#bastard boy. i hate him (affectionate) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slyvieselkie · 9 months ago

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Your Eyes - Sakusa Kiyoomi

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Warning: slightly suggestive at the end

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙

Sakusa is insecure about not being a good boyfriend, expressive or affectionate.

Kiyoomi Sakusa is not prince charming, one could say he was the complete opposite. He was honest and blunt about how he felt, the things he disliked. Sakusa hated germs and crowds, he avoided people as much as possible. The only he had going for him was his looks and volleyball, which didn't compensate for much.

That's why Sakusa realised he spent all of his luck on dating you. The 'everyone's friend' girl, the personification of bubbly, and cuteness all in one bundle. The world let out a gasp when you two revealed your relationship, why and how did this happen? Don't ask him, everything happened in a blink of an eye and now he has the sunshine next to him everyday.

And it's not he treats you differently. You two don't really touch, the most that happens is a hug in private. View this incident here.

Evidence #1 - At School

It's been a week since he's started dating you and Sakusa's getting tired of the stares. Yes, he understands that you two shouldn't be together-get over it!

"Ha ha, everyone's a little restless about the news eh?", Motoya laugh trying to lift the spirits up but its not working.

He lets out a sigh behind the mask, maybe he should just break up with you? It seems like a shitty thing to do, but this is getting a little ridiculous.

"Sakun~! Good morning~!", confused he turns around and sees you lunging for him.

You've clearly just woken up from the way there are strands sticking out at the back. There's also a grain of rice stuck to the corner of your mouth, like always. And the way you're running tells him that you forgot some books today, most likely History.

Instincts take over and he slides to the left, you blink in confusion as the ground suddenly zooms towards you. Motoya jaws drop as you face plant and lie flat on the ground, others also gather around and some make a side-glance at Sakusa. However, he doesn't do a single thing. You giggle and wave everyone off, turning to the boy with beam. Everyone frowns as the two of you walk off.

Verdict: should've helped you up but didn't

He doesn't really talk much, you mainly chat his ear off, and when he does its always a diss.

Evidence #2 - Shopping with your sister

On a rare day where Sakusa agrees to go out with you, the two of you follows your older sister to go shopping since she has all of the membership cards. While she's a little weirded by him, the kid is nothing like how you describe him, she's willing to give him a chance.

At first he's polite, he thanks you for buying him a cool shirt and her for the discount. After that is where everything falls apart. She and him wait outside the dressing room for you to come out in the dress she chose.

"I'm out, how do I look?"

You look cute in the sundress with daisy prints, she grins but Sakusa goes, "You look a little chubby, and you also look ten."

Her jaws drop while you laugh, "Are you serious?! No!", and run back inside to change.

Your older sister is fuming because not only did he insult you, he insulted her eye for fashion! Unforgivable!

That's why when Sakusa leaves the table at the cafe to go to the bathroom, she's letting out everything and seething.

"That bastard, who does he think he is?! Only I get to make fun of you, call you chubby, and ten! What is he?! He's been your little boyfriend for two months and now he thinks he gets that right?!"

You soothe her by feeding her pieces of cake, "Come on, Sakun wasn't that rude and he was right", "Hey, whose side are you on right now?! What's gonna happen when you bring him home to meet our parents?! Our ancestors will roll in their graves!"

"Hey hey you're thinking a little too far!", you sigh, "He's only like that in front of people, otherwise Sakun's pretty sweet", she snorts, "So he only humiliates you in public?"

Sakusa hides behind the corner for a bit longer until she's fully calmed down. He peeks out from behind the corner and watches as you play with your earlobe, tired of trying to play civil.

He also doesn't wear the shirt just yet, it's still in his closet in the shopping bag and folded neatly.

Verdict: should've just said you looked cute

You two also rarely hang outside of school, he says you see each other everyday and he has volleyball so its not possible.

Evidence #3 - training camp (made up for plot sake)

He's been at the volleyball training camp since Monday, and only today on Wednesday has Sakusa decided to contact you. You don't call him because he most likely won't pick up or will just tell you to call back at another time.

While everyone's getting ready for sleep, Sakusa sneaks away and face-times you.

"Sakun!", you pick up after one ring and he stares down at your giddy smile, "...Hey."

You're belly-down on the bed and the mirror on the side shows your legs kicking back and forth. The volleyball player notices your hair is a little damp and small droplets drips down onto the fluffy robe you're wearing. He doesn't get to say much after that, its predominantly you telling him about what happened at school. It becomes white noise and he only tunes back in when you've trailed off.

The boy lets out a sigh, "What's wrong with you", he can see your legs have stopped as you pout and murmur, "Well, I just miss you a lot."

The ridiculousness makes him snort, "Idiot, its been two days", your whining zooming closer on the screen, ""That's sooo long though, don't you miss me~?"

Nothing is aggravating him but he shoots back, "Not at all, you're annoying as hell", you gasp and wail from the other side, "Sakun, you're so mean~!"

Sakusa entertains you for a little longer before he's hanging up.

After a tired sigh, he turns around and scowls because literally the whole camp is there watching him like a soap opera, "You fu-", "Wow you're a complete jerk", Washio shuts him down.

Everyone claps in agreement and he clicks his tongue, "Mind your own business", then Oikawa grins like the Cheshire cat, "My my, I wonder if you'll be saying that when she has a new guy~", his partner elbows him, "Shut up Shittykawa, no need to state the obvious."

He's getting pissed off now.

Then the blonde twin from Inarizaki doubles down, "I have to say, she sounds adorable and I'm sure she's pretty as well. Why don't you share her number so one of us can actually take care of her~!", the two idiots from Karasuno join in, "Here here, that's no way to treat any girl you bastard!", "Well said Nishinoya, gimme her contacts bastard!"

He rolls his eyes before focusing on that creepy captain from Nekoma smiling at him, "Captain, I have his phone!", the lankly Russian shouts running away from him.

Sakusa growls as marches over while they find your contact photo, the bikini pic you sent to him ages ago. He snatches it back while they go wild, these motherfuckers are gonna turn him into a killer.

"Damn buddy, why are you being like this?!", Sakusa hears all sorts of complaints behind him as he returns to his room.

Verdict: should've said he missed you too

No one really likes you dating him, they think he's a toxic person. And maybe he is, there's always someone calling him 'rude' or a 'jerk'. Sometimes, Sakusa wonders why you two are dating at all. What was it that you saw in him that random day you asked him out? It's completely taken over his mind, he can't focus on volleyball or school.

His frustration grows and grows as no solution appears, what the hell do people want him to do? What the hell do you want from him? What the hell does he want to do?

....

Making your way down to the front seats of the stadium, you suddenly hear your name being called. Curious you turn back and see a friend from primary school. Excitedly, the two of you run to each other and have an emotional hug comparable to the ones in the movie.

"Yeah! I'm here to support Inarizaki! You're here for Itachiyama!", you giggle and point to Sakusa, "Yeah, that's my man right there~"

She gasps excitedly at the boy's looks, "Oh my gosh, girl you caught a huge fish!", the two of you go wild and everyone else glances over uncomfortably.

As the game starts, the two of you are drawn into the intensity. Sakusa is sweating profusely as he battles against Inarizaki, eyes completely focused on the ball like a hawk. And you're sitting there silently amazed...and getting slightly hot because he's so fucking hot. He was cute and handsome before, but holy shit you caught the biggest fish there was.

Finally the game ends with Itachiyama winning and you cackling making fun of your friend, "How's it feel loser?!", "Ugh this shame! You watch next time, your boytoy is going down!", "Hey leave him out of this!"

You gasp and look down at the court to see Sakusa staring at you, immediately you were jumping up and down waving wildly, "Sakun!"

He blinks for a moment before walking off with his team, "Uhhh what was that all about?", your friend asks confused but you're too busy giggling, "He's so cute!"

As the two of you make your way out of the stadium, your friend brings it up again and you tense up feeling it start again. If it was anything else, you would've just given up at that point. But! It was your Sakun so you will defend him forever.

....

Finally free from the locker room talk, Sakusa tries to find you. He spots you quite quickly, you're facing a row of plants with a girl from Inarizaki. As the boy approaches, he can see your body shift uncomfortably and frown.

"I said we're perfectly fine", "Come on, what kind of boyfriend does that? I know you're letting him get away with being mean and rude because he's your first, but you can do so much better!"

The volleyball player froze. He watches as she suggests a few of her friends, pulling her phone to show pictures of friendly and charming guys that would suit you so much better. And nothing hurts more than the way you scan them silently, as if you're actually considering it.

Before he knows it, Sakusa is calling out to you. As the friend panics and runs away, you beam and bounce towards him like nothing happened. He stares at the distance you keep, how your hands to reach out half way but pull back after. Even as you two walk home and your talking like usual, he sees the other couples holding hands and linking arms. It makes Sakusa uncomfortable and a tight feeling grows inside him. Even now he doesn't want to hold your hand, doesn't want to scoot closer to you.

"Sakun?", oh somehow he's already at your house.

The right thing to do would be to say his farewells and go home, but he can't. You stand at the entrance and smile softly with a strange look in your eyes. His heart isn't working anymore, it knows you want to break up with him. And for the first time in your relationship, Sakusa feels horror and dread.

The boy also realises what everyone and he wants from himself, for Kiyoomi Sakusa to be normal. Why couldn't he have learnt from his verdicts, why can't he just be like everybody else? You must want the same and now that he couldn't accomplish that, you've given up.

"Sakusa", you've even stopped using the nickname, "Come here."

You pull him inside the house by his bag straps, there's no strength but he follows to get the last bits of affection he can get from you. In the living room, the two of you sit with a little distance in between. This must be your last test, his last chance. He just has to do something, hug you, kiss you, something like that? His eyes stare down at the emptiness as if it'll close up if he does.

"Sakusa", his eyes trail up to your soft smile, "I love you, and I know you love me too."

There's a lump in his throat, how do you know? No one else does, not even Sakusa himself knows.

"Can I touch you?", it takes him a few seconds to stutter a nod.

With a whisper you reach out, "Your eyes", he instinctively closes them and allows you to graze his eyelids, "They're the windows to your soul", feel his eyelashes, "And they're always following me", the skin below his eyes, "Staring at me like I'm the most precious thing."

It comes as a revelation to Sakusa, you were completely right. Even before you approached him with your confession, his eyes has always been following you from afar. Staring at the back of your head in class, trailing your flowing hair in the hallway, observing the way you spoke, smile, laughed. And then meeting your sparkling eyes on that 'random day' when everything started.

You're in his lap now, cupping his cheeks and pressing your lips against his eyes, "I hate that they've made you forget the way you look at me. Your gaze is so different from all of them. I don't have to make you laugh, have to comfort you, help you in anyway, and yet you still look I'm the prize you don't deserve."

His mask finally comes off and you coo at his deep flush, "Oh Sakun, you're the prettiest boy with the prettiest eyes and the prettiest heart", kissing his jawline.

The change in the atmosphere makes him hide away against your neck, but you still imagine to fluster him by playing with his rosy ears.

You murmur against his hair, "Never feel pressured to step out of your boundaries. It's you and I in relationship. As long as we're happy, you don't need to worry about them."

He looks up at you again like you've descended from the skies and you coo against his lips, "Just keep looking at me, don't let those eyes stray anywhere else."

Sakusa should feel embarrassed at the way he whines for you, but your kisses makes his mind go blank. And he wonders if everyone else gets as hot and dazed he's getting now. Your prettiest boy allows your voice to fill every crevice in his ears and your hands to explore him like no other. All the while meeting your hungry eyes.

....

You'll never forgive the people that made Sakusa forget he wears his heart on his sleeve. Because his love travels from his eyes to his action.

From sneaking the History book you 'forgot' in your bag, to the first pair of earrings he gifted you that looked way better, to the daily photos from that training camp he started sending after that phone call. Sakusa has always shown you that he loved you, so what if the normal people couldn't understand?

But you do have to thank them, because it was this progression that allowed you to become the centre of Sakusa's everything. His eyes, his heart, his thoughts. You smile feeling the boy dig his face into your chest, your fingers fall to his back where you trace every ripple and ridge that slightly twitch with your movements.

"H-Hey, that tickles", he stutters and you giggle hugging him tightly, "Sorry pretty boy~"

Hi Lovelies, I hoped you carnivores enjoyed pretty boy Sakusa!

One of my favourite troupes is 'scary misunderstood' guy that turns into 'shy cuddly bear' after meeting the perfect partner! *chef's kiss*

See ya (˶ > ₃ < ˶)♡

#reader insert #romance #fanfiction #fluff #reverse comfort #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #sakusa x reader #female reader #not proofread

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freelancearsonist · 1 year ago

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Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise.

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin.

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong.

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded?

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows.

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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#cece writes #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut

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sad-ghost-of-garbage · 7 months ago

Text

Nicknames with the Lost Boys

Affectionate and Goofy nicknames for and from the boys

Author: SadGhostofGarbage Warnings: this is a crackfic! It’s only semi serious. There is some NSFW headcannons so MDNI!

David:

David’s nicknames for reader: Kitten, Kitty, Kit Cat, Doll face, Beloved, and My Queen (Yes even as a male reader, David believes himself the King so naturally his partner is his other half despite gender. He regards his partner as the chess Queen to his King; here is a lil blurb of how I see the conversation going, the first time it happens.

Male reader x David: “Um David, why did you call me your Queen? I am a whole grown ass man?” “Beloved, you are the most important piece on my chess board, since I'm clearly the King, you are my other half.” The bastard has the audacity to say condescendingly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You do realize that means I should be protecting you right?” That wipes the smirk right off his face, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Absolutely not happening”. He says with teeth grit in a firm line. “You are not putting yourself in any danger ever.” “Then by chess standards that makes you the Queen”. It was your turn for the shit eating grin, the expression on his face was priceless. It is definitely one of your favorite ways to tease him from that moment on. If however it causes you discomfort he will refrain from using it. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still tease him with it. You will be punished accordingly after every instance you jokingly call him “my Queen”, but teasing him is half the fun. Side note, Paul tries to help by suggesting you combine the two, “One of you can be, Quee-ing, and the other can be Ki-een. BOOM! Problem solved, you’re welcome!” Spoiler… It does not solve the problem.

Things that David secretly loves being called, its a “secret” because he “doesn’t do nicknames”: Handsome, Cowboy, My King, My one, My love, basically anything that has a possessive edge implying that David is readers everything (Daddy loves to be needed)

Things reader (and the boys) call him that he “hates”: Daviey (Paul’s go to mostly), Marko calls him Daddy as if he were confessing to a Catholic priest during confession; “Daddy I’ve been naughty” instead of “forgive me father for I have sinned”. Chaos ensues and you will catch David chasing Marko around the cave on multiple occasions for this very reason. David won’t admit out loud that he’s okay with his partner calling him Daddy but he does prefer Sir, but if it revs your engines then he will graciously allow you to call him Daddy. Moral of the story… David is a butthead.

Names David actually hates being called: Baby, And any nickname that is overly obnoxious like : Stud muffin, or Pookie.

Dwayne:

Dwayne’s nicknames for reader; Darling, Sweetheart, Baby/Babygirl/Babyboy (if it is Babyboy, just know Paul is jealous), Mama or Nobi for a non gendered version (of a parental name that both he and Laddie call a parental figure reader), Prince/Princess/Princex

Dwayne’s nicknames from the reader and the boys, they are all fair game for D-man: Papa, Big man, D, Snuggle bear, Big Cat, Baby Daddy

Nicknames that are affectionate when it comes from reader, and jokingly when coming from the boys: Gigantus, Tall Dark and Dracula, Skater boy, Dork

Paul:

Paul’s nicknames for Reader: Sugar, babe, bug, Beautiful/Handsome/Gorgeous, Hot Stuff, My cute lil capri sun! If you're still human. Bit will continue to call you that after you become a vamp as well, he just likes biting. (fun fact I looked up when capri-sun came out, the answer? 1969! its cannon!)

Paul’s nicknames from reader and the boys: Paulie, Puppy, Pretty boy, jellybelly~ Paul got high af and cried because his blood wasn’t jelly bean flavored after he ate 12 bags of them. “I wanna be a jellybean damn it” 😭 NSFW: I saw a post going around about sucking Paul’s dick and my brain went… ah a Paulie pop… and now it lives rent free in my head so have that too

Marko:

Marko’s nicknames for reader: Angel, Dove, Love, precious one, Sunshine, Tesoro / my treasure (if you headcannon him as an Italian, as many do 😉) the Juliet to his Romeo if you're a fem reader (until you point out that Juliet was like 13 and Romeo was 16. And comparing your love to that of children was not as romantic as he assumed it was. Those names quickly get abandoned)

Nicknames for Marko: Cassanova, Italian Stallion, Stud, Angel (the first time reader calls him angel you both argue over who gets to call the other angel, and it ends with an intervention from David. “You are both little devils, you brats!” you both continue to call each other angel, and David continues to call you both little devils.)

Nicknames that will get get you (or the boys) in trouble and not the good kind: Cherub, bird boy.

side note, I'd love to hear what nicknames you guys think the boys like being called and call their partners

Taglist: @ria-coolgirl, @britany1997, @henhouse-horrors. If you want added to my Lost Boys taglist lemme know!

#the lost boys #sgog #sgog writes #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #tlb david x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb marko x reader

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awoogayanderes · 2 years ago

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TAKING CARE OF THEM WHEN THEY’RE DRUNK

➪ request : “hi’ Can i request taking care of Dazai, Jouno and Tecchou when they’re drunk (I imagine drunk dazai like when he ate the poisonous mushrooms)” - anonymous

➪ other notes : i’ve been getting so many tecchou requests lately, and im glad they did him justice in the anime to look so gorgeous, anyways this was really fun writing, i also wrote this at like 3 am, so i’m sorry if it’s shitty

➪ warnings : dazai being a suicidal bastard, alcohol obv

Osamu Dazai :

- dazai drinks often, that’s no surprise to anyone, but he doesn’t actually get drunk

- but when he does, prepare to even carry this man home with him whining of course

- even when dazai is drunk, he does have some control over himself but as every drunk person, they lose that control once it’s tipped over with another shot of alcohol

- i think he acts a little less extreme than when he ate poisonous mushrooms, mainly because well, they’re very different things

- once you come and get him, he stares up at you with doe eyes, giggling to himself as his cheeks puffen up

- it takes a lot of convincing to let you take care of him, and throughout that he makes a lot of double suicide remarks

- “ahh i’ll let you take me home if you promise to commit suicide with me,” he confidently says as you stare at him with narrow eyes

- once you finally get him home, you lay him on your bed, sighing as you try to take his work clothes off into something more comfortable

- of course, this comes with a suggestive remark of his, still not having sobered up

- even before you’re done changing him, he passes out, loud snores filling the silent air

- surprisingly dazai remembers everything from the previous night, will he admit it? no

- though he’s thankful he has you to take care of him when vulnerable, even if he’s being difficult with you, he’s glad to have you

Saigiku Jouno :

- it’s so rare to see jouno drunk, and if he ever is, it’s in the confinement of your home

- i can’t see any occasion where jouno would actually drink, i think he even looks down upon it but who am i to say

- i think jouno becomes more snarkier but at the same time more softer, depending on what’s happening

- at first jouno acts the same, you almost don’t realize he’s been drinking until you hear him hiccuping with his cheeks tinted red

- his tone seems softer even with his strong remarks, was it condescending, was it loving? who knows, he doesn’t even know

- he insists that he doesn’t need your help even though he almost trips over air twice

- “i can handle myself, don’t you worry your pretty little head over it,” he says to you despite you basically holding him up

- maybe he makes a few remarks on how desperate you are for him, nothing new that he hasn’t said to you before

- i don’t think he’d be able to fall asleep, mainly because he doesn’t want to be unconscious and intoxicated, deeming it not very safe

- so this leads to both of you talking, even if he doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying

- the next day, he’ll tease you for being so worried about him, even though he appreciates the little things you do

- he never thought he’d reach that level of comfort and trust with someone, luckily you filled that spot, and that’s something he can’t complain about

Tecchou Suehiro :

- i don’t think this man drinks at all, not because he hates it but because he doesn’t really see a reason for it

- and because of this, he gets extremely drunk extremely easy, and boy oh boy

- he’d cling to you almost immediately when he sees you, even if you’re at a formal party, he won’t hesitate to lean his body on you

- i don’t think he’ll even realize he’s drunk at all, only wanting to seek you for some reason

- it’s not often that tecchou is publicly affectionate so you almost automatically assume there’s something wrong

- only to see your droopy eyed boyfriend clinging to you as if his life depended on it ( in his eyes it did )

- he questions you when you start to help him, curiosity invading his blurry mind as you try to sober him up slowly

- “oy what are you doing? is something wrong?” he asks confusedly as he sips the water you gave him, savoring it dearly

- he’d only be able to sleep if you’re next to him, putting his body weight on you as his head droops over

- hope you can stay like that for a good while, or else he’d wake up cranky and annoyed that you aren’t next to him

- the next day he’ll be so shocked when you tell him about his experience, not remembering a single thing that had happened, only the headache that ensued afterwards

- it’s a miracle to him that you can tolerate him for so long all the time, even doing it when he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he feels calm and relieved when he’s with you

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rosemaryblossomworld · 11 months ago

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Fire in my blood

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚡 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍'𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐'𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚍...

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚜𝚝, 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙰/𝚗: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎! 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

"I don't understand why you're ignoring me? What have I done to you?" Y/n looked at her newfound husband, who stood with his back to her, trying to leave the chambers.

Aemond remained silent, he didn't want to talk to this...this...beautiful woman, amazing, inspiring and affectionate. No, if he fell under her spell again, like when he was a child, he would let the whole world fall at her feet, even if he had to kill his family to do it...

"I want us to respect each other in this marriage. I know you hate us. But please...let's try," there was a clever speech coming out of the girl's beautiful lips that made the young man's heart flutter.

"Respect? To those who arrived here after so many years and demand my brother's throne?" Aemond turned around to the girl, in her eyes he saw no hatred or irritation, still the same calm and gentle gaze.

"It's that throne again...What mom keeps telling me about the inheritance that you...when are you going to give up on him?" Y/n looked at the man confidently. Aemond was taken aback.

"Your mother hopes to get the throne, and when she dies, you will ascend to that throne," the boy continued. The girl rolled her eyes.

"I don't care about that throne!" exploded Y/N. "Okay, if you keep talking about it, I'm going to have to interrupt you. It's late and I'm tired," the girl got up from the padded chair and walked to the bed. She was no longer paying attention to her husband. Aemond hurried out.

They were longtime friends, the only bastard Strong had ever perceived and understood. She had always been on his side. But when they'd flown off to Dragonstone, things had changed drastically.

Since then, his mother had done nothing but say nasty things about Rhaenyra and her family. She especially tried to hurt her eldest daughter, and especially did so in front of Eamond, as she knew the boy sympathized with the girl.

And from then on, in the young boy's mind, the beautiful and intelligent Y/N turned into a whore and a doormat. But when they came back, that whole horrible image was gone. Because Y/n was calm, answering all of her mother's attacks intelligently. She was no longer that fidgety child, she looked like...Like a girl with all the weight of the world on her shoulders.

When Viserys announced the marriage of Aemond and Y/n, his heart fluttered for a moment. But then his mother's words began to enter his head again, painting Y/n as a spoiled wench.

The next day Y/n had lunch with Viserys, she knew she was his favorite because of the similarities between his dead wife and his daughter. He loved looking into Y/n's blue eyes that looked at him so tenderly as if Aemma was in front of him. Her voice was confident and loud, just like her wonderful mother's.

"Grandfather, how are you feeling?" asked Y/n holding the man's hand with her own, squeezing it lightly.

"I seem to be getting better, my flower," Viserys smiled.

"I am glad to hear that," Y/n smiled just as brightly and continued eating her meal, while telling the king something in parallel.

After lunch, the girl decided to take a walk in the garden and met her husband there, who was sitting under a familiar tree with his eye covered. The girl decided to sit next to him, which caused Aemond to twitch and look at her.

"I thought as a child that this garden was much bigger...and that tree was taller," the girl decided to speak up.

"That's because we were too small," hummed Aemond, covering his eye again.

"Yeah...you're right. You know, even if you hate me, you should know that I've always considered you a close friend," Y/N stood up so as not to disturb the prince, who was clearly not interested in talking. She took a couple steps and felt Aemond's hand on hers.

"I want you to know too...." began Aemond, but...

"Aemond!" came the Queen's annoyed and frightened voice, she quickly approached the pair.

"Your Grace," Y/n bowed her head.

"Son, you promised to have tea with me, come along," Alicent pretended not to notice the girl, took her son under her arm and led her away towards the castle. A couple of maids followed her while the others bid Laris Strong to go to his chambers and dine. Seeing the familiar man, Y/N wrinkled her face for a moment.

"No, I would like to speak to Princess Y/n alone," Larys cut off, the maids bowed and headed to follow the queen.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to get close to her!?" wailed Alicent as she and her son entered her chambers.

"I was just talking to her, or am I forbidden to do that too, Mother?" Aemond made a stern face; he was growing weary of his mother's excessive interference.

"I want you to understand that she is as much a whore as her mother! She will do anything to seduce you and turn you away from her family. I'm sure she didn't just do that to you," The Queen was getting too nervous, causing her to gibber.

"Didn't you love her, Mother?" asked Aemond, remembering how Alicent had spent his entire childhood cooing over the young girl. These memories came quite randomly, but the prince was startled by the expression on his mother's face for the first time.

"...I...it's in the past..." It was as if Alicent began to realize something. Y/n now looked like an exact replica of Rhaenyra, which confused the woman.

"What's going on? Y/n has always been kind to you, always finding compromises and always taking our side if people got unfair," The prince clenched his teeth, trying not to drift away from reality into a dream world where everything is good and wonderful, just like when he was a child.

"Larys...he said those things about her...that's why I want to protect you from her," the woman lowered her gaze.

"What did he say?" hearing the unpleasant name, Aemond turned his attention to his mother.

Alicent sighed heavily and recounted the rumors that Lord Larys Strong had reported. Those rumors were vile and filthy, the kind of rumors that made one want to vomit. The Queen said that young Y/n had been selling her body to various lords to gain support, to lure them to her side, it was said that the maids had seen some men leaving her room.

Aemond's face twisted. He knew it was a rumor, in his gut. Yes, they hadn't had a wedding night, they hadn't slept in the same bed since day one.

"And you believe him?" asked Aemond.

"I know you didn't have a wedding night. Laris said it was most likely Y/N who turned you down and manipulated you into not being in the same bed with you to keep the secret," began Alicent's reasoning.

"No, Mother, I was the one who left the bedroom first because I didn't want to see her," the prince admitted.

"What? But Larys..." the woman began.

"Larys is hiding something. Let's wait a little time, please let me get close to Y/n to find out," Aemond took his mother's hands in his own, they were cold and trembling slightly.

"I...I don't know...he's always been around...and...why?" the queen's veil began to fall from her eyes.

"As if you don't know... "the prince replied calmly.

"What did you want from me Lord Strong?" asked Y/N looking at the man carefully.

"You have grown, my princess, becoming such a beautiful woman," Larys chuckled.

"Thank you for your kind words, lord, but get right to the point," waved the princess away.

"You're quick on the uptake. Like those rumors about lords," limping, Larys walked on, sidestepping the girl.

Y/n knew about those rumors. It disgusted her to stand next to this man who had spread them.

"It seems the lord likes rowdy people too," the girl decided to add oil to the fire and tease the man. Larys looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"Bravo, princess, you've finally learned to snap back. And you always looked like a proper child, but anger doesn't suit you, how with such a bad temper do you want to take the throne?" smirked Larys, turning back to the girl.

"I don't know, but I'm sure I'll have help," Y/N was ready to play his game.

"Oh, and who is it?" the man frowned as he continued walking towards the castle, hearing the princess' quiet footsteps behind him.

"Well, certainly not you, uncle," the girl replied calmly. Laris stopped.

"What?" he turned around.

"You know, I wouldn't want an assistant like you. Putting someone else's parents on fire...that's too cruel," y/n replied quietly. "Be careful uncle, I won't forgive you for my father's death," the girl said the phrase quietly, beside the man, she walked past moving towards her chambers.

Larys clenched his fists. He should have brought fire to this family a long time ago. He smirked at the thought that ran through his head.

That evening passed like a blur. Y/n never left her chambers. Not even when the family gathered for dinner.

"Where is my y/n?" inquired Viserys, looking around at the rest of the family.

"She said she wasn't feeling well, father. She will join us tomorrow for breakfast," replied Rhaenyra, handing her sons the snack vessel.

The family chatted quietly amongst themselves. Until Helena abruptly stood up and then sat down at the table again, shaking her head.

"What is it, dear?" asked an agitated Alicent.

"Fire...Fire can't kill a dragon, why are they doing that?" Helena looked at her mother.

At that moment, the princess's personal maid ran in.

"Fire! Mistress, there's a fire in the room!" her terrified scream went through the whole family, it wasn't clear what was happening but everyone knew Y/n was in danger.

Green and Black ran down the hallway where other servants were running around with buckets of water. A servant led the way to the princess' private chambers, which were ablaze with bright fire. The knights who tried to break down the door couldn't even reach it. Servants were pouring water, trying to temporarily douse the flames.

Rhaenyra watched in horror at it all. She wanted to run in there, shake everyone off and break the door down. But Daemon held her back, also looking on in amazement at what was happening. Viserys shouted and commanded, rushing to go in, but his illness wouldn't let him, and neither would Alicent. She stared at the bright fire with mute shock.

"W...what happened?" The queen turned to the maid.

"After Princess Rhaenyra left Lady y/n's room. Lady ordered her to bring dinner to her chambers. She locked herself in and told me to knock when I arrived. I was delayed in the kitchen as the princess has a different ration at dinner and I had to go over the food," the maid said in one breath.

Aemond rushed to the door, ignoring his mother's cries; he needed to get there, to get through. Jace followed him, they kicked in the door and were thrown back by the flames. The rest of the knights and maids continued carrying water. Luke joined them.

Aegon stood off to the side, trying to take in the situation, but his drunken mind kept distracting him. Helena stood similarly off to the side, holding her head and turning away from what was happening. Baela joined in putting out the fire while Rhaena stood next to Rhaenyra and tried to calm her down, even though she was in a terrible state herself.

It took forever before the fire was put out. The sun showed on the horizon.

Rhaenyra pulled herself out of Daemon and Rhaena's arms, running into the room, she began to look around. A hope languished in her that the girl had gone out somewhere while her maid had excused herself. She looked from side to side, trying to find any sign. Slowly the family began to enter the room, where the stone walls were untouched and black ash from the furniture settled underfoot.

Rhaenyra stepped on something, she carefully picked up the object, her hands trembled and she slowly turned to her family. In her hand dangled the Valyrian princess necklace. Rhaena and Baela aghast, covering their mouths with their hands and huddled against each other. Daemon clamped his eyes shut and turned away, as did Jace. There were tears in Luca's eyes, but he tried not to show them. Alicent pressed her lips together, trying not to scream, she left it to Rhaenyra, who screamed with grief. She screamed and sobbed, instilling chilling fear and grief into everyone's souls.

"My daughter! My treasure! My life!"

Aemond couldn't believe it. Sitting in the library the evening before dinner he planned his conversation with the girl. He decided to talk to her as she had requested. He planned where he would start and what questions he would ask. But that was not going to happen. He clenched his fists, he could feel his nails digging into his skin until it bled. He tried not to sob.

Suddenly, something stirred in the corner of the room where the bed should be. A figure stood up, and walked toward the family on shaky legs. This figure was covered in ashes and cinders, it was naked, with bits of clothing hanging from its body somewhere.

Rhaenyra cried out again, running up to the figure and wrapping her arms around her, hiding her from the eyes of many.

"Gods!" she begged, kissing her daughter's dirty face.

Daemon hurried over and covered the girl's body with the cloak the knight had given him. The family felt relief that gave all the weakness in their bodies. Alicent exhaled convulsively, as did Viserys. Luka, Jace, Rhaena, and Baela exhaled the same way and were no longer crying from grief but from joy. Even Helena showed herself in the doorway, smiling slightly.

"Idiots!" shouted Princess y/n sharply and angrily, which startled some of the family. "They dared to think that fire would kill a dragon!!! A dragon! Fools!"

Y/N felt anger and hatred for the first time, her eyes blazing like the fire that was in this room. Her anger was also transferred to her faithful dragon Goldrut, who roared and let out screams that shook the castle walls.

And the perpetrator of these actions cowered in his chambers, biting the skin around the fingers on his hand. His plan had failed, and he didn't know when they would come out on him. And he knew they would.

Y/n sat in her new chambers while the hustle and bustle was outside the door. The girl sat quietly and drank her tea. She had been washed and changed and the princess felt like a new person.

The door opened and she was ready to see one of her brothers or sisters, but it turned out to be her husband. She wanted to get up, but Aemond ran over to her and sat on his knees in front of the girl's feet and snuggled into them. Y/N was surprised, but ended up placing her right hand on the man's head, stroking him gently.

The girl had known of his affection for her since she was a child, he was like a knight when he protected her from Aegon's attacks and when he bragged about his skills. He was such a sweet boy and had grown into such a handsome young man.

She was glad to marry him, even though she knew he'd been taught to hate her and her family. But sometimes she caught those admiring and loving glances from him.

"What is it? You're so gentle tonight, husband," y/n chuckled lightly.

"I thought I had lost you," the young man muffled.

"Wouldn't you be glad of that? You hate me, don't you," the girl calmly replied, teasing Aemond.

The prince raised his head abruptly and looked at her with that wistful look.

"I wanted to talk to you this evening. I wanted to tell you many things and ask you many things!" hastened Aemond's reply.

"Why so sudden?" inquired the princess.

"I want so much to apologize for my behavior," spoke the young man equally calmly.

"Oh, you needn't worry about that! I was afraid your hatred would be far worse than your silent attitude," the girl grinned, and Aemond lowered his gaze.

"I know who did it and Rhaenyra knows too. They're checking the validity of the information now and looking for proof," the prince replied, rising from his knees and sitting down in the chair opposite.

"I know, too. That man didn't seem to like what I said," Y/N hummed, pouring herself some tea.

"You should have been careful with him. He messed with my mother's head, she always loved you, but after all the incidents, he started saying nasty things about you," Aemond continued.

"He spread such foul rumors about me that it made me sick to listen to them," the princess exhaled.

"We will destroy him," Aemond promised.

"I hope so," Y/N smiled.

There were whispers about Princess Y/n's abilities, just as the girl herself had assumed. Now the court was respecting her, there was no doubt that she was a true Targaryen child.

The instigator was found and brought before the king and the other lords, Larys Strong felt doubly destroyed. The death penalty awaited him.

Aemond and Y/n had grown closer in the days since. And managed to fall in love with each other again.

In history this moment had the clearest description, all the heirs of the Targaryen family honored and respected the girl who discovered this ability for other people.

Now the Targaryens knew for sure that there was a fire in their blood, a fire that could not simply be extinguished.

A/n: well, somehow...written this fanfic in the fall...and I forgot about it 👌🏻

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #x reader

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lightlycareless · 1 year ago

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Okay but im so curious

how would the zenin household react to seeing naoya become affectionate/simp for y/n?????? the thought of it already makes me kick my feet in the air

I will start with the fact that everything Naoya does with you is like a huge shocker to the whole clan.

From him finding a partner that willingly wants to be with him, to demonstrating affection to said partner… yeah, no one believed Naoya could actually care for anyone else but him, at least in a way that doesn’t denote making fun of them or something.

But he does, and when you came along, it brought out that side many wished he would’ve kept hidden.

I never envisioned Naoya to be very fond of PDA, at least not with people he knows, because he gets somewhat embarrassed (lol). Even holding hands with his wife when his relatives are nearby is like a big no-no. He feels like he needs to uphold this untouchable image of heir before them, demand their fear respect and so on.

However, as years go by, he’ll eventually just stop caring, especially if the two get married. He just… doesn’t give a f*ck lol.

And the thing he’ll do though at this point, oh, they’re going to be far from sweet. Let’s say that Naoya is a huge pervert when it comes to you lol. I don’t have any other way to put it, he’s just obsessed with you.

Naoya is the kind of person to slap your butt when passing/approaching you. He doesn’t care if you’re in the company of your staff, or if his uncle/cousins are there, or anyone really—he just had to do it, couldn’t hold himself, and you absolutely hate him for it because it makes you go through embarrassing moments!! Having to apologize in his name in order to do some damage control, people looking at the two and immediately looking away because they can’t remove that mental image!!! Oh boy.

You’ve talked to him about it and agreed to at least… keep it to a minimum, be more discreet if possible. Of course, that only applies in public places. In the bedroom… that’s a completely different story 😏

And let’s not forget he’s known to be a loudmouth, so the things he’ll tell you are not short of indecent either. This is probably the thing you dislike the most out of his affection. The other you could tolerate, act like no one saw anything (even play the fool if someone alleged they saw something) but THIS???? Nah, it’s just too much—and childish too.

“I don’t think it’ll fit, Naoya” you say, probably about something mundane like a new couch you got for the house.

“Really? But I saw how well you fit me yesterday.” And the way your face turns red is almost comical, more so when the mover was right there, listening to everything, Naoya just had to laugh.

“Shut up!!”

“What? I was referring to the conversation about the couch we had last night, pervert.” lies. The sneaky bastard will act like you’re the indecorous one out of the two for having understood his words like that!! As if you hadn’t known him for years now!

It’s safe to say that it’s really hard to have important meetings when the two are present, so his family would often try to get you or Naoya alone.

But… it wasn’t all that bad, because even when Naoya can be mildly infuriating, he’s also capable of being sweet.

That is something that mostly happens when in private, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, more so when he’s spent a long time away from you.

Naoya will reach out for you first thing upon arriving back to the estate, gently cup your cheeks and pepper your face with kisses, telling you how much he missed you and your pretty face.

He’d wrap his arms around you, rest his face on the crook of your neck, taking in your scent as he relishes the fact that he’s finally back to your embrace.

Another thing I think he’ll enjoy doing (you as well) is when he rests his head on your lap, telling you of his day as you thread your fingers along his hair.

Bottom line, Naoya is overly shameless confident when in the eyes of others, but vulnerable with you :>

As for the reactions of the Zen’in clan….

Ogi, Naobito, and Jinichi would stare at him in complete silence/shock as Naoya goes on with his supposed displays of affection. I think that out of the three, Ogi would be the one more comfortable when showing his distaste for it, scowling whenever seeing you and Naoya together, quickly leaving the room as soon as he gets the faintest idea Naoya is to do his usual nasty shenanigans. The rest wouldn’t really care that much, asides from a “Really? Naoya? Ooookay” (and they know better not to interfere at this point 🤪 he's crazy protective of you)

Ranta would remain speechless, face completely red as he catches Naoya’s innuendos. He definitely feels a whole lot of empathy (pity) for you. But when his friend isn’t being nasty, he’s happy that he’s found someone to be vulnerable/happy with 😊.

Junko, Mai and Maki’s mother, is just the same as Ogi, only that she’ll openly tell both of you to “stop it”, and to “hold some decorum” for that’s no way the future leader of the clan should behave. Naoya just laughs it off, you apologize to her in private. At the end she knows it’s futile to even hope to change him—the two were young, after all, (IMAGINE IF HE WENT ON LIKE THAT EVEN WHEN OLDER? Hahahahah, Oh poor Junko) and contrary to her marriage, this was one made out of love so… good for them, she guesses.

Naoya’s brothers would be the ones to openly, even more than Ogi, show their disgust whenever catching his PDA. Naohiko would be the one to exclaim “EWWWWWWWWWWWW” as loud as possible when he sees them, maybe do some puking noises too? haha

Naofumi would initially not understand what the hell Naoya is going on about and why you’re so embarrassed all the time, but when he does get it, oof, he’ll disappear as soon as it begins.

And Naoaki… well he’d just try to avoid the two as most as possible in general lol. He never liked seeing people making out anyways... (uh who does???)

At the end, Naoya’s behavior would worsen become more and more obvious, especially when the two have their first kids 😊 He just loves you too much, he needs you to know that—that the others have issues with it he doesn’t care 🥺 all that matters to him his you and his new family.

ajgfakghagk Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I hope it was to your liking ❤️

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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mishastiel · 1 month ago

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Thinking about Tony and Peter. Tony’s his teacher and he’s married. Happily married, but damn it there’s something about the cute curly haired doe eyed boy that sits in front of his class and is always so eager to learn and participate

And he loves his wife, or so he thinks. He knows he’s happily married… right? Well, his mind’s fuzzy right now, he offered Peter a drive home after he saw him wandering around school way too late, and now he’s balls deep in the boy in some random empty parking lot of some park

He knows he’s screwed now, because now he wants more, all while still wearing that wedding ring

Hi luv. I was bad and accidentally may have written 3k words for what was supposed to be just a silly little snippet. So yeah, there's that. If you horny bastard (extremely affectionate) wants to skip to the smut, the first paragraph of it will be colored red.

Seriously, this is so stupidly long it'd be more appropriate to upload to ao3. but it still sucks because I wrote this hurriedly since it was supposed to be a goddamn snippet!!!! A stupid little snippet written for funsies and laughs and sunshines.

As mentioned above this has explicit content!! beware.

This probably contains a few typos and grammar mistakes because I didn't looked it over.

Tony’s always been such a loyal man. He heavily reprimands cheating and sticks to his wife so much that he doesn’t even follow other women on Instagram, besides the ones in his family. And he loves his wife so much, too. They were highschool sweethearts and his eyes spark with something so intense just by looking at her. Tony never labeled himself as anything, either, he’s always been strictly straight. Though he considers himself an ally and would never discriminate against someone based on their sexuality.

Since he’s been with his wife for so long, he’s never even been attracted to anyone else. Sure he finds some women, mainly celebrities, pretty. But that's it. His eyes would immediately find his spouse and his heart always skips a few beats whenever. It feels like they’ve never gotten out of the honeymoon phase, they have sex almost every day.

So, Tony’s satisfied and extremely happy with his life and his partner. They’re so stable and there's so much trust they’re even thinking about having a child.

It’s late august and everything starts once again, as it always robotically does every single year. He’s got a cup of coffee on his hands and he’s been tidying everything in his classroom for an hour now, always wanting to give his students the best first impression. He’s also hoping they won’t get scared away right off the bat because he already teaches the scariest subject, math. He normally has the best, most intelligent students in the school, so it’s always easy and smooth teaching them. He has a great dynamic for a first day, and he just knows everything will be great. It always is

The bell rings and teenagers start coming in, filling the class. Picking their places. He sees some familiar faces, always the one to have a great relationship with students. He’s thinking about lunch when it all runs away from his mind once his eyes fall on a new face. The one of a boy with wild curls and wide, bambi-like eyes. He’s quite slim, but not that much, and he wears funky clothes. He’s got his backpack hanging off one arm and is laughing at something his friend says to him. Tony stares, and he knows it must scare some students because he’s always masking his expression into a serious, almost furious one, even when he doesn’t feel like that ever. The boy must sense that someone is staring at him because he whips his head around and makes immediate eye contact with Tony, who holds it until the younger is flusteredly looking away, his cheeks getting pink.

Tony had something planned for the class but he says screw it and does something slightly different. He makes everyone introduce themselves and talk about something they like. He knows the kids hate that, but he needs to find out more about that cute, innocent looking boy.

Turns out that’s Peter Parker, who likes to build computers and engineering things and dreams of going to MIT.

For the rest of the day, every time Tony looks in Peter’s direction he smiles, and whenever Peter says something or Tony gets the chance, he makes a joke. His heart speeds up and he can feel his cheeks warming up slightly every time Peter laughs, and at lunch he asks if he can sit with him and his other two friends, saying that “not even the teachers want me around here, probably because they hate math in general. I’m a great guy”. Peter just laughs and says “sure, whatever Mr. Stark”. It feels like they’re friends already, or maybe Tony’s just going insane.

Because he has to be going crazy, he thinks on his way home. He’s never, ever felt like that about anyone besides his wife. How long has it been since he’s last blushed? He tries to deny it, brushing it off as his instincts simply telling him that he’d have a great student-teacher relationship with Peter, but he doesn’t believe that one bit. He’s never felt like that for any student ever. And a boy, really?

When he’s home his wife asks him if everything’s okay, and he says he’s just had a tough day with the kids. Bullshit, he’s never gone through a day teaching as smoothly as he did today, and he’s never smiled so much while working. He sleeps with his back turned to his wife that night, not having the heart to look at her while he’s probably developing feelings for someone else, an underage student boy of his whom he's seen for the first time today.

The next few weeks, he falls into an obsession for the boy. He only has lunch with him now, and when both of his friends have to skip class one day, he almost jumps in joy because that means Peter’s attention will be fully on Tony. He makes sure he brushes past Peter when walking on the corridor every time just to talk to him. He probably would’ve thought he was bothering if Peter was any other student, – he wouldn’t even act that way with some other kid – but Peter always laughs at his stupid math puns and waves and smiles at Tony when he sees him with such enthusiasm – Tony reciprocates the act with the same enthusiasm as the boy – Tony knows his head isn’t making anything, and that the kid genuinely likes him.

At home, for the past 3 months, it feels like he’s barely talked to his wife. He tells her how his day went and zones out when she talks about hers. They’ve had sex probably once or twice and he dreads coming home. His wife has mentioned this abrupt change a lot of times, but he tells her he’s “going through a difficult time and isn’t comfortable opening up,” and as the perfect woman she is, she only kisses him and says “I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

At the fourth month he’s had enough, he’s tired of dreaming about brunette curls he can’t reach and fantasizing about virgin, young holes when he fucks his hand – because his wife isn’t good anymore. So when he sees Peter wandering outside of the school on a rainy day, with no other student in sight, he stops and calls for him.

“Come on kid, it’s no problem. I won’t crash the car, I’m a good driver. Promise.”

“You’re sure I’m not bothering, Mr. Stark?”

“Come in already”

“Oh, thank you so much!”

Apparently, Peter’s aunt is only able to pick him up 2 hours after the school’s closed. He types something on his phone while continuing to thank Tony. He’s not sure how he’ll get into this kid’s pants, though.

“So, when are you going to ask Michelle out? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.” He's making things up, MJ looks at Peter like he’s a dirty raccoon and Peter’s very obviously gay. No prejudice here.

Peter ducks his head and Tony’s sure he’s blushing furiously. “What? I’m not into MJ, sir. I don’t think I could.”

And, fuck, Tony presses his legs together at the honorific and closes his eyes for a second.

“Doesn’t want to mess the friendship up, huh!?”

“I’m… I’m afraid MJ’s not my type, Mr. Stark.”

And even though Tony knew, because teachers always know, he smiles at the confirmation that Peter’s really into men.

“Oh, I see. Well then, any guy you’re interested in?”

And if Peter thinks this is a weird conversation to be having with his teacher who is forty-eight, he doesn’t comment or stop it. Only blushes more.

“Yeah. But he’s much older and much smarter, and would never want someone like me.”

And Tony’s heart only beat faster at that.

“Don’t put yourself down like that.”

“Well, he’s married, too. I know it’s wrong to have feelings for a taken person, but some things you can’t control” He blurts out and hugs himself,like that wasn’t meant to slip out.

And Tony really can’t take this anymore, so he makes a sharp turn to a random parking lot, nearly empty, stops and looks at Peter, who looks back with wide(r) eyes.

“You’re driving me mad, kid.” And kisses him, because he’s really inexperienced at flirting and coercing someone to fuck him, since he lost his virginity to his wife and this is the second time on his life he’s doing this. He’s nervous, ever since Peter entered his car.

He grabs the back of Peter’s head but the boy breaks the kiss off, and Tony’s terrified.

“Mr. Stark.” But instead of an exclamation, it’s almost a whisper. His eyes drop to Tony’s lips, briefly, and then he’s looking at his teacher’s eyes again. “This is wrong.”

“That only makes me harder” And he’s kissing Peter again. This time, he reciprocates it. Very slowly they deepen the kiss, and then Peter’s trying to talk again;

“Mr. Stark,” it comes out breathless and muffled by Tony’s mouth. “This is really wrong.” It’s nearly a moan.

“But you want this, no?” Tony says in a raspy, low tone.

“Yes. Want it so bad.” Peter gets lost in Tony’s mouth momentarily. “But we can’t. I mean, your wife.” Peter forgets to mention everything else – the age difference, pedophilia, power imbalance, the fact that Tony is his teacher. The age gap again, because Peter’s freshly 15 and Tony’s about to turn 49.

“It’s okay if we keep it as our dirty little secret, yeah?”

And maybe that serves as a definite yes for Peter, because he’s climbing on Tony’s lap now and Tony’s dick is so hard already he feels like he’s about to explode.

“Push that, c’mon.” He whines against Tony’s mouth and the teacher’s smiling smugly.

“Bossy, hm?” But he obeys and holds the handle up and forces his back against the seat, making him nearly lay back.

Peter’s back at kissing him fervorously and now he’s grinding against Tony’s crotch and if he doesn't get inside that damn teenager now he’ll commit a criminal act.

He stops making out with the boy and takes Peter’s zip up hoodie and shirt off, caressing his chest and pinching his pink nipples.

“Yours too.” He demands tugging at Tony’s blazer, which he takes off and Peter’s immediately attacking his neck.

“Don’t leave marks. Not on my neck.”

“I’ll mark you on your hips then.” It’s both an affirmation and a question.

“Please.” Never did Tony think he’d be begging a teenager to leave hickies on his body, but fuck him if it doesn't make his cock leak.

Peter complies with his promise and dips his head down on Tony’s body, leaving open mouth kisses all the while maintaining firm eye contact with the older man. He’s smirking and Tony wants to punch it off his face because he’s fifteen and taking control of Tony.

He stops at his hip bone and sucks there, it’s strong and almost like he’s trying to suck a thick milkshake up a straw. He licks after, only once, not as an apology but just because he can.

He palms at Tony’s dick that’s still covered by his slacks and commands: “You’re going to fuck me against the seat.”

Tony flips their positions immediately, desperately. The seat is not all the way down so Peter’s almost sitting up, and he grinds his ass against Tony’s dick, turning his head around and looking pompously at Tony, with that stupid smirk back on his lips.

“You’re a slut. A cheap, easy one at that” He says trying to gain some kind of control over the situation, even though he wants to let himself go.

“A virgin, sir, it’s just easy playing guys like you.” He refers to Tony like he’s a toy and might as well have come in his pants.

He slides Peter’s pants and underwear off and spreads his cheeks, admiring the fluttering pink hole. He really wants to give the kid a rimjob but he can’t wait any longer, so he picks the little lube packet he keeps next to the hand brake, opens it with his teeth and smears it all over his fingers and Peter’s hole.

“I’m clean, by the way. Only had sex with my wife, who only had sex with me, and we get checked often”

“I think I’m getting the appeal of your cheating kink now”

Tony laughs and once he feels Peter’s open enough, he struggles to take his pants with one hand and coats his dick with his lubed one. He gives it a few strokes while staring at Peter’s face, who dropped his half-lidded eyes to Tony’s crotch.

He puts only the tip in and really, he was trying to be nice and gentle as to not completely obliterate that virgin hole, but Peter pushes back and says “Just fuck m’ already, I practice enough at home”

And Tony’s a lost cause, because next thing he knows he’s pounding onto that stupid brat like he’s mad at him. He pins Peter’s head to the headrest and fucks him like it’s the last thing he’ll do on earth. He grabs his waist hard enough to leave his finger imprints engraved there.

He lowers his head and whispers profanities to Peter. “Fucking slut, going around older married men like that” “Liar, no way a stupid virgin would be like this” “You probably get passed around at a frat house don’t ya?”

Peter’s got an almost pained expression on his face but he’s moaning so loudly, and at some point he grabs Tony’s ass just to leverage himself and meets his thrusts. The car is moving so wildly anyone who looks at it will immediately be able to tell what’s going on, and the windows are foggy, dripping with condensation.

He lasts a lot longer than he thought he would, and when he starts to get closer to the edge, he grabs Peter’s neglected cock. The precum that leaked out of the tip serves as enough lube to not make it painful.

They’re fucking like wild, rabid animals now. Nothing’s on their mind except for each other. And yeah, Peter’s not lying. He is a virgin, with such a tight hole and sensitive little dick.

They come nearly at the same time with loud moans of each other’s name – Peter’s still calling him Mr. Stark, even when said mister’s ball deep with his cum stuffed in Peter’s ass.

There’s not much after that, they can’t clean up so they just dress up again, silently but not awkwardly. Tony kisses Peter again, softer this time. They make out for a while, Peter back on the passenger seat and Tony’s up. They only stop because Tony’s neck hurts and they both really have to go home.

They exchange numbers at Peter’s apartment complex hall entry. They kiss once again just for good measure, and Peter runs off laughing – “I have to stop you, ‘else you’ll just keep going.”

Tony goes home with the biggest smile on his face, he’s still so high on the best orgasm he’s ever had and the love he feels blooming on his chest for that kid. When he parks his car on his garage, he rubs both hands on his hair and laughs foolishly, like an idiot at the ceiling.

But then he’s home, to his wife. And it all comes crashing down, the horniness and bliss wearing down. He entered the house with a big smile, so of course she’s also smiling. He kisses her, because he can’t not kiss her. But he feels his stomach turning.

He tries to keep the smile on his face, but it’s hard. He says he’s happy because the students weren’t as tough today, and his wife smiles at him. Because she doesn't know he’s a cheating pedophile.

He showers, and briefly forgets all his worries because he closes his eyes and the soft make out session and enthusiastic waves and smiles shine bright behind his eyelids. He smiles without showing his teeth, at particularly nothing but the memory of a smart, shameless teen.

He doesn't text Pete <3 that night, and (tries to) sleep with his back turned to what he thought was the love of his life once again. He stares at the ring on his hand, and has to close his eyes so tears don’t glide down his face.

He’s fucked up, big time. And he doesn't know what to do. He still loves his wife so much, but gosh everything about Peter seems to be a thousand times better than her. And maybe he’s mistaken, so mistaken. Because he’s only known Peter for four months and he’s known his wife for longer than the time Peter’s been on this earth. But he hasn’t blushed at his wife or anything related to her in more than a decade, he hasn’t gotten so hard just talking to her, he never felt so enthusiastic about her, he’s never felt like that about her. Or maybe he did, at some point. But it’s been so long, and his eyes don’t sparkle when he sees her walking down the corridor anymore.

He slips with what feels like a family of elephants worthy of guilt weighing down on his shoulder. Because he also just defiled a goddamn fifteen year old kid. He fucked someone 33 years younger than him, his student, someone he’s supposed to be a good example for. Fuck, he’s a fucking pedophile. A pedophile who cheats.

He dreams of dark brown curls between his legs, though, and wakes up with bile rising up on his throat. He doesn't look in the mirror while getting ready, but still smiles at Peter when he sees him. His heart still beats harder on his chest and his cheeks get warmer, and maybe they make out at a secret, dark spot only Tony knows about at the school. Maybe they laugh between kisses, and Peter has to shove the man away because “Oh my gosh, Tony, you’re just insatiable!”

#starker #starker nff #starker fanfiction #fanfic #darkship #nsft #ironspider #don't like don't read

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