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pirateprincessblog · 3 months ago

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needle to the heart

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: wedding planning seemed stressful and difficult on tv and in the stories of your friends and family. your first one was, indeed, stressful and difficult. so much that it took you less than ten minutes to discard your wedding dress, undo your hair, and call a cab. this time will be different. with a different approach. in a different city. with a different man. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kim hongjoong x f!reader x choi san 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: angst, smut, bride!reader, ex!hongjoong, ceo!san, cheating, marriage, past lovers 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: public, voyeurism, orgasm denial, slight dacryphilia, choking, hair pulling, fingering, mirror sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, infidelity 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i whipped this out in three hours. enjoy. i did. i'm horny. and sad. not proofread. :)

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

you liked to think that you were the furthest thing from a bridezilla. you did everything on your own or with your partner, kept your family and friends out of it, for their and your sake, and little by little, all the planning was coming to an end. the seating arrangement was finished, bridesmaids happy, parents satisfied, and you and your partner relaxed. all that was left to do was find the wedding gown and tuxedo.

for your last wedding, your then partner and you did not have a big budget. you did not plan a big wedding either, knowing that none of your family members would attend and he had a very small circle of people.

kim hongjoong was in college, struggling to make ends meet. but he loved you, more than anything. would've kept you in his pocket if he could. he borrowed money from his brother to pay for the venue and catering, and used his savings to buy himself a suit that was conveniently on clearance. as for your dress, he made it for you. his dream of becoming a fashion designer never faded, even though it cost him his apartment and most of the food. he lived off of coffee, pretzels and cigarettes.

he quit them for you, hoping to create a better impression in your parent's eyes. but all they saw was a cigarette smelling, hair dyed boy whose dreams were too big for his own good and he could not give you a good future. they didn't not like him. they hated him. your father, usually having a soft spot for even a pout from you, let alone tears, was unfazed as you begged him to give hongjoong a chance.

"you'll become homeless in no time."

"don't come to us when everything falls apart."

"what do you know about love at your age?"

"why can't you find someone more successful?"

and you almost went through with it. you sat in the hand sewn wedding dress, with your hair done by your best friend, and make up done by yourself. the dress itself did not look like it was made in under a month by a man. it looked like it was stripped from a mannequin in a wedding dress shop. and you loved it. you loved every bit of it. you loved every bit of him. the smile he had on his face as he handed you the box, and the little excited clapping as you admired his creation in awe.

yet, as soon as your best friend left you to get the veil from the car, you regretted it. what if it really does go wrong, and you have no backup. you didn't go to college, instead choosing to work until you decide what to do with yourself. but your paycheck wasn't enough to find an apartment for yourself, let alone two people. then comes the food, the utilities, and his college. would he ask you for money? would he contribute at all? would you have to work two shifts to cover both of your expenses?

in the ten minutes that your best friend, the maid of honour, was gone, your brain managed to mess with your feelings and got you out of the dress and through the window. you ran in the clothes you arrived in, leggings and sweatshirt, with undone hair and face full of smeared makeup. your parents ushered you in, your mother happily wiping your makeup off and preparing you your favourite meal.

your phone did not ring once. it hurt your heart to think that hongjoong did not reach out to you. not him, not his family, and not your maid of honour. you were alone. hurting. you did not want to do it. but if hongjoong had been just a tad bit more patient, everything would've been perfect. neither of you were financially stable on your own, or together, and barely had the money for the wedding. hongjoong didn't understand it. or didn't want to understand it. blindly in love, he just wanted to gift you the world. say the word, and he would create it out of thin air for you if he could.

you moved cities, changed numbers, forgot names and faces, met new ones. you met choi san. a kind, polite man you've met at the gym. the encounter was like one from a movie; someone raising their voice at you for borrowing some equipment and shoving you backwards as you tried to defend yourself. when your back hit the wall, you were certain the giant bodybuilder's fist would soon meet your face. until he came to rescue.

"pick on someone your own size."

"this your girlfriend or something?"

"she is. even if she wasn't, what gives you the right to talk or touch anyone like that?"

"tell your slut to keep her fingers to herself and ask the next time she wants to- oof!"

in a split second, san's fist connected with the man's jaw. it was amusing seeing the giant man stumble back, taking a hit from someone who was shorter and not as bulked as him. the workers were quick to react, but on his behalf. both of you got your membership cancelled, bags and bottles flying out the door, along with you two. you stood in front of the glass doors in the dark, your saviour next to you, equally in disbelief. until you started laughing. and he joined.

from that night, everything seemed to fall in place. you felt loved. safe. had hopes and dreams again. your parents accepted san, just like his parents accepted you. family dinners and lunches were now an often occurrence, with san always abducting you while everyone was busy preparing food and giving you attention where nobody could see.

it was sweet and innocent at first, and more heated and passionate as days went by. choi san knew how to sweep you off your feet, whether it was with a sudden trip to your dream destination or a simple chocolate bar he picked up at the gas station. aside from loving, caring and protecting, he was also rich. you would sound shallow if you said it out loud, but it did contribute. looking at your last relationship, this one felt safe. you didn't need to worry whether you'll spend today's budget on your daily coffee or on your partner's food so he doesn't starve.

now, a few years later, not only do you have a majestic venue, a big number of people you wanted to invite in the first place, and a dreamy groom, but you are also getting your wedding gown custom made. you sit in your fiancé's car, a brand new black and shiny lexus with red seats he bought for the wedding that is just three weeks away. he assured you that the gown would be done by then. it had to be.

"see anything you like, love?"

"they're all so... revealing." you complain, closing one of the dozens magazines san's assistant has found you.

san chuckles, putting a hand on your thigh and keeping the other one on his steering wheel. you still feel goosebumps every time he touches you. his hand is warm on your skin, gently squeezing your bare thigh just beneath the hem of your dress. "you can draw your own picture if you wish. i'll do everything to make sure you have your dream dress. i want my future wife to be happy."

as an owner of a highly successful company that produces luxurious jewelry and watches, choi san could afford everything. yet, he was still cautious with his money. he kept his receipts, tracked his own expenses, but never spared when it came to spoiling you or tipping workers. the only thing you regretted was not meeting him sooner.

"i am happy." you respond, even though your tone is irritated.

"you're so cute when you try to conceal your emotions. you can be angry with something, that's alright."

"i'm not angry. i'm pissed."

"tell me what you want, and i'll make it happen."

"i don't know what i want." you admit, throwing the magazines in the back seat.

"ah," san says. "can i be of any help?"

"you can try."

"you love sparkles. why not go all out?"

"i don't know."

you rest your head against the window, looking at the tall building that overshadows all the others as you give your brain a break. it is san's building, and you have been in there many times. some days spent sitting in the cafeteria and having lunch with him, and some spent against the window, bare body pressed against the cold glass as his warm hands held your waist in place and hips connected with yours. you feel arousal pooling between your legs, and instinctively press your thighs together at the memory.

san recognizes the way you chew your freshly manicured nail, eyes stuck on the highest level on his building and cheeks becoming flushed. he smirks to himself, before letting his hand dip between your thighs and feel the warmth of your core.

"san-" you gasp, quickly rolling up the window.

usually, you do not mind. but in the middle of the day, in a busy city as you wait for the green light?

"may i know what got you so worked up?" he asks, knowing the answer already. he just needed to hear it from you while you were a flustered and stuttering mess.

"you know."

"i'm afraid i don't. mind reminding me?"

you look at him with an annoyed face. you realize it is a mistake, your eyes hungrily taking in his presence. he looks ravishing with his slicked black hair, with a few strands falling over his smug face, a black halfway unbuttoned shirt with rolled up sleeves and his sleeve tattoos on full display. the tattooed hand grips your thigh, his pinky finger inching closer and closer to your clothed core. your gaze drops on his tattoos, having memorized all of them by now. your favorite one overshadows the rest, and when he first showed it to you, it had your jaw dropped for a long time.

your eyes inked on his skin, details astonishing. your lashes, your iris, to the smallest vein in the whites of your eye. it was cleverly camouflaged with the rest of them, but still standing out if someone were to look at it a bit longer.

something about him pleasuring you with that hand had you seeing stars. choi san loved you so much that he got a reminder of you permanently marked on his skin. and he made sure to show you how much he loved you in other ways. just like now, easily moving your panties aside and brushing his fingers against your folds. he circles your clit, causing you to squirm in your seat and claw at the red leather underneath you. he doesn't protest, instead loving the view and sounds you make for him.

"my pretty wife," he coos, then dips his fingers into your aching hole.

you moan, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, finally relaxing your body. san has given you passion and an adrenaline rush. you can't help but be jealous of his previous lovers. were they also treated like this?

you feel the car move, and his fingers plunge deep inside of you. you gasp, opening your eyes and holding onto the door handle and his wrist. he smoothly navigates the busy roads, not once taking his hand off your body. his thick fingers easily find your soft spot, not sparing a moment before abusing it and inching you closer to an intense orgasm. he is forced to stop at another red light, causing you to groan out of frustration. you wished for nothing more than to get out of the busy city center, beg him to stop in an empty parking lot so you can offer yourself to him in the back seat.

"excuse me?"

you become stiff under his touch, ears picking up a foreign voice. san does not halt his moves, relentlessly slamming two fingers into you, hidden by your dress. you squeeze his wrist - a poor attempt to stop him.

"yes?" your lover rolls down his window, shifting his focus on the older couple that approaches the car.

"do you know where this street is? we aren't usually in this city." they show san their phone screen that has an address written in the notes.

as san explains, you can't help but feel a mix of fear and embarrassment. the green light could turn on any second, and your orgasm could wreck your body in the same time span. you can't help the gasps that leave your lips, even though your head is turned to the other side. it does not make the situation easier, seeing that the sidewalk is full of people waiting for the bus. and have a perfect view inside the car. some of them recognize the pure bliss on your face, and while a few turn their heads away, two or three of them stay looking at you.

"and then you turn left after the restaurant." san finally finishes, and you almost do too.

"thank you, kind man. is your... partner alright?"

all three look your way, and you have to fight the urge to yell at the couple to leave and be on their way already. instead, your orgasm ripples through your body, sending shockwaves along your spine and making your eyes roll back. you hear faint snickering, and a gasp. you know that the couple is traumatized, and that san is enjoying every bit of it. as are you.

you don't conceal your moans anymore, allowing sounds of pleasure to echo in the car that now smells less new and more like you.

"i hope you find your location." the man greets, removing his hand from your glistening folds and letting his tongue feast on the fluids that coat his fingers.

before they can respond, the light turns green, and san is quick to step on the gas pedal and leave the shocked crowd behind.

"you're insane." you exhale, a smile creeping on your lips no matter how angry you wish to sound.

"and you love it."

san's assistant is still a student. she works for him so she can afford her college. her job description says doing tasks that make san's job easier, but in reality, her only task is to keep you company and help you around the wedding. and she does not complain.

"april, this looks fabulous." you gasp, gawking at the three story wedding dress shop a few days later.

"i know, right? i pass by this shop every day on my way to college. i really want to buy my own dress here some day." the redhead sighs, dreamy gaze roaming the white gowns. "you know, mr choi is so cool for letting you design your own dress."

"when you get proposed to, give me a call. i'll see what i can arrange." you playfully reply.

she laughs, then finally pushes the door and holds it open for you. sometimes you feel jealous of her. she has fire red hair, and green eyes, the most gorgeous shade you've ever seen. she spends a lot of time in san's building, right outside the office. even though she has never shown interest in him, you can't help but moan just a bit louder when you're in there with him, hoping that she hears and gets the message.

"the owner is so hot, mrs choi. i met him the other day to book a consultation and-"

"mrs choi?" you raise an eyebrow.

"oh- i mean- can i call you that? it sounds so... sexy. mr and mrs choi. the hottest couple i know. not even brangelina can top you."

"april!" you hush her. still, you can't help but blush at her compliment. you're happy to know that she sees you as attractive as san.

after a short introduction and a few words of praise for san, you are sat on a white couch with golden accents, a champagne in your hand and magazine in the other. the shop assistants offer all the help they can, showing you various gowns they already had and handing you rough sketches. but none of them were good enough. it was hard to pick, when you didn't know what you wanted.

"where's the owner? i thought he would be here." you ask on april's behalf.

"oh, he had urgent business. if you wish, i can schedule another consultation in a few days. or you can wait for him, but he arrives late today."

"how late?" the redhead asks, brows furrowed.

"an hour after closing. but i can keep the shop open for you until he arrives."

april groans, making you chuckle. "you have to go, don't you?"

"yeah. boo. but you should definitely stay. the wedding is two and a half weeks away, and you have no vision of your dream dress. i have five in mind!"

and so you do stay, occupying yourself with browsing various materials of lace, satin and whatnot. each of them are undeniably stunning, with a detail that makes it unique. the last assistant that stayed behind encouraged you to explore the two floors again while she stays downstairs and finishes the remaining paperwork.

your heels click against the marble stairs as you climb to the first floor, eyes skimming the room for the second time today. the dresses on this floor seem more modest, with long sleeves and not as much cleavage. quickly getting bored of the floor, your proceed to the top one. it is extravagant, gowns dripping in sparkles under the strong white lights. once you finish going through all of them, you head over to the show window, examining the two mannequins dressed in two versions of the same gown.

you sigh, feeling disappointed that you are so hard to please. your eyes drift to the streets that have calmed due to the lateness of the night and sudden change in weather. it is pouring, most of the stores are closed, making the wedding boutique stand out in its full glory. a few people pass by, none of them headed to the store and instead clutching their umbrellas close to themselves so they don't get wet. you begin feeling annoyed with the owner. he could've notified you that he had sudden errands, and you would've rescheduled instead of wasting your time coming here at all.

then, you see a figure walking towards the shop. and your heart drops.

it can't be.

you rush to the top of the stairs, careful to not make any noise.

"mr kim! you're drenched! i'll get you a-"

"no need, kendra. it's not that bad."

it is him.

his voice you could recognize anywhere, no matter how long has passed. his figure, his voice, even the footsteps that are getting louder and louder. you are not ready for this encounter.

"you can go home, love. i'll close up after i've finished with..."

"mrs choi."

"right, mrs choi."

so he does not know it is you. and he won't. not until he sees you. you're a fool for not exploring the place first, finding out the name of the owner. and you're a fool for not leaving when april did. at least then she would've maybe told you his name, and you would not come back-

"y/n?"

ever again.

"you're mrs choi?"

you sigh. there is no going back. there is no avoiding it. best get it over with. do you address him professionally? or by his first name? "mr- hongjoong."

he scoffs, and you finally turn around before you stumble on more words. the sight takes your breath away. this is not your ex hongjoong. it is mr kim, owner and designer of wedding gowns. his hair is not a vivid colour as it used to be, instead his natural dark locks match his dark eyes. it is damp, drops of rain falling from the loose strands and on the mopped floor. he wears a black coat, a black turtleneck and slacks. a complete opposite from your blue haired hongjoong who loved his diy sweatshirts and sweatpants. the man stands still, his expression a mix of anger and grief, and yours only astonishment.

"thought you'd see me sleeping on a bench somewhere? beat and hungry? not successful and financially stable? not over you?"

"no, i-"

"wow. who would've thought i'd be making a wedding gown for my ex fiancee." he approaches you, and you don't have energy to step away. instead, you stare as he puts his hands behind his back and casually leans in, face close to yours. "again."

"i-" you try again, feeling his hot breath on your lips.

"well, shall we get to business? before you change your mind faster this time? wouldn't want the poor man to have the same fate as i."

anger, along with regret, pools in the bottom of your stomach. anger that he didn't reach out to you. and regret for what you did that caused him not to.

"choi... choi san? the owner of that watch brand? well, this watch brand." he shows you his wrist, the familiar watch design shining under the boutique lights. "can you believe that? i can afford it and not go bankrupt. i have to admit the prices are whopping, but it is a really nice-"

"can you stop fucking shitting on me and give me a chance to speak?" you interrupt him this time, brows furrowed and nails digging into your palms.

"fine. go." he sits on the couch in the middle of the room, putting his leg over the other.

"that day... i just-"

"no. speak of the design you want." he interrupts again, making that bubble of anger inside of you bigger and bigger, threatening to burst any moment. "you haven't come here to explain yourself. nor did you ever think of doing that. just because i had a few things to say doesn't mean i want to hear you out. now, speak. long? short? sleeves? no sleeves? easier to unzip so you can leave faster without anyone noticing you?"

your palms burn from the intensity of your nails digging into your skin, and your teeth abuse the insides of your cheeks. "fuck you."

hongjoong abruptly stands up from the couch, causing you to stumble back in order to defend yourself. "me? fuck me? what did i ever do to you besides loving you?"

"you didn't listen. if only you did, we could've been married by now. we weren't financially ready then-"

"i had found a job. i saved up. i wanted to surprise you with a new apartment. but you surprised me with my own wedding gown laying on the floor without the love of my life in it. i have to admit, you outdid me there. did not see that one coming."

"i didn't know about your job."

"of course you didn't. you didn't want to know. your family brainwashed you. tell me, is san filthy rich? is he the one paying for this dress?"

his voice is dripping with bitterness, and his sour smile makes your insides turn uncomfortably. you're not used to seeing him be this mean. but something tells you that you will never see the pure side of hongjoong you've known ever again.

"did your parents adore him as soon as they heard his name? after all, he can afford a lavish wedding. he can give you anything you ask for. all i could give you was the ability to disappoint them with your partner choice. my apologies for that, by the way. i should've known better."

"stop. i'm leaving."

"no, you're not. your little assistant made a contract with us, and you are not to leave the shop until you have your dream gown."

"i don't want your fucking gown."

"boo-hoo. cut the tears, dollface. you're not in a position to be sad or angry. i, however, am in a position to chew you out for what you did to me."

"and you're not chewing me out right now?" you reply, angry tears streaming down your face. you hate crying from frustration.

"this is me holding back, my ex lover. you don't wish to hear me unleash."

stubborn, you straighten your back and walk towards him, until you are mere inches away from his face. "unleash, then. let me hear what you've been brewing all those years."

the man doesn't flinch. instead, he hands you a gown from the rack, shoving it into your hands. "go try that on."

"i don't-"

"go."

letting out a shaky exhale, you enter the dressing room. you finally look at yourself in the mirror. slightly smeared mascara, a few wet trails on your cheeks, and frizzy hair. when you put on the dress, you look just like the day of your wedding; dressed up, hopeless, and troubled. it's like deja vu, putting your hair in a claw clip so that you can see the dress better. tears of anger slowly turn into tears of sadness. you have robbed yourself of your first love, and him of his happiness. you turned him into a bitter man.

"suits you." he comments nonchalantly, hands crossed over his chest. "now, i wonder. by the look on your face, you did not know i own this place or design the pieces in it. what did you think i did after you left?"

"i didn't think." a lie.

"did you think i'd drown in tears from sadness?"

"you know, it seems to me that you thought about me more than you wish to admit." you play his game.

"i am not afraid to admit anything. i did think about you. i ran after you. your best friend stopped me. said you were not worth it. that you'll forever let your parents navigate your life. some best friend, huh?"

you didn't hear from her, or anyone else. nobody reached out to you, and you didn't reach out to anybody. it seemed like a mutual silent decision. and it killed you inside.

"try this one." he hands you another. "might be a bit big, but i'll adjust it."

the switch from professional to whatever the other thing is scares you. so you listen. it's the least you can do. you want to get your dress already, and he might get closure. both of you might. the second dress is plain satin with a corset top. it accentuates your eyes, and isn't revealing, with a simple sweetheart neckline. the pearl straps are made to fall off the shoulders, showing off your collarbones. hongjoong had a fixation for your collarbones, always leaving a hickey or two when making love to you.

you look at yourself with disgust. you're choosing a wedding gown for a man of your dreams, and your mind wanders to the way the man outside the dressing room marked your body every chance he got.

"come out, bride." he calls, and you can't tell if he is mocking you or really means it.

you come out, collarbones on full display, and mascara still smeared. he was ready to throw another comment, but upon seeing you, words get stuck in his throat. his jaw drops slightly, and eyes roam your figure hidden in the satin layers. your waist invites him, as does your unmarked skin. and you know desire in his eyes when you see it. and you hate that you feel it pooling in your core as he approaches you.

"you told me to unleash?" he whispers.

"yes. please do." you beg, hoping to finally close this chapter of your life. "don't hold back. i can take it."

he looks at your teary eyes, chewing the inside of his cheek. he always did that when he thought hard. finally, he steps closer, until your chests almost touch. the towers over you, making your head tilt slightly so you can look at him. the sight is too familiar to him; you below him, teary eyed and smeared makeup. the only thing missing being his load coating your cheeks.

"i hate you."

"okay." you gulp, looking at his chest in front of you.

"i hate what you've done to me. i hate that i ever loved you. i hate that you moved on so easily, while i had to stay back and live in a town where everything reminded me of you. i hate that i was so gullible, thinking we could have a future together. i hate that i thought i was good enough for you."

"hongjoong-" you wish to stop him before you break down. but he doesn't. instead, he places a hand on your neck, causing you to gasp and look up at him once again. your hands wrap around his one wrist in hopes of removing it. "hongjoong-"

"most of all..." he pushes you against the wall, putting light pressure on the sides of your neck. he brings his face close to yours, so close that your noses touch and lips brush each other. when he speaks, you feel how soft and warm they are, and hear how venomous his words are. "...i hate that i still fucking love you. i hate how good you look in a dress you wear for another. i hate that another one is kissing you, touching you, giving you everything that i couldn't. i hate how stunning you look, and i hate myself for being so weak to your mere existence. i hate that you look this good, and it is not for me."

"you're hurting me," you sob.

"you're hurting me, mrs choi. after all these years, you still hurt me." two tears escape his eyes, and he shuts them and furrows his eyebrows. "i hate that i can smell him on you."

his grip softens, but he doesn't remove his hand from your neck just yet. you swallow, before letting his wrist go and instead wiping his tears away. he opens his eyes, not expecting a soft approach from you. when he looks at you, you don't see the resentment anymore. you see pure pain. and you hate to admit that you feel the same.

"we could've been perfect together."

"we could've." you confirm, moving his damp strands from his face and brushing his hair in the process. it is as soft as you remember it. he closes his eyes again under your touch, exhaling and letting himself go in your arms.

"please," he whispers. "one last time."

your moves halt, and your brain freezes. your heart thumps loud inside your chest, and you're sure he can feel it too. "what?"

"one last time." the dark haired man allows his hand to slide from your neck, index finger following an imaginary line down your neck and running over your collarbones. "let me give you a chance to change your mind."

you wish to say no. with all your heart. you love san, more than anything. you've grown with san, you've created a new future with him. but your love for hongjoong is... familiar. old. nostalgic. and still undead. it was buried alive, and you didn't even know it.

"please..." his whispers become softer, and lips closer to yours.

"don't..." you try, voice an equal whisper.

"please," he begs again, his other hand sliding to your waist and pressing your body against his.

"don't," you say, voice shaking as you fight your brain and heart, both already at war with each other.

he closes the distance, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. it is a split second, but in that second, he opens the pandora's box, unleashing everything bad about you. you gulp, feeling his scent envelop you. he smells like rain and jasmine, and it blends with his natural scent so well.

"please," he kisses you again, each kiss short and sweet, and full of pain and desire.

"don't."

"please."

"don't..." the hand that was on your collarbones slides to the zip on the back of the dress, undoing it smoothly and loosening your dress. "stop..."

he kisses you again, spilling begging words over and over, and you do not push him away, despite your words. "please."

"don't..." you exhale when his hands cup your bare breasts. "stop."

"y/n."

"don't stop."

"my love."

"don't stop."

"my beautiful."

"don't stop."

"my only one."

"please don't stop."

as if you shattered the invisible wall that held him back, hongjoong lets your dress pool on the floor and picks you up, pinning you against the wall and making your legs wrap around his body. his lips hungrily search for yours, kissing, sucking, biting, everything he dreamed of for the past few years you were gone.

your hands roam his body, taking off his coat and helping him out of his turtleneck. your tongue finds his, eager to taste him again. you hum the moment you touch the hot muscle, which generously gives you back equal attention. he tastes the same. he tastes like home.

"i should've ran until my legs stopped working. i should've called until my finger became numb. i should've called out your name until my voice faded." with each sentence, he gets rid of a piece of clothing, until your bare bodies are pressed against each other on the soft couch.

you don't speak, instead pulling him by his hair to kiss him again. he chuckles lightly into the kiss, your eagerness amusing to him. you're not in the mood for any foreplay, core already dripping with arousal and desire to feel him after many years.

"i want you to say it out loud." he stops for a moment, looking deep into your eyes.

"don't make me say it."

"i need you to. otherwise, i'm leaving."

"hongjoong..." guilt eats up your heart, the image of san appearing before your eyes.

"say it. say you want me. say you want me to make love to you and send you back to your future husband with my marks and scent all over you."

"i want you." you whisper.

"what was that?" he leans in closer, holding your jaw in one hand while his other one gently spreads your legs.

"i want you, hongjoong."

"atta girl." he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "i won't be gentle."

you nod, excitement overshadowing the guilt from your infidelity. hongjoong doesn't let you adjust like he always did. instead, he places his hot, leaking tip to your entrance, and slides in easily and deeply. your nails dig into his back, and walls welcome the familiar girth. you both moan into each others mouths, and stand still for a few moments. it is the sudden moment of realization when you look at each other than makes his eyes become darker, and he spares no time before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours again.

his lips leave yours, letting you moan and whine freely as your fingers pull at his hair. his tongue leaves a trail down your neck, all the way to your collarbones. he sinks his teeth into your skin, pulling the thin flesh between them and harshly sucking. you yelp, but don't push him away. you'll let him have this. you don't feel it after the second bite, instead focusing on the way his cock relentlessly slams into you, abusing the sensitive spot and inching you closer to an orgasm already.

his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises, and right now, you do not care how you will conceal it.

"hongjoong..." you gasp.

"yes, doll?"

"i need- i don't want to cum yet." you admit.

he pulls away, enough to turn your body over so that you are laying on your stomach. he raises your hips, and presses your head against the soft surface of the couch. then, he slams his hips into yours, speeding up his moves. you are a moaning and drooling mess, not being used to being used this roughly. san was passionate, and not soft. but not rough either. hongjoong is just that: his hatred for you might be the main initiator.

"i'll send you back to your fiancé full of my seed." he growls, pulling your hair back.

your nails dig into the cushions, and eyes look at the mannequins in the show window. you don't have time to feel guilty again, because hongjoong wraps his hand around your neck and picks up your body so that your head rests on his shoulder and you can look at him as he drills into you from behind.

"look at me when i'm fucking you."

your hips hopelessly work with his, body tired from chasing the orgasm already.

"is my darling tired?"

you simply whimper at his question, the grip on your neck too strong for any other response. he pulls away once again, wasting no time in picking you up and walking over to the mirror. he lets you face it, palms pressed against the cold surface. he slides back in, deliciously filling you up to the brim. your own expressions of pleasure sicken you. and you hate that you are loving it.

hongjoong looks at you through the mirror, soft grunts and gasps escaping his mouth each time he collides with your ass. his hand finds its way to your mouth, shoving two fingers inside while his other one toys with your clit.

"look at you." he says, eyes locked with yours. you're unable to look away. "taking your ex man's cock while you try on wedding dresses for another."

you simply moan, not knowing what to say. it is hot, and painful.

"does your fiancé know you'll be wearing my dress when you walk down the aisle? does he know that the hands that made it have also been on his future wife's body?"

when you don't answer, he hits your ass cheek, causing you to jolt. "no, no! he doesn't! please, please make me cum."

"i'll let you cum. if you tell me one thing." he brings your body close to his again so he can whisper in your ear. his hips stop for a moment.

"anything." you whine.

"is his cock better than mine?"

there is no better. both of them have their ways of pleasuring you, and you enjoy both. you pull away and turn around to face him. you skim over his features, taking in his glowing face due to sweat and body full of scratches from your nails. the nails you are supposed to have for your wedding.

"no." you finally reply.

"that's a good fucking girl."

hongjoong pushes you against the mirror, this time facing you. he holds your legs over his elbows, body hovering above the floor and back pressed against the mirror. he reaches a new angle, and this time, you know you'll burst fast. all you need is a few more strokes.

"cum for me, baby. cream all over my cock."

your nails continue to dig into his back, and your forehead finds comfort against his. you moan into each others mouths, each chasing your own peak and enjoying the noises that the other has to offer. when you finally spill over the edge, you moan louder than ever, hands hopelessly pushing his body against yours for comfort. his pants turn into moans, and hips become sloppy as he also reaches his peak and shoots his load inside you. you feel fuller than ever, hole clenching around his pulsating cock. you help him ride it out, moving your hips as best as you can from this position.

once down from the high, you bring yourself to look at him one more time.

"i'll never see you again after this, will i?" he whispers, lips already missing yours.

"no, hongjoong. our story is over. i'm sorry."

he only smiles, pressing a final kiss to your lips before pulling away. he leaves to get something to clean yourself, leaving you alone in the room.

your reflection stares back at you through the stained mirror, prints of your body clear as day. bruises decorate your body after a long time, and your makeup melts from your face. facing hongjoong was a challenge.

facing san will be an even bigger one.

as if he knew you thought about him, the phone rings inside your purse in the dressing room. you rush over there, fingers eager to press the green button.

"hey, wifey. how's the gown shopping going?"

"it's-" your voice comes out raspy, and you have to cough to get rid of it. "it's going well. i think i finally know what i want." and you don't mean the dress.

"oh, i'm so proud of you. i can't wait to see you in it. “you’ll look stunning. should i pick you up?"

"you don't have to. i'll be there in a few."

"alright, princess. i love you."

"i love you too."

once you hang up, you exit the room and find hongjoong waiting with the towel. his eyes are glossy, but he holds control over the tears this time. "you know i'll always hate you."

you laugh, pain ripping through your heart at the words. "i know."

"good."

he gets on his knees, cleaning you in silence, before whispering something. if you weren't focused on every sound he made, you would've missed it.

"don't forget me."

taglist:

@unholywriters @jjoongstar @arki-sha @dawn-iscozy @slvtiny @maltesejjong @ate-ez @katelins27 @kodzukein @almondmilkeu @woomyteez @mulletdaddyjayjo @bae4choi @haatohwa @marvelahsobx @angellluh @jjaemasung @oddracha @itza-meee

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anime-fan-05 · 1 month ago

Note

ciao

can you please do dating x includes... with isagi, bachira, chigiri, nagi, reo, rin and sae (bllk)?

thanks 🤗

Blue Lock ~Dating them includes...~

Manga/anime: Blue Lock

Warnings: nothing

(Y/N): your name

Dating Isagi Yoichi includes taking walks together holding hands, him blushing when you laugh, him dying of embarrassment, but working even harder, if you wear his jersey during one of his games, him tying your engagement ring to the laces of his right shoe during his games (he can't keep it on his finger) and thinking it's the reason for his goals, him watching you in the stands every time he scores a goal and dedicating it to you

Dating Bachira Meguru includes wearing matching t-shirts and pajamas, him sending you spotify lyrics he thinks relates to your relationship, him cuddling into you like a koala and pouting and whining when you break free from his grasp, having matching keychain in school bag, going on photobooth dates and making funny faces at the camera, him having one of the photos you took in the photobooth in his wallet and phone cover

Dating Chigiri Hyoma includes doing skin and hair care together, you helping him to take care of his injured leg, him leaving to touch, comb and play with his hair only to you, reading novels together, him complimenting you on everything you're wearing, him blushing if you compliment his speed after a practice or game, him always carrying a hair elastic in case you need it, him having a period tracking app

Dating Nagi Seishiro includes arcade dates, watching TV series or films or videos, reading manga and playing mobile games together, him not letting you go for at least an hour when you two cuddle, him collapsing on you after coming back from training and staying in that position for quite a while, him always muttering "what a pain" when you ask him to do something (even if he does it anyway)

Dating Mikage Reo includes his gallant behavior, him paying for all the meals, gifts, hotels and places you're at, going only to fancy places, him always giving you flowers, him buying everything you want, even if you don't tell him so, him always having pads and chocolate on hand when you've your period, him always thinking "would (Y/N) like this?" every time he sees something in a store

Dating Itoshi Rin includes watching horror movies together and him being forced but actually wanting to hug you so you won't be afraid, him glaring at the boys too close to you (for him), him giving you his sweatshirt if he notices you're cold, him always giving you only veiled compliments, him teaching you how to play football, him having more photos of you than of him on his phone, him having you as his photo on his phone's lock screen

Dating Itoshi Sae includes him being mean to everyone but you, him hugging you from behind when you least expect it, him keeping all your gifts and the cards you gave him, him always mentioning you at least once during his interviews (he doesn't do it on purpose, it's completely involuntary), him carrying you in his arms like a bride effortlessly if you're tired, him thinking about your wedding every time he passes a jewelry

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

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7waystreet · 3 months ago

Text

toxic | min yoongi

synopsis — it's the night before your wedding but your ex bf yoongi reels you in for a taste of what you've been missing

genre — fluff; smut

warnings — 18+, TW! cheating, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex

word count — 2.3k+

It's the evening before what any other person in the world would most probably feel beyond excited for, not even being able to properly voice the happiness which consumes their breath. Having found that one special person completing the unsaid void in their hearts, almost everyone goes into it with the mindset of only wanting it to happen once in this lifetime. Your wedding.

But you find yourself slipping out of the family festivities early under the pretense of wanting to get a good night's rest being the bride, silently hiding back in the heavy shadows before the much anticipated ceremony tomorrow. Looking for an escape from the overwhelming burden weighing all the way down to your gut, you secretly change into a baggy set of sweats and pull your hood up, eventually cowering in the corner of the sports bar at your hotel lobby, all alone. You feel pathetic sipping on your drink late into the night hours, the urge to yell at yourself for being ungrateful for the wonderful things you've been blessed to have in your life only getting stronger as the alcohol begins spiking your bloodstream, your thoughts concluding on the fact that you're just utterly insane for somehow still not being content with your fiancé's love.

But you now find yourself wondering... is love just about being content? Or is love about experiencing every single one of those all consuming and wild emotions that drive you to the depths of craziness, but also give you that exhilarating rollercoaster ride of pleasure and thrill, than otherwise?

Your head sways sideways in painful defeat, a drunken chuckle escaping your lips as your mind drifts off to your past. Of course you'd tried the latter with nearly no success, the memories of that long term toxic relationship soon flashing before your eyes like a movie, an aching numbness sucking the life out of your body.

Despite everything that's happened, you still can't stop thinking about Yoongi.

How could you possibly forget him when he was your first? Your first kiss, which he'd ever so gently pressed into your trembling lips after he'd walked you home late at night from that house party. Your first boyfriend, the way his cheeks had turned cherry red when he'd mustered up the courage to ask you out still fresh in your mind despite it being years and years ago. He was even the person you'd lost your virginity to, the night he'd snuck in through your window to sneak into your sheets sorely rippling through your brain like a wave threatening to drown you. He was your first love, and your first heartbreak too.

"Would you like another drink, miss?" the bartender's voice drifting from somewhere up ahead rips you out of your drowse, your head nodding in acknowledgment, still hanging low under your hood, to further your wishes to deprive yourself from any sensations.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking so much at this hour."

Like a snake lying patiently in wait until he chooses to slither back in, Yoongi smoothly takes the seat right next to you on the high top chairs at the bar, the comment he's just made in his deep voice jolting your body into a wake state as if you'd been shocked to life with a defibrillator. You obviously don't have the courage to turn and look at his face, purely out of the fear that you'll get lost into those cunning eyes again, but you can still tell it's him from the attractive scent of his pinewood musk cologne mercilessly seeping into your senses, dangerously sucking you back into the reminiscence of falling asleep to that same smell while being snug in his arms.

"How did you even find me here?"

"I can spot my own sweatshirt easily, even from a mile away."

Your face streaks hotter as your eyes quietly drift down to really observe the black FG hoodie you'd inattentively thrown on earlier, not even thinking twice about how it'd actually belonged to Yoongi when you'd stolen it from him back in the day when you two were still dating, a right of passage for any girlfriend in the case, of course.

"Still mad I never gave it back to you?"

"Nah, it looks way better on you than it ever did on me" you can hear a slight sigh in his upbeat voice, his tone of speech quite easy to decipher, and you'd understood perfectly well Yoongi had indeed grinned to himself while speaking those words.

A smile curls up on the already loosening muscles of your face, your swerving mind fully malfunctioning and finally ordering your head to turn in his direction, just in time to catch Yoongi flash his endearing gummy smile, a heart warming sight you hadn't been graced with for ages. A heart wrenching sight you've no doubt missed.

"What do you want Yoongi?"

"Nothing. I'm just here to check up on you and make sure you're ok before, you know, the big day."

A hint of spitefulness no doubt lingers in his fake act of sounding perfectly unaffected by it all, even the true master of disguise failing miserably to hide his strained feelings about the reality you're both trapped in at that given moment.

"Hah. How sincere of you... Where the hell were you when I really needed you?"

His entire demeanor tenses up to a rock when your unexpected words pierce him like shards of glass, his thinned lips pressing on each other while his saddened eyes peer into your glistening ones, his mind clearly thinking his thoughts through in a flash for a few brief moments before saying something he'd later end up regretting.

"We've talked about this. You really wanna go there again?"

With a whip of frustration, you veer your gaze away from him in a swipe, your elbows digging into the bar top at once, your bare face now buried rigidly in your palms. Your eyes remain tightly shut, stars beginning to sparkle in your dusky vision from your eyeballs being intensely pressured into your hands, your breathing certainly shaky as you try hard not to blow your head off in the anger that's surging through your chest.

"Hey look at me" Yoongi's hand softly twists up around your wrist and tugs at you, the feeling of his palm touching your skin like a sharp burn.

"And do what?! Stop trying to be nice now... it's too late! You fucked everything up!"

It's true. Yoongi's scorching love always came at a conditional price, not any of that unconditional shit you see everywhere in the movies and dramas. You'd done everything you could to support him in his difficult venture of establishing himself as a music producer in this tough industry, selflessly spending countless hours with him in the studio for moral support, sacrificing your own health and pushing your own dreams aside to fully be there for him.

But what did he even do for you? Slap a bandaid over your hurt by buying you the most expensive and exquisite gifts with the flowing cash in his bank account, without ever prioritizing you when you really needed him to be there. All you had asked was for him to really invest some time to strengthen your relationship, but the constant neglect because of his rising career became the last nail in the coffin, finally breaking off your trust in him for never being a dependable partner.

"You know I was trying to make money. For our future together. To make sure we were financially stable and secure."

"How happy is that money making you now with having to see me get married to him?"

"And how much happier are you with him than you were with me?"

The icy cold silence that follows forces you both to freeze up, exasperated eyes locked into one another as you silently sit there with a breathless shake, shocked by the sudden direct questions you'd thrown onto each other. But you both seemingly know the answers to those no matter how wretchedly wrong they seem, perfectly understanding each other without even a need for words.

Yoongi's hand gradually moves up from your wrist, quietly loosening up your clenched fist and sliding his palm along yours, his pretty fingers intertwining with yours before he lightly squeezes your hand.

"Come with me."

It's like a fatal poison, his raspy voice, the sweetness of it brutally addicting, and you're sure it's only going to consume you in the end. Your brain keeps saying no but you're still unable to escape him, your feet now following along his as if they have a mind of their own.

You're not quite sure if you're using your hood to hide your shame or just your face as you enter the elevator with Yoongi, hand in hand, not daring to look up or making eye contact with anyone in case someone from your family spots you, Yoongi's feet eventually guiding you over to his hotel room. Your heart feels like it's going to give out when he closes the door after you've both entered the four walls of security, guaranteeing your privacy, your stomach setting on fire, when he gently pushes your back against the door.

Yoongi's hands skim over your curves, his grip finally firming around your waist right as your mind goes blank, his face slowly pushing in closer until you can feel his breath on your nose, your quivering lips instantly pressing back into his when he impatiently kisses you. Even after all of these years of not being intimate with him, you both seem to find your rhythm as if your bodies were hardwired into it, his chest rubbing into yours as the kissing heats up in no time. Yoongi gently sucks on your tongue, still remembering just how much of a turn on it is for you, unexpectedly taking a pause and moving back from your lips with a big smooching sound.

"Are you still on birth control?"

Your nod of reassurance calms down the visible anxiousness stirring on his face, one of his arms dipping straight underneath your thighs while the other supports your back, being held up in his arms making your heart skip a beat, all while he walks you over to the white linen sheets on the fluffy hotel bed. Yoongi ceremoniously throws you on top of the mattress, a gasp leaving your mouth as your body bounces from the motion, your tense gaze taking in the sight of him standing there untying your shoes for you, his eyes firmly fixed on your face as he does it, not wanting to miss capturing even a second of emotion he's making you feel. He swiftly throws your shoes away behind him, the pair loudly smacking the wall in the hotel room before he slowly leans forward and begins undressing you from your sweats, tossing everything away messily onto the floor, eventually leaving you naked and shivering in bed right in front of him.

And just like that, he's already on his knees for you, his head tucked in between your legs despite his eyes rooted on you, his mouth swishing in a quick motion to drip out his spit onto your folds right before his tongue slowly glides it around to get to wet. He way he flicks on your clit with the tip makes your toes curl up in excitement, the familiar sound of him moaning at the sight of your pleasure prickling up your back in painful goosebumps. He doesn't hesitate to jam his tongue in your hole and place open mouthed kisses on your clit, the motion upping your heart palpitations at once, forcing you to run out of breath and tense up in your place.

"Fuck. I missed the taste of your pussy."

There's absolutely no thoughts running in your mind now except for what your eyes are visually processing, Yoongi edging you on to only pull his mouth away to make you wait just a little bit longer, his legs rising back up to his feet before he starts taking his clothes off one by one, giving you enough time to ogle at every inch of his naked figure in front of you, the vision of his slim stunning body forming a deep knot in your chest.

He's already spun you around and made you get on all fours, now cutting you off from observing the way he looks, only allowing your senses to experience how his body makes you feel being pressed up against your back. His thick cock angles towards your heat, and the way he teases you by rubbing it along your folds for him to meet with your dripping wetness drives you fucking insane. Without any warning, he tightly enters your heat with a slam while you both close your eyes in unison, diving deep into the nostalgic comfort which had imprinted straight onto your souls.

You knew Yoongi loved hitting it from the back because he always liked seeing your ass jiggle from the action, and he gets to live his dream one last time before you become someone else's, the palm of his hand spanking your buttcheeks for the full effect, leaving a red hand print as if to mark you as his in wild desire. Your face scrunches up and teeth bite into the pillow as he spanks hard another time, his cock ramming in and out of you with full speed, just how you like it though. Rough sex with him got you off like no other, the way he mastered the understanding of the fine line between real pain and pleasure a turn on in itself, and he knows just how much you admire that, his nails now digging into your ass and pulling you even closer to thrust even further in to hit your g-spot.

You can't help but clench around his length in no time, a growl escaping his mouth when he feels your walls tightening up around him, the moans that follow furthering both of your pleasure as the friction finally pushes the two of you over the edge. His cum mixed with yours slips out of your heat as he pulls his cock out, flopping down on the bed next to you in a breathless state, your own body still experiencing the waves of your orgasm as if it didn't want to ever stop feeling it.

"Don't marry him, (y/n). Let's try to make this work. I'll do better."

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi oneshot #min yoongi #suga x reader #suga smut #suga fic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #방탄소년단 #7waystreet

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superblysubpar · 4 months ago

Text

<- part eight | epilogue -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: the "enemies” become lovers.

the song: Honey by Kehlani

also for your listening pleasure: I Want You So Bad by Heart , We Belong by Pat Benatar

7,482 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / descriptions of heights-being afraid of them / all favorites listed vaguely except for strawberry ice cream and the princess bride movie / SMUT - slight fingering (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), unprotected piv intercourse with discussions of birth control - creampie | my blog is 18+

Hawkins Middle and High School - the past

The girls giggled in line, whispering and looking over their shoulder and you knew then it was a really, really bad idea to go with them.

The chairs swung in front of you, people yelling and waving to their friends and family down below them and you couldn’t fathom how they could be up so high and have a smile on their face.

Your hands started to sweat as you got closer and closer, till it was your turn next.

But then they didn’t follow you, when the boy running the ride sighed and said, “Only two on.”

The girl named Carol pouted and she looked at you, then the other girl, “I’d go with you, but I have to go with Tina. It’s a tradition.”

“Oh, okay, well, I’ll just…I actually really don’t want-“

“Single rider! We’ve got a single rider! I need a person to accompany this single rider!”

“That’s okay!” You rushed, waving the boy off from yelling again as the girls and everyone in line started to snort and whisper. “Please, I am okay not-“

“I can go with you?”

A boy with an ice cream cone in his hand standing next to the line glared at Tina and Carol who’s mouths parted. He shoved past them and smiled at you, wavy brown hair flopping in the wind as he looked at the attendant, then held up his chocolate cone, “Oh, um, can I bring this on?”

“I so don’t care,” the teen waved you on and to your horror, closed the bar over your laps with no belt.

Your eyes squeezed shut as it lurched forward , fingers slipping on the metal bar as your breath came too quick.

“I’m Steve, by the way, sorry about them. They’re pretty nice when they want to be, I think.”

His words registered, somewhere in your fear, and you managed to spit out your own name.

He repeated your name, he murmured something that sounded like the word ‘pretty’ which had you humming a ‘hmm?’ while your eyelids fluttered open in a grave mistake.

“Oh, uh, I said do you want to share some of my ice cream?” He blinked at you, light brown eyes coming in to focus in front of twinkling lights.

His cheeks turned pink as he mumbled, “That’s weird, isn’t it? I just…hey, you okay?”

His gaze roamed over your face that did not look okay at all.

“I’m…I’m heights aren’t my favorite thing.”

Steve nodded and looked around, breathing out as the ride stopped and kept you dangling in the air. You gripped his forearm without thinking, closing your eyes.

“It’s okay, um…okay, wanna hold my hand until it’s over? I know that doesn’t help that much, but you can feel something that…you know like not the ride reminding you of how high up you are? Shit, I mean, if you keep your eyes closed and hold my hand, it’s like we’re on the ground right?”

“Ri-right?” You hiccupped out through a gulp of air, hand following the yellow sweatshirt sleeve down to bare skin until you could lace your fingers with his.

A breeze blew, the bucket you were in swayed with it and you squeezed harder and Steve cleared his throat, “Woah, you’ve got a grip. You ever thought of baseball for a career?”

You laughed, but started to try to slip out of his hold from embarrassment, but froze when the ride squeaked, so he held it tighter and whispered, “Wow, these swings, that are on the ground, safely attached to the earth, are so fun.”

Your nose wrinkled as you laughed through it and shook your head when the ride started again.

He kept coming up with scenarios for the creaks, and breezes, the swaying, until your hand was loosening in his to a normal and comfortable hold and your eyes were fluttering open again in a genuine laugh.

“Hey, there she is.” He smiled at you. He squeezed your hand, “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The ride came to a halt and Steve kept his hand in yours as you walked off of it.

Hawkins, Indiana - Saturday A.B.

Your fingers roam over your face, your outfit, gaze meeting your own in the mirror as you whisper, “You’re going on a date. Just a normal date.

Nothing crazy about it.” You shrug, nonchalant, “It’s just with Steve Harrington. You’re probably gonna go to a movie and makeout,” the thought has the butterflies flapping in your stomach, but you hold them off, adding with a finger at yourself, “And then it’ll be over, and you’ll go back to how life was before this bet.”

Even as the sentence leaves your mouth, your chest tightens.

Back to life before he kissed you.

Before panic about your safety, before the color red became your favorite too, before you knew what he told Robin.

Before he spoke like that to you in his bedroom.

Before you realized you’ve been in love with him for forever and have just been too scared to get hurt.

Yeah, easy to go back to before all of that. No problem.

A noise outside has you peeking out of your window’s blinds then, and you grab a small bag, and head out your front door.

Steve sits in his driver’s seat, going over his plan with his eyes closed. He blows out his breath, nodding to himself.

“You’re gonna go on this date, and it’s gonna be great, and you are only going to kiss her a little bit at the end of the night, if she wants, and that’s it, Harrington.”

He opens his eyes and panics, seeing you locking your front door. He quickly jumps out of the car and shouts your name.

As you turn, his heart stops beating, he’s sure of it.

Steve stands at the bottom of the stairs, shaking his head and carrying a bouquet of your favorite flowers and something else. His hair is perfectly messy, cheeks pink as he waves at you to back up, wearing the same color he was when you met him. A yellow tshirt pulls at his shoulders as he climbs the stairs, voice sweet but scolding.

“Go back inside!”

“What?” Word lost around your laughter, hand on the keys still in the door’s lock.

He huffs, pouting his lips around the words, “I’m supposed to knock on your door, and give you these so you can put them in water, and tell you you’re beautiful.”

“Oh,” heat floods your body at the word beautiful, but you make no movement as he climbs the last few steps.

Steve raises his eyebrows at you over gold eyes that sparkle and you let out more of a surprised laugh.

“Wait you seriously want me to go back in?”

“Baby, yes,” he motions for you to spin, “I only get one chance, I gotta do this right.”

“Well excuse me, any other rules I should know about?” You grumble under your breath as your key sticks, you yank but it won’t budge. More laughter leaves through your nose, “My keys are stuck.”

“Okay, okay, go back inside, leave the keys in the door, and I’ll get them when we finish with the flowers,” Steve says from behind your shoulder. The hot breath on your ear makes a shiver travel down your spine and back up.

“But I’m already out here and-“

“Please?” The word is brushed against your ear, gently, sincerely.

“Mhm,” hums out of sealed tight lips so something embarrassing like a moan doesn’t slip out instead as you push your thighs together under your dress.

Entering the apartment, you look at him grinning smugly for getting his way as you close the door and roll your eyes.

A knock taps in a pattern on the door and you sigh around a laugh and call, “Who is it?”

“Kevin Bacon!”

As you whip your door open, ready with a witty reply about cutting loose, you stop. Steve swallows, eyes roaming over your body despite having seen the red sun dress before tonight and only a few seconds earlier. But when they land on your face, they melt into a look you’ve never seen before.

Even though you know he’s going to say it, it feels like air is sucked out of your lungs, deflating you on the spot into a gooey puddle when he clears his throat and keeps eye contact as he murmurs.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you respond, cheeks warm, “The dress is…”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, taking a step forward, “You’re beautiful.”

The puddle you’ve turned into disintegrates into the carpet.

Steve’s cheeks turn deeper pink, almost the same color as your dress as he shakes his head. “Wait, no, I mean the dress is great, you look, it’s great, it’s, red is definitely your color. I mean other colors look good on you too and-“

“Steve,” you interrupt and he closes his mouth and then you grin and point to the bouquet, “Are those for me?”

“Oh, yes!” He extends them to you, your fingers brush as your fingers wrap around the stems. You’re hiding a smile into a sniff of them when a loud click and flash happens.

Steve’s pulling a Polaroid square out of a camera as you blink up at him, “Wh-“

“Rule number one tonight - any time you’re looking too cute, I have to take a picture.” He shrugs, like it’s not the most heart melting, brain fizzing, breath stuttering thing a guy’s ever said or done to you.

“I-“

He lifts the camera again and you grin, swatting at his arm through a laugh, “No, film is expensive you can’t waste it on pictures of me.”

Your fingers wrapped around his forearm feel right, and the bouquet of flowers is squished between your chests as Steve holds the camera out of your reach, words soft against your cheek as he breathes them out.

“How would that be a waste, honey?”

Your heart is so loud in your chest, you wonder if the clear evening forecast was wrong, if a storm actually is coming.

Steve purses his lips in thought and then offers, “An amendment to rule number one - only pictures for the moments we really wanna remember?”

“Big brain word,” you mumble, gaze locked on his lips that twitch in a fight of a smile.

“We have a deal? No protesting, no saying anything about wasting film, you’re gonna get your picture taken and like it, yeah?”

The tap of his finger to the tip of your nose shatters your legs, you’re not sure how you’re standing.

“De-deal,” you clear your throat. With what you think is a smile, your body can’t remember how to do anything but melt anymore, you hold up the flowers. “Well, I guess I should get these in a vase, huh?”

“Good idea.” He smiles.

As you wander to your kitchen on wobbly legs, Steve takes a step inside the apartment fully, looking around with a thoughtful gaze.

As the glass jar fills in shaking hands, you call out, “Hey, wouldn’t rule number one be no help? How’d you know these were my favorite?”

“I didn’t get help. I knew they were your favorite already. From middle school.”

Your fingers turn the tap with a squeak, eyes blinking at the flowers now resting in the jar as you ask, “What?”

As you return to the main room, he stares at you, like he’s waiting for something, but then he finally says, “Those poems, in lit. You had a line about your favorite flower. I assumed they were still your favorite now.”

“Oh.”

Steve and you stand on opposite sides of the room, you holding the jar of flowers and him the Polaroid. The photo is developing slowly, the purples and blues matching the bruise on his temple from Thursday night. The red of your dress matching the small scar on his cheek.

The moment lingers, like the last few storm clouds are hovering, slowly lifting as the skies clear and bring promise of better weather.

He smiles softly and tilts his head towards the door, “Ready? We’ve got a whole itinerary.”

You grab the camera from him and snap the photo, sure he looks confused and dazed in it, but you don’t care.

The photo slowly spits out as you stare at each other, letting the moment you want to remember develop next to his.

He holds out his hand, waiting for you to grab it.

“Anyways, I’m rambling,” you finish, grabbing a water glass and sipping it as Steve’s thumb brushes over your knuckles of the hand he’s holding.

On top of the table.

On the edge of the table.

For everyone to see.

He hasn’t let go of it unless he absolutely needed to while eating, and was quick to grab it again when he got the chance.

His knee knocks against yours under the diner’s table, feet tangled together as he shakes his head.

“No, you’re not, and even if you were, I like listening to you talk.”

It feels like that’s all you’ve been doing since you got to the diner. After Steve took your menu and said that he’d already made arrangements, he’d asked you questions about yourself. Some typical first date favorites that he seemingly already knew, like your favorite food, which was delivered to the table. But most of your conversation went deeper, both of you talking about big dream things like not wanting to work at Family Video forever and what you hoped to do next. How excited he was to live with Robin, and how pissed he was at his parents for moving. Surface level things lead into deeper questions like why a season was your favorite because you spent it at your family’s old cabin and all of the memories wrapped up into it.

“To be honest,” Steve grabs your second hand as it sets the water down, holding both in the middle of the table as he stares at them, “I think I could sit here all night and listen to you talk to me.” He starts to trace your hands with his fingers, watching the pad drag up your index finger and back down. “You used to barely speak to me, and when you did, it’s not like we had a real conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to him.

He lifts a hand and kisses your fingers, “For?”

Your lips purse, eyes squint, ignoring the swooping in your stomach as you ask, “How much time do we have?”

Steve laughs, his fingers slide in and out of yours as he looks at them. “I don’t think you have anything to apologize for, honey.”

“I do,” you say, watching how his fingers glide up and down against yours, wondering if you’ll start a fire right there on the top of the diner table from it. “I never gave you a fair chance. We were just kids and…I’m sorry.”

Steve looks up at you and shakes his head, “I didn’t give you much opportunity to think I deserved a chance. And I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” He looks like a kid who’s been caught stealing a cookie before dinner as he admits, “I used to egg you on, on purpose a lot. Just so you’d yell at me and get that little spot…” he touches your forehead, and the brain behind it turns to a static TV screen.

“Which,” he’s grabbing your hand again, unaware he’s erased all functioning properties from you mind as he continues, “I guess I’m not that sorry for. But, I am sorry for being a jerk in school, and after school, and all the times in between.”

Your head shakes, mouth parting in protest and he leans forward, nose close to yours as he whispers, “How about we’re both sorry, we both think the other doesn’t need to be sorry, and both are true. That just exists, and there’s nothing to argue about, hmm?” His nose taps the tip of yours, brushing up the bridge of it as your eyelashes flutter. “Rule number two?” His breath fans across your lips as he asks, “No more arguing?”

“But, what will we do if we can’t argue the rest of the night?” You murmur, tilting your head so your bottom lip skims his top and makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a whine slip out from his throat.

His head tilts, and you think he’ll close the small distance between your mouths, but then a flash and pop happens next to your heads and you grin, somehow the photo being taken making the butterflies happier in your stomach than a kiss.

But then he’s mumbling, “I don’t know if I even aimed that right…” nose knocking your cheek as he presses closer across the table digging into his stomach.

“We’ll know what it’s supposed to be of,” words exhaled as you both inhale, tilt, and-

“Room for dessert?” The waitress interrupts with perfect timing.

Steve clears his throat as he leans away from you. He smiles politely at the waitress and says no thanks.

Your hands seem to loosen in his, and he only grabs them tighter.

“Okay, so. There’s much more to this date, but I wanted to check in, make sure you’re still okay with this?”

Thumbs rub circles over the back of your hands in a dizzying, electric way.

And that’s before he lifts one hand and kisses your palm while maintaining eye contact.

Your thighs adjust on the diner seat as you nod and murmur, “I’m having a great time.”

He smiles wider, squeezes your fingers. “Great, next stop - dessert.”

Steve’s fingers tug on yours, pulling you through the crowd as you laugh around a lick of your ice cream.

He’d pulled the maroon car into the grassy field ten minutes ago and you’d turned to face him as he put the car in park.

He smiled at you, fingers fiddling with his keys and shoulders tight as he asked, “This okay?”

The Hawkins 4th of July carnival sat before you, twinkling lights, rides, games, and most of the town wandering around it all.

You’d nodded and Steve slipped out of the door and pointed at you to stop just like he’d done at the diner. He opened your door and held his hand to help you out, never letting go until he had to pay for your ice cream.

As he’d grabbed his cone, he’d glanced at his watch and swore, grabbed your hand again and started pulling.

You couldn’t help but notice every girl staring as he tugs you through people saying excuse me, couldn’t help but feel that spark of pride in your chest when whenever your grip loosened around people, his only held on tighter.

“What is the rush!” You laugh, catching melting strawberry ice cream with your lips as he darts to the left.

“We’re late! I didn’t realize how long we talked at the diner, we’re missing it!”

“Missing what…”

Your voice trails off as you approach the big grassy hill packed with people on blankets in front of a large, handmade screen.

Showing The Princess Bride.

Robin sits in a booth, chin in her hand, bored, until she sees you two and grins, waving from her station.

“Wh-what’s going on?” You ask, looking at the screen, then him.

Steve frowns, groaning, “It’s like half over. Shit, I’m sorry. I had it all planned.”

He looks at you and all you can see is the chocolate ice cream on his bottom lip as he keeps talking.

“Family Video was asked to do a movie in the park, and I asked Keith if I could do it, and I picked The Princess Bride, for you, so we could watch it together, here-“

Your fingers catch his chin and he can’t breathe as your thumb swipes over his bottom lip. It slips in between your lips, tongue licking the chocolate from it as he breathes heavily.

His hands lift the camera just as yours go to grab for it and you make eye contact then look at Robin and grin.

She snaps a photo of you both when you ask, and you’re fairly certain Steve’s eyes are closed and your mouth is open in a question and it may end up being your favorite one, regardless.

You look at Steve and nod towards the hill.

This time, you hold out your hand and wait for him to grab it.

The movie is full of moments.

One of him asking for a taste of your ice cream and scoffing when you whisper a no, only to grab your wrist and pull it to his mouth and bite it, which you tell him he’s a serial killer for.

Once your ice cream is finished, there’s several, where you keep catching him watching your profile when you laugh at the same parts you always do, only for him to turn quickly back to the screen and ignore you when you try to ask him what he’s staring at. Which he says he doesn’t know what you’re talking about to, so then you get loud about it and then his palm covers your mouth as he whispers that you’re talking during the movie and it’s rude, baby, some people haven’t seen this a bazillion times.

So many with hands resting next to each other’s, fingers playing with yours, swirling over the skin of your arm up and down and tickling and soothing at the same time, making the butterflies in your stomach bang on the walls and scream about letting them out.

Another, where, when he kisses your bare shoulder and pulls your fallen dress strap up, you wonder if butterflies can scream and if Steve can hear them.

Then, when the movie’s almost over, Steve tugs on your hand and whispers against your ear (because you were scolded by Robin for talking too loud earlier), that he knows it’s not over, but you have somewhere to be.

The pair of you duck as you run past people down the hill, trying not to stumble and fall or laugh or block their view and being unsuccessful in almost all of it.

He helps you not fall, hands on your waist and he keeps them there as you turn, breathless, hands against his chest where you can feel his heart beating as hard as yours.

It feels a lot like you’re facing a fear, about to do or say something you might regret, but you know you never truly will, because at least you said it.

At least you gave the what if a chance to prove you wrong.

“Hey,” you whisper, “In case I forget to say it, this date has been pretty perfect.”

“Yeah?” He swallows, gaze falling to your lips then back up. “Even with the moratorium on arguing?”

“Did you just say moratorium?” You grin, while your palms climb higher on his chest and around his neck.

He nods, nose knocking yours, “Mhm, and for my big brain word, I have a request.”

“Name your price, Harrington.”

Steve takes a step back and pulls your hands deeper into the fair, until you’re in front of the ferris wheel.

Your feet scuff on the gravel as he tries to keep pulling you into the line and you shake your head.

“Please?” He looks nervous, looking at the sky and line and then back at you, “I promise it won’t be bad. Just like the first time, I’ll distract you and I’ll hold your hand until it’s over-“

“No,” your hand does slip out of his this time, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

You gesture to the giant ride in front of you, “This is like ten times bigger than that one a school. And I’m bigger! So that’s saying something if it still looks so big!”

Each of your volume increases, hands gesturing and drawing a crowd as you interrupt each other, rule number two completely broken.

“Please, just get in line? It’ll be worth it, and-“

“I’m not going, no way-“

“Stop being so stubborn, for once in your life and just-“

“I’m not being stubborn, you’re being stubborn and I don’t know why it’s such a big deal anyways-“

“Would you just hold my hand on the damn ferris wheel so I can tell you that I love you!?”

It feels like every single person at that fair stops talking right then. His words hang in the air, dings and chimes from rides and games get louder as he blinks at you, mouth parting and closing as nothing more comes out.

Your chest heaves as you gasp, “Wh-what?”

Steve swallows and takes a step closer to you, then another, until his hand is cupping your jaw and he’s shaking his head, like he doesn’t want to say the words but he can’t help it anymore.

“I love you so much. And maybe that’s a crazy thing to say, when this is technically our first date, but…but I do. I love when you snatch red vines out of my fingers and you get that wrinkle between your brows when you think I’m acting like an idiot.”

Your shaking hand grabs his on your cheek, vision turning blurry as he keeps going, voice cracking as he does, “I love the color of your eyes. I love how you can joke and not take things so seriously until it’s something that really matters. I love your work ethic and your heart and…and I think I’ve loved you since we were twelve and I heard your laugh for the first time while you broke my hand. I love you.”

It doesn’t feel real, the words coming out of him, the way your chest cracks open and releases the butterflies. All of your fears of not being enough, of only being a game, vanish with three little words said by Steve. The way he says I love you while he looks at you like that.

Like he means it.

Like you’re his.

His thumb catches tears on your cheeks while you sniffle as you somehow joke, “Acting like an idiot?”

Steve laughs, a rumble in his chest as his forehead knocks against yours, waiting, until you take the air out of him and put it back with five words.

“I love you too, Steve.”

This kiss, is like the moment the storm is over. When rain drips from the leaves softly and the earth smells fresh - like it’s been given a clean slate. When birds start chirping again and the breeze returns instead of the wind. Like sun peaking out of clouds and gray sky turning to blue.

His lips mold around yours, like they’re meant to, like he’s not ever letting them go. Your body heats, like he’s transferring all of his warmth into you from just his lips. Catching yours softly as they part, as they beg for more. He does let them go, only when there’s whoops and whistles around you and a booming crack and spark above you both.

Red and blue paint his features tilted up towards the sky, the fireworks in your stomach reflected in his eyes when they look back at you.

He kisses you again, in front of everyone, holding your waist and pulling you tightly against him, Polaroid sandwiched between you. Steve keeps kissing you until you’re both panting into each other’s lips, unable to part fully, but desperately needing air.

Your bottom lip catches his top one again in an over too quick peck as you smile and grab both of his hands, and tug him towards the parking lot.

He had to pull over fifteen minutes ago.

You’d kissed him dizzy in the grassy field, letting him press your body up against the door he was planning to open for you.

Mouth that had always been so mean to him making up for so much lost time. Lips that parted under his and followed his lead, that sucked and bruised right back, always matching his shift, countering back, challenging him and making something inside of his chest feel like it was prying open to get into yours.

The feeling was addicting.

He remembers his hands on your hips, pressing you into the car with his body, your name barely escaping between tongue and lips that just wouldn’t, couldn’t, stop.

You’d hummed, while fingers squeezed the back of his neck and then scratched along the back of his head, grinning around his mouth that parted in a gasp when you did.

“We,” he’d swallowed as your mouth slipped along his jaw, his head tilting back so you could kiss his throat, “We should…jesus christ.”

Your teeth scraped the side of his neck and his hands pressed to the hood of the car, thigh nudging between your legs and only stopping when you moaned against his ear.

You’d rolled your hips experimentally, mouth moving lower again so it could get a proper kiss once more, now that you’d gotten a chance for deeper breaths.

Steve’s hands had gone back to your waist and squeezed, his mouth evaded yours and pressed to your ear.

“You really are trouble, you know that?”

It just made you wonder what else it would take for him to call you that again.

But then it started to rain.

Everyone started running into the field, shrieking and laughing as rain thrummed and pinged on metal rides and wood booths.

He quickly opened your door, shoving the camera and Polaroids at you and ran around his hood.

Both of you swiped at your eyes, shivering from the cold rain that only turned down some of the heat between you. He’d swallowed as he looked at you, licked his bottom lip and asked if he could drive you home.

You’d nodded, and after he’d pulled onto the road, your hands met in the middle of the console.

But then you’d laid his hand on your thigh, pressing yours on top of it. You’d fiddled with his fingers, humming along to the radio and pretending like you weren’t up to no good.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, every doubt washed away from the rain when Steve looked over at you with pouted, kiss-bitten lips, voice scratchy as he warned, “Honey…”

Which was his own fault. He shouldn’t have said it like that, shouldn’t have looked at you like that when he did. Cause it only made you lace your fingers with his from above. Made you move your hand and his to the hem of your dress where his fingers twitched when they hit bare skin.

“You-“

He stopped, biting his lip when you pulled at the hem, lifting it higher and letting the pads of his fingers drag along the inside of your thigh till he hit wet lace and cotton.

“Please?”

Which was your own fault. You shouldn’t have said it like that. Shouldn’t have looked at him like that when you did. Cause it only made it easier for you to guide his fingers to push under the black fabric. Made it too easy for the pads of two fingers to brush through your slick far too slow and tease at your clit before doing it again, and again, and-

He pulled his hand away when you gasped as the car swayed on the wet pavement and he shook his head, hands back to ten and two, mumbling the word trouble again.

But then he was pulling over, lights cutting the slant of rain on the deserted gravel road as he looked over at you with pink cheeks and wild, wet hair and nodded his head to his side of the car.

“Get over here, now.”

You’d grinned and said:

“Ask me nicely, Steve.”

And now your thighs were parted over his, the skirt of your evil dress fanned out all pretty and covering up how indecent you were underneath.

His hands held your waist as your hips rolled, the mess of black fabric underneath hitting against his Levi’s that were far too tight just right.

Heart’s song mixing with his own, thudding in his chest as you whisper his name against his lips like a prayer. He wonders if he can get you to come like this, just riding him fully clothed in his car, with just his mouth on yours, but that’s not what he wants. Not right now, not tonight.

“Baby,” he sighs, “We gotta slow down. You’re killing me here.”

It only makes your hips roll with a little more pressure, a laugh bubbling out of you as his eyelids flutter and the back of his head hits the seat rest with a groan.

He squeezes at your waist and holds you still, mouth catching yours when you whine.

It’s a much softer, shorter kiss than you’ve had all night, but not as sweet as what he says after.

“I wanna take my time with you.”

He stares at you, and your hand leaves his shoulder, pad of your finger tracing over freckles on his cheek, his cupid’s bow, up the bridge of his nose. It’s tender on his eyebrow, careful to avoid the bruise, until it’s gently brushing the three freckles next to his eye.

“Did you know you have a little bit of green in your eyes?” The murmured words take his heart and squeeze, make it harder to swallow as your nose nuzzles into his and you add, “I don’t want to miss anything else, Steve. Don’t wanna waste time we can’t get back.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw. He presses soft and silky lips to just below your ear, lower, lingering on your racing pulse point before he’s back to staring at you.

“I’ve waited over ten years for this, I’m not doing it in my car. It needs to be…I wanna remember this.”

A smile lifts your cheeks, and you reach for something, then whisper into his lips:

“So let’s remember it.”

A flash, a click, and a whir, before several moments lead up to a big one.

One’s where you climb off his lap regretfully, and he drives towards your apartment.

Several of climbing stairs and nervous fingers fumbling with keys and light switches. A radio plays Pat Benatar, music swelling around you both as you start kissing against your door.

Too many to count of kisses stolen between all of the other moments, till you’re in your bedroom with Steve Harrington and you’re pulling at his shirt that sticks to his skin. Bare arms quick to wrap back around you once it’s over his hair.

Your fingers scrape down his chest, over his stomach and shake while they work at metal and leather until he’s helping. Till he’s standing in front of you in just black boxers and swallowing as you look at him.

He steps forward, breath shaky as he asks, “Can I?”

Once your head nods and you say please, his fingers drag red fabric higher and higher, gently pulling it over your head until you’re standing in front of him in just black lace which is so much harder to concentrate around than red.

Steve kisses you again, softer and sweeter. Slowly dragging your mouth open with his as his hand cups your jaw. Your hands roam from his chest to hips, pulling him towards you and both to the bed.

He climbs over you as your head meets the mattress. He breaks away from your mouth with panted breaths, kissing down your throat, over collar bones and your chest as you blink at your ceiling and try to remember how normal breathing works. His hands caress down your side and back up, fingers playing with the band of black on your back until you’re nodding, asking him to take it off.

Steve swallows at the sight of pebbling nipples underneath him, gasps a breath against the curve of your chest when his fingers brush one and you jolt and make a noise he hasn’t heard yet. He needs to hear it again, and let’s his tongue glide out to wet the same spot before brushing it again.

It’s even better the second time.

He moves lower still, when you say his name and your hips adjust beneath his. Not sure if he’s dreaming when his fingers hook into lace and drag the underwear over your hips, past your thighs and off of your ankles. He’s pretty sure his heart is bruising the inside of his chest after he watches how it clung to you, space between your thighs already sticky and dripping for him.

You don’t have time to wonder what he’s thinking or worry about being anxious or doubt anything because he’s kissing your ankle, the inside of your knee, mouthing at all of the bare skin as he climbs higher again.

“This is…” he swallows, breath fanning over your clit as he looks up your body and asks, “You’re okay? You want to keep going?”

His eyes shine in the low lamplight of your room, hair drying and messier than ever from all your fingers have done to it tonight. His lips pout as he waits with held breath for your answer when you look down at him.

“Yes,” you nod, frantic about it and hand meeting his on your hip and holding tightly, “Please, I-Steve.”

He moans into your folds at the sound of his name, at the taste of you finally on his tongue. It licks over you in flat, broad stripes. He traces each lip, nose leading the path up to your clit each time. Which throbs when the tip presses into it just right as his tongue pushes at your entrance.

Your fingers squeeze his as your back arches and the other grips your bedding. Chest heaving from the feeling of his tongue flicking faster. The stubble on his cheeks scratch at your thighs that squeeze around him tighter, which only makes him double down on the movement, lapping at you like he’ll never get to do it again and needs to make sure he doesn’t miss anything you give him.

His name leaves you louder, like you’ve never said it before.

Like it’s yours.

He’s seeing red, when you clench around him tighter as his free hand presses circles into your clit until you’re shaking around him, fingers limp in his.

Your eyes are closed as your chest rises and falls quickly when he removes himself and looks at you from where he kneels between your legs. His hands gently roam up and back down your thighs, lips smiling when you sigh at the feeling, content.

He doesn’t want to break it, whatever’s happening inside your head, but his fingers swirl circles higher, just below your ribs, voice scratchy when he asks, “Was that…”

“If you’re about ask if that was okay…” you smile, eyes finally fluttering open.

Somehow, despite having the best orgasm just moments ago, you ache for more at the sight of him.

He kneels between your legs, his own chest panting a little too fast. Pride shoots through yours from how glossy his lips are, how pink his cheeks turn, how much his pupils take over normally golden iris’.

You’re a little crazed about it, pulling at his wrists so he falls on top of you, pushing at his boxers that he’s eager to help rid himself of too. Steve stands, pulling them off and your mouth goes dry, and he has the nerve to have some clarity, to look smug and ask, “See something you like, honey?”

A laugh bubbles out past your lips as you shake your head, hands covering your eyes as you try to get your breathing under control.

The bed dips and his fingers skate over your skin, up higher until his palms are pressed into the pillow and your hands fall at the feeling of all of him on top of you, pushed up against you.

Your hips roll, making him bite his lip above you when his length slips between your folds. Both of you breathe harshly into each other’s mouths, sliding together, teasing your kisses and the thing you’ve both been waiting for.

Until your hand pulls at his hair and you beg, “Need you, right now.”

Steve grips at your hip, dizzy from how you coat him and he’s not even inside of you yet. He gasps, “Ask,” he nips at your bottom lip, “Nicely.”

Your head shakes no, so your lips brush against his and then he’s swearing, closing his eyes and mumbling, “Oh my god, I’m an idiot.”

“What?” You blink at him.

Steve moans, lips pressed to your jaw, nose into your cheek as he admits, “I don’t have a condom. I…I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

The thought makes you grin, makes your eyelashes flutter because he twitches next to your entrance when you say, “Big brain word.”

He laughs, breath hot along your jaw and gasping as you roll your hips and offer, “Want your prize?”

“Honey,” it sounds pained, like he’s one roll of your hips away from coming.

“I-I’m on birth control. And I love you. I wanna do this,” your hands rub at his shoulder blades, down his biceps and back up. “Wanna feel all of you, Steve. Please?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his throat bobbing in front of you as he forces out a rushed, “You can’t just say stuff like that baby, don’t be mean.”

Your hand reaches between you, fingers wrap around him and you’re addicted to the way his eyelashes flutter, the way he says your name when you tug once, lining him up with your entrance.

His eyes open in a daze, gaze bouncing between your eyes as he asks, “You’re sure?”

You’re nodding and then suddenly, wonderfully, beautifully, you’re kissing Steve Harrington as he pushes inside of you.

He stops when you gasp around his lips, eyes frantically searching over your face but only finding a blissed out expression with each inch he slips in more. He wishes the camera wasn’t down in the car.

Next time.

You envelope him completely, legs rising on either side of his hips and arms around his neck, lips against his as you nod and encourage him to keep going. Each ridge and curve of each other fitting together and nothing between either of you anymore, holding you back.

Steve’s hand curls against your waist, forehead pressed to yours when he rolls his hips experimentally and you moan into his mouth again, his name sounding desperate this time. Your hands claw at his back when he starts thrusting and all he can think about is asking you to do it harder and then taking you to the pool tomorrow. Show off how you marked him up while he holds your hand and people stare.

His eyes flutter open to find you already staring at him. Your lips mold together in a long kiss, parting in the same breath. Eyes open again as your mouths brush and beg each other’s names, hands caress and memorize over each other’s bodies while they glide together. Steve grabs your hand that tangles the sheets, lacing his fingers with yours and holding on until it’s over, and even when it will be, he has no plans to let go.

Your heartbeats thud against chests pressed together, no longer separate rhythms, and each push into you and slow drag out brings you higher and higher and you’re suddenly not so scared of how far the fall is anymore, not with Steve Harrington holding your hand.

He presses it tightly into the pillow, breath coming sharp and hating that this is over so quickly. But then you’re looking at him like that, like he’s yours. And he’s looking at you like that. Like you’re his. A scrunched forehead knocks yours and he’s spilling inside of you, warmth flooding over you both as his lips capture yours in another kiss.

This kiss, is different. This kiss is like when a storm is over, and not everyone notices, but there’s always a rainbow, somewhere, if you’re patient enough to find it, to search for it.

Your hand softens in his hair, the other a comfortable grip in his. His chest sighs against yours, breath fanned across lips that savor and treasure your kiss.

Steve lifts up, only slightly, so he can look at you when he says.

“I love you.”

Mouths find each other again, swallowing unspoken promises of this only being the beginning.

Until you’re speaking into the kiss, needing to get the last word.

“I love you, more.”

Steve pulls away, looking at your eyes. He shakes his head.

“Quit lying, honey.”

Honey.

Thank you SO much for reading this story. I wasn't going to come back and finish it, and I'm so glad I did. And then only reason I was able to was because of sweet comments and reblogs left and those of you who came and sent dms and asks. I hope the wait was worth it and I appreciate you so much! There is a small epilogue, but please read the warnings on it, may not be your thing ✌🏻💛

BICFTF TAGLIST:

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf @khena @ytgus @starryeyedpoet17

@halfburntout @belle101200

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harringon x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic

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lexirosewrites · 7 months ago

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I have another story concept I never actually sent but thought I did!

Runaway bride omega Steve Harrington.

Steve's parents promised Steve to a business partner when he presented. So at eighteen he had to go to wedding dress fittings and wedding cake tastings with a man he had never met.

He's uncomfortable the whole time seeing as the 40 year old man is constantly making comments about his body and appearance.

Finally it's their wedding day and Steve should be excited. Anyone would be in this situation, right? Wrong!

Steve grabs a bag of his few essentials and runs. Several Ubers and taxi's drive past not wanting the drama of a young omega in a wedding dress clearly upset.

Gareth stops and let's Steve in who starts sobbing. He gives Steve his sweatshirt to hide the top of the wedding dress and to hopefully give him some comfort. Steve thanks him and he knows it's not safe but he agrees to Gareths offer to go back to his house.

Once there Gareth helps Steve to the bathroom so he can actually change and get comfy. He grabs his housemates and gives a warning that they better be super chill or he'll skin them and use their skin as covers for his drums.

They are startled when a young and gorgeous omega exits their bathroom and immediately sparks with Eddie who is just gaping at him.

Steve sells the dress and shoes and jewelry so he has some money until he can find a job. Eddie falls over himself trying to court and woo Steve. It's endearing and sweet and the nicest thing to ever happen to Steve.

Of course there will be drama like Steve's parents trying to drag him back because Steve is ruining their business. Of course Steve's "fiance" tries abducting him while he's on his way to work. Of course Eddie and Steve mate so that way his parents no longer have a say over him. Of course they try sueing and saying their young and innocent son was tricked into the mating. Of course Steve's "ex-fiance" also tries to sue because Steve is now damaged goods and he wants what was meant to be his.

Of course Steve feels terrible because his drama is ruining everyone else's lives. Of course Eddie and Steve run away to Eddie's uncle Wayne for a peaceful place to hide. Of course while there they get legal help and everything gets sorted out for the better.

And of course they live happily ever after!

Starting off this week's Slick Sunday strong! I don't know what it is about a runaway bride story that I love, but I'm a sucker for it every time, especially when it ends in a happy marriage with someone they truly love!!

#slick Sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks

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raccoonfallsharder · 3 months ago

Text

a handful of OCs

art masterlist | navigation | fiction masterlist your OCs masterlist | current queue | rocket art

a library of art for my OCs, including ones i haven't drawn yet but plan to! this lil masterlist does or will include art of

jo aka jolie from Window Across the Galaxy ✓

pearl aka madame lizette lavenza from cicatrix ✓

sanna orix from cicatrix , giftwrap, & take what you need)

anaya’s wife from cicatrix

jolie from Window Across the Galaxy

jolie is a normal terran girl who is only a badass when her protective instincts are triggered. mostly she just likes to draw pretty things, including that raccoon she saved from yondu udonta's ravager vessel. also she's a mess.

favorite scene from WATG (rocket & jo) ✓ initial jo sketches & concepts ✓ more jolie sketches with more detail ✓ official og jo portrait ✓ lineless jo [COMING SOON]

other peoples' jolie-art

jolie's painting of rocket by @hibataao3 makes me cry every time i look at it

very first portrait of jolie by @raccoonmybeloved ~ so fucking cute i died

sims of jo by @evolvingchaoswitch ~ particularly love her paint-spattered outfit

an absolutely drool-worthy nsfw of rocket & jolie by @lazarel-3000 that permanently has altered my brain chemistry and lives in my mind forever ♡♡♡

adorable jolie sketches by @moonnpiie that truly capture what i mean when i describe jo as having “everywhere-hair.” plus her lil art-glove! (and a really cute rocket)

the cutest jo by @frostedwitch in her chapter xxvii sweatshirt. she is so cute with such shiny eyes and cute freckles and i love her so so so much! ♡♡♡

this shiny-haired jo by @miinsie! i love her hair so much in this one - it almost looks iridescent. i swoon. thank you for taking the time to read and to share this lovely interpretation of jolie with me!

pearl from cicatrix

pearl was lured away from terra as a child and essentially groomed to be the high evolutionary's bride (which mostly means being repeatedly broken down over the years). currently pining after the raccoon who saved her (despite their rough start), enjoying her newfound semi-independence, and learning her strengths. she's gonna be an asskicker eventually

favorite scene from cicatrix ✓ official pearl portrait ✓ pearl & rocket snuggle-sketch ✓

other peoples' pearl-art

art of chapter one. nemotia. by @frostedwitch. this is like. one of the most amazing things i've seen. pearl's eyes are so shiny, the dark background is so ominous, the reflection in the mirror is heartpounding. love this so much it makes me cry.

sanna orix from cicatrix, giftwrap, & take what you need

sanna orix is a genderfluxe merchant from a planet called cyxlore in the telladore system. like many cyxlorades, sanna orix recognizes the sybila nix ora, a goddex who watches over the dead and may provide them with simple pleasures to make their time in the afterlife more joyful, comfortable, and sweet. it's impossible to say if this spiritual path influences the cyxlorade culture or vice versa, but relatedly, cyxlorades tend to be a very tactile people who deeply value small and sensual luxuries: fine cloths, good food, beautiful homes and scenery, and more. sanna orix lives these values through their work as a merchant, peddling fine goods (and often, fine advice) to all her customers, whether she is on their home planet or abroad.

lineless portrait [COMING SOON] sanna orix & bestie wona beax [COMING SOON] sanna orix selling panties [COMING SOON]

anaya's wife from cicatrix

anaya's wife is the owner of anaya's armoire, a luxury lingerie shoppe on sovereign. she's an extremely skilled domme and while she does have her own name, she doesn't care that we don't know it. she doesn't mind being known primarily by her relationship with her sexy, subby lover ~ and as far as she's concerned, referring to her primarily as anaya's wife in public conversations is only its own form of free advertising.

lineless portrait of anaya [COMING SOON] anaya's wife & anaya [COMING SOON]

#rfh art #my oc art #my ocs #rocket x pearl #rocket x jo #cicatrix #window across the galaxy #gotg oc #sanna orix #anaya's wife #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy fan art #original character #marvel original character #original art

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bobawitch · 1 year ago

Text

BATTY LOVE > M.S.

summary: goth fem! reader x matt sturniolo. its just them having a cute lil date night

requested?: nope!

cw: fluff, kissing, cuddling

wc: 661

You had met Matt one day at your job at a clothing store. He had bought one of your favorite shirts that y’all had in stock and you both began talking. When he came back to the store later that week you asked for his number and if he’d want to grab lunch sometime. At first it was just friendly but as you both began hanging out more and more and eventually you both caught mutual feelings. He always admired your more out there style and you always admired his passion for his work. Now for a long time you assumed he couldn’t possibly be into you since you assumed his type would be a little less alternative than you. I mean you were a self proclaimed goth, you would dye your hair dark colors and typically wore all black, yet Matt found it cool and unique. As you both became fonder of the other you wondered if Matt would ask you out. Sure enough, after many months of friendship and flirting he asked if you’d be his girlfriend. You obviously said yes and the rest was history. Now the two of you had been together for a little over a year and it was the best year of your life. Currently you were sitting on his bed, scrolling through tik tok absent mindedly. You were wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of shorts, the two of you getting ready to have a little movie night. You had made some popcorn and he had gotten some candy you both loved. He finally walked back into his room after some filming and finishing up some cleaning. Upon his entrance you set your phone down and looked up at your boyfriend. He smiled and moved to the bed, hopping on to it and opening his arms for you to crawl into. You quickly obliged and snuggled into his warm chest. “How was filming today?” You asked, he hummed, his arms around your waist. “It was good, a little tiring though.” You nodded and looked up, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw bone. Your dark lip gloss leaving a small mark. You giggled before wiping the dark plum color off his skin. He looked down at you and smiled, kissing your forehead before looking at the computer you had set up for the movie. “Whatcha wanna watch?” He asked, scooting the computer closer with his foot. “Hm, I was thinking the Shining or Corpse Bride but I’ll watch whatever.” You said before sitting up so you could pull up whatever movie you both agreed on. “Let’s watch the shining, I haven’t seen it in a while.” He shrugged, watching you from his laid down position. You smiled before turning your head to the computer and pulling up the movie and pressing play. You grabbed the popcorn bowl before you laid next to Matt, setting the bowl in between you two. “You really love spooky stuff hm?” He said, looking at you. You shrugged, “Yeah I guess, I just think spooky stuff is cool. Plus everyone loves horror movies.” You scooted closer to Matt, resting your head on his shoulder and holding one of his hands. Your dark long nails caressed small circles on his hand and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You’re right, spooky stuff is pretty cool.” You smirked at his reply and shrugged. “I’m always right.” Matt laughed before rolling his eyes and pulling you on top of him, the popcorn now a little farther from you both. Your head lays on Matt’s chest and your focus moves fully to the movie. Mat traces circles on your back, just barely slipping his fingertips under your sweatshirt. Your skin crawled with goosebumps as you felt yourself be overcome by sleep. As your eyes drift close you mumble to Matt. “I love you Matt..” Matt smiles, his free hand he patted your head. “I love you too sweetheart.”

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Lavender No Outbreak AU - Ch. 3

Things change for the Miller family. A continuation of Lavender No Outbreak AU Ch. 1-2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff. Whole fic as smut and some mature themes so Minors DNI 18+ only. No use of Y/N.

Length: 3.3K

Friday, January 16, 2004

“Last chance, Miller,” you smiled, elbowing him playfully in the side. “Think Tommy would drive the getaway car if you need…”

“Nope,” Tommy shook his head. “That idiot’s on his own if he takes off now. He fucks up again though, Kid, just gimme a call…”

He gave you a wink.

“Language Uncle Tommy,” Sarah looked scandalized. “There are children present!”

“Just you,” Tommy winked. “You don’t count.”

“Thank you,” Joel said wryly. “Thank you for both of those things, Tommy.”

“Any time, brother,” he clapped Joel on the shoulder with a smirk before leaning around him to talk to you. “His feet are plenty warm, Kid.”

“You think a little formality is gonna scare me off now?” Joel tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Thought the bureaucracy might do it,” you teased, fidgeting with the small bouquet that Cass had brought you. “Feel a little silly wearing white though.”

“Don’t look silly,” he said. “Most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen…”

“You’re biased,” you said.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to run off and start a commune?” Cass asked. “I’ll leave Josh right now.”

“Hey!” Josh protested.

“Oh hush,” she waved him off.

You laughed.

“I think we’re making it down the aisle, folks,” you smiled.

“About time,” Sarah smiled.

The door to the court room opened.

“The Miller wedding?”

Joel looked at you and smiled.

“Ready Baby?”

He offered you his hand. You smiled and took it.

“Ready.”

You’d never been the type to dream about your wedding day. You never even really wanted to get married, not until you met Joel. After that, you’d thought a lot more about what it would mean to be his wife than the day itself.

But standing at the courthouse with Joel, Sarah, Tommy and Cass? It was exactly the day you wanted.

Joel was right, it really had been more of a formality than anything. When he left a few days after he showed up at your school, things felt a lot more real.

The two of you told Nan together. That you were pregnant, that you were engaged, that you were moving back to Austin. Her cancer had been in remission for more than a year at that point and leaving her alone felt, while not quite right, doable at least.

“I supposed there’s no way to change your mind,” she’d sighed, sounding resigned. You just shook your head. She turned her attention to Joel. “Are you marrying my granddaughter out of some archaic notion that you should because you got her pregnant? Because if you’re only going to leave her in five years, I’d rather you cut to the chase.”

“No ma’am,” he said before looking at you. “I’m marrying her because I love her more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. Love someone like that, you marry them. If they’ll have you.”

You flew down over Thanksgiving break to tell Sarah and Tommy the news together in person. Tommy just pulled Joel into a tight hug and clapped him on the back when he came into the kitchen to get a drink as you basted the turkey, your bump a lot more noticeable than it had been when you were in town a month before.

“Could’ve fuckin’ told me, man,” Tommy clapped Joel on the back. “Good for you. Finally lockin’ that down?”

“That’s the idea,” Joel smiled.

“About fuckin’ time,” Tommy said.

Sarah, on the other hand, got a bit of a softer introduction to the idea. You wore a bulky sweatshirt on the plane and sat down with her in the living room as soon as you were home from the airport. Joel’s hand was laced in yours, Sarah sitting on the couch while you both stood in front of her.

“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?” She frowned. “Because I swear I didn’t do it.”

“Not in trouble,” Joel laughed a little. “We have some news. You know we got back together…”

“Yeah,” her frown deepened.

“Well, we decided to get married, too,” he said.

“What!” She shrieked, leaping off the couch and launching herself at you. You caught her with a laugh, Joel grabbing you to help you stay upright. “Ugh FINALLY!”

“OK well let’s be a little more careful,” Joel said, Sarah’s arms still around your neck. “Because she’s pregnant, too…” “What!” She let you go and looked between the two of you. “I mean ew, don’t want to think about WHY but oh my GOD! You’re having a baby?”

“Yup,” you nodded. “It’s your last Christmas as an only child, kiddo, enjoy it while you can.”

You moved down at the end of the semester, Joel flying up so you wouldn’t be driving or doing any heavy lifting. You settled in quickly, life so much like what it had been before you moved back to New York. You signed up to work as a substitute teacher at the local school district - Sarah even giving you her blessing to teach at the high school where she went - and studied for the MCATs. Life felt so natural, you hadn’t really thought further about the wedding.

“Did you want to do something big?” Joel asked one evening in late December, your feet in his lap as he rubbed them, an MCAT study book on your lap.

“For what?” You frowned.

“The wedding,” he said. “Should do it soon, make sure you’ve got health insurance…”

“Oh,” you frowned. “That’s true. I hadn’t really thought about what to do for it, I don’t really know that many people…”

“Me either,” Joel smiled a little.

“Want to just go to the courthouse?” You shrugged. He frowned.

“You sure you don’t want something better than that?” He asked.

“Well, if I leave your wife,” you shrugged again. “I don’t think there is anything better than that.”

You took the MCAT on the 10th and applied for your marriage license on the 12th. Nan said she didn’t want to be there for it, regardless of the date. That stung. But, with time, you hoped she’d come around.

The vows were simple but you weren’t sure you’d ever heard anything better than Joel promising to love and cherish you for the rest of his life. You had to remind yourself that your new brother-in-law and step-daughter were there when you kissed him. You would have been happy to kiss him for hours.

For a celebration, the six of you went to lunch downtown, Joel getting a bottle of real champagne for the table. You and Sarah split a glass during the toasts.

“Couldn’t imagine a better woman to welcome into the family,” Tommy smiled. “You’re already the best Miller I know. Besides Sarah.”

Everyone laughed and your husband kissed your cheek.

“And you’re sure you want to take my name?” Joel asked as he drove to Galveston for your first weekend as a married couple. “Your degrees have your name on them…”

“I’ve never had anyone that loved me enough that they wanted me to have their name,” you smiled, watching him drive. “I want to have your name, Sarah’s name. Our baby’s name. The degrees can deal.”

You checked into the hotel room, a view of the gulf from the balcony and chocolate covered strawberries waiting for you when you got there. You squealed, grabbed one and stepped outside to watch the waves. Joel came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you a few minutes later, his hands on your stomach.

“Found the only downside to not having a big wedding,” you leaned back into him.

“Hm?”

“We’re going to have to try really hard to make sure the next thing we dance to isn’t something stupid,” you smiled. “Otherwise our first dance is going to be a let down.”

“Well,” he kissed your temple. “I might have thought of that.”

You frowned, looking back at him.

He tugged you back into the room. The boombox from Sarah’s room was set in front of the TV, Joel stretching over to press play. You heard the opening notes and laughed.

“Joel!” You put your arms around his neck. “Really? Wonderful Tonight?”

“If you hate the song choice I did bring other options,” he said, pulling you against him but not moving yet.

“Just dance with me, Mr. Miller,” you smiled.

“Anything you want, Mrs. Miller.”

Tuesday, April 6, 2004

“Baby, you are in active labor,” Joel ground his teeth. “The applications can wait.”

“My contractions aren’t close enough together to be that big of a…” You stopped talking for a second, clenching your teeth as a contraction hit you. You waited for it to pass, gripping the bed. You spoke again when it did. “Problem. And I’ll never get these done with a newborn at home.”

The doctor came in, snapping on her gloves. “Alright Mrs. Miller,” she said. “Let’s see how we’re coming along…”

“Dr. Baxter,” you said as she lifted the blankets and your gown. “Can you please tell my husband that the sooner med school applications are in, the better?”

“You’re at eight centimeters,” Dr. Baxter said. “Almost there! And Mr. Miller, I’m afraid your wife is right, early applications are pretty important.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Doesn’t mean I think you should be filling them out right this second, Mrs. Miller,” she raised her brows at you. “I think I need to side with your husband on this one.”

“But I’m almost done!” You protested. “I just got my MCAT scores back yesterday, I couldn’t finish any sooner…”

“Finish that one,” she said. “Then I’m confiscating them. Orders from one current doctor to a future one.”

“Fine,” you muttered, going back to the form. “But I still think you’re overreacting.”

Joel held you as you pushed, doing everything the classes had told him to do. The man had practically been a star student, paying close attention to everything the lamaze teacher had said.

“Didn’t know what the fuck I was doing last time,” he said after your first class. “Making sure I get it right this time.”

You weren’t sure you’d ever been as exhausted as you were on the last push but you knew you’d never been as happy to hear anything as you were to hear the sharp, cracking cry of your daughter as she came into the world.

“Congratulations Mom and Dad, it’s a girl,” Dr. Baxter dropped her tiny, wriggling body into your arms, the cord still attached. You stared down at her in wonder, her little eyes scrunched closed, her small mouth open in a wail.

“Hi beautiful,” you breathed, looking at her. You’d never seen anything quite so perfect. She already had thick, dark hair and Joel’s nose. “Welcome to the world, Evelyn.”

Joel reached around you to cup her tiny head in his large hand.

“So proud of you, Baby,” Joel kissed your wet cheek. “You did so good.”

“Thank you for her,” you whispered, unable to take your eyes off of her. “Thank you.”

Wednesday, April 6, 2005

“Hey Mom,” Sarah called in a bit of a singsong voice. “Something came in the mail for you!”

“For me?” You called back before blowing a raspberry on Evie’s tummy. She giggled. “Can you bring it over? I’m in your sister’s room…”

You weren’t really sure if Sarah had made a conscious choice to start calling you Mom or if it was something she just fell into but you hadn’t fought it. The first time it happened was about six months after Evie was born.

It had been a particularly hectic morning in the Miller house. Evie was teething, Joel couldn’t find the phone he needed for work, Sarah had overslept and had misplaced her homework, you felt like you were inches away from crying from stress, it was not a great combination.

“Mom, you’re sure it didn’t get moved off the kitchen table last night?” Sarah poked her head into Evie’s room where you were getting her dressed for the day. You just looked at her for a second, a bit dumbstruck. “Mom. Homework? Purple folder?”

It still took you a moment to respond.

“Last place I saw it was the kitchen table after dinner,” you said. “If it got moved, it was either by your father or the ghost that haunts this house and all its inhabitants.”

“Stupid ghost,” she sighed, calling after Joel as she went down the hall.

When Joel went to kiss you goodbye, you grabbed his arm, Evie propped on your hip.

“Sarah called me Mom,” you said, eyes wide.

“Oh,” Joel blinked for a second. “Is that… is that OK? If it’s not…”

You stretched up to kiss him before he could keep talking. He kissed you back, deeply, and you had to fight the urge to put the baby in the crib and start ripping his clothes off. He pulled back from you eventually.

“You’re not helpin’ me be OK with leavin’ the house with that, baby,” he smiled. “But are you OK? With her callin’ you that?”

“Of course I am! I want her to do nothing BUT call me mom for the rest of my damn life now!”

“Think we can work with that,” he kissed your forehead. “Love you, take care of all my girls. Including yourself. See you tonight.”

You beamed, your morning suddenly so much brighter.

You closed Evie’s onesie and pulled on her little jeans.

“You’re getting too big too fast, girl,” you muttered, scooping her up as Sarah came in, a thick envelope in hand.

“OK you, give me the birthday girl,” she said, setting the envelope on the changing table in front of you. “Because I think you have to open that like… immediately.”

The University of Texas logo was on the corner and your breath caught.

“It’s a big envelope,” Sarah said, bouncing her sister on her hip. Evie reached her fat fingers out for Sarah’s curls. “Pretty sure they only send big envelopes for good news.”

Your hands still shook as you opened the envelope. You’d been so distracted planning a birthday dinner for Evie that you hadn’t been thinking about the looming threat of med school acceptance or denials. Inside the envelope was a thick booklet and a piece of paper on top. It said your name and then the word “Congratulations!”

You shrieked and dropped the envelope, jumping up and down for a second before throwing your arms around your daughters, crying as you squeezed them tight. Evie gurgled and Sarah laughed.

“Knew you’d do it, Mom,” she said.

***

Joel was later leaving the job site than he wanted to be. Well, it was always later than he wanted it to be. He’d get there in the morning and want to leave, to turn around and go home to you and his daughters. But today, he had a plan. Leave by five. It was 5:20 before he made it to the truck.

“She’s not the type to bite your head off about it man,” Tommy said as Joel drove to the house. “Don’t think you need to be this stressed about it.”

“I know,” Joel said. “But she’s been busting her ass to plan this dinner, I don’t want to cause her any more stress…”

“Hate to break it to you but I think she’s stressed just by bein’ married to you,” Tommy elbowed him in the ribs. Joel rolled his eyes.

Thankfully, the job site wasn’t far and he was home before six. He opened the door to see Sarah sitting on the floor with Evie, his younger daughter using the older one’s hands to help balance as she stood, stomping her tiny feet.

“She’s getting so close, Dad!” Sarah beamed at him. “She’s going to be an athlete, I can tell.”

He just stood there for a moment, watching them, his heart hurting from just how fucking happy seeing them together made him.

“Oh, Mom’s in the kitchen,” she said. “You should go see her, she really wants to see you.”

“Might have been wrong on that,” Tommy smirked a little, going to the living room, his hands out to pick up his niece.

You were putting something in the oven when Joel came in, you bending over giving him the perfect peek down your shirt to your breasts.

“Hey Baby,” he said and you looked up, closing the oven and wiping your hands on your apron. Your hair was in curlers and you were still the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen. “I’m so sorry we’re late, we got held up at the site…”

“Oh,” you waved him off. “I kinda figured you would, we’ve got a good 45 minutes before anyone should be getting here anyway, I’ve got it under control.”

You grabbed something off the counter and came over, pressing yourself against him, stretching up to kiss him.

“You know,” he said between kisses. “I was thinking, in honor of Evie’s birthday, we should seriously consider getting her another sibling.”

“Oh really,” you smiled against his lips.

“Oh yes,” he said, his hands going around to the back of you, cupping your ass and pulling your hips tightly to his own. “Watching you mother my girls might just be the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen, can’t help but want to see you do it again. Plus you were a fucking gorgeous pregnant woman…”

“Might want to hold that thought there, Daddy,” you took the envelope you’d picked up from the counter and put it between his lips and your own. He frowned and took it, pulling the papers out.

“Congratulations!” It said. It took him a moment to figure it out but when he did, he gasped and gathered you into his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around and kissing every part of you he could reach.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Baby!” He said as you laughed against him. “I knew you could do it, I fucking knew you’d do it…”

He put you back down and you laughed for another moment before looking at him more seriously.

“We should still really look at whether or not I should actually go,” you said. “It’s expensive, it’s time consuming, it’s going to be years of insane work schedules and bad pay before I start making good money, especially since I think I might want to be a pediatric surgeon…”

“You’re going to be the most incredible surgeon,” he cut you off. “You’re going to be so amazing, you are so amazing. We’ll figure it out. It’ll be OK, we’ll figure it out. You’re going to be amazing.”

You smiled like he’d just given you a gift and he pulled you against him again, kissing the top of your head.

“C’mon,” he said. “If we hurry I think we can squeeze in a quickie and still have time to get dressed before anyone shows up….”

You giggled and he took your hand, leading you to the bedroom as Tommy played with Sarah and Evie on the floor.

“Da!” Evie reached for him. “Dada!”

You and Joel both froze, looking at each other for a second.

“Has she…” Tommy asked.

“Nope,” you said, staring at your daughter. “That was her first word. Oh come ON kid, I literally feed you with my body and it’s Dada? I know he’s the best but some consideration!”

Joel pulled you along with him to pick your daughter up tucking her small body between the two of yours and kissing her plump little cheek. He didn’t think he’d ever been as happy as he was in this moment, surrounded by love and his girls.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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