#and was like okay let’s go this is good we’re flirting things are going nice

[procrastinationstationn]

✨

[sunniques]

— 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

➺ PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepbrother au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: mingyu will do anything to make sure no man takes his place in his stepsister’s life.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, yandere themes, stalking, violence, blood, manipulation, mentions of blackmail, jealousy, possessiveness, mingyu can lift reader, slight size kink, oral sex (f & m), 69, unprotected sex, riding, creampies, cockwarming

➺ WC: 7.7k

NOTE: don’t like don’t read. as always, thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3

If anyone were to ask you about Kim Mingyu, you’d have nothing but nice things to say.

The large, puppy-like man is the epitome of kindness and happiness. Despite his tall stature and modelesque looks, he’s pure-hearted and a little naive. It’s why you’re so endeared with him. No one in this world is more lovable than your foolishly kind stepbrother.

“Are you gonna need a ride today?”

You look up to see Mingyu leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a small smile on his face. Your heart jumps, still not fully used to how handsome he is. The loud thrum of your heart is easily ignored when you remind yourself that you can’t do anything except acknowledge your stepbrother’s good looks. In another world, you’d definitely allow yourself to have a crush on him, maybe even flirt with him a little.

“No,” you say as you unplug your phone from the charger. “Minghao is picking me up.”

Because you’re busy making sure you have all your things, you miss the look that crosses Mingyu’s face.

“Oh. I didn’t know you guys were talking again.”

Part of you feels a little embarrassed. Mingyu is very much aware of how things ended between you and Minghao. After all, it’s his broad shoulder you cried on after everything was said and done.

“It’s not like that,” you insist, feeling your face get hot from how intense his stare is. “We’re just friends now.”

Mingyu frowns but doesn’t say anything. It’s times like these you’re grateful that he’s such a nice guy. Anyone else would’ve pointed out that you and Minghao were never actually friends. You two just fucked around until he got sick of you. It was devastating for you in the worst way, but since he reached out to you under the pretense of wanting to be friends, you couldn’t say no. The last thing you want is to let him know how much he hurt you.

“Okay. Well if you need a ride later just text me.”

You’re grateful that Mingyu isn’t judgmental like you know the rest of your friends are going to be when they inevitably find out.

When you’re done with your last class of the day, you text Minghao to let him know you’re ready for him to come get you. A sickening feeling coils in the pit of your stomach when ten minutes go by without a response from him. You bite your lip as you contemplate sending him another text. Double texting wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t Minghao. Given the way you two left things, you don’t want to seem desperate. (Although you’re pretty sure it’s a little late for that.)

When another five minutes go by, you’re sure you’ve been stood up. You’re so angry that you feel like crying. The entire situation is so humiliating. To think that you thought giving him a second chance was a good idea. You feel so stupid, and you know that there’s no way you can ever tell anyone about what happened.

Well, there is one person. 

As soon as you call your stepbrother, he drops everything he’s doing to come get you. Because it’s Mingyu, you don’t feel as stupid and embarrassed when you get into his car. Not even when you start to ramble on about what an asshole Minghao is. Mingyu listens attentively, offering supportive comments here and there. There’s no judgment or pity when he talks, either. Just empathy that gives you enough comfort to make you feel like you’ve finally made it back to your safe place.

“Don’t even think about him,” Mingyu says as he grabs your hand. He brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it before letting go. “He doesn’t deserve you or your anger.”

His words make you smile and feel warm inside. Aside from feeling a little embarrassed, you’re okay. Especially because your stepbrother makes it his mission to make sure you feel better.

You spend the rest of the day with Mingyu, and it’s not long before you completely forget about Minghao.

“I used to like you, you know.”

You choke on your drink, eyes going wide as you splutter embarrassingly. “What? Seokmin—!”

“I don’t any more!” He reassures you, looking around with slight panic. “And keep your voice down! I don’t need your guard dog acting up if any rumors start.”

You’re still too shocked by his confession to question who he’s talking about. You messily wipe your mouth and focus on getting Seokmin to explain because what he said doesn’t make any sense. Especially because of how things went down after you drunkenly admitted to liking him back freshman year.

“When was this?”

Seokmin looks ashamed. “A little after we met.”

There’s no way.

“You’re fucking sick. When I confessed to you that year, you friendzoned me.”

Seokmin has the decency to look sheepish and guilty. “It was a dick move, I admit it. But it’s not my fault!”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“Your stepbrother had made it clear that you were off limits, okay? I wasn’t about to cross him.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Literally, what are you talking about?”

Seokmin blushes and looks around again. You’d laugh if his behavior wasn’t so odd. You’re not sure why he’s acting like he’s scared of something or someone, but you can’t focus on that too much. His bizarre story is throwing you off.

“Mingyu has always been very protective of you, and he’s actually really fucking scary when he wants to be.”

Silence. 

You two stare at each other until you burst out laughing. That’s all you can do because there’s no way your friend is being serious.

“Hey!” Seokmin slaps your arm to calm you down. “I’m being serious!”

“Mingyu? Kim Mingyu?” You say between breaths. “Your best friend—my stepbrother?”

“Yes, lovely Kim Mingyu who wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Seokmin scowls as you keep laughing.

Of all the reasons Seokmin could come up with for rejecting you while allegedly having feelings for you, you didn’t think he’d use your stepbrother. It was such a cheap cop-out. Mingyu has never cared about your unexciting love life. He’s always encouraged you to have fun and find a guy who deserves you. 

There’s no way what Seokmin’s implying is true. Even if it was, you’re sure he’s exaggerating. Your goofy stepbrother doesn’t have one mean, intimidating bone in his body. 

“Okay,” you wheeze. “Let’s say I believe you, which I don’t. What exactly did Mingyu say for you to reject me?”

Seokmin blinks and hesitates. Maybe it’s better if you don’t know all the details. “He just… advised me to not play with your feelings if I wasn’t ready for a relationship.”

You roll your eyes. Instead of bringing up the fact that he freely dated around after turning down your confession, you choose to steer the conversation in a different direction. There’s no need to keep rubbing salt in an old wound, anyway.

“Whatever. You’re still sick,” you say. “Anyway, are you still going to Chan’s on Friday?”

“Are you?” Seokmin counters. “Minghao will be there.”

Your lip curls up in disgust. “Like I’m going to let that asshole stop me from having fun.”

“True. And actually, he might not even go. I think he’s still recovering.”

“Recovering? What do you mean?”

“You don’t know? Minghao got into a fight last week! He won’t say with who, but he got fucking wrecked.”

You’re shocked into silence. A fight? It’s pretty hard to believe since Minghao is a pretty passive guy. He rarely gets angry or upset. 

So many things are going through your mind at once that you can’t get any of your thoughts straight. Had it happened the day he stood you up? If it did, why didn’t he say anything?

“Poor guy looks like shit. I doubt he’ll be going anywhere for a while.”

You frown. Sure, Minghao isn’t your favorite person in the world, but that doesn’t mean you would wish something like that on him. You know you shouldn’t be worried about him, but part of you still is. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble with a frown, not really knowing what to say. “Poor him.”

“Poor who?”

Your head snaps up at the sound of a familiar voice. A smile lights up your face when you see your stepbrother approaching the table. 

“Minghao,” Seokmin says as his best friend sits beside you. “Remember I told you someone beat his ass?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mingyu says with a frown as he slings his beefy arm over your shoulders. “Poor guy. I hope he gets better soon.”

You lean into your stepbrother, chest warming at the worried frown on Mingyu’s face. His kind heart is so admirable. Despite Minghao being a certified piece of shit, he still has the empathy to feel bad for the guy. It reminds you of how Mingyu is someone who’s a way better person than you, and you can’t resent him for it.

“Don’t worry, love. Minghao will be okay.” Mingyu says as he squeezes you into his side.

Like always, your stepbrother knows what you’re feeling without you telling him. It’s hard to stop the affection you feel from deepening when he always makes sure to comfort you first. His thumb gently caresses your shoulder absentmindedly as he and Seokmin start to talk about their statistics class. Just knowing your stepbrother is so understanding of your complicated feelings makes you feel so much better, and it’s not long before the topic of what happened to Minghao is long forgotten.

Mingyu will never forget the first time he saw you.

It was at one of Seungcheol’s notorious frat parties. Back then, he hadn’t been too into the party scene. Honestly, he’d gone out of pressure and boredom more than anything. One day he’ll have to thank his older friend for being the reason he saw you.

Unlike Mingyu, you were letting loose and having fun. He can’t forget how beautiful you looked while taking shots and laughing without a care in the world. Something inside him switched that night, and instead of being scared of the unfamiliar feeling, Mingyu quickly embraced it.

The feeling pushed him into watching you all night. To this day, Seungcheol thinks his friend had as much fun as everyone else. Which he had, just a different kind of fun.

At the end of the night, Mingyu secretly followed you as you stumbled your way back to your dorm. It’s not like you went home alone, but he had to make sure you were safe. (He also was curious to know if you lived on or off campus.)

Finding out your schedule wasn’t hard. As an attractive man, it’s always been easy for Mingyu to get what he wants. One charming smile and a little harmless flirting had him securing a paper with all your classes on it within minutes. Everything was too easy after that, and Mingyu couldn’t feel anything like guilt or shame as he went to go find you.

For weeks, he watched you from afar. Despite knowing he was most people’s type, Mingyu was still nervous about talking to you. He wanted everything to be perfect. Setting up a meet-cute was hard work, which meant calculating the time and place took a tremendous amount of effort. Honestly, he did start to get a little impatient when watching you no longer felt like enough for him. Mingyu was itching to know you and everything about you. To have you all for himself.

Luckily for him, swooping in when you almost got hit by a football was the perfect opportunity to worm his way into your life. Mingyu played the perfect part of a knight in shining armor, one that was undeniably kind and empathetic. Exactly what you wanted.

Mingyu still fantasizes about the way you looked at him that day. The lidded gaze you directed at him and the way you bit your lip was tantalizing in the sweetest way. It was easy for you to become friends after that.

There was an unexpected roadblock a month later when his mom told him she was marrying the man of her dreams. It’s both devastating and thrilling for him to find out that man is your father. You’ll be closer to him than ever, but now there’s this forbidden aspect that wedges itself between the attraction between you two.

Despite this, you two grow closer. All of your interests and hobbies line up almost perfectly, and the fixation Mingyu has on you steadily grows, slowly morphing into an undeniable obsession. Luckily for him, the new role he has in your life allows him to ward off any vultures that are lurking around you.

The loser in your calculus class was the easiest to get rid of. Once Mingyu caught him staring at you at a party, approaching him and telling him to stop staring at you like a fucking creep was enough for the guy to never look at you again. Then, there was your scummy coworker. Mingyu had to politely remind him that it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep bothering you unless he wanted his parents to find out he had dropped out of college and spent all of his financial aid partying.

Then there was his dear friend, Lee Seokmin.

“Y/N is single right?”

Mingyu looks up from his phone, jaw tightening as he fixes his dark stare on Seokmin. His friend is oblivious to the dangerous territory he’s venturing into, and there’s a moment where Mingyu contemplates whether or not to disregard the many years of friendship they have to impulsively act on his dark thoughts.

“Yeah,” Mingyu’s tone is clipped.

Seokmin hums thoughtfully. “Do you think she’d say yes if I asked her out?”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu says through gritted teeth, still trying to be somewhat nice. “You’re not good at commitment, and that’s what she’s looking for.”

His best friend doesn’t seem to care for the advice he’s getting. “I can do whatever for someone I actually like.”

“You really like her?”

Either Seokmin doesn’t hear the venom in his friend’s voice, or he doesn’t care. Mingyu’s not sure which pisses him off more.

“Yeah,” Seokmin replies. “She’s smart and pretty. Exactly my type.”

Seokmin flinches when Mingyu slams his fist on the table. A dark look he never thought his friend was even capable of making is being directed at him, and he suddenly feels like he’s unknowingly walked into the lion’s den.

“Don’t you even think about going near her.” Mingyu spits, not caring that he sounds like an asshole. “I’ll cut your dick off if I find out you even hint at wanting anything more than a friendship with her.”

Seokmin laughs weakly. “You’re not serious—”

“Test me and find out.”

Mingyu smiles, but it’s a chilling smile. One that has Seokmin spluttering out an agreement before he realizes it.

After that, Mingyu knew he had to make sure everyone knew you were off limits.

The only dumbass that didn’t take Mingyu’s warnings seriously was Xu Minghao. The idiot had the audacity to laugh in his face when Mingyu suggested he find someone else to fuck around with. Unfortunately, Minghao didn’t have any dirt on him—not any that was serious enough for Mingyu to use as blackmail, anyway.

And so, Mingyu was forced to back off—for the time being.

His promiscuous ex had always been so eager to please that she didn’t hesitate to give in to Mingyu’s request to seduce and ensnare Minghao. It left you heartbroken and ready to receive your stepbrother’s comfort. Everything slowly went back to the way it was supposed to be. You were more dependent on Mingyu than ever, which made it easy for him to slowly erase that asshole from your life.

Until he finds out that scumbag was worming his way back into your life. 

Instead of attending his first class, Mingyu has his ex lure Minghao to her apartment building where he puts an end to that idiot once and for all.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Minghao groans and he coughs up a bit of blood.

Mingyu slams him into the wall, wounded hands moving to squeeze his throat and cut his words. “I warned you a long time ago to stay away from Y/N. This is the last time I’m going to tell you.”

When he does let go of Minghao, the idiot stops Mingyu from walking away. Even through large intakes of breath and spluttered coughs, he manages to piss Mingyu off some more. “You think Y/N will forgive you when she finds out what you did to me?”

Mingyu spins on his heels before landing a hard punch on Minghao’s nose. The loud crack echoes in the air, and it sounds almost dull compared to the yell that idiot lets out. Blood pours from his nose immediately, and it slips through the cracks of his fingers as he holds it in pain.

“You think she’ll believe you over me?” Mingyu’s laugh is dark and cruel. “Y/N knows I would never hurt anyone. Not even a piece of shit like you.”

Minghao’s heart rate spikes when he sees the way Mingyu smiles at him. A chill goes down his spine when he realizes just how depraved the man in front of him is. So for once, he does the smart thing and decides to cut off all contact with you. It pains him to stand you up and ghost you, but no pussy is worth this. Not even yours.

Mingyu sees you before you see him. You’re sitting at one of the many tables in the refectory, but you aren’t alone. Some guy is talking to you, grinning from ear to ear like some disgusting creep. Immediately, he recognizes the starry-eyed look in his gaze. A lot of guys get that same look when they see you. Even if you don’t notice it, Mingyu always does.

“Hey, man.” The stranger has the fucking audacity to smile at Mingyu as he sits across from you.

As much as Mingyu would like to tell the creep to fuck off, he can’t. Not while you’re around, at least. “Hey.”

“I’ll see you in class,” the guy says with an unattractive smile as he slowly stands. 

Mingyu feels like throwing up when you actually smile back.

“Bye.” You wave with a cute laugh.

The guy finally leaves, and it takes everything in Mingyu to behave normally. Dark thoughts loom in his head, ones that involve taking care of that idiot like he did to your ex situationship. He forces his depraved thoughts to the back of his mind to focus his attention on you.

“Who was that?” He wonders casually like he’s not losing his mind.

“That’s Josh. He’s in my communications class.” You say indifferently.

“Did he ask you out?” Mingyu wonders, trying to make the lilt in his voice sound teasing. And like the very thought isn’t killing him inside.

“Yeah,” you say. “He wants to hang out after my last class.”

Mingyu’s stomach turns. He smiles at you, so pained that you’re being so casual about some loser hitting on you. Especially in front of him. He’ll have to find out more about that asshole later and figure out exactly how he’s going to get rid of him, but right now there’s a more pressing matter.

“And?”

You give him a funny look. “And I told him no. We’re hanging out tonight, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

It’s a relief, and Mingyu hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

An unsavory feeling settles in Mingyu’s chest after that day. You slowly start to mention Josh more and more without knowing how insane it makes your stepbrother feel. It’s all so maddening because this Josh character is actually close to being a perfect guy. He’s been in a few relationships that have all ended up on good terms, and he doesn’t have any questionable behaviors. Mingyu almost considers fabricating something so he can get the loser away from you.

It’s not until a random Friday night that Mingyu decides he’s finally had enough. You were supposed to have been home hours ago, and you’re barely getting here. Accompanied by dumbass Josh, no less. He almost feels like throwing up as he watches you from the security camera. Mingyu clenches his jaw as anger seeps into his bones and clouds his mind.

Something inside him snaps, and he decides right then and there that you can’t keep doing this to him, and he can’t keep torturing himself like he has been.

“I had fun with you,” Joshua says sweetly.

Mingyu almost smashes his phone when you give him a hug and respond in a dulcet tone. “Me too.”

When he sees you waving at Josh with both of your hands in the cute way you always do, he’s quick to lock his phone and go downstairs to intercept you. 

It’s quiet when you enter the house. You didn’t see your stepmom’s car or your dad’s in the driveway so you know they aren’t home. Since it’s so quiet, you wonder if Mingyu is asleep or something.

“Where have you been?”

You jump with a quiet yelp, not expecting your stepbrother to be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. There’s a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, and he almost looks threatening.

“Um,” you stutter, not sure what to make of the shift in his demeanor. “I was with—”

“With who?”

Dark eyes examine your face, demanding answers. Mingyu stalks toward you until he has you pressed against the front door. His large hands cage you against it as he leans close to your face.

“Tell me. I want to know why you’re so late when you promised me you’d be home sooner.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. “What? Gyu—”

“Let me guess,” he hums, sounding completely depraved. “You were with Josh.”

You swallow nervously, wondering why he sounds jealous. The thought sends a jolt of thrill down your spine. “Yeah. He just wanted—”

“Wanted what?” Mingyu’s glaring eyes get more intense. “To fuck you?”

You’re completely floored. That was the last thing you expected your sweet stepbrother to say, and for some reason it makes you feel dizzy in a thrilling way. You lick your lips, feeling your skin get hot as anxiousness mixes in with arousal. It’s been too long since you had sex, which is why you started to get wet from Mingyu’s uncharacteristic behavior. 

“N-No.” You say somewhat firmly. “We’re just friends.”

“Then why was he touching you?” He growls as one of the hands braced on the door moves to your neck.

Your cunt throbs at the action, and you feel like your mind is swimming from the sudden turn of events.

“It was a quick hug,” you say as he lightly squeezes your throat. “Something between friends.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, seemingly unbelieving of your words. More slick pools in your panties as the dark gaze stays locked in your face. You try not to make squeezing your thighs together obvious, but you haven’t felt so turned on in a long time.

“You’re sure?” Mingyu’s voice sounds entirely different as he squeezes your neck again.

“Yes,” you easily say. Deciding to act on instinct, you slowly smooth your hands over his chest and look at him through your eyelashes. “Promise, Gyu-Gyu.”

As always, he’s putty in your hands as soon as he hears that cute little nickname you gave him. Mingyu lets out a shaky breath as you go to cup his face. His eyes fall shut, and he lets himself lean on you and sandwich you between his body against the door. Your thumbs gently, caress his cheeks as you work to placate him. He loves every second of it, and just being pressed up against you has his cock twitching in his pants.

Fuck it.

Mingyu opens his eyes, pupils blown wide. “I’ll let it go this time, baby girl, but I better not catch him or any other guy touching what’s mine.”

He sounds completely insane and feral, but that only makes you want him more. It’s almost like you’re in a trace as you lock your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. The heat in his eyes makes you feel like a goddess, and you wonder if it’s always been there.

“Say it,” Mingyu demands as his hands trail down your body to squeeze your ass. “Tell me you won’t let any asshole touch you ever again.”

You whine in your throat. “I won’t let anyone else touch me. I promise.”

Mingyu grins, little fangs poking out like the cat who ate the canary. “Good girl.”

With that, he easily lifts you and locks your legs around his hips. For a moment, his pretty eyes search yours as if he’s trying to search for any sign of hesitation. He seems satisfied with what he sees, and in the next second his lips catch yours in a wet, heated kiss.

You mewl into his mouth as you grind down on his very large bulge. It all feels so good, and you groan when Mingyu eases his tongue into your mouth. There’s a desperation behind his movements that make you more horny than you already are.

Everything else happens in a blur, and before you realize it, you end up sprawled out on Mingyu’s bed. He handles you with care, but there’s also a roughness to his movements. It makes you gush because that’s exactly what you like.

“Naughty baby. Gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

There’s that switch again, and it makes you squirm. You squish your thighs together, both anticipating and dreading what’s in store for you. Mingyu seems like a feral animal, one that’s close to acting on primal instincts only. The thought excites you.

“Why?” You pout, wondering how you can get him to just fuck you. “I’ve been a good girl.”

You’re such a little minx, and Mingyu has to turn away so you don’t see the fond smile that forms on his face. As usual, you’re too cute for your own good. It’s always so disarming, but all Mingyu has to do is remember what led to this for him to get himself back on track.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns as he takes his shirt off.

Mingyu’s cock twitches when your pout accentuates. You still nod obediently, though. He kicks off his pants until he’s left in only his underwear. The way you hungrily eye his body (especially his large bulge) makes him feel like he’s in the clouds. All his plotting and waiting was really worth it.

“Show me your panties.”

You whimper quietly, not believing how filthy your stepbrother is. It makes you that much more eager to give him what he wants.

Slowly, you discard your jeans and spread your legs to show Mingyu how wet you are. His eyes are dark dark dark when he sees the material is almost see-through.

“Fuck,” he moans as he palms his throbbing cock. “Take them off.”

The fabric slips down your legs and dangles from your fingertips in the next second. Mingyu snatches them from your hands and presses the soiled fabric to his nose. His eyes stay on your pretty pussy as he carefully places your panties on his nightstand

“For later,” he clarifies with a filthy smirk.

You curse under your breath as more arousal drips out of you.

“You like that, baby girl?” Mingyu coos as his eyes stay on your dripping pussy. “Like that your stepbrother is going to use your cute little panties to jerk off?”

“Yes,” you admit through a whine. “Fuck, Gyu. I’m so wet right now.”

“I know,” his eyes flicker up to your face for a second. “But I still have to teach you a lesson.”

You pout at him again. “Even though I promised you already?”

His laugh is dark. “Have to make sure you keep it.”

“I’ll be good, I swear. Please, Gyu-Gyu?” You bat your eyelashes at him, and any resolve he has just breaks.

Mingyu slips out of his underwear, and he smirks when you gasp at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. It’s so hard and leaking with so much precum. You’re eying it so hungrily that he decides to get the upper hand once again.

“I’ll give you what you want, baby. Just play with my cock first.”

“Really?” You ask eagerly, as Mingyu starts to stroke his huge cock.

“Yeah. Use that pretty little mouth on me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

You jump to your knees in excitement. “Okay!”

“You want to gag on your stepbrother’s cock that bad?” Mingyu laughs as you eagerly nod and crawl toward him. “What a slut.”

“Can’t help it,” you say as you push on his shoulder to get him to lay back. “Want your pretty cock in my mouth.”

“Fuck,” Mingyu hisses as he leans against his pillows. His cock throbs at the fact that you’re making every one of his fantasies come true.

You press a gentle kiss to the tip, lovely eyes staring at Mingyu. A string of precum sticks to your lips, and you’re quick to lick it off with a salacious moan. You start to kitten lick his fat tip until his cock steadily leaks with sticky blobs of precum. The mewls and moans your stepbrother lets out only make you that much more eager to please. He’s really too hot for his own good.

With a grin, you wrap your lips around the head and slowly take him into your mouth. Slowly, you force the girthy organ down your throat. Your eyes start to glaze over, already addicted to the thick cock in your mouth. Mingyu thrusts his hips forward, sinking another inch into your hot mouth. The fat tip teases the back of your throat, making you gag on his dick. A loud moan tears from his throat when you take it like a good girl before pulling off with a wet cough.

“Messy girl,” Mingyu says with a groan.

You moan and start to lap at his cock again. Your tongue teases around his tip, and you can’t stop your thighs from clenching together. The arousal is practically leaking from your pussy, wetting your thighs obscenely.

“Aw, baby girl. Look at how fucking horny you are,” Mingyu coos. “Bet that little cunt’s soaked. Can’t wait to taste it. Gonna eat you out for hours after this.”

“Why not now?” You pout against his dick. “I suck dick better when I get eaten out.”

Mingyu tries not to blow his load at your filthy words. “Yeah? Want me to lick your little clit over and over and then suck it in my mouth until you’re begging to cum?”

Once again, Mingyu is putty in your hands when you blink up at him with your cute pout and tell him that’s exactly what you want.

And so, within seconds you’re laying on Mingyu’s hard abs, suckling on the head of his cock as you wiggle your ass, teasing Mingyu with your pussy. He groans, savoring the sight of your pretty pussy hovering over his face. Deciding that he deserves this treat more than anyone, he finally takes what you’re so willingly giving him.

You cry out when Mingyu licks across your swollen clit. He grabs your ass and spreads you open so he can lick into your pussy easier. Eagerly, he starts to lap up all the arousal from your drippy pussy. He loses himself in your taste, fucking his tongue deeper into your clenching hole. You’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets anyone else drink from his sweet oasis.

“Mingyu,” you slobber against his cock, grinding your cunt into his eager mouth. “Fuck. Your mouth feels so good.”

Mingyu groans as you start to suckle on the head of his cock before you fully sink your mouth on it again. Your hot little mouth works his cock, giving him the best head he’s ever gotten. You’re so messy and eager, kissing and licking all over his cock. The way you’re getting him all wet and messy almost makes him feel like you’re prepping him for your cunt. That turns him on more and has his muscular thighs clenching with restraint. 

Your stepbrother moans into your cunt as you suck his dick. The vibrations run through your fluttering walls as his tongue fucks deeper into your hole. Pleasure consumes you as Mingyu continues to slide his tongue in and out of your soaking pussy with a filthy schlick sound. All the sweet sounds you’re letting out are slightly muffled by Mingyu’s cock, and he loves every second of it.

Mingyu sucks your pulsing clit into his mouth, making you whine around his cock and grind harder on his tongue. Your orgasm abruptly hits, and your cries of pleasure are gagged by Mingyu shooting his cum down your throat. You continue to suck eagerly as you rub your messy pussy all over your stepbrother’s face.

You pull off Mingyu’s big cock after you swallow all his cum, mewling in pleasure when he starts to press soft kisses on your pretty pussy. God, he’s unreal.

“Sweetest little pussy ever,” he moans reverently, not ready to separate from the heaven between your legs.

Your face gets hot, pussy clenching at his praise. The fact that someone as hot as Mingyu is so into you feels surreal, and it makes you more eager to get his big cock inside you.

Mingyu apparently thinks the same thing because he’s quick to lay you on the bed and get on top of you. His dark eyes drink in your naked body, licking his lips like he didn’t just finish eating you up. 

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

And you really don’t.

“Mingyu,” you whimper desperately when he starts to rub his dripping cock across your sensitive cunt. 

The sticky tip of his cock catches on your leaking hole and you moan loudly. God, you’ve never wanted anyone to fuck you so badly. He’s so hot, and you know he’s going to send you into another world of pleasure.

“Fuck, Gyu. Need you to fuck me. Please. I need it so bad,” you beg against his mouth as you start to kiss him repeatedly.

“Yeah?” He grins, blush spreading across his face at the affection you’re giving him. “Need your stepbrother to stuff you full of cock?”

“Yes.” You whimper shamelessly. “I need you to stuff my little pussy full. Want you to breed me.”

The groan he lets out is feral, and Mingyu buries his face in your neck so you won’t see the depravity your words cause. He kisses and nips at your neck as he grinds his cock on your messy pussy.

“Please, Gyu-Gyu.”

“Fuck. You’re so hot, baby girl,” Mingyu groans as he slips the head of his cock inside your needy hole. 

He pulls back to watch your face as he slowly sinks into your pussy. You’re so overwhelmed with arousal, and it’s evident. It makes the feral beast inside Mingyu yearn for more.

“I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else, baby. Gonna make sure the only cock you want is mine.”

With that, he bottoms out with a loud moan as you whine loudly. Your pupils are blown wide as your nails scratch against his broad chest. It turns you on to feel and see how big he is. He’s completely enveloping you in the best way. All that fills your mind is your stepbrother and his big cock.

“So fucking tight,” he hisses as he rolls his hips and fucks his cock deeper into your pulsing heat.

You wrap your legs around his waist to get him as deep as possible. Moans spill from your mouth as your hands smooth up his muscular chest and clasp around his neck. No one’s ever been so deep inside you, and you love it.

“Fuck me, Gyu.” You mewl, brain fuzzy from the stretch his dick provides. “Want you to fuck me dumb.”

“Shit,” Mingyu grunts with dark eyes. “My slutty baby wants her pussy creamed so fucking bad, huh?”

“Want it so bad, babe.” You whimper as you buck your hips.

Mingyu snaps when he hears the little pet name. Immediately, he starts to slam into your squelching cunt over and over again. You cry out loudly as juices leak from your stuffed hole. It takes him no time to find your g-spot, and he angles his cock to hit it every time he snaps his hips.

“Fu-Fuck, Gyu.” You whimper as you tug him closer to ghost your lips across his. “Gonna cum again. Gonna cum all over your big cock.”

“Do it, baby. God. Need to feel you cream on me,” he groans. 

You move your hips to meet his thrusts, eager to gush all over his dick and give him what he wants. Mingyu goes to kiss you deeply, moaning in satisfaction when your pulsing pussy clamps down on him again. His mind is swimming with pleasure as you cry out for him.

Mingyu’s heavy balls slap against your ass as he fucks deeper into your wet hole. You’re gushing so much that he knows you won’t be able to stop at just one orgasm. Which is exactly what he wants. He needs you addicted to his cock so you don’t ever consider going to someone else. Even if you do, he’ll get rid of them. Now that you’ve given him a taste, he’s going to make sure no one else has the chance to.

“God, Mingyu.” You whimper, toes curling in pleasure. “Just want you to keep me stuffed with your fat cock all night.”

Mingyu groans and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. He’ll give you anything you want. “Don’t worry, baby. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Gonna breed you all night.”

Your stepbrother’s promise pushes you over the edge. Those filthy words make your legs tighten around him as your pussy clamps down on his dick. You moan out Mingyu’s name loudly as you cover his cock with your orgasm. Your legs tremble as you keep getting fucked through your mind-numbing pleasure.

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over your stepbrother’s cock. Fuck. So good for me.”

Mingyu’s thrusts get rougher as he pistons his cock deeper into your pulsing cunt. There’s no hotter sight than you cumming all over his cock. The pretty face you make is something that he’ll never forget, and that’s all he needs to reach his own climax. Mingyu buries his cock to the hilt and spills all his hot, sticky cum inside you with a loud moan of your name. He keeps fucking his cock into your hot cunt, stuffing it full of cum. 

“Take it like a good girl,” he pants, eyes shut tightly as he keeps fucking his aching cock inside you. “Take every fucking drop, baby girl.”

You move your hands to cling to his hair, grinding your sloppy pussy to get his cum deeper inside. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he creams your pussy.

“Gyu,” you whimper. “You came so much—fuck. Feels so hot inside.”

Mingyu groans as he buries his face in your neck, cock pulsing at your words. “Shit, baby. Making me want to fuck you all over again.”

You hum, deciding that you won’t be leaving his bed anytime soon. “It’s my turn.”

Mingyu grunts in surprise when you push him off and make him lean against the headboard. Immediately, you go to straddle him before smashing your lips together. He hungrily kisses you back, big hands gripping your ass to grind your messy cunt onto his hot cock. 

“So hot,” you gasp in between kisses. “You’re so fucking hot."

Mingyu giggles into your mouth. “Yeah?”

You hum in confirmation as you suck on his tongue. Again, you tangle one of your hands in his hair and pull his head back so you can kiss him deeper. The kiss you share is nasty, and it just makes you needy for him all over again.

You pull away and grab his cock. Mingyu bites his lip as you slowly sink down on it. He slumps back against the headboard, giving you time to adjust to the stretch of his thick cock. Your stepbrother smooths his thumbs across your hard nipples, smirking when you clench down on him.

“God, you’re fucking pretty,” Mingyu growls as he punches your nipples. “My pretty baby.”

“Mingyu,” you sigh as your eyelashes flutter in pleasure.

You grind down on him, hips swivelling to fuck him just right. It doesn’t take long for him to become a mess under you. You smirk and start to bounce on him, loving how he’s practically writhing with pleasure. 

“I just wanna be inside you all the time,” he tugs on the sensitive buds until you’re arching into the motion. 

You duck your head down to sloppily kiss Mingyu again when there’s a knock on the door. Even to your surprise, you don’t stop your movements. It feels too good. You pull away, wondering when your parents came back home and how you didn’t hear them. Your pussy gets tighter, and Mingyu bites his bottom lip as he grabs your hips to keep you from moving.

“Mingyu? Are you still awake?” His mom calls through the door. 

At that moment, you two make a decision. A nasty, filthy one. Mingyu maintains eye contact with you and slowly fucks his cock up into your sloppy pussy. 

“Yeah. Do you need something?”

Your eyes roll back, cunt spasming around Mingyu’s dick. The lewd switching coming from your pussy seems louder now, but you don’t think to stop your stepbrother from bullying his cock in and out of your hole. 

“Have you seen Y/N? She’s not in her room.”

“She’s in here. We were watching a movie and she fell asleep,” Mingyu’s voice is smooth and even. It makes you start to bounce on him again. “I’ll take her to her room in a second.”

Your stepbrother’s dark eyes never leave yours as he starts to whisper. “You like that we might get caught?”

You nod again, barely able to hold back your moans.

“Okay good. I was worried since it’s getting late.”

Mingyu grinds his cock deep in your cunt and moves his thumb down to rub your clit roughly. You’re so wet that even with Mingyu's slow, deep thrusts, your pussy is squelching with every movement. 

“Dirty little slut. Imagine if she had opened the door,” Mingyu holds back a groan as your hot cunt clamps down on him again. “She would’ve seen how much you love your stepbrother’s cock.”

You bounce a little harder on his dick when you hear his filthy words. His thumb continues to flick and rub at your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your pussy gushes around his cock when your orgasm hits out of nowhere. 

Mingyu watches your throbbing pussy clamp down on him as he slowly thrusts into you. You feel his hands squeeze your hips hard enough to bruise. His slow thrusts are prolonging your orgasm, walls fluttering constantly around his dick. Mingyu’s thumb is still rubbing your clit, overstimulation making the muscles in your thighs jump. 

“God, baby.” Mingyu groans. “So fucking dirty, cumming all over my cock like that. Did thinking we were gonna get caught turn you on that much?”

“Yeah,” you mewl, too turned on to feel embarrassed.

Your thighs shake with the force of your second orgasm, pussy trying to milk Mingyu’s cock for more cum.

“You’re so nasty, baby girl.” Mingyu moans, raising to suck on your nipples. He smirks when your pulsing pussy clamps down on him again.

“My dirty little slut. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He bites down on your nipple as he pumps his hips into your soaked cunt. You moan as his hot cum fills your greedy pussy, walls fluttering and urging him to spill more inside of you. Mingyu fucks it deeper into you until all you can do is whimper and mewl like the fucked out slut he turned you into.

After a few minutes, he relaxes back into the bed, pulling you down to lay on him. You close your eyes, completely sated and full. As you go to move, Mingyu holds you still before his cock can slip out of you.

“Stay where you are,” his voice is commanding. “Want to keep you plugged up.”

You shiver and relax against him. “Okay.”

Soon enough, your breathing evens out and you fall asleep. Mingyu places a gentle kiss on your hair, loving that you’ve fallen asleep with his cock and cum still inside you. He closes his eyes and squeezes you against him like he’s afraid you might disappear.

It took a long time to get here, but it was all worth it

From suggesting to his stepdad that you moving back home would be a good idea to making sure his mom did the same. That made it easier to listen in on the many calls you had with your friends and find out everything about your ideal man. It helped him mold himself into everything you wanted, which wasn’t too hard because Mingyu swears you were describing him.

Going into your room when you were out of the house also lets him know more about you. All of your interests and hobbies are there for him to learn and master. It also made it easier for him to get you gifts.

And finally, constantly borrowing your laptop to find out what type of porn you liked. It was all good stuff, things that he knew he was good at. Obviously, you liked to be degraded a little, but also worshipped. Mingyu licks his lips as he thinks about all the things he’s going to recreate with you. His cock throbs inside your warm pussy just thinking about it.

Everything is perfect, and Mingyu will do anything to keep it this way. He’ll continue to drive away any threats from your life because he’s the only one who can have you.

And if a day ever comes when you no longer want him, he’ll make sure no one else can have you either.

[augustinewrites]

yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.

last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice. 

casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.

this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.

you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

“did we really–” 

“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”

when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”

“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.” 

“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him. 

“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.” 

you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan. 

people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt. 

“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.” 

he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”

“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again. 

“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.” 

it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.  

“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.” 

but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”

he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.

 “i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”

you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer. 

he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you. 

so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.

after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)

a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips. 

then, shoko knocks on your door. 

“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.” 

“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.” 

“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”

“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet. 

he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”

you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.

“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.

“did you bring someone home last night?”

“no.”

she looks at you. really looks at you, you think. 

“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”

“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”

shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…

…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.” 

wait–

“gojo?”

you hear a sharp inhale through the door. 

“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”

gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.” 

“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”

she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you. 

you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.

dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.

Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.

“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”

“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”

She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.

They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.

“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.

The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.

“Shut up.”

Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.

But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.

He just wants.

Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.

Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”

She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”

Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.

They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.

It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.

“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.

His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.

Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.

*** 

Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?

He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.

It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.

So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.

       Eddie —

       How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?

       I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.

       I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.

       I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.

       Yours, Always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.

Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.

He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all. 

He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy. 

There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.

“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room,  all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.

Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.

Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.

“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.

He never looks Eddie’s way at all.

“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.

“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.

Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.

Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”

Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?

Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.

Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”

And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?

It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.

Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.

The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.

Steve’s embarrassment suits him.

Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”

“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”

“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.

Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.

“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”

Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.

And they’re off!

It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.

He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.

Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.

Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.

After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show. 

Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.

Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again.  When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.

Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?

“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.

Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.

“At what, big boy?”

“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”

Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.

Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.

“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”

Neither of them wait for a reply.

The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.

“How the hell should I know?”

Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.

“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”

That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.

The only answer is the door swinging shut.

*** 

Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation. 

When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.

“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.

“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.

It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.

“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.

“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”

Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”

“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”

Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”

Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”

It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.

Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”

Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.

Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”

Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.

Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.

Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.

Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.

“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.

“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?

Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.

“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”

Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”

Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”

“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”

Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.

He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.

Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.

He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.

PART 9

[ghostgirl-22]

this came to me in a dream. 30s dilf pat with early 20s art. penny for your thoughts?

My thoughts are de-aging the slutty blonde to give Patrick an entirely new and added age gap complex. On top of everything else… wait is that not what we’re all thinking? 😭😭😭

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Age gap 10-11 years, obviously don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. Slight teacher/student iffy power dynamics Yes, he’s a slut here again and a bit of a brat. But he’s more in control of it.

——

It’s not really Art’s fault. He doesn’t even mean to do it. He doesn’t need a lot of attention. Just a little. A fun little buzz and he’s a bit of a mess. He once accidentally made out with his big sister’s boyfriend, um ex-boyfriend. Jackson. Accidentally spent 30 minutes dry humping him in his bed before she caught him. She was so pissed at him, called him a slut. But it was an accident. It wasn’t his fault Jackson started rubbing his leg under the table and Art lost his mind a little.

He doesn’t even really like boys. Well not all boys. Well not really. Okay maybe some. He’s crushing hard on his Stanford tennis coach at the moment. Coach Zweig. He’s a lot older but so fucking hot. Bearded, tall, with skin that’s all golden in the sunshine. Everyone says he’s loaded and he just does this for the hell of it. Because he used to play for Stanford a million years ago before he got injured and he can’t let it go. He’s dating tennis superstar Tashi Duncan. “They’re practically married.” Everyone says.

He’s too fucking hot. He always wears shorts that are too fucking short, when he sits on the bench during practice, manspreading while he chats with the assistant coach, sometimes Art swears he can see the outline of it and he feels dizzy.

Art would normally give up. Maybe consider it futile if it weren’t for the way he sometimes catches Coach Zweig staring at him. Especially when he’s flirting with one of his teammates. Sometimes with a faraway look on his face. But when Art catches his eye and winks he’ll smile and roll his eyes looking away.

It’s also in the way it feels like he can barely stand to be near Art. His body goes tense, and he’s suddenly a bit less casual than he always is and the tips of his ears go all red whenever Art openly flirts with him. He’s always praising Art amongst the group (and of course he is, Art’s number one singles and the best player on the team) but whenever it’s time to give him feedback, he always tells Coach Meg to do it for him. Like he’s afraid to stand too close.

So basically it’s not Art’s fault. He did sneak into the club with his friend but it was a gay club. And Coach Zweig isn’t gay so Art didn’t expect to see him there. Art isn’t gay either but he’s a good friend. And it’s not just because he gave said friend a hand job and nothing else.

It’s fine. His friend has moved on, he’s making out with some senior, lips locked like they’re ready to go home. It’s almost 1 am and Art’s a little drunk, everybody’s been so nice… buying him drinks. He’s starting to feel a little guilty for sort of blowing them off after. He’s normally into it… into the flirting but he sees Coach Zweig all the way across the room. Talking to some guy. A blonde. Leaning into his ear, rubbing his waist. Art bites at the rim of his glass.

He’s dizzy. Dizzy. Really fucking dizzy. But he makes his way over. Coach Zweig spots him before he approaches.

He smiles but not with his eyes as he shakes his head. “What the fuck?” he says as Art leans next to him on the wall. One of his favorite things is how much Coach Zweig, no Patrick, swears. He doesn’t know why but hearing his potty mouth turns Art on.

“Hi coach,” he grins.

"Who' s this?” Patrick’s blonde friend gives him a look.

“One of my players, I’ll catch up with you,” Patrick says to him.

The blonde man glances at Art and then shuffles off.

“He’s cute,” Art grins.

“God you’re fucking 19 how the hell did you get in here?” Patrick hisses, when they’re alone.

“I’m not 19.”

“What—twenty?”

Art nods, smiling.

“How good is your fake?”

“Really good,” Art says, leaning closer. “Want me to buy you a drink?”

Patrick smiles. Art can’t help but notice the way his eyes fall over Art’s body. He’s in this sleeveless black shirt, he borrowed from his friend and fitted blue jeans. “You like it?” Art asks.

”You’re too young, Donaldson,” Patrick says. “There are plenty of little 22 year olds over there.” He gestures vaguely to the other side of the room.

Art bites down on his grin and leans even closer. It’s not all in Art’s head. God, Coach Zweig is actually attracted to him. He’s in shorts and a t-shirt. Khaki shorts, that scream 30 something soccer dad on a family vacation. Art wants to see about the outline of it that he’d sometimes glimpse when Patrick’s in his training shorts.

“I think I’m drunk, can you take me home?” Art asks, intimating shyness.

“God,” Patrick looks up at the ceiling and then takes a breath. ”You came here alone?”

“No but my friend left me alone so he could go get fucked,” Art tells him softly, emphasizing the word. “You know I’ve never been fucked before?”

Patrick chuckles and takes a step back. “I can’t take you home, but I can help you get a cab.”

“Did you come here alone?” Art asks. “Patrick.”

“Yeah… let’s get you that cab.”

Art hiccups. He really, really doesn’t want to mess this up. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay,” Patrick says, he’s gentle. “How about… we don’t talk about this at the next practice? I didn’t see you here…you didn’t see me.”

Art nods his head. “Okay coach, but I really do feel a little buzzed and I’m only a few blocks away. Please. It’s all wet and rainy outside. I don’t want to wait for a cab.”

Patrick stares him down, like he’s mentally arguing with his better angels.

“Pretty please,” Art asks again.

He takes a breath. “Yeah… okay…fuck it. I’ll drop you off and I’ll come back.”

“Thank you so much!” Art says lightly.

Patrick tells his friend to wait for him and the friend gives Art a side eye, to which Art grins in response.

They hurry outside and get wet in the rain because his jeep is parked in the back of the lot. “How buzzed are you? This is fucking irresponsible, you know that right?” Patrick asks once they’re inside and he’s powering the car on.

“I’m tipsy,” Art says. “All these guys were buying me drinks… and I felt like I couldn’t say no. But I only had a sip of each one.”

”You can always say no,” Patrick says, gently.

“What if I don’t wanna?”

“Mm yeah… alright kid.” He shakes his head, gentle tone gone.

Art smiles. “Is that guy in there— is he your boyfriend?”

“Donaldson.”

“You can just call me Art,” Art says, he leans against the headrest staring at him. His dark hair is damp to his forehead from the rain.

“We’re not gonna talk about this.”

Art shrugs. “I think it’s hot… but what about Tashi Duncan? Isn’t she practically your wife?”

Patrick stops the car in a new spot. “Maybe we should get you that cab?”

Art keeps staring at him. “Okay, and I can wait for it…in your car.”

“You’re unbearable,” Patrick mutters.

“Why?” Art asks. “I’m just one of your players.”

Patrick snorts a laugh and turns to look at him. “Tashi is fine. She knows I— I do things like this when she’s on tour.”

“Things like the guy who looks like me?”

“He doesn’t fucking look like you.”

“I mean he’s old.”

“He’s 31.”

“Yeah old.”

“I’m 31.”

“So like… does it take you a long time to get hard?” Art asks softly, gazing down at his lap.

Patrick takes a breath and faces front again, shifting gears, “Jesus Christ, okay, that’s enough.” He pulls out of the lot.

“I feel like I can’t stop it. Mine’s hard all the time,” Art sighs, fidgeting in his seat. “Like when we’re in practice. And you're in those short shorts.”

“You need to stop.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I don’t want to.”

Patrick rubs his palm along his thigh and then grips onto the gear shift again. “If only you were this sure of yourself on the court Donaldson,” he says, it stings a little anytime he criticizes Arts playing. He was great before the injury. A lot of the team think he’s just saying stuff like that… an old man reminiscing about his glory days but Arts seen old tapes of him playing. He knows. Patrick Zweig was a fucking animal on the court.

He’s watched them a lot. Sometimes in the dark with the volume up and his hands down his pants.

“Maybe if you’d correct me yourself instead of always leaving me to your assistant I’d be better.” Art sighs. “But you can’t be alone with me.”

”That—“ Patrick laughs, that low chuckle, it makes Art’s insides feel like liquid. “That’s not true.”

“It’s so true. We can’t be alone. You can barely stand to be around me because you want to fuck me so bad. Mm not even 21 and you’re terrified just cause you wanna stuff your big old cock in me.”

“Jesus…” Patrick swallows. “I can write you up actually,” he says, he sounds desperate. “I can get you fucking kicked off the team.”

Art hesitates a minute. Then touches his thigh. He shifts his leg like Art’s palm is hotter than a frying pan, but his cock is clearly visible just under the lining of his khakis. “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you do.” Art says softly, biting his lip.

”Fuck,” Patrick breathes, white knuckling the wheel. They’re at a red light. ”You don’t… you don’t even fucking know what you want. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says weakly.

Art plays with his tongue in his mouth for a minute and then leans in close to Patrick’s ear, hands grabbing his upper thigh just over where his cock is resting. God it’s massive and Art can feel it still fucking… growing. He swallows. “I want you.”

“Jesus… you’re gonna ruin my fucking life.” Patrick whispers.

Art grins, and presses his lips to Patrick’s throat. Kissing and sucking there.

“Shit, you can’t… you can’t mark me,” he whispers.

“Mmkay,” Art breathes, he’s still rubbing along the outline of his cock. It’s not just long, it’s thick. Art’s whole body is lit up. He’s never had one inside him before. His roommate’s come close a few times but Art always made an excuse to get him to stop. Now he’s anxious and he can’t stop thinking about it.

“You want me to give you head while your driving?” Art whispers, licking his lips.

“Shit… That’s fucking dangerous sweetheart, just… just hold on. I’m gonna stop.”

“Kay.” Art says, shifting in his seat all warm for the “sweetheart”. He’s so fucking horny. His hand is getting sweaty for how hot and hard Patrick’s cock is underneath it. He plays his finger tips along the outline of the tip and Patrick groans. It’s the hottest fucking sound.

“Fuck, I know…” he gasps, “give me a second. Gonna take care of you.”

Art starts mouthing at his throat again. Sucking. Probably leaving marks. He can’t help himself. He barely notices it when the car stops except for when he feels Patrick’s fingers in his hair. “Oh god. You’re gonna make a fucking mess out of me. You gorgeous fucking thing.” Patrick breathes.

Art finds his mouth. His beard tickles scratchy and soft on Arts bare face. He tastes like honey flavored cough drops and cigarettes. Even the way he smokes is so fucking sexy. Just bored, lazy, casually sexy. Keeps one on his lips while he’s lazily tossing a tennis ball across the court with his racket. Art’s pushing his tongue inside searching all over his mouth, soft and heated. Feels Patrick’s tongue and presses his own against it. Teasing it, licking it while Patrick teases him back. Patrick’s hands are all over him, fingers tangled in his hair.

Art attempts to get at Patrick’s zipper so he can reach his hand inside and feel him for real but Patrick pulls him back when Art starts to moan.

“Fuck,” Patrick whispers, eyes all sparkly, he’s cradling Art’s face in his hands. “You’re so fucking… so fucking bad for me.”

Art licks his lips, gazing into his pretty eyes. “Can I suck it?” Art asks, softly.

Patrick teases his fingers back into his hair. “You ever suck dick before?”

“Mmhm, my friend begged me to in the back of the cab after we dropped off his girlfriend.”

Patrick exhales. “God. You sure do know how to make friends…. Fuck… go ahead… yeah you can suck it.”

Art grins and moves to get on his knees. He can hardly wait. He’s tugging at the zipper, inhaling as much as he can of Patrick’s scent strong, heedy, masculine, nose pressed in his pubic hair as he drags Patrick’s boxers down.

His cock pops out and holy shit, Art’s never had one this big in his mouth. He’s so fucking perfect and full. Art licks at it right away. Almost like if he doesn’t Patrick will change his mind and tell him he’s gotta go home. He does everything he knows how to do. Licks along the underside, pearls of pre-cum are already leaking out and he’s shivering because he knows it’s him that’s fucking causing this. He’s the reason Patrick, his coach, his fucking hot coach is so aroused. He licks at the tip and Patrick groans.

Art starts feeding it into his mouth, taking as much as he can.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick inhales. “Oh sweetheart… it’s… god… take it easy. Fuck.”

“Wanna make you come,” Art says, except he’s talking with his mouth full so it’s probably not even distinguishable as words. He’s swirling his tongue around the tip, his mouth is so full and so wet and he can hear Patrick breathing. Trying not to moan.

Art can’t help himself. He needs to jerk off, he undoes his fly with one hand and reaches into his pants. This is the sluttiest thing he’s ever done. And he’s been pretty slutty. He lets it slip and slide in and out of his mouth, sucking and licking and swallowing till Patrick can’t hold anything back.

“Mm you drive me fucking crazy… flirting with all your teammates and all I can do is watch them play with you…” He groans. Fingers pulling at Art’s hair. It’s not seconds later that Art begins to make a mess in his pants jerking himself to completion as he moans with his mouth full of Patrick’s pulsing cock.

“All that gum chewing, even though I fucking beg you everyday to spit it out before you come to practice. Then you start sucking on your filthy fingers and all I can fucking think about is your pretty pink lips stretched around my… fuck.” He starts coating the inside of Art’s mouth with hot wet liquid. Spurts of it filling him, one after the other as Patrick groans breathlessly and Art swallows as much as he can. He pulls back gasping, skin fever warm, watching some of it drip obscenely from lips onto the console. So much fucking hotter than anything he imagined.

Patrick brushes his thumb over Art’s mouth wiping off the excess come, Art takes the thumb in his mouth looking up at Patrick while he licks at it.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so fucked,” Patrick whispers. He slips his thumb out and takes hold of his cock, it’s flagging a bit but not completely soft yet. He eases it back into his pants.

Art is aware of where they are now. An empty Target parking lot, not far away from campus. He pushes himself up from the floor and scrambles onto Patrick’s lap. He feels the steering wheel at his back, one knee driving uncomfortably into the seat belt holder but it’s worth it for the way Patrick starts rubbing him, reaches into Art’s pants and sighs. “Fuck… You were touching yourself sweetheart?”

“Mmhm,” Art hums. Patrick pulls him into a kiss no doubt he can taste himself and he doesn’t even care. Makes Art just want him even more. “I have wet dreams about you all the time,” Art says giddy against his lips.

“Mm do you?”

“Mmhm. Can I come over?”

“God.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Patrick plays with his t-shirt. ”How many boys have fucked you?”

“You can be my first. I’m a really fast learner.”

Patrick takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes. He rests his head back against the chair. “I’m um— I’m gonna take you home. And you’re gonna be a good boy,” His fingers are under Art’s shirt now, warm fingertips on his bare tummy, playing with the waist band of his boxers. “No more teasing… no more… flirting, especially at practice. And if you’re good… if you’re really fucking good…”

Art bites down on his inevitable grin. “Mmhm?”

“I might be here next weekend. My house might be empty. And I might let you come over.”

“I can be so good for you,” Art says, wiggling on his lap.

“God… you’re so fucking good at that…” Patrick says softly. “That’s exactly the type of behavior that needs to stop.”

Art grins as Patrick grabs at him at the waist and lifts him off his lap onto the empty passengers seat. “Put on your seatbelt.”

“Yes sir,” Art says giddly.

“You’re not going to get anything next weekend, are you?” Patrick mutters pulling the seat up and starting the car.

“Mm not if I can get it tonight and next weekend.” Art grins.

Patrick rolls his eyes, smiling and accelerates out of the parking lot.

[viagracex]

could you do a George Clarke one shot where him and maxs sister are secretly hooking up? All good if not x (love your work btw)

Off Limits

george clarke x balegde!reader

summary: george is secretly hooking up with max's sister. what starts as no-strings-attached turns into something more

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content

note: if this feels a little rushed im sorry, i tried not to have to write it as two parts.

4.4k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You weren’t meant to be here.

The rational part of your brain knew that.

Yet, lying in George Clarkey’s bed, tucked under his sheets, skin still warm from his touch, you feel the weight of his arm draped over your waist. You know this is a disaster waiting to happen. But at this point, it’s almost tradition.

A night out turns into tipsy flirting. Flirting turns into one of you cracking first and texting where u at? And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tangled up in him, his hands gripping your waist, his mouth pressing hot, lazy kisses against your neck, and the world shrinking to just you and him. The way his mouth moved against your skin, the way his hands gripped your body—it always felt like an electric current between you.

This had been going on for months now—longer than you ever expected. What started as a drunken mistake had turned into a routine. Nights out ended with you texting him, or him texting you, or one of you finding an excuse to be at the same place at the same time, until you ended up here. Sweaty, satisfied, and entirely too comfortable in his bed.

It was just sex. Really good sex. That’s all.

But it couldn't be more complicated.

For one, George Clarkey was one of your brother's closest mates.

And Max had made it painfully clear that dating YouTubers was off the table.

"They’re all walking red flags, babe," Max had said once, waving his hands for emphasis. "All of them. You’d just become another London Content Creator’s Girlfriend, and I won’t be having that."

Not that you and George were dating.

You were just… shagging George Clarke in secret.

And maybe that was worse.

But that was the key difference—the thing that made this somewhat okay.

You weren’t a couple. You weren’t sneaking around because of some grand forbidden romance.

You were just fucking.

And it was casual.

Totally.

Absolutely.

…Okay, maybe there were some complications.

Like the fact that George could be an oblivious idiot at times and that you were slowly falling for him.

As you turn your head on the pillow, watching George lazily stretch in front of you, his hair a messy tangle on the pillows, you can't help but admire how good he looks even after just waking up. He catches you staring and a smirk tugs at his lips.

"You're thinking too much," he says in a rough, sleep-filled voice, and when you glance over again he’s watching you through lidded eyes, his dark hair sticking up in every direction.

You scoff, turning onto your side. “I’m thinking about how screwed we’ll be if Max ever finds out about this.”

George smirks, his grin only grows wider as he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, his warm skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. “Then we just don’t let him find out.”

You let out a resigned sigh. "Easy for you to say. You don't have to live with him."

George chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder, and fuck—that should not feel as nice as it does.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your skin. “We’re being careful.”

You want to believe him, but a nagging doubt persists. "Are we though? Being careful?"

George's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Course we are. Max hasn't got a clue, has he?"

You bite your lip, remembering all the close calls. The time Max almost walked in on you two in the kitchen. The suspicious glances when you laughed too hard at George's jokes. The way your cheeks flushed whenever he was mentioned.

"I don't know," you mumble. "Sometimes I think he suspects something."

George's hand stills on your waist. "You worried?"

You turn to face him, studying the lines of his face in the dim light. His blue eyes are soft, filled with concern. You hate how much you like looking at him.

"Maybe a little," you admit. "It's just... Max has always been so protective. And he's made it clear how he feels about his friends dating his sister."

George's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Good thing we're not dating then, eh?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help smiling back. "Right. Just fucking."

"Exactly," George says, pulling you closer. "Nothing to worry about."

But as he kisses you, slow and deep, you can't shake the feeling that this is far more complicated than either of you want to admit.

Weeks pass, and your "arrangement" with George continues. The sneaking around gets easier, the guilt less noticeable. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But then there are nights when you catch yourself staring at him too long. When your fingers linger in his hair, when you laugh too hard at his jokes, when his hands slip under your hoodie, and you realize—this doesn’t feel casual anymore.

You don’t just look forward to those stolen moments—you need them. You tell yourself it’s about the thrill, the secrecy, the rush of slipping out of Max’s flat unnoticed. But the truth is, you like waking up in his sheets. You like the way he pulls you back into bed, groaning that it’s too early. You like how he makes you tea in the morning, knowing exactly how you take it, without needing to ask.

And suddenly, the thought of this ending makes your stomach twist.

You should say something. You should ask him if he feels it too.

But you don’t.

Because once you say it out loud, you can’t brush it off anymore. 

If you admit it, you can’t take it back.

And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that.

One night, after a particularly wild party at some private club celebrating another one of the Sidemen’s achievements, you end up with a group of friends back at George‘s. The bass from the music downstairs thrums through the walls as George presses you against the door, his lips hot on your neck.

"We shouldn't," you gasp, even as your fingers tangle in his hair. "Someone could come up..."

George grins against your skin. "That's half the fun, innit?"

You're about to retort when the door handle rattles. Your heart leaps into your throat as you hear a familiar voice on the other side.

"George! You in there?"

It's Max.

You freeze, panic flooding your system. George's eyes widen, but he quickly springs into action. He shoves you towards his closet, motioning for you to hide. You slip inside just as George opens the door.

"Yeah, mate. What's up?" George's voice is impressively casual.

"Have you seen my sister? Can't find her anywhere."

You hold your breath, praying Max doesn't decide to search the room.

"Nah, sorry. Maybe she went home early."

There's a pause, and you can picture Max's suspicious frown. Your heart pounds as you listen to the conversation through the closet door. You can practically feel Max's suspicion radiating through the wood.

"Right," Max says slowly. "Well, if you do see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"Course, mate," George replies smoothly. "I'll let her know if I spot her."

You hear the door close and let out a shaky breath. A moment later, the closet door opens and George's face appears, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes.

"Coast is clear," he whispers, helping you out.

You stumble slightly, the adrenaline making you unsteady. George's hands catch your waist, steadying you. The touch sends a familiar spark through your body, but the fear of almost being caught overshadows it.

"That was too close," you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

George nods, his expression sobering. "Maybe we should call it a night. I'll sneak you out the back."

You agree, and with George's help, manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. As you make your way home, you can't shake the feeling that your luck is running out.

The next few weeks are tense. You find yourself jumping at every sound, convinced that Max is about to burst in and catch you in the act. George notices your unease and suggests taking a break, but the thought of not seeing him makes your chest ache in a way you're not ready to confront.

As autumn creeps in, painting London in shades of gold and crimson, you find yourself spending more time at George's flat. The cozy nights in, wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, start to feel dangerously domestic. You catch yourself imagining a future where you don't have to hide, where you can walk hand-in-hand with George down the street without fear of being spotted.

One chilly evening, as you're curled up on George's sofa watching a movie, the weight of the secret becomes too much.

"George," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think we need to tell Max soon."

He turns to you, surprise etched on his features. "You sure? I thought we agreed to keep this under wraps."

You nod, twisting your fingers nervously. "I know, but... I'm tired of sneaking around. And honestly, I'm starting to think that this might be more than just casual."

George's expression softens, and he pulls you closer. "Yeah," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I've been thinking the same thing."

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

It wasn’t meant to happen like this.

but apparently, George is an idiot.

The tension in the air was palpable as you walked into your shared flat to find Max holding George's hoodie like a piece of evidence at a crime scene. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "Why is this in our flat?" Your heart raced as you tried to play off the situation nonchalantly. "Maybe George left it here," you suggested with a shrug.

Max's gaze flicked between you and the hoodie. "In your room?"

Your throat tightened as you replied, "Maybe."

Max's mind worked like a detective on a true crime documentary at that moment, piecing together the puzzle before him. And then, his expression changed from confusion to horror, his jaw-dropping.

"You're shagging George," he exclaimed.

You winced and tried to downplay the situation. "Max—"

"YOU'RE SHAGGING GEORGE," he repeated, his voice growing louder.

Frustration and embarrassment washed over you as you dropped your head into your hands. "For fuck's sake, can you not say it like that?"

But Max was already caught up in the drama of it all, looking around wildly like he was in an episode of punked. "How long has this been going on? When did this start? Why am I just finding out now?!"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Uh...a while?"

"A while?!" Max's disbelief was evident.

"...A few months?" You offered weakly.

"MONTHS?!" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"It's not a big deal!" you insisted.

"Not a big deal?! You’re shagging my mate!" Max's frustration reached its boiling point.

You flinched and pleaded with him to lower his voice, but he continued to express his disbelief that this was happening behind his back. In a desperate attempt to calm him down and protect your relationship with George, you blurted out, "It's nothing serious! We're just...having fun. Casual."

Max blinked in surprise. "Casual? With George?"

You nodded, trying to defend yourself. "Yes?"

"With George?"

"Yes, Max!" you exclaimed in frustration.

Max's expression shifted as he absorbed the information and then whipped out his phone.

"What are you doing?" you asked nervously.

"Texting George," he replied, his thumbs flying across the screen. "He has five seconds to explain himself before I track him down and make him piss himself."

Before you could stop him, George walked into the flat at that exact moment.

Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically.

George froze upon seeing the tension between you and Max. His eyes flicked from you to his hoodie in Max's hands, and it was clear he knew exactly what was going on, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"...Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"So it's true!" Max shouted. "You absolute little—"

But before he could finish his sentence, George raised his hands like a hostage negotiator. "Alright, before you get mad—"

"I'M NOT MAD!" Max yelled, which only confirmed how mad he actually was. "I'M JUST CURIOUS AS TO WHY YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

Max paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this. My best mate and my sister. It's like a bloody soap opera!"

You and George exchanged nervous glances as Max continued his tirade.

"How long has this been actually going on? And don't lie to me!" Max demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

George cleared his throat. "About... six months?"

"Six months?!" Max's voice rose an octave. "You've been sneaking around behind my back for half a year?!"

You winced. "We didn't mean for it to go on this long. It just... happened."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, it just happened, did it? What, you tripped and fell onto his dick?"

"Max!" you exclaimed, scandalized.

George stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "Look, mate, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?!" Max interrupted. "This is the opposite of ideal! This is a bloody nightmare!"

He turned to you, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "And you. I warned you about getting involved with YouTubers. I told you they were all walking red flags!"

You felt a surge of defiance. "George isn't like that. He's different."

Max scoffed. "That's what they all say. And then next thing you know, you're just left high and dry”

"It's not like that," George interjected, his voice firm. "This isn't just some fling."

Max's eyes widened as he looked between you and George. "What are you saying?"

You took a deep breath, reaching for George's hand. "We didn't mean for this to happen, Max. But... it's more than just casual now."

George squeezed your hand, a small smile on his face. "We care about each other. A lot."

Max stares at you both, jaw clenched so tight you think he might actually crack a tooth. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s debating whether to pace, punch something, or just scream into the void.

Finally, he exhales a sharp breath and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing a tight circle before stopping in front of George. His glare could burn a hole straight through him.

"You," he says, voice tight. "You, out of all people."

George swallows, standing his ground. "Look, mate—"

"Don’t 'mate' me," Max cuts him off, shaking his head. He lets out a humorless laugh, but there's no amusement in his eyes. "This is actually happening. You—" he jabs a finger at George's chest, then turns to you, scandalized. "And you?!"

You don’t answer. What could you possibly say? Sorry I broke your one rule? Sorry I fell into bed with your best mate and accidentally started catching feelings?

Max lets out another deep, exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—" He levels George with a look so sharp it could cut glass. "You actually give a shit about her?"

George doesn't hesitate. "Of course I do."

Max narrows his eyes, searching George’s face like he’s waiting for him to blink, to crack, to say something stupid that will give him an excuse to deck him. But George holds his gaze, unwavering.

After a long beat, Max scoffs, shaking his head. "Fuck me."

He turns away, pacing again, muttering something under his breath. You barely catch the words "This is my villain origin story."

Finally, he stops, pinches the bridge of his nose, and points a finger directly at George.

For a long moment, silence filled the room. You could practically see the gears turning in Max's head as he processed this new information. Finally, he looked up at you both, his expression resigned.

"You're serious about this? Both of you?"

You and George nodded solemnly. "We are," you said softly.

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe this is happening. My best mate and my little sister. It's like some bad rom-com."

He stood up suddenly, pointing an accusatory finger at George. "If this is just some game to you, Clarke, I swear to God—"

"It's not," George interrupted, his voice firm. "I care about her, Max. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time."

You felt your heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest.

Max's gaze softened slightly as he looked between the two of you. He could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you unconsciously leaned towards each other.

"Fine," he said finally, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can see this isn't just some fling. But I swear, George, if you hurt her—"

"I won't," George assured him quickly.

Max continued as if George hadn’t spoken. "—I will end you, I will make your life a living hell. I will start beef with you publicly. I will make a YouTube exposé, I will get you cancelled on Twitter. I will make sure your brand deals drop like flies. I will be so fucking annoying that you will never know peace again."

George nodded solemnly, as if this was a completely resonable response  " Understood."

Max turned to you, his expression softening. "And you. You're sure about this? You know what you're getting into, dating a YouTuber?"

You smile softly at Max, touched by his concern despite his outburst. "I'm sure, Max. I know it won't be easy, but hes worth it."

Max groans dramatically, flopping back onto the sofa. "I can't believe this is my life now. My best mate and my sister. What's next, Mum dating KSI?"

You and George both choke back laughter at the mental image. The tension in the room eases slightly as Max's dramatics break through the awkwardness.

George chuckled nervously. "Does this mean we have your blessing?"

Max shot him a withering glare. "Blessing? Don't push it, mate. I'm still processing the fact that you've been sneaking around with my sister for months."

You winced. "We really are sorry about that, Max. We didn't mean for it to go on so long without telling you."

Max ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just... I don't understand how this even happened. When did you two start... you know?"

You and George exchanged glances, silently debating how much to reveal. Finally, you took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"It started at Cal's birthday party," you began. "We were both a bit drunk, and one thing led to another..."

Max groaned. "Please spare me the details."

You rolled your eyes. "Nothing happened that night. But after that, we kept running into each other at events and parties. We'd flirt, maybe share a dance or two. It was harmless at first." As you speak, Max's expression cycles through disbelief, anger, and grudging amusement.

"...and then we just kept finding excuses to see each other," you finish lamely. "We didn't mean for it to become anything serious, but..."

"But it did," George adds softly, squeezing your hand.

Max groans, flopping back dramatically on the sofa. Muttering something about how this wasn’t how his day was supposed to go.

He sits up suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at George. "And you! What about all those girls you're always banging on about in your videos? That better all be a lie?"

George has the decency to look sheepish. "Ah, well... might've exaggerated a bit there, mate. For content, you know”

Max's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Exaggerated? Or flat-out lied?"

George shifted uncomfortably. "Well..."

You jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, Max, the point is, George and I are together now. For real. No more sneaking around or lying."

Max sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I still can't believe this.” He stood up suddenly, pacing the room. "And what about when this all goes public, eh? Have you two geniuses thought about that? The fans will go mental. You'll be harassed non-stop."

You and George exchanged glances. It was clear neither of you had given much thought to the public aspect of your relationship.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," George said finally. "For now, we just want to focus on us. And making sure you're okay with this."

Max scoffed. "Okay with it? I'm far from okay with it. But..." he trailed off, looking between you and George. Despite his anger, he could see the genuine affection in your eyes, the way you instinctively leaned towards each other.

Then, after a beat—reluctantly, begrudgingly, like it physically pains him to say it— " I mean, I'd rather you weren't shagging one of my mates, but honestly?" He turned to George with a knowing look. "You could've picked worse. At least I know George. Even if he is an idiot sometimes."

George protested, but there was no real heat behind it. He knew Max was right - he could be an idiot sometimes. But when it came to you, he was determined to do better.

Relief washed over you as you threw your arms around your brother. "Thank you, Max. Really."

He hugged you back, then pulled away to point a finger at George. "And you. No funny business when I'm around, got it? I don't need to see my best mate snogging my sister."

George nodded solemnly, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

Max gives him one last death glare before sighing dramatically and turning back to you. “I hate this. I hate it. I swear, if I ever walk in on anything, I'm moving out and never speaking to either of you again."

You laughed "Deal."

You and George share a glance, and suddenly, it doesn't feel as scary anymore. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for months lifts, replaced by a giddy lightness. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face, mirrored on George's.

As Max continues to grumble and mutter about the unfairness of it all, you and George gravitate towards each other. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you close, and you lean into him, reveling in the feeling of finally being able to do this openly.

The autumn sun streams through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, you can hear the bustle of London life - cars honking, people chattering, the distant rumble of the Tube. But in here, in this moment, the world has shrunk to just the three of you.

George's thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his familiar scent - a mix of cologne, laundry detergent, and something uniquely him. It's comforting, and grounding.

Max catches sight of you cuddling and makes exaggerated gagging noises. "Oh God, it's starting already. I'm going to need therapy after this."

You and George laugh, the sound mingling together in a way that makes your heart skip. You realize that this is the first time you've been able to laugh freely together in front of others, without worrying about giving yourselves away

As the days turn into weeks, you and George settle into a new rhythm. No more sneaking around, no more hushed whispers and furtive glances. Instead, there are lazy Sunday mornings spent tangled in his sheets, the London rain pattering against the windows. There are impromptu double dates with Max and Andrew, where you catch yourself marvelling at how natural it feels to be out in public with George, his hand intertwined with yours.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with George every day. It's in the little things - the way he makes your tea just right without asking, how he laughs at your terrible puns, it just makes your heart swell.

The YouTube world explodes when news of your relationship finally breaks. Your social media notifications blow up, a mix of excited fans, shocked friends, and the occasional hater. Your DMs are flooded with a mix of congratulations and jealous messages. You learn to ignore the hate comments and focus on the supportive messages from friends and fans.

Max, true to his word, makes a show of dramatically covering his eyes whenever you and George so much as hold hands in his presence. But you catch him smiling softly when he thinks you're not looking, and you know that deep down, he's happy for you.

As autumn fades into winter, you find yourself spending more and more time at George's flat. Your toothbrush migrates to his bathroom, your favourite mug finds a permanent home in his kitchen cupboard. One night, as you're curled up on his sofa watching old Sidemen videos (George insists it's "research"), he turns to you with a nervous smile.

"Move in with me," he says, his voice soft but sure.

Your heart skips a beat. "What?" you ask, barely above a whisper.

George takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Move in with me," he repeats. "Half your stuff is here anyway. And I... I want to wake up next to you every morning."

You study his face, taking in the hopeful glint in his eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks.

Your heart swells with emotion as you look into George's eyes. The nervous hope there, the vulnerability – it's a side of him you've grown to cherish over these past months. You think about how far you've come from those first furtive encounters, sneaking around and convincing yourselves it was just casual fun.

"Yes," you whisper, a grin spreading across your face. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

George's face lights up, and he pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. When you finally part, you're both laughing, giddy with the promise of this new chapter.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of boxes, packing tape, and furniture rearrangement. Max helps you move, grumbling good-naturedly about being demoted to "pack mule" status. But you catch him giving George a stern talking-to when he thinks you're not listening, something about "taking care of my little sister, or else."

As you unpack your life into George's space – now your shared space – you're struck by how seamlessly your belongings fit together. Your books nestle comfortably next to his on the shelves. Your favourite blanket drapes over the back of the sofa, adding a pop of colour to the room. In the bedroom, your clothes hang side by side in the closet—proof that you’re done sneaking around, done pretending this is casual. Proof that this is real.

[sturniozo]

Can you make a fic of Nate and y/n having an argument because he thought she was flirting with their rivals captain and she says I bet he fucks better and before he can show her who does they are interrupted but the door opening and they have to wait on a long car ride home until they get dropped off at his house and he shows her who fucks better (idk if this made any sense kinda rushed.) 🙏

Captain

Nathan Doe x Reader

Masterlist

The crowd cheers from the bleachers as the home team scores another point. People standing and jumping as the shout and cheer. I bite my lip and smile, staring at my boyfriend as he skates on the ice.

I see him smile back at me through his helmet, waving his hand at me. I wave back before quickly putting my hand back down.

Once the game is over, I head through the crowd of people to find Nate. I stop at the door to the locker room, waiting for him to exit. A few of his teammates leave first, smiling at me as they walk past. It’s a usual routine, me waiting for him after every game.

As I wait someone unfamiliar walks past, going the opposite direction as everyone else. He turns around and looks back at me. He smiles and points at me. “I saw you, in the bleachers. Front row.” He says.

“Yeah, I was watching my boyfriend.” I tell him.

“Is your boyfriend on my team or the home team?” He asks.

“Home team.”

“Is he captain, I’m caption. My names Jake, yours?” Jake puts his hand on the wall by my head.

Before I can speak, we’re interrupted. “Her name is Y/n.” Nate says. He walks over to me and takes my hand. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Jake steps back and smiles. “Ah, okay then. I guess I’ll go.”

“Sounds good to me.” Nate says and Jake leaves. Nate turns to me, glaring. “I’m gone for five minutes and you cling to someone else?”

My jaw drops. “I was not clinging to him!”

“You could have fooled me, you were all over him.”

“I was not!”

“He was all over you.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

“You didn’t push him away.”

“So it’s my fault? He was just being nice.”

“He was flirting with you!”

“Nate, I’d rather not do this here.” I say as I start to walk away.

Nate grips my hand tightly, keeping me from walking away from him. “Would you rather be with him? What, does he fuck better than me?”

“I bet he does.” I laugh.

Without a second thought Nate pushes me through the door of the empty locker room, pressing me against the wall. His hands grip my hips tightly as his lips slam against mine. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, and my hands tangle themselves in his hair.

Nate’s tongue slips into my mouth as his hands travel under my shirt. His hands cup my breasts and squeeze lightly as his hips grind into me. I let out a soft moan into his mouth and Nate takes that as the go ahead. He begins to slip my shirt up.

The door opens and one of Nate’s teammates barges in. His face immediately goes red. “I- I think I left my phone in here…” he says.

Nate sets me down steps away from me. “We were just leaving.” He says. He takes my hand and we leave the locker room.

Nates quiet as we walk to his car. He opens the passenger door for me. Even when he’s pissed he’s still a gentleman. He closes the door once I’m in and gets into the drivers side.

The ride back to his house was agonizing. Part of me believes he’s doing it on purpose. Hitting every red light and waiting longer at each stop sign.

I clench my legs together, trying to stop the heat rising in me. I stare at Nate as he clenches his jaw, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel.

After what felt like hours, we finally pull into his driveway. I unbuckle my seatbelt quickly and get out of his car. Nate grabs my hand and pulls me into his house. He rushes up the stairs and yanks me to the bed, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

I sit up on the bed as Nate quickly slams his lips to mine. I pulls him as close as he can possibly be to me. I keep my hands on his shoulders as he crawls over me. He sits up over me. “I’m gonna show you who fucks better.” He says as he takes off his shirt and throws it across the room.

“Nate-“ I start to say but his lips clash against mine once again. My hands travel over his firm biceps and trail over his shoulder blades. His hands rush under my shirt and squeeze my boobs.

I tug on his sweats, begging him to take them off. I whine and paw at his bulge. “You’re so needy. I haven’t even touched you yet.” Nate whispers in my ear before kissing my neck.

“Nate, please.” I beg.

“Use your words baby.” He whispers between kisses.

“Nate, fuck me, please!” I beg.

Nate smirks and lifts my shirt over my head, discarding it on the floor. His lips latch against my skin as his hands fiddle with my jeans. He lays kisses over chest and down my stomach before reaching my jeans. He undoes the button and in zips them. I lift my hips up and let Nate slide my pants down.

He kisses my core from over my panties, trailing his finger up and down. “Nate!” I whine. “Please, just do something!”

Nate places one last kiss on my core before lifting his head up. “Be patient.” He tells me. I let out a soft whine and Nate shuts me up my pressing his lips to mine again.

I grind my hips against his for some friction. His bulge presses against my core and I let out another moan into his lips. He pulls away and pulls down his sweats. His bulge is even more prominent in his boxers.

I reach out to touch him but he pins my wrists above my head. “Not yet, baby.” He says.

I whine again and Nate smirks. He lets go of my wrists and trails kisses back down to my panties. He slides them to the side and presses a kiss to my clit. I gasp and my hands cling to his hair. Nate smiles and licks a stride up my core. He pads his tongue up and down my slit over and over before moving up and sucking on my clit.

Nate’s head dips up and lets go of my panties. He hooks his fingers through the sides of my panties and pulls them down. He throws them across the room before dipping down once again to lick another stride down my slit.

His tongue licks up and down my folds, stopping at my hole to push his tongue deep inside me, causing me to let out a loud moan and tug in his hair.

Nate chuckles, the air tickling my core causing me to shiver. His lips move to my click to suck on it once again while he slips two fingers inside of me. He pumps and curls the two fingers while his tongue flicks and swirls and sucks on my clit.

I moan loudly and pull on his hair, causing him to laugh against me again. He pulls his fingers out and pulls his head up just as I was about to release.

“Nate-“ I whine out. Nate presses his lips against mine before I can say anymore.

He pulls away. “Who’s fucking you better?“ he asks.

“You are.” I reply.

Nate smiles and pulls down his boxers. His cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. He pumps it a few times with his hand before leaning down, his chest almost pressed against mine, his head in the crook of my neck as he slips into me.

I moan out loudly from the sheer size of him inside of me. Nate groans in my ear and lifts up, a hand on either side of my head as he looks into my eyes. He drags his hips away from me, pulling out to the tip before slamming into me harshly.

I wrap my leg around his waist, and he uses one hand to steady my leg while to other stays on the side of my head. His hips continue to slowly pull away before slamming into me harshly.

Nate picks up his pace, pulling out of me and slamming back into me in a quick pace. I moan loudly as I grip onto his arm, leaving marks with my nails.

“Who. Fucks. You. Better?” Nate asks, each word between another thrust into me.

“You, god, you Nate!” I scream out.

Nate smirks and lets go of my leg, moving to sit up on his knees, pulling me by my hips and lifting my hips to his. He slips back into me and begins immediately slamming in and out of me at a harsh pace.

“Nate, oh god!” I moan out.

“Just a little longer baby, you can last, can’t you?” Nate teases as he fucks into me.

His hand reaches down to my clit to rubs circles around it. I moan louder as he pumps in and out of me and rubs my clit.

“God, baby I’m so close.” Nate moans.

“Nate, Nate, I’m gonna-“

“Fuck, cum all over me baby.” He says. I oblige without a second thought, cumming all over him as he moans out.

He pumps in and out of me, chasing my high, before pulling out and pumping himself with his hand a few times, cumming on my stomach.

I pant as Nate lays down next to me. He pulls me close to him and kisses the top of my head. “Let me get something to clean you up, baby.” He says and gets up off the bed. He walks to his bathroom and comes back out with a wet, warm wrap. He wipes the cum off my stomach and the wetness between my legs before wiping himself down.

He puts the was in the laundry hamper before laying back down with me on the bed. He pulls me close to his chest and gives me a kiss on the head.

“I wasn’t flirting with him, I swear.” I say after I catch my breath.

“I know.” Nate reply’s

I lift my head up. “Then why were you so mad?”

“He’s the captain of the other team, and he was definitely flirting with you.” Nate kisses me again. “I didn’t want him to take you from me.”

“No one can do that, I love you Nate.”

Nate smiles. He kisses the tip of my nose. “I love you too.”

TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora

[mattitties]

Can you do one when you talked to a guy and he was flirting (at a party btw). So matt becomes rlly angry and the whole ride home u guys were fighting. When u arrived home you went upstairs changed into smth like rlly showy (as pj's) and it turned on matt. Then y'all took it to the bed. (I wrote you as in y/n)

based on this request ^^

possessive - matt sturniolo

SMUTTY AF!!! dom!matt and sub!reader. choking, tying up, degrading, the whole nine.

“Come onnnn, we’re gonna be late!” Matt groans from the kitchen. 

“Sorry, coming!” I call back as I spray some perfume on before walking to meet him. “Ready!”

“Great, let’s go,” he huffs, giving me a kiss on the cheek. 

We’re going to one of the fancy LA influencer events that the triplets get invited to, which I also get invited to by association. Chris and Nick had been hanging out with friends all day so we’re meeting them there, and I may have made us leave a little later than we planned on. 

“You know how long it takes you to get ready, so you should start getting ready with enough time so we can actually leave on time,” he tells me after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “But we’re not thattttt late, and it’s a party! Nobody shows up on time.”

He waves a hand at me as if to say forget about it. “It’s fine,” he says. “You look beautiful anyway, so being late is worth it if I get to stare at you looking like this all night.”

I roll my eyes and smile. “You look pretty good too. Maybe we should just turn around and skip the whole thing and have a party by ourselves.”

“Oh don’t tempt me,” he smirks. “I don’t even wanna go to this thing anyway.”

“I know you don’t,” I pat his thigh for some comfort. “Let’s just spend like, an hour there, and if we wanna leave I can say I don’t feel good or something.”

When we arrive, he immediately grabs my hand without a word and makes a beeline towards Chris and Nick. 

“Fucking finally!” Chris says, throwing his hands up. “We were placing bets on if you guys were gonna show face at all.”

“I made us late, but we’re here now!” I try to take the attention off of our lack of punctuality. “I’m gonna get a drink, you guys want anything?”

“Nick and I are good,” Chris holds his Pepsi can up.

“Matt?”

“I’m okay baby, thank you,” he smiles and gives me a quick peck before I head to the bar. 

“Vodka cran, please,” I tell the bartender, then open Instagram to pass the time as he gets my drink. 

“Vodka cran is your drink of choice, huh?” a voice next to me says. I look up and see a brunette with green eyes leaning next to me. He looks familiar and has an incredibly friendly smile. Probably an influencer, but I just can’t place him.

“Oh, yeah,” I smile. “Always has been. It disguises the vodka taste pretty well.”

“Yeah, I always just stick with beers. I can’t stand hard liquor, it’s awful.”

“Me too. I’m such a pussy when it comes to alcohol. If it’s too strong I just won’t drink it,” I tell him. The bartender puts my drink in front of me and I pull out my card to pay as I thank him, but am stopped by this man (whose name I do not know) as he pulls his own card out. 

“Let me buy you this one,” he smiles and winks. He’s clearly flirting, and I obviously have no intention of doing anything, but why would I turn down a free drink?

“Wow, thank you!” I say. “That’s very nice, I appreciate it.”

“No worries. Do you wanna–”

“No, she doesn’t wanna. Thanks man,” he’s cut off by Matt, who had put his hand on my waist before I even realized he was behind me. I look up at his face. He looks pissed. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend,” the guy says. “Um… I already paid so… don’t worry about it… but…” he walks away awkwardly without finishing his sentence.

“Free drink! Score!” I smile at Matt and hold up my cup.

He doesn’t smile back. “Mhm.”

My face drops. Okay, clearly he doesn’t find the situation very amusing. “Matt, come on, I wasn’t gonna do anything. We had barely made any conversation before he offered to buy it for me.”

“He was clearly flirting with you. Why were you even entertaining him?” he asks.

“I wasn’t entertaining him! I said two sentences to him, got my drink, and he pulled out his card before I said anything else. What was I supposed to say, ‘no, don’t buy me a drink, I have a boyfriend’?”

“Yes!!!” he shouts before walking back to the booth Chris and Nick were sitting in. 

I follow him, not sure if I should give up or try to prove myself more. I choose the latter. 

“Okay, first of all don’t yell at me. Second, all he did was buy me a drink. It’s not like he tried to kiss me or anything, he was just being nice!” I retort.

“He was not just being nice,” he says as he sits back down. “Guys never buy girls drinks just to be nice. He was trying to get in your pants.”

“Okay, well so what? If he started doing anything weird or outwardly flirtatious I would have left the situation immediately. I don’t think it’s a crime to accept a free drink,” I tell him, sitting next to him.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “It’s not about the drink. It’s just about respect. You don’t accept a drink from a guy when you have a fucking boyfriend.”

I sit for a moment, thinking about my next words. I still don’t think I did anything wrong, but I don’t want to keep fighting, so I back down. “Okay,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at me blankly. “Do you know what you’re sorry for? Or are you just saying that?”

Damn, he knows me too well. 

I don’t say anything.

“Yeah, exactly,” he scoffs. We both sit in awkward silence for a couple minutes, neither of us being in any mood to talk to people, until I bite the bullet and speak.

“Do you wanna go home?”

He rolls his eyes and gets up. I look at him, unsure of what he’s doing, until he says, “Are you just gonna sit there or are we gonna go?”

I follow him to the car, and we sit in even more awkward silence. I don’t want to piss him off even more, so I say nothing. 

“You know, it’s not even about the drink anymore,” he starts. “It’s about the fact that you don’t even know what you did was wrong.”

“Because I don’t think it was wrong,” I say calmly. “I was never going to reciprocate any flirting or do anything to show I was interested. All I did was accept the drink.” 

He grips the wheel in frustration as we pull into the garage. “Whatever. I’m done arguing about this. It’s just ridiculous that you can’t see where I’m coming from.”

“I can see where you’re coming from,” I tell him. “I just think you’re being a little too jealous and possessive for this situation.”

He looks at me as he turns the car off. “You wanna see possessive? Go inside and get on the bed.”

“What?” I ask. His whole demeanor just changed. He was pissed before, but now he’s like… primal. Talking through gritted teeth. His neck veins bulging. It’s kinda hot…

“Do you need me to repeat myself? Go inside. And get. On. The. Bed.”

Oh shit. He’s got some crazy animalistic thing going on. And I don’t know why, but I’m incredibly turned on. So I listen. 

I get out of the car, go inside, and sit on his bed. He comes in shortly after, taking off his belt without breaking eye contact with me.

My heart is racing, but I keep staring at him. 

“You have no idea how possessive I can be,” he tells me, leaning onto the bed with both hands on either side of me. Our faces are inches apart. “You may not know what you’re supposed to be sorry for, but you’re gonna apologize to me in the way I want. Got it?”

I nod, and he grabs my jaw. “Words.”

“Yes. Got it.”

He stands up and removes his shirt from the back of his collar with his tattooed arm, then leans back over me and slowly pushes me back onto the bed with his hand around my neck. “What do you have to say to me?” he says deeply.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper, debating on whether or not I should continue my sentence with the word I know will drive him crazy. I go for it anyway. “Daddy.”

His eyes darken and he kisses me harshly, not giving me any warning before his tongue slips into my mouth. I’m completely at his disposal, and I need more. 

“You’re gonna show me how sorry you are, yeah?” he speaks into my mouth as he reaches into his now unzipped pants and his black briefs and pulls out his dick. I look down for just long enough to see how hard he is, as red as ever and making his hand wet as he rubs his tip. I know what he wants from me, and who am I to deny him of that? I usually would be a brat, but I guess I’ve been a brat enough for him tonight. 

I sit up and softly take him in my hand, running my thumb over his slit and looking up at him through my eyelashes. He groans under his breath. “Come on baby, don’t tease.”

At that, I wrap my lips around him and begin to bob my head, swirling my tongue and licking up and down. He responds by taking my hair into a ponytail in his hand, looking down at me with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly open. “That’s it,” he moans. “Take daddy’s cock just like that.”

I push myself deeper and grip his thigh for support. His hips are bucking and he’s hitting the back of my throat. I’m fully expecting for him to cum in my mouth until he pulls out and flips me over onto my stomach without warning. 

“Hands behind your back,” he says, and I immediately oblige, laying my wrists on top of each other near my lower back. He uses the belt that he was wearing earlier in the night to tie my hands together, then he lifts my hips up to meet his own and lets my dress fall forward so that my bottom half is accessible for him. 

I whine as I feel his tip run over my soaked thong, and then wince as he gives me a harsh slap. “You were a bad girl tonight, you know that?” he says as he pulls my underwear off and tosses them. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “Please fuck me.”

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s clearly just as eager – he pushes into me quickly, giving me a few seconds to adjust before he begins thrusting hard. 

“FUCK,” I shout as the mix of pain and pleasure washes over me. 

“Mmmm, yeah baby?” he grips my hips and pounds into me, the sound of our skin slapping overtaking the whole room. “You like being punished?”

“Uh huh,” I’m incapable of saying anything else. My orgasm is already approaching and I push my head into the bed for some sense of control as I feel my body start to fall apart. 

“That’s it princess, keep clenching around my cock like that,” he says, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper. He reaches his hand around my neck and lifts me up so my back is pressed against his chest; his mouth is right next to my ear, and it’s heavenly. 

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” I whimper. 

He groans in response and chokes me tighter as I clench around him. “Fuckkkkk, that’s so good.” He repeats a string of curses, his dick twitching inside me before I feel him releasing and his thrusts get slower and softer.

We stay there for a moment regaining ourselves, then he undoes the belt on my wrists and pulls out of me. I collapse on the bed, too out of it to even notice him coming back with a wet towel to clean me up. 

He lays next to me and kisses my temple. 

“Are you mad at me?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. “I really am sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I was over it halfway through the drive home. Just fun to fuck the anger out, right?”

I smirk and nod my head. “So if I get another free drink from a guy, it’s fine?” I tease.

His face drops. “Don’t push it.”

[itsmarsss]

chicks dig musicians, kid [Miguel Diaz x Reader] (Cobra Kai)

[~from the vault~]

There's something going on between the two of you, Miguel is sure of it. But where does he go from there? How is he supposed to ask you out? So he goes to Johnny for advice.

Word count: 1,780

Warnings: literally nothing its so cute and sweet and innocent yay past mars

[. . .]

Things had been different for a while now. He could just feel it.

Miguel didn’t know when things changed, when the platonic teasing turned into borderline flirting, when his eyes started to dart from your eyes to your lips in the middle of conversation, when you started to look away with an embarrassed smile when he stared at you for too long, when he started to barely listen when you talked because all he could think about was how close you were and how easy it would be for him to kiss you right that second and how much he really, really wanted to do it but never did- but he was 100% sure he wasn’t imagining it.

He was well-aware of the fact that his love-struck brain could just be exaggerating everything, and, sure, he was a bit dense, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. He knew something was definitely going on, to the point of getting teased about it to no end by his friends: the newfound tension and the sudden awkwardness were pretty hard to miss.

The thing is: where do you go from there? Miguel has always been pretty straight-forward (even though he didn’t really look the part) so why was it so hard to find a good moment to ask you out when he was pretty positive you’d say yes?

Waiting made it far, far worse. He thought maybe he’d give himself time to figure out a way to do it. Hey, maybe you’d even end up asking him out first!

You didn’t.

Every day that passed he found himself staring more and more, lost in daydreams of kissing you, making you laugh, kissing you, holding your hand, kissing you.

Was this why you’d been avoiding him the past few days? He wasn’t dumb. It’s not like you were outright taking every opportunity you could to get away from him, but also it’s not like you were exactly taking any opportunities to hang out just the two of you like you used to do. Was he being too weird? Too pushy? Oh god, was he acting like a creep?

Standing back was not like him at all, and it was not doing him any favors- he had to know once and for all.

So he went to his Sensei for advice.

Johnny was holding a beer can when he opened his door. Not an unusal sight. “What d´ya want?”

“I really need your help but you can’t make fun of me.”

“Can’t promise that,” he replied with a smile, and made way for Miguel to enter, which he did. “Ya want a beer?” he asked as Miguel sat down on the couch.

“No. Please focus."

Sensei Lawrence just shrugged, standing by the kitchen counter. “So what is it? Your mom find your porn or something?”

“What- no! Why is that the first thing you thought of?”

“Happened to me,” He shrugged again, nonchalantly.

Miguel made a face in disgust. “Please let’s not talk about that when you’re dating my mom.”

“Jesus, kid, what are you, a nun?” Johnny laughed and took a sip of his beer. “Okay, whatever. What happened?”

“I’m really into this girl.”

“She hot?”

Miguel made a point to ignore the question. “She’s really cool and I think she likes me too.”

“Is. She. Hot?”

“Sensei- yeah. Okay, she’s really hot.”

“Nice.”

“Can I go on now?”

“Sure.”

“Okay so we’re friends, right. And we’ve been friends for some time now but I feel like we’ve been flirting? But never really doing anything about it. But I want to.”

“So? Just ask her out.”

“I know that! But I don’t know how to.”

“Thought you were more of a ‘just ask’ kind of guy.”

“I- I am! It’s just, I don’t know what it is, it’s easier when you don’t know them that well, you know? Cause like why would she not make a move after all this time? Maybe she just wants to stay friends. And then if she rejects me then what?”

“Then why would she flirt with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who is it?”

“What, I’m not telling you-”

“Y/N?” He guessed, and Miguel wasn’t fast enough to hide his surprise.

“How’d you know?”

“Guessed. But your face made it pretty obvious, maybe work on that.”

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Look, you know what you gotta do? You gotta not be a pussy. Make her like a giant fucking poster and ask her out at school, girls love that shit.”

“Um I don’t think she’d like that. Seems like... pretty embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing if you’re not a pussy about it.”

“Do you have any… less public option?”

“Oh you want a real intimate option?’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively, which was an extremely disturbing scene to witness.

“No- oh my god, please never do that again.”

Johnny laughed. “Just play her a song or some shit. Set the mood. Then ask her out. Chicks dig musicians, kid. That's a fact."

“But I don’t play anything. Or sing.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that? Now come on I got things to do,” Johnny motioned for him to get up, and he did so.

“You do?” Miguel asked, not really believing it.

“Don’t question me!”

Miguel put his arms up in surrender, walking out the door.

The rest of his day was spent desperately trying to learn the chords to some song he’d seen you listen to once on his mom’s old ukulele. It wasn’t going well. He looked at the time, 7:43 PM- it was getting late. He would have to make do with what he had. He wasn’t delaying this any longer, he was doing this tonight.

He took about 15 minutes to figure out what hoodie to wear and 10 more to fix his hair. He walked up to your house with the ukulele in hand, feeling nothing short of ridiculous. He wondered if maybe he should have waited until he was a little better at playing. Still, he kept on walking until he reached your front door.

To his luck, you were the one to open it. Thank fucking god. “Miguel?" You raised an eyebrow, a little confused at the scene in front of you. He hadn't texted telling you he was coming over and you couldn't for the life of you come up with a reason for the ukulele he held in his hand since you knew he'd never ever played one in his life.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Uh, what are you doing here?” It wasn’t rude, just curious.

Maybe he should have warned you he was coming.

“Uh I was just- wondering if I could show you something.” He held up the instrument in his hand.

“Like a song?”

“Well, yeah. If you want.”

“I didn’t know you played.” Actually, you knew he did not play.

“I didn’t. I uh. Picked it up today. Just wanted to show it to you."

“Okay, yeah. Come in.” You were still visibly confused. Maybe he should have planned this better. Or, like, at all. You made way for him to get in and closed the door behind you when he did. You walked up in front of him, taking his free hand and leading him upstairs. “Come on.”

You entered your bedroom and sat on the edge of your bed, Miguel hesitantly doing the same, sitting down right beside you.

“Okay. So what are you gonna play?”

“Uh you know that song you like? The one you were listening to when you were training after practice that day? That Hawk was like telling you to skip and all?”

You laughed at the memory. “I guess.”

“Yeah that’s uh- that’s what I’m gonna play.”

He was feeling way too self-aware now. Maybe coming over to perform a song he was yet to learn correctly was not his brightest idea. What was he thinking?

“So?” You pulled him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat. There was no way he could back down now. Shit.

He played the first chords and started singing. It all sounded deeply, extremely wrong, and he knew it. It was terribly bad, pure chicken scratch. If voice cracks had voice cracks, that’s what they’d sound like. He barely got through the first chorus before stopping himself from any further embarrassment. He’d made a point of not looking at you while he played, but finally mustered up the courage to after he stopped.

He couldn’t say you looked too impressed. Just… amused, at best.

“I started learning it this afternoon, so…” he sheepishly tried explaining himself, scratching th back of his neck in embarrassment. What the fuck did you just do, idiot?

“Oh it’s uh- it’s pretty- pretty good for something you learned in just a few hours.”

“You can say it’s terrible, I just wanted to- I just wanted to show you. I picked the song ‘cause you like it so much.”

“It’s not terrible! It’s a great song. And it’s pretty cool that you learned it because of me.”

There was an awkward silence that followed. This moment, right here, right after he finished playing, was when Miguel imagined he would be asking you out. You'd say yes, maybe you’d kiss him if he was lucky. But the Miguel in his head had done a great job with the song. The real him… well, the real him obviously hadn’t.

“Why did you wanna show it to me?"

He was taken aback by the question. He decided he’s best be honest, now that he knew he officially had no chance with you. Acording to Sensei Lawrence, chicks dig musicians, and he clearly was no musician whatsoever. He sighed. “Honestly?”

You nodded, prompting him to continue.

“I really, really wanted to ask you out. But I didn’t know how to do it, so I went to Sensei for advice. I know. He said girls like musicians so I thought I'd do something cool and play you a song you liked. It obviously didn't work,” he laughed, defeated.

You were quiet for a moment, processing what he just told you. “You learned a song I liked just to ask me out?”

“I know, it’s dumb, and obviously I ruined the mood with the bad singing, but-”

You kissed him. He was rambling like an idiot and he’d just given you the worst ever serenade of all time and you kissed him! He wasn't even able to react, just looking at you with his eyes wide as you pulled away as quickly as you'd leaned in. You kissed him, you kissed him, you kissed him, holy shit!

“I thought-”

“It's cute that you'd do that just to ask me out. And you didn't ruin the mood. Now ask me out!” You said, excited, now sporting a dumb smile he thought was just the cutest thing ever. Could you please just look at him like that all the time?

Miguel couldn’t help but mirror your excitement, grinning like an idiot. Damn him if he didn't do as you asked. “Do you wanna go out with me?”

“As long as you don’t ever try to serenade me ever again.”

“You said it wasn’t so bad!”

“I lied."

“You still kissed me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

[. . .]

A/N: while i don't have what im currently writing for miguel out yet here's a really old little thingy i have of him as a little treat! it's cute and sweet to make up for all the sin of the current wip <3

[rosyhoneydew]

I Simply Say (Baby)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek | Day 2: nicknames and terms of endearment.

“Uh, hey, I’m gonna take this for a sec, you want another beer when I come back, Eddie?” Buck asks, already en route to the kitchen. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie says, a knowing smirk on his face.

There’s not really any need for the secrecy, Eddie saw the ‘Tommy ❤️’ contact light up on Buck’s phone, and even if he hadn’t, there aren’t many people Buck would pick up for on guys’ night. But, he still hasn’t quite gotten around to filling Chris in yet. It’s not like he tells the kid about everybody he dates, but this is Tommy and he’s their friend and it would feel too weird keeping that from him. 

Chris got back from Eddie’s parents’ place just over a week ago, and Eddie’s pretty intent on making things feel, as much as possible, like he never left. Buck gets it. Chris leaving was shitty for him, he can’t bring himself to think about how hard these past weeks have been for Eddie. 

“Hey,” he sighs out as he answers the call.

“Hey.” Buck can hear the smile in his voice and it fills him with warmth. He loves that smile. “How’s guys’ night?” Tommy asks. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s good.” Buck leans against the counter, ears tuning in to the light giggles he can hear from the living room. It’s felt like forever since he saw Eddie this carefree. “It’s nice. Feels like old times, you know?” 

Tommy hums a response. 

“Hey, you should come next time,” Buck adds. 

“Me?” 

Buck huffs a small laugh, “Yes, you.” He makes for the fridge, grabbing two beers and cracking them open with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. “I mean, Eddie would love it, Chris hasn’t seen you since he left, and that way,” he grabs his phone again, bringing it closer to his mouth like a secret, “I won’t have to miss you all night while I’m here.” 

“Oh yeah? Well, it’s hard to argue with that logic.” Tommy responds. 

Buck smiles, it feels good, flirting like this with Tommy. It’s so easy with the two of them, he’s not sure it’s ever gotten so good so fast with anyone else he’s dated. 

“You finished up your shift?” He asks, guessing the reason Tommy called. 

“Mmhm. Pretty smooth night. I’m headed home now, you going to be a bit?” Tommy asks. 

“Uh, maybe?” Buck reenters the living room, carrying their drinks, to see Eddie and Chris have put away the Xbox, but already queued up a movie. “Yeah,” he amends, “definitely gonna be a little while.” 

Eddie’s such a sucker for the kid right now, he’s probably planning on letting Chris stay up all night if it means spending as much time as possible with him. 

Tommy laughs on the line. “All good, sweetie, have fun, okay? Tell them I say ‘hi.’” 

“Buck! Hurry up, we’re hitting play,” Chris calls out.

“Okay, love you, baby,” Buck says to Tommy, quickly hanging up the phone.

He gets a few steps closer to the couch before he realizes he said all of that out loud and in front of Eddie and Chris. Oops. 

“Who was that?” Chris asks, teasing note in his voice. God, that kid is more and more like his dad every day. 

“Uh, that- that was Tommy. The pilot from Harbor station?”

“I remember Tommy,” Chris says. “You called him ‘baby.’”

“Yeah, uh, we’re sort of together now.” Buck sets their beers down on the coffee table for something to do.

“Like boyfriends?” 

“Yep.” 

“Oh,” Chris says. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Good question.

“Well, I guess I just… I didn’t want to surprise you too much?” He finally settles into his spot on the couch again. 

“I don’t care who you’re dating.” 

Buck laughs at that, finally feeling the tension break. There wasn’t much, Chris is a good kid, but he can’t help that knee-jerk reaction for a second when he’s telling someone new. 

“Well I do care who you’re dating and I’m happy for you and Tommy,” Eddie finally chimes in, smiling between the two of them. 

“You know, I thought maybe he could come over next week for guys’ night?” Buck offers. 

“Sure,” Chris says, “Tommy’s really cool.” 

“Yeah, he is, huh?” Buck says. Because Tommy might be the coolest, best person he knows. 

“Works for me,” Eddie says, leaning over to hit play on Close Encounters, “but we are not watching Star Wars with him, again.” 

Chris laughs and Buck rolls his eyes fondly as the music fades in on the TV. A few minutes later his phone chimes and lights up again with a message, I love you too, honey ❤️.

[steddiealltheway]

After the bats, Steve gets a bit self conscious about his scars, and starts going on less and less dates because he doesn’t know how to explain them to girls.

He’s hanging out with the fruity four when he starts complaining about it. Eddie snorts and says, “Imagine how I feel.”

Steve cringes and apologizes because everyone knows he got the worst of it.

Robin starts suddenly laughing maniacally, and they all look at her. Nancy asks what she’s laughing about.

Robin jokes, “Well the solution is right in front of you. Just date each other.”

Nancy joins in laughing with her, but Steve and Eddie eye each other. Steve had never thought a gaze could hold more than words until he sees the way Eddie is staring at him.

In all honesty, Steve wasn’t just missing all the physical stuff that comes with a relationship. Well, he was definitely missing it, but more importantly, he was missing the way it felt to have someone that loved him so unconditionally. In reality, he had only had the illusion of that before, but it had been nice. And it was especially nice to care for someone so deeply that it felt like his life had a whole new purpose - to make them happy.

The more he looks at Eddie, the more the laughter from the girls becomes white noise. He thinks that he could treat him that way. Hold him as if he’s doing it for him and not for himself. Call him to wish him a good morning and good night so he could be the first and last thing on his mind every day. Also, to give himself a reason to wake up and a calming voice that can lull him to sleep.

Maybe it would work. Even if Eddie’s not a girl, he thinks he might be able to overlook that. Especially with the beautiful depths of his brown eyes and the big, soft lips of his and that adorable nose even though it’s not a button nose like Steve usually likes. Honestly, Eddie is beautiful in his own way, and Steve knows he isn’t immune to it especially in large doses.

So, he shouldn’t even begin to consider the thought. Fake dating or sort of dating Eddie is completely off the table.

But Eddie’s staring at him, eyes scanning over him and settling on his lips in a way that makes Steve’s heart thud so hard he thinks everyone in the room might be able to hear it.

Okay, maybe the dating stuff isn’t completely off the table, but there’s no way he’s bringing it up first. He nods at Eddie once and looks away trying to signal an end to whatever discussion / consideration they just had. But he can still feel Eddie’s eyes linger on him the rest of the night.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, three of the four are leaving Steve’s place with Nancy offering Robin a ride and Eddie lingering behind a bit. Steve’s been overly aware of his presence since Robin’s whole dating each other suggestion.

What makes it worse is that Eddie is also aware of what his presence does to Steve and keeps shooting him knowing looks and winks. Until now.

Now, he hovers in Steve’s doorway and watches as Nancy and Robin pile into a car and drive off. Then, he takes a few seconds before turning back to Steve saying, “Tell me I’m not the only one considering Robin’s idea, please.”

Steve thinks about it for a moment before he takes Eddie by the wrist and pulls him back inside, closing the door behind him.

“I’m not saying like… actually dating,” Eddie says, the confidence from earlier all but evaporating into thin air as he fidgets anxiously with his rings. “I mean like… we’re just each other’s rock or something. Hell, if you just let me flirt at you and tell me things are going to be okay, then I’m fine with that. You can look at it as practice while you regain your confidence with the ladies or whatever. Just…” Eddie trails off, and Steve thinks he knows exactly what he means.

He finishes Eddie’s thought out loud, “It’s hard going through everything we did without someone to hold us and tell us it’s okay to feel scared sometimes. I mean… it’s one thing to have friends, best friends even, but… they get girlfriends and while you’re their platonic soulmate, their actual soulmate always comes first a little.” Steve sits back on his couch and runs his hands over his face. He hadn’t meant to project about Robin and her relationship with Nancy because he’s happy for them really. He’s just jealous that he doesn’t have what they have.

And really, he knows that friendships are everything, and Robin is his everything but… he sighs. Sometimes it would be nice to be held and kissed and get lost in someone else so deeply that everything else disappears.

Maybe that’s just Steve though. Always running from relationship to relationship for something he’s never able to find.

The couch shifts next to him, and a hand slowly comes up to Steve’s pulling it away from his face, and intertwining their fingers together. Steve’s heart skips a beat as he turns to stare at his and Eddie’s hands together. Steve talks without really thinking, “I know relationships aren’t everything. Friendships are really what makes a person whole, and you can’t get everything out of a relationship but… I really want to trial run this thing with us. We can call it speed running to more than best friends or something.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “That sounds like friends with benefits.”

Steve rolls the term around a bit in his head and squeezes Eddie’s hand while shrugging. “That works too,” Steve mutters.

Eddie shifts towards him and looks him in the eye. “You’ve gotta clear up what that means, man. Terms and conditions and shit.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips. “I wouldn’t mind kissing you. Going on dates or hanging out or whatever you want to call it. Cuddling - hell, anything touching I’m fine with… with reason,” Steve says although with the way Eddie is staring at this lips and the warmth coursing through his body, he’s not sure he has a limit to the whole touching thing. Shit. He knew he wouldn’t be immune to Eddie.

“I’m good with that. Yeah, just… communication is key here, right?” Eddie asks eyes still dipping down to Steve’s lips and back to his eyes between his words.

“Communication,” Steve echoes, staring at Eddie’s lips before communicating, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Finally,” Eddie says before leaning forward and locking their lips together, his hand squeezing Steve’s but he can hardly register it because of how badly he wants to do nothing but kiss Eddie until he’s forgotten any bad thing to ever happen to him.

Then, Steve feels it. The small (big) part of his heart that’s screaming at him that he needs this to be more than a friends with benefits trial run. He needs Eddie to be his and only his if a simple kiss can ruin him like this.

He pulls away and looks at Eddie, searching his gaze and seeing something there he hadn’t seen before. “Eddie, remember everything I literally just said about the trial run and friends with benefits.”

Eddie nods in response. His hand still in Steve’s squeezes.

“I don’t want that,” Steve says and panics when he sees the broken look cross over Eddie’s face as he pulls his hand away.

“Sorry, man. I shouldn’t have-”

Steve cuts him off. “It’s because I want more than that, and you deserve more than that. Screw this trial run and all that shit. I want to date you. Like… actually date you and give this a shot. If you want to that is.”

Eddie’s tongue quickly swipes over his top lip over and over nervously as he stares at Steve. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. God, Eddie, I can’t believe I even suggested friends with benefits like a dick,” Steve says with a groan running a hand through his hair.

“I’m the one who accepted it very willingly I might add,” Eddie says with a big smile that fades to a smaller one. “But I’d love more than anything to make this something more.”

Steve’s stomach flips and he feels absolutely giddy with joy. “Quickest trial run ever, right?”

Eddie laughs. “Thank god.”

Steve leans in and kisses him again before pulling back and saying, “Best communication ever, right? Good thinking on your part.”

“The best thinking,” Eddie says then kisses Steve again.

Steve thinks that maybe he’s finally found what he’s always been searching for (but really doesn’t want to give Robin the credit).

[mylifesjustacarousel]

bridget’s sister - part ll

pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested!)

summary: part two of bridget’s sister!

type: fluff, then angst, then fluff

CW: bullying

WC: 3K

part 1 | part 3 | part 4 |(requests are open!)

“Oh my goodness, you guys kissed?” Bridget squealed, pulling you over to her bed to sit down. “How was it? Who kissed who? If he hurts you, I swear to-”

“B!” you interrupted her, “It was very nice, I kissed him, and we, uh, we actually have a date later tonight.” Bridget’s eyes widened as a smile blossomed on her face. She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tight. “I am so happy for you! What’re you guys doing? Is it, like, a date date?”

“We’re having a movie night in my room. But, I do need your help. I know neither of us have a lot of experience in the dating category, but I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” You got up, starting to pace the room. “I know what you’re going to say, that if he doesn’t like me for me then it’s not worth it. But, I don’t know how to do any of this dating stuff at all, and we’re technically not even together yet because he never really even asked me.”

Bridget got up, grabbing onto your shoulders. “First things first, stop talking. Secondly, I have been waiting to plan a date for you since the day you were born. Now, he seems like an action movie kind of person, but I suggest a comedy. Everyone likes comedy. Don’t be nervous, you’re going to have the best time.”

“I wish it was that easy to not be nervous, Bridg. He’s such a natural flirt, I cannot compete.” Bridget nodded, letting go of your shoulders. “Just do what feels comfortable. Put your head on his shoulder, get close to him. But, just remember, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

Bridget went over to her tray of freshly baked cookies, putting a few into a plastic bag and handing them off to you. “You’re going to have a great time tonight. Now, take these and go get ready. I’ll see you tomorrow, buttercup.”

“If this doesn’t go well I’m throwing myself into the Enchanted Lake.”

“Goodnight, buttercup.” Bridget gently pushed you out of the room, shutting the door behind you. You groaned, taking a deep breath before making your way to your room.

You finished lighting the last candle before setting your matchbox down and looking around the room. It was perfect, thanks to a little help from Bridget. You had candles, comfy blankets, freshly baked cookies. Perfect for a date. You smoothed out your outfit, a simple Merlin Academy hoodie and sweatpants, and waited anxiously. Your palms felt like the ocean was living on them.

When there was a knock at the door, you took a deep breath. Okay, this is it. You opened the door. “Hey, James. I, uh, just finish setting up. Come in!” Hook walked in, taking a glance around the room. But you were looking at him. He was wearing a red hoodie, he clearly had a favorite color, and pajama pants. His hair was messy and he looked absolutely gorgeous. He noticed you staring and went over to you, his arms snaking around your waist. “I know I’m incredibly handsome, but you don’t have to keep staring.” he teased.

“I was doing nothing of the sort.” You shrugged, trying to pretend like your face wasn’t beet red. Hook smirked, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck, absolutely just melting into his touch. He pulled away after a few seconds. “It looks nice in here. Did you pick out a movie?”

“Oh! Um, give me one second!” You pulled away from him, going over to your shelf where your TV sat. You picked up the movie case, showing it to him. “It’s a comedy, I heard good things about it. But, if you wanna watch something else, we can look for another movie! I really don’t mind!”

“Easy there, lass. It’s perfect. Pop it in and come join me.” Hook slipped his boots off before sitting down on your bed, making himself comfortable. After putting the movie in and pressing play, you crawled onto your bed, sitting down next to him. He wrapped his arm around you. “There we go, darling. Nice and comfy.”

You scooted closer to him, hesitating before leaning your head against his shoulder. “Is this okay? I have no clue what I’m doing.” you mumbled, looking up at him. Hook broke out into giggles. “Darling, it’s okay! You’re getting yourself worked up. Here, come here.” He snaked his other arm under your legs, moving you so you were sat in his lap. You laid your head on his chest, your nerves calming as you listened to his heartbeat. You didn’t think someone so cruel could be so sweet.

As the movie went on, the two of you got more and more comfortable with each other. In fact, you weren’t really paying attention to the movie much at all. You were more so paying attention to him; his perfect smile, the way his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt, his infectious laugh. Hook looked down at you, a grin breaking out on his face. “Do I have something on my face? You’re staring an awful lot.”

“Just… enjoying the view.” you replied. “I’m sorry for doubting you, by the way. There is more to you under that hard exterior. In fact, I think you might be a little bit of a softie.” Hook cupped your cheek, his face mere centimeters away from yours. “That’s for you, and for you only.”

“I thought we were watching a movie, pirate boy.”

“Movie schmovie.” He closed the gap between the two of you, his hand cradling your face like you were a priceless art piece he was terrified of breaking. You welcomed his embrace, his lips moving against yours with such tenderness. It felt like butterflies were erupting in your stomach and like your cheeks were on fire. Hook pulled his lips away after what seemed like hours, but was only minutes in reality. Though, you kind of wished for the former.

With every second the two of you spent together, you felt yourself getting more and more comfortable with him. It was hard for you to let your walls down around others, but he just made it so easy. Surprisingly. It was still shocking that the arrogant pirate who threatened to make everyone who looked at him wrong walk the plank, could be so caring towards someone.

As the movie reached it’s end, the two of you got up to say your goodbyes. There was still a curfew, after all. Hook wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Don’t miss my beautifulness too much.” he teased, earning a shove from you. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, James.”

He blew you a final kiss before making his way out of your room, shutting the door behind himself. Once the door was shut you started jumping up and down, squealing to yourself. You couldn’t even help it, he was such a charmer.

The next day quickly approached and you were sat in the courtyard with Bridget and Ella. They were talking about their classes for the day while you were sat beside Ella, doodling in your notebook. Ella noticed and glanced over. “James Hook. James plus y/n. James Hook with a heart.” Ella read off what you were writing and you quickly scooted away, hiding your notebook against your chest. “I assume things are going well?” Bridget asked. “Has he asked you out yet?”

You blushed, realizing that he hadn’t even really asked you out yet. “Well, no. But, we’re hanging out tomorrow night, so maybe he’ll do it then.” Ella raised a brow. “Maybe? If he doesn’t do it soon, then maybe you need to ask him. Do the rest of the VK’s y’know… know?”

“Um, I’m not really sure.” you mumbled. You know that the rest of the VKs would be absolutely furious to hear about you and Hook. The princesses of Wonderland are the types of people that the VKs despise, even if they don’t have an exact reason for it. “I don’t really want to be a secret, but I can’t say that I want anything to do with Uliana either.”

The bell started to ring and you got up, shoving your notebook into your bag. “I have Beginners Enchanting, I’ve gotta get going. I’ll be by later, B.” Bridget got up, pulling you into a hug. “We’ll see you. Let us know if he asks you!” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, mom. I’ll see you later.”

You put your bag over your shoulder and walked off, making your way to your next class. On the way there, unbeknownst to you, you had walked right by the VKs. Hook grinned as he saw you walk past, his eyes filled with adoration. Uliana quickly noticed, shooting him an evil glare. “I don’t know what you see in her, Hook. Just look at her, such a prissy pink princess. What’s your plan?”

“You’d feel differently if you got to know her.” he replied. “She’s different. I really like her.” Uliana scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You say that about every girl you can get your hands on. Come on, let me have a little fun with her, it wouldn’t hurt.” Hook immediately shook his head. “Nope. Absolutely not, she is off limits.”

Uliana had a shocked look on her face, like someone told her that her pet eel had died. “Off limits? Listen here, pirate wannabe. You don’t get to tell me who is off limits. You know what? Maybe I’ll pay her a little visit later, say congrats on the boyfriend. Or are you just gonna string her along like you do the rest?”

“It’s not like that, Uli. I am going to ask her out, not that it’s any of your business. Leave her alone, I’m serious. C’mon, Morgie, let’s go.” Hook gestured for the boy to follow him and he happily agreed, trailing behind the pirate. Uliana turned to Maleficent and Hades, a sinister smirk on her face. “Be a dear, Mali, and distract him tonight? I have some business to take care of.”

You were on your way back from your final class of the day when you were stopped in your tracks as you were passing through the courtyard. Uliana was stood in front of you, that same sinister smirk on her face. “Hey, girl! Funny seeing you here! What’re the chances?” she said, walking towards you. You took a step back, feeling uneasy. “Oh, what? You think I’m gonna hurt you? No, no. I just wanted to say congrats, No one ever thought you would get a boyfriend, especially someone like Hook. Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

“I trust you as far as I can throw you, Uliana.” you mumbled, taking another step back. She sneered, getting in your face. “Don’t be so shy, princess. But, don’t get too comfortable, you know how he is with girls.” Uliana took on a caring tone, but you could tell she didn’t care for you one bit. “He tells them that he cares, uses them for whatever he wants, and then goes on to the next one. But, y’know… boys, right? So, my advice to you?” She got closer to you, the backs of your legs hitting the fountain. “Stay away from Hook, or you’re going to regret it. He doesn’t like girls like you. No, he likes them a little more… like me.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, squid face.” You felt a rush of confidence go through you. She scared you, but not that much. “Feeling jealous, Uli? I know how you get when all of his attention isn’t on you for once.” She scowled, her hands reaching up to grip your shoulders. “You stay away from him, or it’s gonna really suck for the both of you.”

Her hands gripped your shoulders tighter as she pushed you right back into the fountain, the cold water enveloping you. You flailed around before your hands found the bottom of the fountain, pushing yourself up. Huffing, you looked around for Uliana. She was nowhere to be found.

This isn’t gonna be good, you thought.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your alarm clock went off and you reached over, hitting the top of it to turn it off. You were already awake, in fact, you had never gone to sleep. Uliana’s words rung through your head the entire night, rendering you sleepless. She didn’t scare you, or at least you thought that she didn’t. After you had to walk the rest of the way home in soaking wet clothes, it made you realize that maybe she wasn’t messing around. There’s no way that Hook would let her actually do anything to you… right?

You got up to get ready for the day, feeling a sense of dread. For once, you weren’t excited to go to class, or to see James. Not because of him, but because of Uliana. She ruined everything. She had you doubting the person who worked so hard to gain your trust.

Grabbing your backpack, you made your way out of your room, praying that you didn’t happen to run into Hook. “Hey, Buttercup.” A voice called out, almost making you jump ten feet into the air. You turned around, seeing Bridget standing there.

“She knows, B.” you mumbled, feeling yourself slowly slip into a state of panic. Bridget instantly realized and wrapped an arm around you, bringing you into her room. “How did she find out?” she asked. You threw your bag to the floor, your chest heaving up and down. “I don’t know! B-But she found me last night when I was coming home and, um, she pushed me into the fountain and she told me to stay away from him. That he was just using me!”

Bridget frowned. “Okay, okay. Big breaths for me.” She held onto you, taking deep breaths with you as she tried to calm you down. You took shaky breaths, tears threatening to spill. “I don’t know what to do, Bridget..” She say you down, pulling you close so that your head was on her chest. “Don’t let Uli get to you. She’s mean, and she wants you to feel this way. Don’t give her the satisfaction. I think you should talk to James.”

“I don’t want her to hurt him, I don’t want to lose him.” you whispered, desperation in your voice. She rubbed your arm. “You won’t lose him. Please go talk to him, buttercup. I’ll even go with you, if you’d like.”

You sighed, curling up in her arms. “I’ve got this. This is, uh, this is my fight. Unfortunately.” Bridget just nodded, holding you until you felt ready to go. After a few minutes you got up, silently grabbing your bag off of the floor. “Are you sure you wanna go to class today? I’ll let you stay here, I’ll even tell your professors that you’re sick.”

“I’m okay. Thank you, B. I love you.” You blew her a kiss before leaving her room, shutting the door behind yourself.

Hook spotted you making your way to your first class of the day and made his way over to you. “Hey, darling!” He wrapped his arms around your waist, twirling you around. You leaned into his touch, a pained look on your face. “Hi, James…”

He frowned, his brows furrowing as he tried to read your expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I, um…” you gulped, trying to build up the courage to say what you were about to say. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore, James.” His face dropped. If it weren’t so noisy with other students passing by, you could probably hear the sound of his heart shattering. “I’m sorry, what?”

You frantically looked around, making sure none of the other VKs were around. “I’m sorry. I really like you, but I can’t risk losing you completely. Ul- She knows. She knows about us, and she’s not happy.”

“What did she tell you, y/n? Whatever she said, it’s not true.” He cupped your cheek. “What’s not true? She told me all about how you are with girls. Boys, right?” you grumbled, avoiding his gaze. He huffed, feeling anger bubbling in his chest. “Darling… Yes, that is true. But, I don’t want that with you.” He hooked your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I’ve done some things that I’m not particularly the proudest of, but being with you isn’t one of them. Whatever Uli said doesn’t matter, because I’m telling you right now that I really like you. I do, and I want this to be more than just a fling.”

“But, Uliana…”

“I don’t care!” he exclaimed, “I don’t care about how she feels about us. I care about how you feel about us, though. If this isn’t something you want, then that’s fine. But, I’m not going to stop fighting for us.” There was a beat of silence before you pulled him close, kissing him passionately. He held your waist, his hand playing with the fabric of your shirt.

You pulled away, giggling to yourself when you saw your lipstick smeared on his lips. You took your thumb, gently wiping it off. He took your hand in his, bringing your knuckles to his lips and giving them a gentle kiss. “I will do whatever it takes to make sure you never have to worry about Uli again. I, uh, was going to ask you this when I saw you tonight, but I just need to ask you right now.” He let go of your hand, his arms wrapping around you once more.

“Will you be my girlfriend, darling?”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a little mark. “It would be silly of me to say no. Yes, of course I will.”

“YOU!”

a/n: teehee i know i’m evil. part 3?

taglist: @skellseerwriting @sleepyking @ljaylmaoo @lesbpotmurdocklokistan @yokolesbianism @eretsupremacy89 @descendantsramblings

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

heyyy the anon who requested the sonic having a bisexual awakening, yes part two is in order (#^.^#)

would love sonic sinking further into his denial like “nope! I just think of him as a very good friend, the feeling is friendship!” And then him being crushed by a bunch of bricks when he finally comes to term with it

“Woah, I’m Bisexual! I Didn’t Know That!” (Part 2!)

Pairing: Sonic the Hedgehog x Male Reader

Requested: Yes (by the same anon! Hello again ^^).

Description: Bisexual disaster Sonic. That’s all I can say.

Notes: I agree, part two is in order! More disaster bisexual Sonic is needed in this world!

(Like before, Reader will use He/Him pronouns.)

(Still not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

“Uh…you okay, Sonic? You’ve been staring at that paper for a while,” Tails says, his namesakes swishing behind him.

And Tails was right; ever since you gave Sonic your number, he’d been contemplating calling it.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, ‘m fine, bro, don’t worry!” Sonic says.

“If you say so,” Tails says with a shrug, turning back around to his work desk. “Did you get some girl’s number or something?”

“Uh, no. It- It’s a guy’s, actually,” Sonic mutters.

Tails pauses and turns back around.

“You like guys??” Tails asks, not in an offensive way.

“Whaaaat? Pshhhh! Him and I are just pals!” Sonic states.

“…Uh-huh. Sure,” Tails says.

“I’m serious! All he did was save me and-” Sonic pauses, his face tinting pink. “…and call me cute-”

“Sonic. There’s no way you’re this oblivious,” Tails says.

“We’re just friends, Tails! Nothing more,” Sonic states, causing Tails to facepalm. “I’m goin’ on a run, byeeeee!”

Sonic zooms out of the house at high speeds, and Tails lets out a sigh.

“Good for him for being bi, but seriously, see the signs, Sonic,” Tails mutters to himself.

Meanwhile, with Sonic, he seems to be out of it, running while thinking.

“(I mean, come on, of course we’re just friends! I’m straight!)” Sonic thinks to himself. “(At least, I think I am-)”

Sonic gets cut out of his thoughts as he suddenly runs face first into a tree, causing him to fall on his back, letting out a groan of pain.

“You really are a clumsy one, aren’t you, blue?” you ask, your face coming into Sonic’s view.

“Not all the time…” he mutters.

You reach out your hand for Sonic to take, and he does, you helping him up.

“So, any reason in particular that you’re out here, cutie?” you ask him.

“Oh, uh, y’know, just goin’ out for a run,” he says, noticing you two are still holding hands, letting go of your hand and putting his hands behind his neck with a blush on his face.

“Is that a thing you do often? It’d be nice to have a running partner,” you tell him before smirking. “And a partner in general~”

Sonic’s face goes entirely red, the only noise coming out of his mouth being a quiet “Ah-”

You chuckle, kissing the back of one of his hands.

“Only if you want to though, Sonic,” you tell him.

“Ah- H- How did you get my name?” Sonic asks.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize Mobius’s most handsome hero?” you ask him.

Oh god, you were going to kill him with all of this flirting.

But he doesn’t think he minds.

[eternalfics]

hi, this is the anon who sent regarding the elysia!reader x saiki ask!!

elysia!reader is an elegant, sweet, calm and cheerful person who is always positive, they're described as someone who "enjoys everything", they often flirt and tease their peers here and there + they're a little egoistic (knows that they're pretty, cute n shit like teruhashi for example)

when they don't like someone she passive aggressively and lightheartedly insult them in a way

so they're basically like teruhashi except that they're a really selfless person + is aggressively kind to everyone!! it's only a summary of elysias character but i hope this cleared it up to you!!

saiki with a sweet! reader

summary: saiki with his annoying true love 😘

a/n: okay, anon. I know I’ve been lazy lately but yk ur girl she just had to snooze for a bit 😴 BUT IM BACK AND READY TO FEED UR SAIKI BRAINROTS 😜 (a bit hyper too)

okay like the angel you are, your very nice to saiki (why wouldn’t you be? 🤨). as saiki’s s/o, it’s your job to- AHEM

compliment him every second of his life

be the extroverted partner in this relationship 😊

be the definition of an angel

bond with his parents 😉 (might aswell leave you if you don’t)

DO NOT TALK TO TORITSUKA

and many more! so let’s make headcanons for those erm- ✨rules✨ that I made perfectly for you.

COMPLIMENTS: who likes compliments? I do! anyway, compliments are a sort of good and bad thing for your relationship. there’s times where saiki feels down and his insecurities take over which is where you come in! instantly hyping him up. (ur amazing) and there is also times where saiki’s in his ✨confident era✨ (that’s what you call it, I think he’s getting tired of it 😭) and maybe he just wants a little bit of getting spoiled (rarely). but!! there’s also times when you are down and kinda upset. he’s used to your cheerful and happy personality! and he’d rather keep it that way too. so sometimes he just does a little bit of ✨speaking into ur mind✨ (ik I added too many sparkles, stop)

Scenario/Blurb

“Did you do something with your hair?” the voice randomly ringed in your head. You jumped, and looked around only to see Saiki putting his elbow on the table while he rested his head on his hand. You instantly move your hand up to wave at him cheerfully. “You noticed! You aren’t looking so bad either,” you thought back at him. You swear you saw the side of his mouth turn up..

MBTI: yay, we’re on personality! fun fact: saiki is an INTP I am too, this is a sign we’re supposed to be together 🤫 . it’s expected to you to be the extrovert of the relationship right? well it’s right! 🤪 but sometimes it’s a struggle-

saiki often panics (mentally) in public if he loses you. you’re like the fan in a hot place, the light in the dark to him, so you can’t just leave him!

sometimes, you encourage him to try something new! e.g: maybe a new outfit when you guys are going out/ going out with friends. he wonders how does he say yes every time 🤔

Note: Ik this isn’t enough soo I’ve decided prob tomorrow or something that I’ll edit my post and you guys get more! Deal? 🤓

Update: so.. it’s been like more than 3 months.. I don’t think I’m ever gonna finish this ❤️❤️🥰

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: smooth as butter Steve flirting with Eddie while the CC boys watch in shock as their ruthless Eddie turns red(?) and gets all blushy bc he doesn't know how to deal with this STEVE???? making it better:it happens during DND the one time Eddie gets Steve to play & the entire time Steve's human bard character flirting hardcore with Eddie via his NPC's (the kids aren't involved in this one just Steddie & Corroded Coffin boys)

MY LOVEEEEEEE!!!! Okay I have never played. I know. Hush, I know. My best friend wants me to so bad she bought me dice. And like, I probably will, but like Steve, my brain is trying to not only deal with math, but also just how involved it all is. I like games that take about half a brain cell. I'm also super bad at the flirting thing, in real life and when writing. I just cannot do it my friends. But I did my best here and I hope it isn't the worst😂 - Mickala ❤️

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

He was doing this for Dustin.

He made a character sheet with Lucas, went over the basics, learned that maybe the math part wouldn’t be so bad.

And then he convinced Eddie to let him do a one shot with the Corroded Coffin guys so he could get a feel for it all without Dustin knowing.

He didn’t get that creative with his character according to Lucas, but he was also supportive and understanding that Steve wasn’t doing this as a regular thing.

Eddie explained to the guys that they needed to be patient, that Steve was genuinely trying to learn.

“Everyone was new once, so I don’t wanna hear anything from any of you about how annoying it is to have to take it so slow and explain everything. He’s trying to do a nice thing for Henderson and we’re going to be nice.”

Everyone groaned, but nodded in agreement.

“Are we talking about your crush on him yet, or is that still off the table?” Gareth had the gall to ask.

“There’s no crush to even have on the table,” Eddie said.

“Sure, dude.”

—--------------

Things were not going well.

Well, okay, they weren’t going bad.

It’s just that Lucas apparently explained to Steve that being in character was very important and Steve failed to mention that his character’s charisma was the highest possible option.

He shouldn’t be surprised by that.

Maybe he’s just surprised with all the blatant flirting.

The guys keep shooting him looks like they know that he’s struggling, that they can see that he is barely able to hold onto the power the DM usually has.

“The guard stops you, but he recognizes you. ‘You’re the one who stole the sword!’ he yells, catching the attention of the other guards. You panic because your party is still hiding in the bush with strict instructions not to be seen unless they draw their weapons on you. How will you respond?”

Steve smirked.

Not good. Run away. Get out, Munson, you’re fucked.

But he couldn’t leave.

He was the DM, and they were barely halfway done with what he had planned.

He had to see this through and he had to give Steve the best possible introduction to this game.

It was for Dustin.

“I’d probably have to insist that it wasn’t me he saw, but that I sure wish I’d seen him before. Maybe wink at him,” Steve said. “Actually, definitely wink at him.”

Steve looked at everyone else, smile silently asking for approval.

Everyone smirked at Eddie before giving him a thumbs up.

Traitors.

He’d be saying something later for sure.

“The guard is still suspicious, but waves the other guards off. He looks you over, circles you, decides to take your only weapon.”

“Not my only weapon. I still have plenty of time to distract him.”

Eddie squints at him, just as suspicious as the guard in their game.

“Roll for-”

“Persuasion, right?” Steve interrupted.

“Sure. Roll for persuasion, Stevie,” Eddie pretended not to be flustered at Steve remembering aspects of the game.

“18!” Steve yelled. “Plus the 13. So that’s…” he held his hand up while he thought about it. “31!”

Everyone at the table cheered except for Eddie.

He knew what was coming.

“I offer to let the guard check me for weapons in private if he’s still suspicious. I tell him it’s better to take all my clothes off where he can do something about it.”

Eddie hated what was happening.

He hated that he could feel how red his face was, and how much Steve was thriving off of putting Eddie off of his own game.

He hated the way the guys were all watching, literally holding their breath for Eddie’s reaction.

“The guard decides to lead you past the gate, but instead of taking you to the entrance to the castle, he leads you down a side road. It leads to a small cottage, and you start to worry that your party won’t find you.”

Steve doesn’t even hesitate.

“I let him lead me where he wants. I can take it.”

Eddie is going to die. Right here.

Steve knows what he’s doing, what he’s saying.

He knows what he is doing to Eddie.

And, okay, maybe they haven’t talked about it, maybe they’ve both been avoiding the very obvious tension between them for months. Maybe Eddie could have taken a chance any of the times they’ve been alone lately to finally talk about it.

Or maybe Steve would just keep flirting with him through this stupid game until Eddie couldn’t even do what he needed to do.

And everyone around them would just get to watch it unfold.

Jeff, his only friend at the moment, cleared his throat and decided to speak up.

“I think the rest of the party should follow. Just in case he needs backup. Guys?”

Thank God for Jeff.

It continues, the rest of the party finds a way to get past the guards, and Eddie admits to himself that he’s making it easier on purpose.

He wants, no, needs this game to end.

And he gets his wish ten minutes later when the phone rings and it’s Dustin, begging for a ride.

Eddie ignores the fact that he called his trailer knowing Steve would be here already, but the rest of the group doesn’t.

While Steve is on the phone, they all quietly tease Eddie.

“If I knew Steve would fluster you this much, I think we would have invited him a long time ago,” Grant said.

“Yeah, we probably would’ve had much easier campaigns if he joined in high school,” Gareth added.

“Yeah? Next time you all get to die, how about that? Terrible, bloody deaths. Gareth gets tortured.”

Before any of them could answer, Steve came into the room, looking a bit sad.

“Sorry about this guys. I couldn’t really come up with a reason that I couldn’t go without giving it away what I was doing. We could pause and come back to it later?”

Eddie knew the guys would be fine with just calling it here; They’d managed to get far enough along that they knew it would have been a good win for them.

“Nah, you did good. Maybe you can join us for real after Dustin’s birthday campaign,” Jeff said.

Steve beamed back at him.

“Maybe, yeah. If you guys are cool with it.”

Was he…shy?

He was just flirting up a storm! Absolutely taking the lead in a game he’d never played before! And now he was being shy?

“Hell yeah!” They all agreed.

Great, Steve was making friends with his friends.

“Alright!” Steve clapped his hands together. “I’m off to get the kid. Thanks guys!”

He started to leave, but stopped by Eddie.

Then his lips were on the top of Eddie’s head.

“Bye guys!” He said as he continued to walk out.

Eddie’s eyes were wide, unblinking. The guys were all staring at him with the same wide, unblinking eyes.

The front door to the trailer closed.

“Uh,” Eddie said.

“Did he-”

“He just-”

“On your head.”

“Uh.”

The front door opened.

Steve was standing in the doorway to the kitchen area, eyes wide, unblinking.

“Did I-”

“Uh huh,” Eddie answered.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that…okay?”

He was looking nervously between the guys and Eddie, like he expected someone to punch him.

“Oh! Yeah. No, they’re good. Um. Did you want to kiss me?”

“Yeah. I kinda…always do?”

“Always?”

“Yes. It’s kind of all I think about.”

Eddie took it all back; This was the best and he had never been happier that Steve wanted to play D&D.

He didn’t even care about the guys watching as he stood from his chair and walked to Steve in the doorway.

“Me too.”

He pulled Steve against him, ignoring the whistles and cheers from the table, and kissed him.

The kiss left them both breathless, despite being barely more than a peck.

“Um, I should go get Dustin,” Steve whispered.

“Yeah. Come back after?”

“Will everyone still be here?” Steve asked nervously.

“Nope, just you and me, sweetheart,” Eddie replied.

“Good. I’ll be back soon, then.”

When Steve left, Eddie turned back to the group, lovestruck grin on his face.

“So it’s off the table now, right?” Gareth asked, smirking.

“Shut up.”