you have?"

"Get the fucking knife out of my back and I'll tell you."

You wonder if HABIT knows you're bluffing, knows that you're terrified of how he could snap at any minute and hurt you. He's playing along, sitting at your tiny kitchen table, carving something into it with his knife as you make you both hot chocolates.

"There is something fucking wrong with you, rabbit," HABIT laughs as you set down the mug in front of him and take the opposite seat.

"I care about the guy you stole the steering wheel from," you answered simply with a shrug. HABIT begins to smile again, to laugh all mean and cruel.

"Fucking hell, despite all of me you're still interested in him? Seriously you're out of your fucking mind; earlier today I gouged out a woman's eyes and made her husband eat them -"

"Sounds like your kind of party."

The realisation hits him very suddenly. You watch as it occurs. Still, you continue, rolling your eyes as you explain that you're dating Evan, not him, and every relationship has issues.

"Issues?!" HABIT gets to his feet, indignant, "I'm just a fucking relationship issue to you? Do you know how much pain I'm going to put you in?!"

"So much, I'm sure," you give him a thin, mean smile of your own, "and I'll scream and I'll cry and I'll beg for it to stop, but that's because that's the natural human reaction to tremendous amounts of pain, not because I'm actually scared of you, HABIT."

HABIT slaps you so hard you crash out of your chair and to the ground. Your face smacks into a low cabinet and there's the metallic taste of blood in your mouth as you find yourself reeling. No normal human should be able to hit you that hard. It will undoubtedly bruise. HABIT's ranting now, about how your so stupid for not fearing him, pacing and gesturing with his knife.

"Eight," you interrupt him, not bothering to get up off the floor.

"Eight what?"

"Out of ten."

"On what? The pain scale? Jesus fucking Christ you people are soft -"

"On the quality of the slap, HABIT," your self preservation skills are shocking; he's definitely going to kill you.

"Why are you like this?" He asks flatly, deflating as his anger leaves him. You sit up, cross legged, leaning against the cupboard.

"Like I said, I'm not gonna scream in terror just because it gets you hard. You're not getting a proper reaction from me because you're not the one in that body who deserves to get the satisfaction from me."

HABIT stares at you for several long moments, just wearing that eerie smile. Slowly, he approached you, squatting down to be at your level, before he reaches out, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. It comes away red and slick, and neither of you break eye contact as he sticks his thumb into his mouth to taste your blood.

"I'll get you, little rabbit," he threatens lowly and you have to pretend like he's not turning you on right now.

"I look forward to it," you give him a cold smile, "can I have my boyfriend back now?"

HABIT groans loudly, like a petulant child, but concedes, and in the next instance he's gone, leaving Evan's body collapsed on your kitchen floor beside you.

Finally you feel like you can breathe again.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  CHRISTMAS LOVE

SUMMARY : dean ate something he shouldn’t have eaten, but in the meantime, there’s something to ease the ache until it can be fixed. not that it’s a problem… per se..

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), handjob, cum eating, cum kissing, p in v, aphrodisiac chocolate cookies 

WORD COUNT : 2.3k

A/N : jimin song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — aphrodisiac. yup, I thought I hated Christmas, but actually it’s not so bad if it's centred around Dean. ✨mental illness✨ XXX

Everything was fine for the last forty minutes or so. 

Dean helped his girlfriend set up the television in their bedroom—his bedroom that he partially convinced her to stay in permanently—put the snacks together, while stealing some chocolate-peppermint thumbprint cookies Charlie brought over earlier today, as his girlfriend stayed in his room to choose a Christmas movie.

He knew it would be about the Grinch. She was pretty Grinch-y sometimes around Christmas, but just like the Grinch, Dean got her to change her mind about Christmas being the most awful holiday. 

But Christmas definitely couldn’t beat Halloween—it’s their number one, favourite holiday. 

But… back to the main point, Dean couldn’t relax. He tried everything, imagined his go-to turn offs when he’s unbearably horny: Sam in lingerie, Cas in lingerie, hell—even Charlie in lingerie. He’d cringed at the thought of them, completely disgusted as his mind made it like a film without his permission, but their faces and bodies ended up transforming into the woman currently laying in his arms.

Nothing worked, not reliving being in Hell, not the memory of having the Mark—nothing made his dick soft. Mostly because after every single bad day, he went to her. 

It was her he buried himself into, her lips that kissed away tears, her caresses that healed up his wounds… you see? His mind is going straight to it like there’s no other path to take. He usually doesn’t mind, and neither does she, but this is supposed to be a wholesome moment. Just her and him watching a movie together, that’s all that he wanted to do for her today. 

Unfortunately, his dick had other ideas.

She’s not even fully clothed, which makes it even worse for him. She’s wearing nothing beneath the blue flannel she borrowed from him—no underwear, no bra, just some fluffy Christmas socks on her feet. Just the thought of it made his cock twitch. He bit his lip to hold back a moan. 

It wasn’t her fault she was practically naked. Sometimes he was way too hot and she’d end up uncomfortably sweaty in the middle of the night. Her solution: wear nothing but Dean’s shirt. It was great, Dean could smother her and be wrapped around her without her trying to get away, but right now, it ain’t that great. 

Right now, Dean knows that with one move from either one of them and she’d know what was up: yup, his dick.

Still, he was squirming too much for it to go unnoticed. And he shoved food into his mouth to pretend the chips, and the brownies, and everything else he ate were making him moan. Unlike her, he was wearing his t-shirt, some boxers, and socks to combat the cold of his concrete room. But now, he was flushed, and hot, and completely uncomfortable. 

“Dean,” she scolded, turning aggressively onto her back to gaze up at him. “What’s up? You can’t sit still—which is normal, but not this much…” she trailed off, immediately identifying the blush on his cheeks and the glaze of lust in his green eyes. “Woah, what’s that for?” She teased, poking his cheek. 

He grabbed her hand quickly before she could pull it away and kissed her palm. “Nothin’,” he brushed off, but his heart was pounding hard in his chest, and his hand tightened around her wrist as his mind told him over and over: dammit, just touch her. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” she said playfully, biting her lip. Subtly, she moved her hand away from her stomach and brushed her hand up his crotch experimentally. Dean groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Ah, a boner,” she said casually, then squeezed his cock over his boxers.

“You do know we’re watching the Grinch and not a porno right?” She continued to taunt with a grin on her face. He whined softly, opening his eyes to glare down at her. She batted her lashes at him innocently, but he knew she meant well. 

“You think I don’t know that?” He asked breathily. His eyes softened when she sneaked her hand inside the stretchy waistband of his briefs and brushed her fingertips along the length of his cock. “God… I… please,” he moaned, leaning over her to bury his face in her neck. 

“I’ve got you,” she told him quietly, pulling her hand out to hook her fingers over the waistband of his boxers and lower them down his thighs. He cursed softly, and allowed her to push his chest so he could lie down on his back. She straddled his thighs and smiled down at him hotly, lifting her hand up to her mouth to leave her palm slick in saliva before wrapping it around him. 

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, clutching her thighs. 

Warm and heavy in her hand, she squeezed his shaft gently and held eye contact with him as she stroked up and down. He smoothed his hands up her thighs, grasping her hips beneath his warm flannel. He attempted to bring her forward, and she did move forward, and slid her hand up beneath his shirt to lift it.

“Come like this, yeah?” She asked, starting to twist her hand up and down his cock. He whined, a cute pout drawing his lips downwards.

“Is this… are you not turned on?” Dean questioned breathily, slightly surprised by her proposition. He didn’t try to convince her otherwise and kept his hands still on her hips. 

“I am…” she smiled, then dropped her gaze down to his cock, watching the swift slide upwards and downwards of her hand over his excitement, “but I wanna finish the movie.” He bit his lip, his eyes flickering down to her hand moving quick and steady, his precum aiding each stroke. “Then… we can have fun.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, “I’m sorry…” He’d like to apologise to her fully for ruining the night, but he gave into the pleasure of her soft hand wrapped around his cock, letting the heat of his arousal and the spark of his orgasm take over his body.

“No, I’m good with this,” she smiled sweetly, ignoring the throb of her clit and flood of arousal between her legs.

She worshipped him quietly, focused on touching his freckled skin with his shirt shoved up his chest. As he throws his head back, blushing red, vocalising the pleasure that’s painted across his stunning face. 

She faintly remembers what Dean looked like when he was younger. He’s much older now, still so beautiful—always. His face is not smooth, stubble covers his jaw, wrinkles enhance the beauty of his eyes, and always those goddamn lashes of his, curled upwards naturally. 

He’s covered from head to toe in freckles, cute freckles, some light, others dark. Sometimes they make patterns, triangles, a trail that fades, some of them overlap. He thinks it makes him look dirty, dusty, but he’s always had a heart-stopping beauty that no one could match. Effortless beauty no one could achieve. 

He’s much softer than before, but the faint cut of his abs remained. There were scars, too, ones Cas didn’t heal because Dean didn’t ask, but Cas comes through sometimes and does a full sweep. Eventually, she finds new scars, new scratches, new marks. Then, they disappear and she memorises him all over again. 

“Touch yourself,” Dean requested breathlessly, squirming and digging his blunt nails into the flesh of her hips. Lashes fluttered against his cheekbones as he opened his eyes. 

“Touch myself?” She repeated with a gentle laugh, lifting her hand up to his face. He instantly leaned into her touch and slid one of his hands to the small of her back to bring her closer. “Baby, I only wanna touch you,” she whispered enticingly, cupping his jaw to brush her thumb across his lip. 

Up and down, she continued to give him pleasure, knowing he was close as he throbbed in her hand, as his muscles twitched with every passing second. His breath hitched and she squeezed him, moving her hand faster, then lowered her hand away from his face to use both hands on his cock. 

Hands wet with his precum, she made a ring with her finger to massage the frenulum and spread the sticky arousal dribbling out of the slit of his cockhead with her thumb. 

She licked her lips at the sight and smirked, “come for me, Dean.” It was hot that she had this much control over him. His body hardened and he called out her name as he spilled hot release over her hand and his stomach. 

Curses spilled from his mouth and he seized her mischievous hands when she refused to stop. “You’re still hard,” she murmured, stunned, but he was too pleased with the release to pay attention to her words. 

“You’re mean,” Dean complained breathily, eyes opening lazily.

“It’s a gift you’ll open later tonight,” she promised in a joking manner, taking her hands out from his loving grasp. “You’re still hard, by the way,” she repeated curiously, gripping his still erect cock at the base. 

“Fuck… what?” He asked, bewildered, watching her move back and lean down to lick his cum off his stomach. He whimpered quietly, his cock red and pretty in her hand still, one hundred percent still aroused. 

The fact that she was licking his cum off his tummy didn’t help at all. The warm, wet muscle flicked smoothly across his soft skin, gathering his tangy, creamy cum. Occasionally, her teeth would graze his skin, setting his nerves alight, and she’d suck until marks painted his body. Then, she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and sucked it clean with a pleased moan. 

He grunted and threw his head back into the pillow again. He blindly made contact with her hair, buried his fingers carefully into her silky locks and tugged her upwards. She went to him without resistance and kissed him as he waited for her slick lips.

The kiss was wet and erotic. He could taste his cum, felt some of it against her tongue, unswallowed. He took it with a moan of pleasure, licking across her tongue in gratitude. He moved her hair out of the way subconsciously, pressing her closer to him, impossibly close. 

He got a hold of her hip again and smoothed his hand up the curve of her back, lifting the flannel. She hummed inquisitively, pulling away momentarily before locking lips with Dean again to run her tongue along the roof of his mouth then to taste the unique peppermint on his tongue that was definitely not from any teeth-brushing. 

She pulled away and blinked down at him, silently intrigued as he caught his breath. “Am I cursed?” He wondered out loud, bringing her hips down onto his cock needily. They moaned in unison. “Oh, fuck… did we piss a witch off?” He whined, grinding his hips up into her wet folds. “Rowena,” he growled, wondering if he’d done something to piss off the Scottish red-head or if she'd done just to fuck with him. 

“Hey, slow down…” she gasped, unbuttoning Dean’s flannel from her body at last. “Did you eat those cookies Charlie brought?” She inquired, slowing down the roll of her hips. 

“Uh… yeah,” he replied, his tone puzzled. He opened his eyes, peeking up at the now-open flannel exposing her naked body to his dirty gaze. 

“Dean, oh my God,” she giggled, halting the movement of her hips. He frowned. “How many?” 

“I dunno, four.” He shrugged. Trying to regain her focus, he took his cock in his hand and found her clit with the soft head by pushing it up and down through her folds. She moaned softly, thighs shaking.  

“Yeah, this is not going away anytime soon,” she said quietly, squirming when he held her hip and nudged her forward. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his brows furrowing in bemusement. “What do cookies have to do wi-”

“They’re aphrodisiacs,” she interrupted him, shrugging his flannel off her shoulders before throwing it beside him. He gazed up at her, adorably dumbfounded. “Well, at least the chocolate is.” 

“What?! Why would she-? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, sitting up higher on the bed, carding his fingers through his honey hair, making it messy and sexy. 

“I… forgot. I was hanging out with Charlie and Stevie… I’m sorry,” she gave him an apologetic smile, but amusement glimmered in her eyes, which made him smile, too. 

“No.. babe, it’s okay, I’m just really horny…” he trailed off, then took her arms and tugged her towards him with a big smile on his face. 

“We can call Cas,” she offered with a laugh, giving him a sweet kiss when he brought her closer and nuzzled his nose against hers. 

“Why don’t we test this out, first?” He asked, sneaking his hand between her legs to circle his fingertips over her entrance. Her arousal drenched his fingers and he hummed, pleased with the copious slickness that coated her pussy. 

“Huh?” She murmured, preoccupied with his adept fingers as they found her clit and began drawing slow circles. She nibbled gently on his jaw and kissed her way down his neck. 

“Why else would Charlie make them?” Dean inquired, bending one knee to gently nudge her behind and silently guide her over to his cock. She pulled away from his throat to consider his question as he lined his cock up with her entrance.

“Well, she did say-” She started thoughtfully, sinking down on his cock. 

“Exactly,” Dean cut her off, enjoying the stretch of her walls around his cock. Dean gazed up at her lustfully, slid his hands up her thighs, and flattened one hand up her stomach. “Lean back, bend your knees,” he instructed, then bit his lip. 

She raised a brow at him, but did as he asked. She bent her knees and he hooked his arms beneath, wrapping them around to grip the top of her knees, spreading her legs open for a clear view of his cock inside her.

“Sorry about the movie,” he chuckled, lifting his hips upwards.

“I guess it’s fair,” she smiled at him, leaning back with her arms behind her, between his legs, “since I forgot to tell you about the cookies.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s somethin’ to be sorry for.” 

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[magenta-somethings]

trick or treat!

treat! (aka a snippet fic i ended up writing on the bus about tim asking yj for advice re: the huntress/nightwing/oracle situation)

“So, wait, Nightwing is dating Huntress?” asks Cassie.

“I don’t know what they’re doing!” Tim replies. “That’s half the problem.”

“And do we like Huntress?” asks Cissie.

“Yes—no—it’s complicated,” Tim replies. He’s doing a lot of replying and he doesn’t entirely like it—more out of an instinctual avoidance of being on the interrogatee side of an interrogation than anything else—but he had been the one to ask for advice. Which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake, but it’s one he’s now committed to. “I do like her. But she struggles with following Batman’s rules. I mean, we all do, but she struggles with the no killing aspect of it specifically.”

“But has she, like, actually killed anyone?” Kon asks. He’s floating in the air, cross-legged, with one of Cassie’s pillows hugged to his chest. It’s kind of cute—especially with his oversized Superman t-shirt, because, thankfully, he doesn’t actually sleep in his costume.

Not that Tim would ever say it’s cute out loud. 

“No, not since we started working together properly.”

Kon shrugs. “Then I don’t see the problem? Yeah, it’s majorly screwed that she’s killed but it also sounds like she’s changed." Tim might be imagining it, but he almost sounds wistful? "And being able to stand up to the bat seems like a point in her favour more than anything.” He pauses. “Plus, based on the picture you have of her, she’s a total babe.”

Tim just knew visual aids would be a mistake. This is on him for not being able to resist a corkboard. Cassie, acting on behalf of the team, throws a pillow at Kon. It does smack him in the face—he still needs to practice his catches—but before it can fall to the ground his TTK catches it and now he’s hugging two pillows and maybe that backfired slightly. 

Tim puts his corkboard face-down on principle. Huntress probably doesn’t even know he has the photo—her foot in the middle of kicking a bad guy’s face, her fist breaking the jaw of another. He doesn’t have much time for photography anymore, but sometimes he just itches to go out and capture Gotham and its heroes.  The photo of Nightwing, meanwhile, is him shoving his face full of pizza, a hand reaching out to try, in vain, to block the camera lens. 

Oracle, of course, is represented by her icon. He still hasn’t started thinking of her as Barbara.

“It’s not all about looks,” says Cassie. “Even if she is really hot.” She pauses. “Like, really hot.”

“Okay!” interrupts Tim. “That’s enough of that.” He did not need his friends calling his co-worker hot.

“Yeah, it really doesn’t matter,” agrees Cissie, and of course he can count on her to have his back. “Especially since Nightwing is way hotter than her.”

A part of Tim dies inside. Just shrivels up and expires, there and then.

“Okay, but Nightwing is hotter than, like, everyone,” points out Kon. That part of Tim is currently being cremated. “And cooler, and more badass. Or whatever.” 

“Most documentaries on 20th-21st century heroes talk about Nightwing’s attractiveness at least once,” says Bart offhandedly from the corner where he’s playing Polyp-mon. It’s one of his first contributions to the conversation. The part of Tim that died earlier is now having a funeral held in its honour. Suzie, at least, is still absorbed in the game. She’s spent the conversation peering over Bart’s shoulder, occasionally asking him to catch a specific polyp-mon. Though he doubts her additions would be worse than what is currently passing for advice.

“Guys, please,” Tim says, desperately trying to course-correct the conversation. God, it’s so much worse having them talk about how hot this co-worker is. “Stay focused on the problem.”

“Is that you like Oracle more?” asks Cissie.

Tim hesitates. Oracle is one of the most impressive people he knows, and getting to actually spend time with her—especially when it’s her teaching him about tech—is awesome, and she’s saved his life more times than he count or probably even knows about. But he’s only known her face-to-face for a short time, while he’s been fighting side-by-side with Huntress almost as long as he’s been acting properly as Robin. 

“That’s not what’s important,” he deflects. “What’s important is what’s best for Nightwing.”

“Right,” says Cissie. 

“What if they all just dated each other?” asks Bart

“You can do that?” asks Kon, at the same time as Tim says, “I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t fix it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that would make it worse.”

The silence stretches. 

“Well, good luck with that!” declares Cassie. “Now, who wants to watch Xena?”

Tim sighs, but let’s the hang-out move on. What’s happening with Nightwing, Huntress and Oracle is such a mess that there’s no way a bunch of teenagers are going to be able to untangle it, especially when most of them don’t have much experience in romance or life or both. Tim certainly doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to having non-messy relationships. He’s sure Dick will figure it out. Eventually.

Kon floats down next to him as Cassie and Cissie go looking for the VHS, with that grin on his face that Tim just knows means he’s come up with some terrible joke. “Look on the brightside! When the divorce happens, you’ll have not one, not two, but three Christmases. Not four, because I’m pretty sure Batman doesn’t celebrate, but three is still pretty good.” 

“Yay,” says Tim, voice as flat as he can make it.

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: Steve and you are finally officially dating, the kids are finally in high school and no longer need any sort of official babysitting, and life is overall pretty damn good. You try to push aside the unease settling in your chest, but how long can you ignore it before it manifests into something much worse than you could possibly imagine.

Content Warning: swearing, bullying, trauma responses, intimacy

Word Count: 6.7k

Author’s Note: Sorry this took me longer to get out than some of the previous chapters. Life has been a bit hectic to say the very least (my brother low key got robbed and I was helping him sort some of it out), but I’m glad I was finally able to get this done! I’m looking forward to writing more of season 4!

Message me to be added to the taglist! Also, please send me asks! I love talking to you guys, so even if you want to tell me about something as mundane as what you had for breakfast, I’m happy to hear it :)

Series Masterlist | Part 10 | Next Part

***

Spring break started soon, and despite having graduated and gotten out of the shit hole that is Hawkins High, Steve still drove you and Robin to school. You hadn’t stayed the night last night at Steve’s so you slid into the backseat behind him as you got in the car. Even though you were halfway through second semester, you still weren’t used to Steve not being there to walk you to your first period every morning like he had the year before.

Of course, you stepped right into the middle of an argument between your boyfriend and your best friend. At least they aren’t shoving each other like toddlers this time, you thought as you rolled your eyes and buckled your seatbelt.

“Cut me some slack, please! It is 7:00 in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!” Robin shouted, pushing the skin on her face around as she looked in the visor mirror.

“Oh, you’re worried about a basketball pep rally? You expect me to believe that?” Steve shot back.

“Yeah? So?” Robin’s voice got small as she anticipated the trajectory of this conversation.

“So, we both know what this is about, okay? I’m not buying that bullshit, this is about Vickie!”

“Absolutely not!” Robin defended herself. You scoffed from the back seat, not believing a word of her lie as Steve spoke up again.

“It is, and you know what else?”

“Uh, I really don’t care,” Robin rolled her eyes while she continued to put on her lip balm.

“You gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta—you just gotta be yourself,” Steve tried to give her a pep talk and you gaped from the backseat before chiming in.

“You do realize you are literally quoting her to her, right?”

“Hey, you stay out of this, and besides, maybe she needs to listen to herself,” Steve glared at you in the rearview mirror before turning back towards Robin, “ever think about that, smartypants? I listened to you and now look at me. Boom. Back in business.” He gestured back towards you as he said it and you rolled your eyes. You were, however, grateful that Robin had gotten involved because you didn’t know how much longer you could take Steve not making a move last summer.

“It’s not the same thing, okay. You ask out a girl like y/n and she says no, big deal. Nothing happens—”

Steve cut her off immediately, “what do you mean ‘nothing happens’? In that hypothetical I lose the love of my life, so yeah that’s a pretty big mother fucking deal!”

“For the sake of the hypothetical—“ Robin began again, “—maybe your ego’s a little bit bruised…but I ask out the wrong girl, and bam! I’m a town pariah.”

“Yeah, I’d buy that, except Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl,” you spoke up, leaning forward to feel more included in the conversation.

“We just don’t know that, do we?”

“She returned Fast Times paused at 53 minutes, 5 seconds,” Steve spoke up and you rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where his mind was going. “Do you know who pauses Fast Times at 53 minutes, 5 seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!”

“Ew!” You and Robin exclaimed in unison.

“Gross, don’t say boobies!” She scolded, causing the boy to just repeat himself like the immature idiot that he was.

“Boobies. Not a big deal, okay? I like boobies. You like boobies. Y/n has boobies—Vickie likes boobies! Definitely!”

“Hey, how about you not bring my tits into this?” You asked Steve, smacking his shoulder. “But I mean, I can’t disagree with him…Vickie definitely likes tits, I mean we have all the evidence,” you added as you turned toward Robin. She rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, deciding she was done with the conversation the three of you were having.

Steve pulled up to Hawkins High, parking briefly to let the two of you out. Before walking to the building you stopped at his door and he rolled the window down.

“Don’t go getting fired while I’m in class, okay?” You warned, smoothing out his vest that was wrinkled because often he couldn’t be bothered to iron it.

“I just wish you could be there, you know? The day just drags on and on and on when I’m working by myself, let alone when I have to work with Keith,” Steve responded, rolling his eyes. Since he had treated Jonathan so shitty when him and Nancy were together, Steve tried to move past the jealous side of himself, but now that he wasn’t even in school with you to see which assholes were hitting on you, it made turning over a new leaf all the more difficult.

“I know, but you are a grown ass adult and you can handle it. Besides, Robin and I will be there after school lets out, so you don’t have to miss me for too terribly long,” you reminded him, leaning into the car to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He smiled into it and you debated just getting back into his car so that you could make out in the break room at Family Video, but Robin’s voice rang out, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of the car.

“Hey shit birds, cool it with the PDA, we’re gonna be late,” Robin yelled out, and you grumbled, rubbing the back of your head as you moved away from Steve’s car to join her. You waved a goodbye to Steve as you bit back a smile before you turned and picked up the pace to join your friend.

You really hated pep rallies with the entirety of your being…and you knew that Robin would too if it weren’t for being in the band and getting to stand the whole time next to Vickie. You usually tried to stand next to the band so that you could at least talk to her, but your talk with Steve had slowed you down and the bleachers had filled up.

“Sorry! I can get Davis to try and get someone to move if you want me to. People usually listen to him because he’s borderline terrifying,” Robin apologized, gesturing behind her to the sousaphone player who was built like a tank. Hawkins High didn’t have football, otherwise you were nearly 1000% confident that he would’ve been goaded into joining the team.

“No, really it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you smiled at her and waved her on to go join Vickie in the stands. You started ascending the bleachers, trying to make your way to the back corner as you weaved through people who were cheering on the cheerleading squad (a bit redundant, you felt). Ever since you started dating Steve, you somehow became even less popular at school, which was a hard feat to accomplish. A lot of girls in your grade were still quite enamored with the boy and understandably disappointed that he was no longer available. As such, they quite deliberately chose to take it out on you.

Normally it didn’t really get to you, but recently it had been bothering you more. You had been used to it last year when you watched girls in the hall cast judgmental looks at you as Steve walked you to class…and that was before you were even officially an item. Now, without having Steve to be there to quell your nerves, you just felt lonely whenever Robin wasn’t around either to distract you from immature high school bullies.

You finally made it to the back corner of the bleachers, not without hearing some nasty comments directed at you. You sighed, crossing your arms and closing your eyes as you leaned against the wall.

“I take it you hate these things too?” A voice spoke up to ask you. You turned to see the familiar mop of long brown hair as you realized the voice belonged to Eddie Munson. You had never been in a class with him before this semester but you had become increasingly familiar with him due to the fact that Ms. O’Donell, your physics teacher, had desperately pleaded with you to tutor him so that he could graduate this year.

You had reluctantly agreed, mostly because you didn’t want to disappoint the poor woman, but it had been an exercise in frustration.

“Well, yeah, they aren’t my favorite. Especially since they’re typically full of people who somehow have a shit ton of school spirit but not even a modicum of decency and respect for me, so that is just…totally epic,” you rolled your eyes, frustrated with one classmate in particular, Claire, who had just tried to trip you on your way up the stairs.

“I studied by the way,” Eddie spoke up, when you looked at him with confusion, he continued, “for the physics quiz today? I studied for it.”

Suddenly, your face twisted in panic as you realized that you hadn’t. You’d been so busy with work and Steve and just trying to hold everything together that you had forgotten about the last assessment you had before going on spring break. “Fuck! I forgot about it.”

“Eh, you’ll do fine anyway,” Eddie replied nonchalantly. You were glad someone at least believed in you.

“Dustin’s still doing alright?” You asked the long haired boy beside you. Since Dustin was in high school now, he no longer needed a babysitter, and thus your career, in an official sense at least, had come to an end. You still saw him extremely regularly because Steve and him were still good friends, but you still worried about him. You knew he was a misfit, and being a misfit yourself it made you nervous that he had found himself in a crowd of…well, misfits. You didn’t want him to go through the same shit that you went through. You didn’t want him to be invisible like you.

“Henderson? He’s fucking awesome! Yeah, of course he’s fine,” Eddie replied, laughing as he shoved you in the shoulder. Even though everyone liked to talk about how much of a mess Eddie Munson was, you were glad that Ms. O’Donell’s arrangement had at least shown you that he wasn’t a bad guy. It was nice to have another friend at Hawkins High. “How’s Steve doing?” Eddie asked, not doing at great job at hiding his distaste for the graduate with the perfect hair.

You rolled your eyes at his tone before answering. “He’s great…I just thought dating the son of a bitch would mean that I’d get at least enough status here for people to not treat me like shit,” you chuckled.

Your conversation with Eddie fizzled out as the basketball team entered the gym. You couldn’t help but smile seeing Lucas on the court. He looked happy, so even though he was surrounded by meathead athletes, you couldn’t really be mad. You knew he was smart enough to make good decisions and he still had you all as a support group, so you tried to shove the worry down in your chest.

Jason Carver took the mic and began going on and on as he spoke. Though you really, really didn’t like the kid, you had to give him credit. He sure did know how to give a speech.

“…you know, I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins. So much loss. And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take? In dark days like this, we need something to believe in. So last night, when we were down by ten points at half to Christian Academy, I looked at my team and I said think of Melissa. Think of Heather. Think of Billy. Think of our heroic police chief Jim Hopper. Think of each and every one of our friends who perished in that fire…”

That was when you stopped listening. Not a day went by that you didn’t think of the loss that you had faced. You didn’t need someone like Jason who didn’t know jack shit about loss to explain it to you. “I have to go,” you whispered to Eddie, and before he could respond, you slipped out of the bleachers, telling a teacher that you needed to use the restroom, and darting out the gym doors.

Robin noticed you leaving and quickly set her trumpet down, taking off her shako, which Vickie graciously took before darting down the hall after you.

“Y/n,” she yelled after you trying to catch up but you didn’t slow down, quickly evading her and turning a corner as you wiped tears from your eyes. “Y/n!”

She finally caught up to you, grabbing your wrist to stop you from running away from her. “What’s wrong?” She asked, eyes searching yours in an attempt to make sure you were okay.

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” you choked out, unable to keep your emotions at bay.

“Could you at least try?” Robin asked softly, running a hand up and down your arm to soothe the strong emotions you were feeling.

“I…I’m-I’m just tired of-of people like Jason trying to explain the loss to me. I get it! I know what it was like; I was there!” You stammered. Robin nodded, and you knew she understood what you were going through. You were eternally grateful that you had the support system that you had; you were never alone in your struggle which was both a blessing and a curse. You wouldn’t wish your experience with the supernatural on your worst enemy, so sometimes it was difficult to stomach the fact that your closest friends had experienced it alongside you.

“What can I do?” Robin asked, wanting nothing more than to make it better.

“I just…I think I need to leave,” you cried, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. Robin nodded, leading you out the doors of school to the pay phone right outside. Fortunately, with everyone tied up at the pep rally, there wasn’t anyone to stop the two of you as you put some coins in the telephone. Your fingers hesitated as you thought about who to call, finally settling before dialing the number.

After a couple rings, a familiar voice picked up. “Hello, this is Steve from Family Video, how can I help you today?”

“Steve,” you cried out and immediately he was on high alert.

“Y/n?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I-I’m at school, but-but I’m just…having one of those days you know?” Steve had been your rock through processing the trauma that your experiences with the Upside Down had brought you, so he very much understood that somedays were just too much for you.

“I need to talk to Keith really quickly, but then I’m going to come and pick you up, okay? You’re not by yourself, are you?” Steve asked, concern lacing his tone.

“No, Robin’s with me.”

“Good, good, good. Can you put her on the phone, baby?” Steve sounded frantic, and if you could have seen him, his anxious behaviors would have confirmed it. There he was, standing at the counter of Family Video, not even an hour into his shift when shit had to hit the fan. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down, but knowing that you were upset was enough to keep him from being calm. There was a silence, before Robin’s voice rang out through the receiver.

“Hey.”

“How bad is she?” He cut to the chase.

“Um, I mean…you heard her,” Robin replied, speaking in vague terms so that you wouldn’t be offended by their conversation.

Steve sighed, jotting down a note on a piece of scratch paper, his version of “talking to Keith.” After he scribbled down the words, he refocused on the phone call. “Okay, Robin, here’s what you need to do. Take her to the nurse or something and find some way to get them to send her home. I don’t need her stressing about missing class unexcused, alright? You know how she is about that sort of stuff.”

“Got it. Just head out now, I should be able to get this sorted pretty quickly,” Robin confirmed, hanging up the phone and turning back to you. “Alright dingus number two, let’s get this all figured out.”

***

When Steve’s car pulled up, you felt relief flood your entire body. You wished that discussions of what happened last summer didn’t affect you as much as they did, but sometimes it all still caught you off guard.

The car halted to a stop as Steve quickly got out rushing over to you and scooping you into a tight hug. “Baby,” he whispered into your ear as you melted against him, tears soaking into his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Steve…I-I’m trying so hard, but then-then Jason started giving one of his dumbass speeches and I just lost it.”

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay; you’re okay, I’m here now, alright?” Steve pulled away and put his hands on either side of your face to get you to look at him. There was so much sincerity in his eyes that it almost made you break all over again as you thought about how lucky you were to have him. “I’m gonna take you home, alright?”

You knew he was talking about his house, so you nodded. You thanked Robin and she gave you a weak smile before waving and walking back inside. You were grateful that she had stayed with you, but you felt bad that you had prevented her from spending time with Vickie. Steve opened the passenger door for you and once he was back in his seat, he started driving away from the hell hole that was Hawkins High.

“Steve, I really don’t want you to miss your shift,” you spoke up, looking at him innocently. He could just melt right there with the way that you looked at him.

“Y/n, don’t even worry about it, seriously. I’d much rather take care of you and make sure that you’re okay than be at that stupid job.”

“But Keith already kind of hates you…like a lot. I’ve got my uniform vest in my bag, let me just pick up a shift and I’ll work with you,” you offered. Steve looked at you hesitantly, but upon noticing the way that you had calmed down in his presence, he relented.

“Fine, but you’re not going to lift a finger while we’re working, okay? You’re just gonna sit there and look pretty and I’ll take care of everything,” he replied. He desperately wished he could lean over and kiss you right now but the last time he had tried to do that while driving, you’d scolded him and he almost crashed his BMW, so he decided that it wasn’t worth the risk…he had precious cargo.

You rolled your eyes and turned up the radio, biting back a smile. When you got to Family Video, you threw on your vest quickly, before you both entered the store. Keith stood scowling at the counter, holding up Steve’s sloppily handwritten note as if it was evidence in a crime, though to him it probably was.

“Dude, not cool.”

“Keith, did you even read the fucking note? Clearly it was an emergency,” Steve spat, as he gestured to you. He was tired of Keith being a complete ass all of the time.

“Y/n? Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Keith asked, his demeanor suddenly drastically changing. Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed, knowing damn well that this dumbass had a fat crush on you.

“It’s a long story,” you sighed, “but I’m here and I’m willing to pick up an extra shift, so you can leave if you’d like.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Keith spoke up, “but you better keep—“

“Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t fuck up. Yeah, yeah, I know,” you sighed and Steve threw his hands up in exasperation. What the hell did I ever do to deserve this shit?

Keith exited the store, so now it was just you and Steve. Friday mornings at Family Video were usually pretty slow given the fact that most people were at work or school, so there really wasn’t much work to do.

“So, have you gotten any more acceptance letters?” Steve spoke up and asked as he began reorganizing one of the shelves. He held his breath as he waited for your answer. Though he wanted nothing more than for you to be able to attend the school of your dreams, he was afraid of what that meant for the two of you and your relationship.

“Yeah, a couple more actually,” you smiled up at Steve. You had a lot of the same fears that he did about the potential of moving away. It was scary to think about trying to stay together through that huge of a life change. And you knew that you would miss him like crazy. But Nancy and Jonathan are making it work, so of course you guys would be able to…right?

“Have you made any decisions yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet. I’m still waiting to get a few decisions back before I make one of my own,” you spoke up, your voice a little small. You weren’t going to tell Steve, but what you were really waiting on was your decision from Purdue. It was close enough that nothing would have to change. You could still see Steve whenever you wanted. You were neglecting to mention this to him, however, because you knew he constantly felt like he was holding you back. He didn’t want you to make your decision based on him, but you couldn’t help but take that into account.

These were the most stilted and awkward conversations the two of you had. You and Steve could talk for hours about really pretty much everything, but as soon as college came up, it was like your ability to effectively communicate went out the window.

It wasn’t long before the phone rang again, and you picked it up. “Hello, thank you for calling Family Video. I’m y/n, how can I help you?” Your retail voice spilled from your lips sweetly.

“Y/n, this is Dustin…Listen, Lucas has to play in the championship game tonight and we need another player for Hellfire tonight, so could you please, please, fill in for him? Just this once?” The boy begged.

“Um, absolutely not,” your customer service voice disappeared as soon as you knew who was on the other line. Dustin had roped you into playing D&D once before, feeling bad for the kids after Mike had come down with a bad cold and couldn’t play. First of all, Dustin had said it wouldn’t take long. Secondly, it had been the most miserable fourteen hours of your life, so there was no way in hell you were about to do it again.

Dustin started complaining over the phone, continuing to beg you to join, before you decided that you didn’t get paid enough for this shit, handing the phone off to Steve, saying “it’s for you.”

“Woah, woah, woah, cool off pipsqueak,” Steve sighed into the phone.

“Steve! Sweet, okay. Dude, I am about to offer you the most kick-ass opportunity that will ever get extended your direction. I mean, I’m talking immaculate storytelling, a badass group of people, more fun than you will ever have in your life. I’m talking—“

“Cut to the chase,” Steve cut the boy off and rolled his eyes.

“Right, yeah, okay. Lucas has to play basketball and we need an extra person for D&D tonight,” Dustin sighed, sounding a bit defeated, no longer attempting to put on the persuasive charm that he had started with.

“No. Can’t. Sorry. I have a date tonight.”

“Just move your date this one time, come on!” Dustin begged. Why did the two cool older kids in his life have to be dating each other? In Dustin’s opinion it made both of you significantly less cool.

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson? Uh, yeah, I’ll pass,” Steve responded. You rolled your eyes at the nickname for the poor boy in your class. He really wasn’t that bad, but you weren’t about to lecture Steve about it.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I have another older male friend,” Dustin retorted, attempting to get under Steve’s skin.

“Ew. Ugh, whatever. Besides, you know, I really dig this girl...who knows, maybe she could be the one,” he added, smiling at you as you beamed right back at him from your perch on the countertop.

“You two are fucking disgusting,” Dustin replied, scoffing.

“No, we’re cool as fuck, dipshit,” Steve shot back. The door suddenly swung open, as a group of three girls entered the store, the bell above the door chiming to its familiar tune. “Oh, I got some customers. Call you back, bye.” Steve hung up the phone, ignoring Henderson’s protests.

“Welcome to Family Video, how can I help you today?” You smiled at the group of girls. They were definitely from Steve’s graduating class, home on spring break already. They cast you a judgmental look before turning to Steve.

“Steve! Oh my goodness! It’s been so long since I saw you last,” one of the girls spoke up. When Steve stood staring, unsure of how to respond, her face fell a bit as she added, “it’s me…Alice.”

“Oh, right…how are…things?”

“Oh, life’s been just so peachy! It’s just, us gals need to have a little fun this spring break…you know how it is,” she laughed flirtatiously. “We were just hoping that you had a good movie recommendation for us.”

Steve looked at you and could tell that you weren’t happy with the way these girls were talking to him as if you weren’t even there, so he spoke up, wrapping an arm around you and hugging you close to him. “Yeah, actually. My girlfriend, y/n, and I went and saw Back to the Future together on our first date, and I would really recommend it. I can already tell it’s gonna be a classic, you know?”

At this, Alice frowned, glaring at you before plastering on a fake ass smile. “Aww, that’s so cute that you two are dating! It’s just so surprising, I never would have put you two together. You always seemed like you’d want to go for the more mature girls…the ones with more experience, you know? But I’m just so so happy for the two of you.”

“Yeah, we are really, really happy. Honestly haven’t met a better person than her. But thank you so much for the well wishes, Alex,” Steve responded with a smirk as he grabbed a copy of the movie from the counter. He knew exactly what he was doing, and didn’t feel a bit bad about the way the girl’s face fell as she looked between her two friends. “So, are you ready to check out your movie or what?”

“Actually, I think we’re going to make other plans for this evening,” she spat, “and it’s Alice.”

“Well, I’m sorry we couldn’t be of service to you today,” Steve narrowed his eyes as she turned around, sauntering out of the store with her two friends following closely behind. You rolled your eyes, but you were grateful that Steve at least recognized that the girls had ulterior motives.

“Thank you for that,” you chuckled awkwardly, putting the copy of the movie back on the shelf. You wished you could tell him that the girl’s words hadn’t gotten under your skin, but that would be a lie.

“She was a bitch in high school anyway. Hasn’t changed a bit…mature, my ass,” Steve grumbled, glaring at her car as they pulled away.

“So, we have a date tonight?” You spoke up, reminding Steve of what he had told Dustin. His words had been a surprise to you.

“Yeah, actually!” Steve beamed, “I was thinking we could go to the championship game for basketball tonight. You know, I just miss some of that stuff about high school sometimes, and I know that you miss seeing the kids as often, so I thought that it might be nice to see Lucas play…even if he is a bench warmer…And we’d get to see Robin! And maybe we could even help her with talking to Vickie and—“

“Steve,” you chuckled, “of course I want to go with you, so you can stop trying to sell me on it. That was very thoughtful of you.”

He moved towards you, grabbing you around the hips and pulling you into him until your hips were flush against his, “besides, I was thinking that afterwards, you could spend the night at mine, and we could…hang out some more.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been officially dating Steve for eight months and he still was able to make you weak at the knees with only a few words. Your mind flashed back to what Alice had said, about how you were inexperienced, and you thought about the fact that you and Steve hadn’t…gone all the way. You knew that he wanted to, and at first you were holding off because, even though you knew he changed, you still sometimes worried about his history of being a player. However, now that it had been eight months and you two still hadn’t had sex, you were pretty confident he was going to stick with you. Now your insecurities centered more around the fact that you hadn’t been intimate in that way with anyone before. What if he realized that you weren’t good enough and the spark disappeared? What if he didn’t want you anymore?

“Hey, is anyone in there? Earth to y/n, what’s going on?” Steve joke as he knocked his fingers gently against the side of your head. You giggled and leaned against his chest.

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” you closed your eyes. He was just so perfect and you always felt like you were seconds away from losing him. He made you feel so comfortable, which sometimes paradoxically put you on edge. You pulled away, running your fingers through his perfect head of hair as you smiled up at him.

“I love you, y/n. I really, really do,” he looked down at you with his big brown puppy dog eyes.

“I love you too, Steve.”

***

Steve placed a gentle hand to your back as he guided you up the bleachers, making sure that you found a spot close to the band so that you could chat with Robin. You had barely gotten to your spots when the principal took the mic, his words ringing out through the gymnasium.

“Everyone now please rise for our national anthem. Singing for us tonight, we have a very special guest. All the way from Nashville, our very own Tammy Thompson!” The audience cheered as she walked into the gym, waving as if she was some sort of celebrity. You gaped as you and Steve looked over at Robin.

She began singing extremely off key, feedback from the microphone resonating through the gym. Steve leaned towards Robin, whispering, “told you…muppet!” You smacked him in the chest, and he looked at you in disbelief as you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, she does sound like a muppet,” Robin whispered back. Vickie laughed beside her and you smiled as she replied, kickstarting a small conversation between the two of them.

Tammy finally finished her screechy, godawful rendition of the national anthem and the game started. It was a nail biter, but you weren’t on edge until a player on your team got injured and suddenly Lucas Sinclair, season long bench warmer, was on the court.

“Oh my god, Steve,” you said, staring wide eyed at the court as you lazily slapped him in the chest to get his attention. He looked at you incredulously, given the fact that he had been paying much closer attention the whole time than you were.

“Let’s go Lucas! You’ve got this buddy!” Steve yelled out. Sure, he acted like the kids were just a massive pain in his ass, which they were most of the time, but he loved them more than life itself. Watching Lucas play, Steve couldn’t really believe the coach hadn’t put him in all season.

There were three seconds left in the game, and suddenly Lucas had the ball. Hawkins was down by one point, and Lucas shot the ball. You watched with bated breath as the basketball bounced around the rim. You grabbed Steve’s wrist, as you watched with a furrowed brow. Is this what it’s like to be a sport parent?

The ball finally sank into the hoop, and you began jumping up and down as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. You turned and hugged Steve around his neck, needing somewhere to place all your anxiety-turned-adrenaline, now that the game was finally over. Even though Steve was a bit bummed that he hadn’t won a championship of his own, he was damn proud that Lucas had.

The whole basketball team surrounded Lucas, and you quickly made your way down the bleachers. After the team had celebrated and there was finally a break in the crowd, you approached Lucas, pulling him into a hug.

“Lucas, you were amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks, y/n!” The boy beamed. He had been bummed that Dustin and Mike bailed on him, but seeing you there was an unexpected surprise, considering he knew how much you hated basketball.

“I assume the team will be celebrating?” You asked him with a knowing look. He looked at you sheepishly, which confirmed your assumption. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but please try and make good decisions. And if you need anything at all, just call Steve, okay? He can pick you up, it down’t matter what time it is, you just call, alright?”

Lucas rolled his eyes, somewhat annoyed at your maternal tendencies, but the way you cared about him still made him feel good, so he decided he’d forgive it. “Yeah, okay, I got it. Thanks again for coming guys,” he added, shaking Steve’s hand as Steve patted him on the back to congratulate him. Lucas jogged off with the rest of the team, leaving you and Steve to head out of the gym together.

Once you got to the parking lot, you saw the Hellfire boys exit another wing of the school and you marched off towards them, ignoring Steve’s protests.

“Hey, guys…how was the campaign? I see you found someone to fill in,” you chuckled as Erica gave you a hug. Despite her sassy attitude about 80% of the time, she could be really sweet on the rare occasion.

“It was awesome, y/n!” Erica beamed as she told you.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” you smiled down at her.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the miraculous Ms. Y/n…you missed O’Donell’s quiz,” Eddie spoke up, looking at you with crossed arms.

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too well earlier, so I had to leave early,” you didn’t elaborate, “how’d it end up going?”

“It was pretty good. I actually don’t think I failed it this time, so thanks for the help. You know, I’m really fucking determined to graduate this go around.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m glad I could help,” you replied and Steve reached for your hand. You interlocked your fingers with his before you added, “well, we’d better get going…we have an early shift tomorrow, so I’ll see you suckers later.” You saluted with your free hand while Steve grumbled a goodbye and dragged you towards his car.

You got in the passenger seat and as he started it, you could tell he was a little frustrated. “What’s got your panties in a twist, huh?”

“It’s just, I didn’t know you were such good friends with Eddie,” Steve grumbled and you rolled your eyes, chuckling. He looked at you exasperated, in disbelief that you would laugh, but you just leaned in and caught his open mouthed expression in a kiss. He immediately softened at your touch, muttering an apology as you pulled away.

“Ms. O’Donell just asked me to help him with some of his physics shit since he’s dense as fuck. I promise you there is absolutely nothing going on between us…he’s just a friend.” Steve tried to shove his jealousy aside. He knew you wouldn’t lie to him. He just nodded as he drove off, brow still furrowed. You were getting worried that he wasn’t saying anything, but you were terrified of breaking the silence.

When you got to his house, he yanked your car door open, helping you out before grabbing your wrist and pulling you in his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Normally he was pretty gentle with you, but this time he was a little rougher as he guided you to his bed. You sat down with a huff as he let go, looking at you with wild eyes.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did wrong,” you spoke up beginning to tear up at the way the night was going. His expression softened a bit in surprise, but he reset it, sitting next to you and pulling you onto his lap to straddle him before placing his lips to your neck. He sucked harshly at the skin and you let out a gasp, melting at his touch.

“I’m not mad at you, baby…I could never be mad at you,” he assured you as he breathed across the expanse of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. “I just get a little jealous sometimes is all…and I want to make it abundantly clear to everyone that you are 100% all mine,” he added as he sucked on your neck again, leaving visible marks and love bites.

You breathed out a small moan that was like music to his ears as he flipped you over so that you were lying down, continuing to kiss across your neck. He began to unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt, placing gentle kisses across your collarbones and down your chest, but your hands quickly darted up to stop him. He immediately let go, looking you in the eyes, searching for what was wrong.

“Steve, I’m sorry…I-I’m just not ready,” your voice cracked as you whispered, your eyes welling up with tears again. You hated disappointing him, and you were worried that he was going to lose interest in you.

“Y/n, please don’t cry…and don’t apologize either. I don’t want to do a damn thing until you’re ready for it, okay?” He assured you while you both sat up, looking you in the eyes with so much sincerity it made you want to cry all over again.

“It’s just….I-I keep thinking about what that girl said at work earlier…she was right you know? I am inexperienced and it’s embarrassing, and I just wish that I could be less weird about all of it and—“

Steve cut you off, “woah, woah, woah! I don’t give a fuck what that girl said. And who cares that you’re inexperienced? I swear that I don’t. Besides, it just means that when you are ready, I get to make sure I really take my time and make it real special for you, okay baby?”

You smiled up at him, leaning in to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He smiled into the kiss as it deepened, before pulling away to look at you again.

“I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, you know that?” You smiled at the praise, before he leaned in to place more kisses down your neck. Life was just so perfect.

Your heart rate quickened at the thought as your breath caught in your lungs. You knew better than to trust things to stay that way…a bad feeling settled in your chest as Steve continued to kiss and nip at your tender skin.

You pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and allowed Steve to continue kissing you. If shit was about to hit the fan, you’d be damned if you let it cut this moment short. That was a problem for another day, you decided as you melted under Steve’s gentle touch.

***

a/n: Thank you so much for reading! If you wanted an easy way to make me smile, feel free to reblog ;)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek

[enhaheeseung]

Come back to me - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X reader!

Warnings: smut, blow job ish, mentions of sex and multiple orgasms, cursing, crying, alcohol.

WC: 1,426k

Part five

Now, it was your turn to have those papers resting on your nightstand.

Divorce is what you wanted, but it didn’t make it any easier for you to go through with it.

Even after everything, your heart still yearns for him when he stood outside your door just a week ago, crying his heart out and apologizing over and over the image was stained in your memory.

You missed him, undoubtedly. You missed him since eight months ago when he turned into a man you no longer recognized.

The thought of being single after being married for years was something you couldn’t quite imagine.

Once you got married, you never thought you’d ever get a divorce, but yet here you are, divorce papers signed neatly and in your hand, waiting for you to take the next step, a step that you weren’t exactly prepared to make but a step that was inevitable.

You sighed, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you set the papers back down on the nightstand. You knew it’d only make things worse, but you couldn’t help but slip the ring back on your finger one last time. You stared at your ring finger, swiping your thumb over the huge rock that was placed in between a crown of many tiny diamonds.

It was beautiful.

“Y/n I-“ sunghoons words get caught in his throat as he enters your room. He sighs, shoulders slumping down when he sees you attempting to wipe away your tears. “You doing okay?” He sits in the bed next to you, a comforting arm wrapping around your shoulder as you lean into him, allowing him to hug you properly.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say in a whisper.

“Oh silly,” he ruffled your hair teasingly. “You can’t lie to your childhood best friend, you know that, right?”

You let out a small chuckle, but just barely. “I miss him, hoon.” You laid your head on his shoulder. “I miss him so much.”

“I know, I know.” he wrapped you up in his arms, gently rocking you back and forth. Again he was torn between saying something and keeping his mouth shut. He didn’t want things to get more difficult for you, but he also didn’t want things to get more difficult for heeseung.

Ugh, why does he have to be in the middle of this? Why can’t heeseung just be a man and come get his girl back with a sincere apology?

“Y/n….” Sunghoon sighed deeply, hoping he wouldn’t regret this later on. “What if I told you…” he pauses for a moment as you lift your head to look at him.

“Told me what?” You say softly.

-

The next night, when heeseung got invited out by his friends, he didn’t turn it down cause after what happened the other night, he could use a drink, if not multiple. “Yeah, sure,” he says as enthusiastically as possible. “Got nothing to look forward to anyways,” he mumbles and releases a deep sigh before leaving his office for the night and heading out for the bar.

“She’s like looking right at you, bro,” Jay says to heeseung, who is too focused on his beer to notice anything else.

“What?” He turns his head in the direction Jay is looking in, immediately meeting eyes with a woman in the corner of the bar sitting all alone. He quickly turns his head, chuckling softly. “Yeah, not interested.” he traces the rim of his mug, a slight pout on his lips as he wonders what you’re up to tonight until Jay speaks up again.

“Why not? You're a single man now,” he gives heeseung an encouraging pat on the back.

“Y/n’s still my wife,” he says in a defensive tone. “At least technically, anyway.” he takes one long gulp of beer, his face becoming flushed the more liquid he consumes.

“Yeah, technically, but believe me, she’s divorced you in her head already.” Jay takes a sip of beer, nearly spitting it out when Jake shoves him on his shoulder.

“Don’t say that,” Jake intervenes.

“Just saying,” Jay shrugs. “You gotta get over her sooner or later. Better not to waste time.”

Heeseung lowers his head, a long sigh leaving his lips, and he hates himself for even entertaining the idea, but Jay is right. He has to get over you. Besides, you’re over him. “You know what? Fuck it” he downs the rest of his beer. “See you boys tomorrow.”

“Heeseung, don’t,” Jake whispers, urging him to stop.

“Thanks, Jake, but I’m just facing reality,” he shrugs. Besides, he needed a distraction from you, and what better way to do that than to blow off some steam and have a fun night?

“Can’t keep your eyes to yourself, hmm pretty?” Heeseung says to the unknown girl with a sly smirk.

“I guess not,” she says in a flirty tone, making heeseung release a small chuckle.

“So,” he starts out not exactly knowing how to take things further. The one and only time he asked a girl out was you, and since then, he never tried to hit on or impress anyone, so this was a bit new to him. “And tell me if I’m taking this wrong, but judging by your stare, you want something from me, correct?”

“Maybe.” she took a small sip from her cup.

“Maybe hmm? What if I said I want something from you?” He takes a step closer to her, his larger frame towering over her frail one.

“Something like what?” She acts completely unaware of his intentions, staring at him with innocent eyes.

“Your name and coming back to my place.” he bites his lower lip, insinuating what he wants. “Something like that”

The girl blushed and told him her name, automatically standing up and grabbing her purse so heeseung could take her back to his house.

He exits the bar, Jay cheering him on while Jake just watches in disbelief.

For a second, heeseung felt like he shouldn’t be doing this, but he ignored it and opened the door for the girl who would be helping him take his mind off you.

No words are spoken between the pair, mainly because heeseung is battling with himself to just turn around and take this random girl back to the bar, or maybe he should just start trying to get over you and take this night hook-up back to his house.

The last option sounded a lot more enticing, given the fact he was a few minutes from home and at least ten minutes from the bar.

He parks in the driveway, shuts off the engine, and proceeds to invite her into his home, the one he shared with you. He curses himself cause he’s not supposed to be thinking of you right now.

The place is still trashed out, but his company doesn’t seem to care as he leads her upstairs, and she giggles with anticipation of a night full of fun.

The moment heeseung closes his bedroom door and slips off his shoes, he quickly walks over to the nightstand, turning the photo of you and him together face down.

He turns to face the woman, a drunken half smile on his lips as she walks towards him. “So handsome, how do you want me?” Her warm breath fans across his face as he stares down at her with hazy eyes.

“You’ll see.” he bites his lip, walking dangerously close. She takes steps back until there’s nowhere to go, the backs of her legs hitting the bed frame.

Heeseung smiles, pushing her down on the bed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as he stands above her.

His hands soon fly to the button on his slacks, hastily unbuckling them and lowering his pants with his boxers, revealing his already stiffened length. “I think you know what to do, don’t you, baby?” He rasps as she eyes his girth in amazement at the size and hardness. Her hand immediately wraps around his base as she softly tugs on it. He throws his head back, sighing in pleasure, and the moment her warm glossy lips meet his tip, all thoughts of you are far gone, replaced by mind-numbing pleasure as her wet mouth envelopes him and works wonders on his length.

Maybe getting a divorce wasn’t so bad, and as the night goes on, it only proves that to be true.

By the time they finish, it’s past midnight. He’s spent but completely satisfied after so many orgasms, and for the first night without you in his bed, he slept peacefully.

Before his eyes close and he drifts off into dreamland, he’s actually happy that you didn’t come back to him.

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

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