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sundrop-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Meddle About

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

‘Cause it's not just a figure of speech - you got me down on my knees.

It's gettin' harder to b r e a t h e .

Summary:

You hate it when Morgan teases Reid. So when Morgan says that you are Reid's 'Mommy' - you verbally fire back without even thinking about it.

Reid vastly overthinks it.

So much so that he ends up calling you Mommy by mistake. And you definitely don't hate the sound of that word coming off his lips.

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season One.

Word Count: 6,300

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general smut fic - porn with some plot; dom/sub dynamics (but this isn't a pre-discussed dom/sub relationship, the characters just fall into these roles naturally), Spencer is submissive and the reader is dominant; the main theme is Mommy kink - Spencer discovers that he has a Mommy kink after a joke that Morgan makes, referring to the reader character as Spencer's Mommy; Spencer calls the reader 'Mommy' and the reader also refers to herself with that title; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina (and breasts); it could be interpreted that the reader has larger breasts/is plus sized (but I think anyone of any size could enjoy this fic); the reader is part of the BAU; this is meant to take place during season one (baby Spence my beloved) but there are no other major canon events mentioned and the case being discussed is one that I have made up; some very background typical elements of Criminal Minds - murder, killing, systemic vicimization of women/violence from men towards women (passing mention of bodies being consumed by wild animals); the reader and Spencer fuck while on a case (but they aren't endangering anyone's lives from lack of their attention, so it's fine); mentions of potential injuries from a car accident (theoretical - doesn't actually happen during the fic); very slight threads of Morgan x Reader (mentions of Morgan being attracted to the reader - it could be one-sided); very passing mention of Reid having breeding kink (doesn't take place during the fic, just one of his thoughts); for the actual smut section: this could be interpreted as virgin!Spencer but that's not explicitly stated here (at most, this is just inexperienced!Spencer) (the reader is definitely way more sexually experienced than him); praise kink (we all known Spencer is so eager to be praised); mentions of breastfeeding - Morgan makes a joke about the reader breastfeeding Reid, which later turns into faux breastfeeding kink (the reader doesn't actually lactate, but she lets Spencer suck on her tits and calls it breastfeeding); the reader calls Spencer: 'baby', 'good boy',; descriptions of subspace - but it's not specifically called 'subspace' in the text; thigh humping - Spencer humps the reader's thigh; cumming in pants (Spencer); multiple orgasms/overstimulation (Spencer receiving); handjob - the reader jacks Spencer off while he is sensitive after his first orgasm; using lube as cum; dumbification kink - the reader calls Spencer 'dumb baby' and generally enjoys seeing his intellect drop the more turned on he becomes (Spencer also likes being called this); technically the reader doesn't get to cum, but she gets turned on from treating Spencer like the good boy that he is (and this is more about him). I think that's everything.

A/N: This was directly inspired by the scene from Reid's birthday party, where Morgan says 'Mommy to the rescue!' (talking about JJ) and then Spencer says '...Mommy?' and it seems like he is discovering his Mommy kink in real time. Especially because he is then trapped between Elle and JJ and he makes direct eye contact with their boobs, and he just has such a look of scared kink realization in his eyes. I considered copying that moment exactly and just replacing JJ with the reader character, but this seemed like more fun lmao. I had so much fun writing this and I think this is one of my best fics in a while. I hope you guys enjoy it!!

...

Generally, you hated being stuck with grunt work.

You knew that it was all part of the job - an important part of it. Paperwork, side interviews, background checks. Sifting through someone’s apartment looking for aspects of what kind of person they were based on their everyday life.

But you thrived more on being right in the middle of things. You preferred interacting with suspects, chasing people down, harsh confrontation.

Gideon said that you were overly controlling, impatient, brutally honest - that you had an ‘abrasive personality’ that put most men off. But that was why he often brought you into interrogations with male suspects. Many of the people you caught - men with superiority complexes who targeted the weak to make themselves feel powerful - they hated that you weren’t intimidated by them. That aspect of abrasion between you and the suspects often brought out a lot of information - things they spewed out trying to intimidate you.

But you weren’t needed on that front today.

No - instead, you were doing grunt work. The kind of work that made you impatient and generally aggravated.

The only upside was that you got to do it with Spencer.

He was one of the only men that voluntarily worked so closely with you so often, because he wasn’t intimidated by you. He took orders from you very well and naturally fell under your authority, bringing a natural chemistry to your partnership when you worked with him. Plus - his seemingly endless stream of ‘fun facts’ was like listening to the radio, which did help to soothe your boredom during these kinds of mindless tasks.

You were on a case in Texas. Five women raped and tortured before having their bodies hung from a tree and consumed by cotoyes that the UnSub knew lived in the area. Since police had closed in on him, he had gone on the run. He had killed three more women since fleeing, while leaving no clues as to what his ultimate endgame would be or where he would be going next.

Hotch sent you and Reid to find that out while the rest of the team worked victimology and profiled the scenes of the most recent murders, following the trail he was leaving.

After spending hours sifting through the suspect’s house, looking for any small clue about where he might be going - you came up empty. When you touched base with Hotch, he told you that you and Reid would be going to visit the suspect’s ex-wife - who lived four hours away. You needed to interview her to see if she could give you any further insight to the man, and perhaps - beat him to the house if she was the ultimate target.

(A lot of the victims looked like her, and it couldn’t really be a coincidence.)

You knew that lives were at risk, and it was juvenile of you, but all you heard was: long, boring drive. Boring day. You hoped that Reid would be good company through it.

Now, you were waiting outside of the police station in the bureau-issued SUV, waiting for Morgan to come and give you the file with the ex-wife’s address and contact information.

“Did you know that over forty-six percent of Texans own a gun? Texas is second only to Montana in registered gun ownership, where over sixty-six percent of citizens proudly tote their right to bear arms.” Reid told you, continuing to look over the case files that were sitting in his lap.

When you looked over toward him to reply to this odd factoid, your mind got caught up on something else.

“Reid, come on, take your feet off the dashboard!” You told him, reaching over to gently smack his knee, trying to encourage his legs down from the awkward position.

It bothered you for several reasons - the idea that he would leave shoe prints on the dashboard, which was minor and cosmetic, but still annoying. And the fact that if the car did happen to get hit head-on, the air-bag would explode out and push his knees into his chest, causing his shattered leg bones to pierce his organs and possibly kill him. (At the very least, he would never walk again.)

Speaking of which:

“And put your seatbelt on!” You barked, now noticing that he wasn’t wearing it past all of the files he had piled into his lap. “You of all people should know how many deaths are caused by not wearing a seatbelt.”

Spencer opened his mouth to spout out this exact statistic, but before he could get the words out, another voice entered the conversation.

“Aw, Reid, listen to your Mommy.”

You were almost startled by Morgan’s voice coming from the open driver’s side window so suddenly. His appearance there as if out of nowhere was so jarring that you couldn’t get caught up on the way he had called you Reid’s Mommy. Your head whipped toward Morgan so quickly that you didn’t notice the flash across Spencer’s features - worry, dawning. You didn’t take note of the way he rushed to comply with putting on his seatbelt. As if he was rushing to please you, even unconsciously.

“I bet if you’re a good boy, she might even breastfeed you when you get there.”

Morgan then pursed his lips and made loudly suckling noises, clearly imitating breastfeeding in what he thought was a comedic way.

Again - glaring at the muscled man through the open window, you didn’t see Spencer’s reaction. You didn’t see the way his large, glassy eyes flickered to your breasts (only emphasized by your own seatbelt crossed over the center of your chest) before he forced himself to focus on the files in front of him so that he wouldn’t feel so caught.

“Shut up.” You told Morgan, your voice so commanding and firm that his simple order was enough to get him to stop his antics.

“And give me the address already.” You held out your hand expectantly, and Morgan handed you the file, which you placed onto the center console.

Then, you turned back to him for one last point, determined to have the final word in the conversation.

“Besides, we both know that you’re the one who’s got an obsession with my breasts, anyway. Just because you stare while wearing sunglasses, doesn’t mean I don’t notice. My eyes are up here, pal.” You told him sharply.

He let out a scoff at this, and rolled his eyes behind his dark frames - but he made no clever comeback.

You had successfully bested him. And with that knowledge, you rolled up the window and left him standing dumbly in the parking lot as you sped off.

…

You pulled over later to put the address into the GPS system, and you let out a long-winded groan when you found that it was more than four hours away. Four hours and twenty five minutes.

So you pulled over again to get gas and stocked up on snacks, and you were surprised that Reid wasn’t giving you some lesson about the colloquial use of ‘soda’ and ‘pop’ (thinking that you hadn’t listened the other ten times when he had gone on the same rambling point about linguistics and how language evolves).

He was being far too quiet for your liking.

But he was keeping his eyes glued to the files, and you guessed that he was churning over something in that big brain of his, like he usually was.

You were entirely surprised when the next time he spoke - it wasn’t about the case at all.

“How - how do you know that Morgan likes your breasts?” He asked, his voice low and mousy, looking straight ahead as he fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

“What?” You gaped, the word flying out of your mouth as your brain was utterly slow to process what he had just said.

Hearing Spencer use the word ‘breasts’ was jarring, but somehow utterly adorable. You found it stirring a slight heat within you. Especially because he was still so shy. The whole thing made you want to pin him down and force the shyness out of him.

Spencer felt the need to further explain himself.

“When - when you were talking to him, you said: ‘we both know that you’re the one who’s got an obsession with my breasts.’” He said, repeating back what you had said, word for word, using that perfect memory of his.

You wondered if that’s what he had been doing, sitting there in his seat so silently for the past hour of the car ride - going over the conversation again and again in his head, trying to make sense of it. And because he couldn’t make any sense of it by himself, now he was consulting you.

Again, you found it so utterly adorable.

“Morgan didn’t deny it. So - was it a hypothesis based on something, or did you just call him out hoping that you weren’t wrong?” Reid continued, sparing only a singular glance in your direction, a look that you caught out of the corner of your eye with your gaze still mostly focused ahead on the road.

You found it intensely cute that he was using the word ‘hypothesis’ in this situation. You wondered if he ever turned it off - the textbook big words and the intellect that he always carried himself with. You wondered if you could make him turn it off. You wondered if there was any situation where Spencer Reid could be as stupid as any other man - chasing a bone, desperate to get his nut off.

For the first time ever - you imagined Spencer Reid underneath you, blabbering nonsense, begging for release with your hand around his cock as you pumped him, red and aching, so slick in your palm. Desperate, empty-headed, beautifully stupid.

(See, this was what happened when you were forced to do grunt work. You got bored. And when you got bored - you had to entertain yourself somehow.)

“It was a pretty well-informed hypothesis.” You replied. Now that Spencer had brought the topic up, you certainly weren’t going to shy away from the discussion. “Morgan often brings up my sex life, and wants to engage in detailed discussions about my sexual encounters with me. So I assume that he spends a fair amount of time thinking about me in a sexual way.”

Reid let out a choked-off noise at this.

You continued.

“Plus, he’s always staring down my top. He’s not exactly subtle.”

“You - you actually notice that kind of thing?” He chirped, his voice becoming a few octaves higher as worry flooded him.

You bit your lip, suppressing a grin.

Of course, you had noticed the times that Spencer stared at your breasts as well. He was even less subtle about it than Morgan was. You didn’t mind it when he did it, because you knew that Spencer wasn’t exactly casanova. He didn’t have a different girl every other week like Morgan did, so taking a glance down your shirt when he passed you a morning coffee was probably about as much action as he got.

Secretly, letting him get away with it was your gift to him.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” You told him, the pet name slipping out mindlessly as you reached over and gently patted his knee as a form of reassurance.

This movement unintentionally drew his eyes toward your chest, especially in his desperation to look anywhere but your face, not wanting to make eye contact with you. But he found his eyes glued to the swell of your breasts once again - hating how perfect they looked, even through the simple cotton shirt and plain bra that you wore.

“Sorry, Mommy.” The word slipped out before he could even consciously process it. “Sorry!”

Spencer raised a hand to smack his own face at lightning speed, and slumped down into his seat in embarrassment.

You bit your lip to suppress a grin. It stirred a filthy heat in your belly. But you knew that Spencer likely needed a while to sit with this and wouldn’t want to talk about it - not yet. So you reached over and turned on the radio, letting the music fill the space so that the silence wasn’t so awkward and gutting.

…

Spencer didn’t talk for the entirety of the rest of the car ride, which didn’t surprise you.

When you finally arrived at the ex-wife’s house, his hands were shaking with nerves as he tried to unlatch his seatbelt. You probably should have just left him alone to struggle, but an evil spark, likely fueled by the boredom of the day, flared up inside of you. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over the console, very purposefully showing off your breasts as you gently pushed his hands away and undid the belt for him.

“Here, let Mommy get that for you.” You said, distinct teasing on your breath as you mumbled the words into his ear.

Spencer huffed out a deep sigh and collapsed back into his seat, and pushed his hair out of his face in frustration. But he didn’t say anything more as you gathered the files in preparation for the interview.

He only spoke when you moved to get out of the car.

“Look, I-” He began a half assed explanation, and you easily cut him off.

“You let Morgan get in your head too much.” You told him with a chuckle, opening your door and getting out.

But as he forced himself to follow you with numb limbs - he knew that this definitely wasn’t all Morgan’s fault.

…

The ex-wife didn’t know much.

She described the marriage as hell - the suspect exhibited all the typical behaviors as a husband that they would have expected. He hated women, and he wanted full control over his wife at the time, which eventually led down the path of divorce. They had to sell the house they had bought together, but neither of them had moved out of Texas since. But he hadn’t contacted her in years.

She had two young kids from a new relationship, and when the woman stepped out to take a call, you picked one of them up to soothe his cries, hushing him gently while you rubbed his back.

Because of this, Spencer found himself even more dizzy and confused.

He knew that it was Frueadian - some deep, misguided part of his psychology - something broken and missing inside of him because of his own fractured childhood.

But seeing you being so sweet with a kid, especially after the day he’d had - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be your baby, or if he wanted to shoot his cum so deep inside you that it would ensure he could give you one.

(Ultimately, he knew that it was likely both - and that didn’t answer any questions for him. It just gave him far more questions.)

…

Even though the ex-wife couldn’t give you guys much more than you already knew, Hotch wanted you and Spencer to stay close by in case the suspect decided to make his ex-wife the end game. The two of you would be able to make it to her first if she called for help.

So you and Spencer had dinner at a random local barbeque place off the highway and Spencer still didn’t talk much through it, other than posing some theories about the case. Even though he was a bit more talkative, he still refused to look at you - he stared down at his plate the whole time. Though whenever he did look up, you noticed that his eyes lingered on your chest - and he still wouldn’t look you in the eye.

By the time the bill came around and the two of you were ready to leave, you knew exactly what you had to do.

…

Spencer waited by the car with his bag while you checked in and got a motel room (needing to stay in town, you got a room for the night). When you came back, you handed him the room key and then moved to get your bag out of the car.

“Do… you already have yours?” He asked quietly.

“Hmm?” You hummed in reply, slinging the strap of your go-bag over your shoulder before you closed the back door and used the remote to lock up the car.

“Your room key?”

You suppressed another grin.

“I only got one room.” You told him. “You don’t mind sharing with me, right?”

You gave him a purposeful look - looked at him through your lashes, bit your lip slightly, and subtly squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, emphasizing them. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, but hopefully it seemed subtle.

“I - uh - no.” Spencer stuttered. “It’s fine. We can share.” He gave a grin, not wanting to appear upset, even though his entire body was racked with nerves.

Spencer followed you to the room and he fumbled with the key with shaking hands for a moment before he sighed and then handed it to you.

His insides quaked when he saw that there was only one bed.

He wasn’t sure if he should say anything about it. The two of you had slept in the same room before, but you had never shared a bed before. Sure, you had slept near each other before. He had accidentally fallen asleep on your shoulder on the plane or vice versa. But you had never crawled into bed together with the intention of sleeping together.

And yes, just the entendre behind it made Reid’s head spin.

He had a heavy knot in his gut, and hatefully - a distinct stirring in his crotch. He could only imagine how embarrassing it would be for you to wake up and see him compromised in some way. Or god forbid, if you caught him moaning in his sleep because of unconscious dreams that he couldn’t stop - for you to think that he was some kind of dirty sex pervert because of it.

He felt an overwhelming need to clear the air overtake him. He had no clue how to broach the subject, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to spend the night like this. He wouldn’t be able to sleep with this anxiety hanging over his head.

He studied you carefully as you sat down on the edge of the bed, ditching your bag off to the side and heaving out a tired sigh as you began taking off your shoes.

Spencer put down his own bag and then stood there, fidgeting nervously as he searched for words.

“I - uh - I am sorry about earlier.” He mumbled out the beginnings of an apology. “What Morgan said was stupid, and I-”

“I don’t think it was stupid.”

You let out a chuckle, and reached up the back of your shirt. Spencer found himself frozen, his eyes tracing your every moment as you unhooked your bra underneath your shirt and then moved to maneuver the straps out from your short sleeves while you kept talking.

“I think he had a point.” You added on. “Good boys should get a reward. And I think you were fairly good today. You didn’t eat all your veggies at dinner, but you kept your feet off the dashboard and you were quiet during the car ride. You definitely get points for being patient during such a long trip, baby.”

Your voice smoothed into a soothing tone, that word - baby - melting like butter over your tongue in a way that made Spencer’s knees wobble. He hadn’t known it until right now, but you calling him a ‘good boy’ and listing off such mundane things he had done that made him worthy of a reward fired off sparks inside of his brain.

A breath choked off inside of his throat as you stood up off the bed and peeled your bra completely out from under your shirt. Somehow it was one of the sexiest things he had ever seen, revealing the hard peaks of your nipples and the beautiful natural teardrop shape of your breasts to him through the cotton fabric.

Spencer wanted to speak, but his tongue felt so heavy and dry inside of his mouth. He knew that he was staring at your chest so blatantly now, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away. He couldn’t even feel ashamed anymore.

That dull tingle in his crotch had turned into a full on stinging interest, and he unconsciously pulled at the fabric of his pants, trying to loosen some of the tension that was growing, not even considering how it might look to you - him dumbly reaching for his crotch to make it look looser when his hardening bulge was becoming more obvious by the second.

It was one of the most ‘caveman’ things he had ever done in front of you - standing there with his mouth hanging slightly agape, pulling at his crotch without caring how it looked. You definitely wanted more, wanted to see how dumb he could get. How far you could make him devolve.

“So what do you say, baby boy?” You hummed, stepping close into his personal space now, causing him to get a whiff of your perfume - something that was only a dull trace after such a long day, but still smelled so good. “Do you want Mommy to breastfeed you? Do you wanna suck on my tits as your reward?”

You gently ran a thumb across his cheek, and paired with the words, Spencer’s brain short-circuited.

He knew realistically that you weren’t actually offering to breastfeed him. There was no evidence in your life to say that your body could actually support the production of milk currently - but you were offering to let him play pretend. To suck on your tits with a very sexual air, to call you Mommy without the teasing humiliation behind it that Morgan had hinted at (or maybe Spencer liked that humiliation, he wasn’t even sure). (He hadn’t even known before this morning that he liked the idea of calling you Mommy, but here he was).

All he could conjure in response was the dumbest, non-human sound.

“Nngh.”

It was a grunt from the back of his throat - too much blood swelling to his cock all at once and too much direct attention from you making him dizzy.

You giggled quietly.

“Come on, baby. Just say the word. And Mommy will give you everything you need.”

Spencer inhaled sharply. At this point, he was desperate to get some oxygen to his brain.

His mind was racing, chanting out:

‘Yes! God, yes! I want it so badly, Mommy! I want anything you’ll give me. I need you. I need you so badly.’

But all his lips could form in the wake of such dizzying lust was:

“Please.”

“Good boy.” You sighed.

You used a hand on his chin to tilt his face up to meet yours, and you consumed him in a kiss - he was hungry and eager to meet your touch, moaning loudly into your mouth, his hands racing to touch you now, rushing up to grip on your hips in the most utterly needy way. He balled the fabric of your shirt in his fists, like he couldn’t get enough of you - like he was afraid you would dissolve away if he let go of you for even a second.

It was cute, to say the least.

You only let the kiss last for a moment, though. You pulled away to a disappointed whine from Spencer, which you quietly hushed.

“Hey, it’s okay baby.” You soothed him. “Come here. Mommy’s gonna take good care of you.”

You lead him toward the bed, getting rid of his tie in the process, and Spencer stepped out of his shoes along the way. You slid onto the bed and laid up on the pillows on your back, Spencer clumsily following you, crawling on all fours. The two of you had barely started, but he was full-on panting now, racing to catch his breath while his blood hammered through his veins.

He watched on with eager curiosity while you got comfortable, fluffing the pillow under your head before you then reached down and pulled up your shirt. You pulled the fabric to sit up under your chin, finally revealing your gorgeous breasts to him.

If he was lost for words before, then he had receded back to a total neanderthal now.

His mouth fell open and his salivary glands started working overtime as his eyes raked hungrily over your chest - enjoying the pure beauty of the fatty mounds, striped with zig-zagging stretch marks and completed by your hard peaked nipples.

“Here, come on, baby.”

You had to remind Spencer what the goal was, guiding him into place with a hand on the back of his head. You helped ease his body to lay on top of yours as he relaxed into you - and his mouth finally found its rightful place on your breast. He became greedy, suctioning hard on your nipple as though he might actually get something out of it.

Truthfully, he did get something out of this.

It definitely wasn’t any form of nutrition, but it was something that drove him lustfully insane and made his head fuzzy and warm in the best way. This was the only time in his entire life that he didn’t have ten thousand thoughts running through his mind like the news blasting on television in the background. This was the only time since his first conscious memory that he had actually known his mind to be quiet.

He felt intensely thankful for it. Intensely thankful toward you for giving him this feeling.

In that moment, without all the noise, all he knew was the comforting feeling of your fat tit under his mouth, the heat of your body under his own as you cradled him. The soothing firmness of your hands through his hair and down his back - and the distant, sweet purring of your voice in his ears.

“Good boy.” You hummed, loving the feeling of him moaning around your nipple - so constant and so greedy now that you were sure he didn’t even know that he was doing it. “Such a good boy for me. Such a good boy for Mommy.”

Your cunt was humming between your thighs, aching so hard at seeing Spencer like this. The usually composed, intelligent, practically robotic Doctor Reid reduced down to a blubbering, moaning, needy mess just because he wanted to suck on your tits.

Just because you had called yourself Mommy a few times in his presence.

It was so utterly beautiful, and you wanted more.

(You didn’t think that you could ever let him go after this. You probably wouldn’t be able to stand the idea of another woman touching him after this. But you would have to think on that more later.)

You noticed Spencer canting his hips, unconsciously seeking friction against his hard cock while he continued to suck on your breast. With his eyes closed blissfully, drool gathering around his lips where they met your skin in the most utterly adorable way. You couldn’t help yourself - you scooted your knee between his thighs. You then used a hand to help his hips into place, adjusting him so that he was getting good friction against your denim-clad thigh.

“There you go. There you go, sweet boy.” You hummed, feeling another jolt through your body when he let out a sharper moan against your tit, and began humping your leg in earnest.

You were quick to encourage him, putting both hands on his hips and helping him along while he greedily hung onto you. He had on your hip, the other hand slipping up to cup fingers around the bottom of your breast, making sure you didn’t escape him while he moved his body against you so frantically.

“That’s just what you needed, isn’t it, baby?” You moaned out, your voice wavering slightly as the pleasure of it all thrummed through you. “Just a dumb little baby who needed Mommy’s tit.”

The term ‘dumb little baby’ came flying out of your mouth before you could stop it. Though you knew exactly why it happened. Seeing such a brilliant genius reduced down to this truly did something to your ego. And apparently hearing those words from you did something to him, too.

He whined sharply against your skin and his hips stuttered abruptly. You knew it wouldn’t be long before he came in his pants, his cock throbbing against the friction of your thigh. And this thought alone caused your mouth to run off without restraint.

“Such a needy little thing.” You sighed. “You love being Mommy’s dumb baby, don’t you? Not a single fucking thought between your ears, just sucking on Mommy’s tit without a care in the world.”

Spencer moaned and it sent another jolt through your body - another harsh pang through your cunt. You loved how much he needed you. You loved how much he was clearly eating this up.

You didn’t even care if you got to cum tonight; you just wanted to exhaust him for all he was worth. Because he was so fucking pretty like this.

“You gonna cum for me, baby boy? You gonna cum for Mommy? Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

These words were what ultimately sent him over the edge. Well that along with your strong hands on his hips, encouraging him along while he was mindless and busy mouthing on your breast.

His jaw dropped open, finally loosening that desperate suction on your now slightly sore nipple as he began to pant frantically over your now spit-soaked skin. He moaned hotly while he humped you in an entirely adorable, almost distraught manner - absolutely desperate to have the most friction on his cock while his orgasm overtook him.

You could feel his needy cock throbbing against you, trapped inside of his pants, shooting off hot ropes of cum that quickly soaked into his underwear and even then, seeped into the fabric of his slacks. You grinned and bit your lip as you felt that wetness even beginning to soak into your jeans, knowing he must have set off quite a big load.

Spencer soon collapsed on top of you, gulping in air as he tried to catch his breath.

Any normal person would have taken pity on him (seeing as he was clearly nervous and inexperienced) and wound things down to end the night here. Anyone else would have likely let him rest.

But again, you felt devilish temptation overtake you. (It was a feeling that seemed to be much more ripe around Spencer Reid.)

You just felt thankful that your temptation and inclination toward chaos came in the form of lust, rather than something more violent, like the people you studied every single day. Everyone around you should be thankful for that.

You used your leverage (and the fact that you weren’t nearly as exhausted from the experience) to flip him over onto his back. He let out a surprised sound as his back made contact with the mattress - blinking up at you with shocked, glassy eyes as you moved down his body slightly.

“Wha-?” He mumbled out the question, only getting out part of the word before you reached for the zipper on the front of his now wet pants.

“Hey, shh, baby. I just wanna see you.” You told him quietly, causing him to stare down the length of his own body at your hands as you worked.

You got the button and zipper undone quickly and you let out a quiet ‘fuck’ as you peeled back the wet fabric of his grey slacks to reveal the sight of his simplistic (very Reid) white cotton underwear slightly transparent and stuck tight to his cock, coated in wet, sticky cum.

“So pretty baby.”

He only whined in response.

You couldn’t help yourself - you reached up and pulled down the waistband of his underwear, feeling more lust pricking through you as he was truly revealed to your eyes. He was perfect. Glossy and wet with his own release, his cock pinky red from the exertion and friction, still half hard. You pulled the clothes down over his hips and he lifted his body to help you, clearly glad to be rid of the mess, and the second you untangled the fabric from his ankles and ditched everything aside, you were back on him.

You skimmed the tips of your fingers oh-so-lightly up his shaft where it was sprawled across his pelvis, and his hips jolted. He let out a bitter gasp - as though cold water had been splashed across him.

“You said-” He choked on the words as you ran your thumb right underneath the crown, gently pressing into the head, causing him to choke on a moan while his knees quaked.

You sat on his knees to keep him still and his head became so fuzzy once again.

‘You said that you only wanted to look.’

The sentence died off in his lungs somewhere, and truthfully - he didn’t want to protest. He didn’t want you to stop.

“Sens-sensitive.” He whined. “Too much.”

“But you’re so pretty, baby.” You replied, your voice turning smooth and warm like butter again, melting over his whole body, causing all of his muscles to go soft and pliant for you. “Your cock is so pretty. I need to touch you.”

He let out another strangled noise when you cupped your hand and took him fully in your grip this time, giving one good tug across his cock from root to tip. When you did this again, faster this time, his lungs seized inside his chest - trying to take in oxygen so quickly, as though he were drowning on dry land.

“You gonna be good for me, baby?”

“Yes.” He gargled back in response. “Yes, Mommy.”

He was already so wet from cumming in his pants, and he let out a pathetic dribble of precum as you continued to move your hand - so it was an easy, slick slide. One that sent harsh shockwaves through him from overstimulation. Against his own will, he soon ballooned back to full hardness - becoming painfully swollen in your hand while you sped up your touch and closed your fist tighter around him. It caused the most wonderful hurt between his legs, and made a downright filthy wet sound as you pumped your grip faster along his needy cock.

Spencer heard wailing and felt the soreness against his throat before he realized that he was the one making those desperate sounds. He distantly wondered what it might sound like to someone else, if the rooms on either side were occupied, if the motel would receive a noise complaint about some frail woman getting fucked to death by her husband next door - because that’s what he sounded like in his own ears.

But any of those half-thoughts were chased out of his brain the second you flicked your thumb up over the head of his cock and your dirty mouth filled his ears once again.

“Gonna milk this pretty cock, baby.” You told him, your voice firm. “You gonna show Mommy how much you can cum for me? Gonna show me what a good boy you are?”

Spencer let out another pathetic sound, his body singing with pleasure at his pure need to prove to you that - yes, he was a good boy.

He felt tears wet on the side of his face before he realized that he was crying, but it was all too good to ask you to stop.

You used your other hand to cradle his balls and you swooped down to capture his gasping mouth in another kiss (a very messy, open mouthed kiss that Spencer could barely pay attention to). Spencer screamed into your mouth while he painted his stomach with cum once again.

You only stopped jerking his cock once you had truly milked every last drop from him, his hips seizing up off the bed and your hand almost slipping off him completely from how sloppily wet it was with more of his cum added to the mix.

He was purely exhausted then. His eyes blinked heavily, struggling to stay open. He vaguely remembered you cleaning him off and tucking him into bed - but he definitely enjoyed falling asleep curled up next to your warmth.

…

The next morning, Spencer felt hungover.

He wondered if that’s what good sex always felt like - the combination of endorphins rushing through your body and physical exertion tackling you over. His legs were sore, as though he had run several miles. (Which wasn’t even something he could make a bold comparison to anyway, because he didn’t exercise nearly as much as he should for someone with this job). He woke up starving, grateful when you drove to a diner down the road after checking out of the motel and planted him in one of the booths before going outside to call Hotch in order to touch base with the rest of the team.

You came back with a small grin on your face.

“Turns out that tip the ex-wife gave us about their first house in Arlington was pretty solid.” You told Reid. “They caught the guy on his way there. He had another girl in the trunk. They got her back mostly unarmed, and took him into custody.”

Spencer nodded. “That’s good.”

When he moved to grab another sugar packet out of the caddy on the side of the table, three of them already open and empty beside his cup of coffee, you grabbed him by the wrist.

“That’s enough, baby.” You told him.

His stomach curled, that distinct feeling running through him again. And against his will, that word slipped out - again.

“Yes, Mommy.”

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot. There won't be a sequel or a continuation, so please do not ask for one. If you liked the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written, or consider reblogging to show your appreciation. If you want to see more Spencer Reid fics that I have written, you can check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist, or you can check out my Masterlists for other fandoms to see if anything catches your eye. Thank you for reading!

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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stevie-petey · 9 months ago

Text

episode one: the hellfire club

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–” “Boobies! It’s not a big deal–” You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.” “Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!” You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.”

Summary: el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of abuse, allusions to bullying, trauma lol

Words: 13.5k (wrote half of this in one day)

Before you swing in: SHES HERE !!!! SEASON 4 !!! this season terrifies me. i spent so much time outlining and making sure it was perfect. i have some changes i want to do, some ideas, and its scary because we dont have season 5 yet and i hate messing with canon ,,, alas: here she is. my baby. my beloved. quick fun fact: theres a scene in here ive had planned since season 1 so .... enjoy !

–

March 21st, 1986.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on New York University! Joyce tells me that it is a very good college, and everyone was extremely happy when Jonathan told us the news. He even had a smile on his face! It has been a very long time since I have seen him smile, especially without that weird smell on him (am I allowed to tell you about the strange plants that Jonathan seems to like now? He says that you cannot find out about it, but friends don’t lie and he is your bestest friend).

I asked Will about it, and he says that Jonathan now smells because he misses you. If you ask me, I think that Jonathan smells because he is scared. We are still waiting for his college letter, afterall. I know you want to go to school with him, but so does Nancy. Is it possible to go to two colleges? Anyways, it must be a lot of pressure, even more with all the waiting we have to do, but Joyce told us that sometimes colleges take a long time to respond.

While I am positive that Jonathan will figure it all out soon, he pretends he does not care. But he is a very bad liar. He was very upset that Nancy could no longer visit us in California. Will was bummed too, but he was more sad that it was not you who was visiting. Joyce says that the Byers boys were born to miss you, and I think she is right.

I also miss you. I am still bummed I never went to school with you. I bet Mike is over the moon to have you with him for high school, Dustin and Lucas also. How is Max? Is she still sad? I know school has been hard for her. I will admit that it is hard for me, too. While I am good at maths, and my grammar is getting better, I am still unsure when to use conjunctions or why Angela does not like me. Will tells me to ignore her, but I want to be her friend. She is nice to everyone else. It confuses me that she is not nice to me.

A lot about California confuses me. The flowers here are different, and sometimes I forget that I cannot go and visit you. I miss the smell of Bookstrordinary (did I spell it right?) and your cookies. Please send more as soon as you can. Will and I are almost dying to taste them again! Mike says he will try to bring some on the plane, but I am scared he will be told no by those scary airplane people.

Speaking of Mike, he is coming to California this week! I am very excited to see him. It has felt like years, I think I am even going crazy. I have planned everything for his week here. Spring break will be extra special! It will be a fun distraction from Angela and school. This week I can pretend to be someone else, someone cool, and Mike will be very impressed. I know you tell me to always be myself, so I hope that I can make you happy by taking your advice on focusing only on the good.

To prove I will focus on the good from here on out, here is a good things list:

Mike is visiting!

Will has almost finished his painting. I am very curious to see what he has made. He is really talented, he shows me the drawings he sends you sometimes.

You got into NYU! Is this the correct way to abbreviate? I am still working on conjunctions, but I think I am supposed to use the first letter of every word in the school’s name to shorten it. At least, that is what Joyce says.

Jonathan’s new best friend, Argyle, will give us free pizza to celebrate Mike’s arrival. It is really good pizza.

Tasting your cookies again. Fingers crossed Mike’s plan succeeds!

I am sure there is more, but I am too excited about this week and my mind is going very fast. I miss you tons, maybe even more than Will and Jonathan do. Please come visit us soon. Like Joyce says, the Byers boys were born to miss you. Although I am not a Byers boy, I am still a part of the Byers family, and I miss you.

Love, El.

P.S., thank you for the grammar books. I will be sure to become the best writer ever in California.

–

Sweet, gentle, El. You can almost hear her voice, reading aloud to you as you used to do when she lived in Hopper’s cabin. She would stumble over the letters, ask you how to sound out particularly difficult words in Spider-Man comics; they helped her learn how to read. Now, almost a year later, she’s writing you letters.

El has grown up so much within such a short few months, although it doesn’t surprise you.

Laughing softly as you reread the final line she’s written, you wipe your eyes and place El’s letter onto your desk. The piece of paper joins the others, nestled gently with a pile of her other letters that are housed on your desk. El sends you a new letter every week, detailing silly stories about Jonathan and Will or concerned ramblings about Angela.

The letters make you miss El terribly. They make you miss everyone terribly.

Next to the letters are drawings from Will. He’s become such an artist during his time in California. He sends you beautiful sketches of landscapes in their neighborhood, doodles from class, and incredibly detailed drawings of you and the party. The drawings are Will’s special way to keep in contact with you, and it’s something you cherish so deeply. However, you didn’t know that he was working on a painting, and you’re curious to see what El is talking about. Eventually he’ll reveal his art to you, he always does.

Skimming a finger over one of the more recent drawings from Will, your hand catches on the walkman that lays next to it. Jonathan’s messy handwriting is scrawled on the mixtape that sits within it.

For bug.

The words, familiar and loved, stare back at you. The mixtape contains songs that Jonathan so carefully chose for you. He spent countless hours selecting songs that he knew you’d love, songs that reminded him of you. It had been his gift for you before he moved away. And now he’s gone, and you miss him so much more than you ever thought you would. More than you ever thought you could miss anyone.

Jonathan never did end up coming to Hawkins for spring break.

“Dusty, what’s going on in there?” The sound of your mother pounding on Dustin’s door breaks you from your thoughts. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!” You hear the boy screech back at her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve will be here to pick you guys up any minute. Dustin knows he should be ready by now, the schedule has never changed.

Throwing on the cardigan Steve got you for Christmas last year, you grab your walkman and storm over to Dustin’s room. At the same time, your mother nearly crashes into you in the hall. Her face is pale, horrified of the idea that she almost saw her son naked, and you pity the woman. Dustin has become relentless lately, even more difficult to deal with.

“Y/N, my dear,” your mother clutches at her chest and fans her face. “Can you please make sure your brother is ready? I think that boy is trying to give me a heart attack.”

You sigh, figuring you would have to do so anyways. “Yeah, sure. Go finish getting ready, I’ll handle him.”

“This is why you’re my favorite daughter!” Your mother kisses your cheek before running off towards the kitchen to make her morning coffee.

Once she’s gone, you immediately start banging on Dustin’s door. He knows you hate being late. Plus, it’s the Friday before spring break. You’re getting antsy waiting for this week to end. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds before I kick this door down.”

“Not now, Y/N!” Dustin shouts back, frantic and desperate.

You narrow your eyes. He’s using his suspicious voice, the one he only uses when he’s doing something he absolutely shouldn’t be doing. Glancing down at your watch and noting the early hour, you curse in disbelief. “It’s not even seven yet, what the hell are you up to so early in the morning?”

“Nothing! Just go away, I’ll be out soon–”

“I swear, if you’re trying to sell my limited edition comics again I will hurt you.” You throw your body against the door, causing it to fly open as you stumble inside. Dustin is at his computer and he nearly falls off his chair in his haste to cover the screen from you. He’s remarkably horrible at playing cool. You’re about to tell him this when Suzie’s voice crackles through his radio’s speakers.

“Yikes, Dusty.”

“Suzie?” You walk over to your brother and shove his hands off the computer screen. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, which pleases you. He may be a teenager now, but you’re still stronger than him. At least for now. “Why are you calling her right now–” Your eyes land on the screen and you recognize Hawkins High’s familiar orange and green school colors. “Is this the student gradebook?”

“No!” Dustin exclaims, but Suzie’s small and soft voice responds, “Yes.”

“Oh my God,” you cannot believe he’s making his girlfriend hack into your school’s database. Sure, she’s a genius, but you also know she’s incredibly religious. “Dustin, this is so illegal and goes against, like, all of Suzie’s religious morals–”

“I will repent later.” Suzie interrupts you, and you raise your eyebrows at what she’s just said. Before you can question her, Dustin’s computer refreshes.

He leans forward, eyes scanning to see if they’ve succeeded, and he seems to like what he sees. Suddenly Dustin lets out a sudden whoop and fist bumps the air. “God, I love you Suzie.”

Curious, you lean over and read the screen as well. There, where you know Dustin had a D- in Latin not even a day ago, is now an A. There’s no possible way he was able to raise his grade in under twenty-four hours. He sucks at Latin, he hates it, which means… She did it. Suzie changed his grade. All she had to do was press one single button to save Dustin’s GPA.

You have to admit, it’s impressive. And shamefully genius.

“Hey, Suzie.” You bring the radio to your lips, shoving Dustin away when he tries to take it from you. “Do you think you could change my grade in calculus? Jonathan was the only reason I passed any of my other math classes.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Suzie’s voice raises a pitch, she doesn’t want to tell you no. She likes you, she really does, but her God figurine stares down at her with a disappointed look in his eyes. She’s sinned for love, but she doesn’t think she could ever do it again.

You’re about to plead with Suzie, tell her NYU really prioritizes their student’s grades, but the sound of a car honking outside catches your attention; it’s Steve. Dustin yanks the radio from your hand and shoos you away. “Go, leave without me.”

“What, why? We always drive together.” You frown, feeling like a little kid when you cross your arms. Dustin smiles apologetically, a smile you’ve become familiar with. Your mood darkens, anger rises to your cheeks. You know exactly why Dustin is now skipping out on you. “Don’t tell me it’s that stupid Eddie Munson–”

“He wants me and Mike to work out some campaign details before lunch today!” Dustin scrambles to mediate. He hates that you don’t like Eddie, and you like everyone. It’s unnerving how much disdain you seem to carry for his friend. “Nance is driving us, but I swear I’ll ride with you and Steve after break!”

You scoff at Dustin, not at all believing his promise to you. Ever since September your brother has been at Eddie Muson’s beck-and-call, who dictates everything Dustin says or does. At first it was innocent enough, choosing to sit with the guy instead of you at lunch. Skipping out on a few weekend plans with you and Steve to campaign with Eddie. You’d been happy for Dustin. He was making new friends, no longer your little shadow; he was his own person with his own priorities and interests now.

But ever since getting into NYU last week, Dustin has been pulling away even more from you. You don’t know why, but he’s become even more obsessed with Eddie and his stupid Hellfire club.

Eddie Munson is the air your brother now breathes, stifling the air Dustin once breathed for you.

And it seems to only be suffocating you, not him.

“Yeah, whatever.” Halfheartedly you ruffle Dustin’s hair, and he leans into the touch. You don’t want him to know his repeated absences are upsetting you. Deep down, you know you’re being irrational. You’re almost eighteen, soon you won’t even be living under the same roof as Dustin. He’s allowed to live his own life. “I guess I’ll see you at the pep rally. Tell Suzie I said bye, please?”

Dustin nods, though you don’t linger in the doorway like you desperately want to. Instead, you shut the door behind you and place a swift kiss to your mother’s cheek as you leave.

Steve’s car is parked in its usual spot at the end of the driveway. The teen’s arm hangs out the window and his face breaks into a smile when he sees you approaching. Steve’s smile is infectious, it’s always charmed you, and it settles the ache in your chest from your brother’s earlier dismissal. Feeling a smile spread across your own face, you run towards Steve and poke your head through the open window.

“Hi,” you breathe out, nose almost bumping against his cheek.

“Hi, angel.” Steve kisses you, solidifying your morning tradition. Neither one of you really remembers who started it, but sometime during the school year you began to slip your head through Steve’s car window so that he could kiss you slow and sweet.

And, as tradition follows, Robin starts boos. “Do you have to do that every morning?”

Steve makes a face at her and she punches his arm. He yelps in pain and you roll your eyes at the two of them before running over to the passenger’s side where Robin sits. Her window is rolled down as well and you duck your head inside. “Aw, Robin. If you wanted a kiss, you could’ve just said so!”

“A kiss–?” Your lips press against Robin’s cheek, smushing against her face while making a dramatic sound. She squeals and pushes you away, wiping her now wet cheek in disgust. “That is not what I wanted.”

You giggle at her and finally get into the car. It’s getting late, you see the assortment of Robin’s limited makeup dumped into her lap haphazardly. She’s been stressing about this morning’s pep rally all week, and clearly she isn’t coping very well. Trying to cheer her up, you flick her shoulder. “I’ll have you know that my cheek kisses are cherished in Hawkins.”

“How many people’s cheeks are you kissing?” Steve turns in his seat to face you, slightly alarmed. Then, noticing that there’s only one Henderson in his car, he frowns. “And where’s little Henderson?”

“Eddie Munson.”

“Woah, wait, you mean Eddie as in where Dustin is, right? Not, like, you’ve been kissing his cheek? I’m right, right? Please tell me I’m right.”

You roll your eyes fondly at Steve while Robin rolls hers in displeasure. “Just drive, Steve.”

–

It becomes pretty apparent five minutes into the car ride that no one seems to be having a good morning. Robin has spent the majority of the drive applying and reapplying her mascara while messing with her hair. She groans every time she looks in the mirror and her eyes lack their usual brilliance.

Meanwhile, Steve has been complaining about yet another fight with his dad. Apparently they argued during breakfast, something that has become a common occurrence in the Harrington household.

“The asshole again reminded me that I’m turning twenty soon. As if I don’t already know that! I mean,” Steve laughs in exasperation. “For weeks now he’s been asking me what my plans are, as if working at Family Video just isn’t good enough for him. As if my dad isn’t the sole reason I had to get a lousy minimum wage job in the first place!”

“Family Video isn’t a lousy job–”

“Yes it is.” Both Steve and Robin say at the same time, which you sigh at. Can’t really argue with that.

“Okay, yeah. It’s pretty lousy.”

Steve rubs his eyes tiredly. “And that isn’t even the worst part. There I was, pouring syrup over my pancakes, trying to enjoy the fact that my parents are actually home for once, when my asshole of a father tells me that if I don’t have a respectable job by the time I’m twenty, he’ll kick me out. I mean, can you believe that?”

You suck in a breath. “Steve…”

Richard Harrington is a cruel, awful man.

While you understand his frustrations towards Steve, it’s completely unreasonable to expect him to get a reputable job in a few short months without any college education. Steve’s right, it had been Richard’s idea to make him work at Scoops Ahoy in the first place. When the mall burned down, he had no other option but to work at Family Video soon after.

“I’m sorry, honey.” You intertwine your fingers through Steve’s hair and rub your thumb up and down the nape of his neck in a soothing manner. Steve allows the touch, but he’s still tense. Guessing that he’s uncomfortable feeling so pitied, you try to make light of the situation with humor. “But hey, who knows? Maybe you can come live with me in New York if he ends up kicking you out.”

Steve risks a look at you, taking his eyes off the road for a few moments, and his eyes shine. He’s ecstatic over what you’ve just said. He looks like a little kid on Christmas Eve. “You really mean that?”

“Well, I mean…” It had mostly been a joke, a throwaway comment to try and get him to smile. But Steve’s body finally relaxes under your touch and you can’t tell him no. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You hear that, Robin?” Steve preens, wanting to get her attention. However, when he realizes that she hasn’t been listening to the entire conversation, he makes an offended sound. “Robin, are you listening to me?”

“Uh, yes?” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror, startled that she’s been caught. “You were-uh. Talking to Y/N about your dad. We-we hate him! Yeah, we hate the guy. He really… grinds my gears?”

Steve groans. “We all hate my dad, but that wasn’t what I was talking to you about!”

“Cut me some slack, please. Your relationship with your father is one of labyrinthine complexity–”

You poke your head between the two teens. “Actually, it’s not that complicated.”

Robin covers your mouth with her hand and continues with her rant. “It’s seven in the morning, we have the stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse!”

“I think you look lovely as always, Robin.” You mumble through the girl’s hand, barely coherent.

Steve, however, isn’t as supportive. “You’re worried about a pep rally? You really expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah, so?” Robin removes her hand from your mouth and goes back to doing her makeup. She’s avoiding the conversation now, which only means that Steve is onto something. Why has she been so obsessed about this week’s pep rally? Robin has been in band for years now, she’s done a million pep rallies during her high school career. It can’t be performing that makes her nervous.

Which means it has to be about someone.

Locking eyes with Steve, he seems to be thinking what you are. “I think we all know what this is about, okay? Y/N and I aren’t buying that bullshit.”

“This is about Vickie.” You finish for him, a smirk on your face. For weeks now Vickie has been all Robin has talked about. Her hair, how pretty her smile is, how cute her freckles are. Vickie also happens to be in band with Robin. “C’mon, you can’t tell us we’re wrong.”

“I absolutely can tell you you’re wrong.” Robin denies what you and Steve are implying.

Steve shakes his head. “You know we’re right! And you know what else we think?”

“I really don’t care–”

“Y/N and I think that you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her, okay? You just gotta be yourself.”

Robin doesn’t want to hear any of this. At least not from you and Steve. “You guys are biased, you do realize that?”

“What do you mean?” You’re practically laying across Steve’s car console in order to be a part of the conversation. “I think we’re objective people.”

“You’re telling me that all I have to do is be myself and Vickie will want to date me?”

You frown. “Yeah? What’s wrong with that?”

Robin throws her head back. “Because it took Steve months to ask you out. Mind you, this was when you were already in love with the guy! And he knew you were in love with him!”

“Okay, hey–” Steve doesn’t at all like what she’s insinuating. He didn’t necessarily know you were already in love with him, he just… had a small hunch.

“I’m not done,” Robin holds her hand up. “All Steve had to do was man up and admit his feelings for you. He didn’t have to agonize over whether or not it’d blow up in his face. There was no risk, no danger, no world ending consequences. I mean, if you had rejected him then maybe Steve’s ego would’ve been bruised. But if I ask out the wrong girl? Bam! I’m a town pariah.”

“This is true,” you reluctantly agree. While you could never envision a world where you’d ever say no to Steve, you also recognize that the world where you somehow do wouldn’t be the same world as Robin’s. Things are different for her, whether you like it or not. Robin has to live with this knowledge, and her conversation with you about luck and love from last summer echoes in your mind.

Steve places a hand on his chest, betrayed. “Whose side are you on, Y/N?”

“True love’s side.”

Robin snorts and Steve doesn’t bother to hide his smile. He wants to tease you for being a hopeless romantic, but now isn’t the time. Instead, he continues the previous conversation. “True love aside, we can’t ignore that Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl.”

“Oh, she definitely isn’t straight.” You agree.

“We don’t know that!” Robin quickly sprays some breath freshener in her mouth and gags, which you cringe at. Vickie is one lucky girl if Robin ever manages to become her girlfriend.

Steve doesn’t let up, he’s convinced he has it all figured out. “She returned Fast Times paused at fifty-three minutes, five seconds.”

“The bikini scene, mind you.” You butt in, and Steve nods eagerly.

“And you know who pauses Fast Times at fifty-three minutes, five seconds? People who like boobies, Robin!”

Robin waves her hands in the air as if to get Steve’s voice away from her. “Ew! Gross, don’t say boobies–”

“Boobies! It’s not a big deal–”

You make a face. “It isn’t the most pleasant word.”

“Oh, c’mon. You like boobies, Robin likes boobies, and we all know I love your boobies specifically–ow!”

You hit the back of Steve’s head with annoyance to get him to stop talking about your boobs. While he winces in pain and rubs his tender head, you turn towards Robin. “What my darling boyfriend is trying to say is that everyone likes boobs, and Vickie definitely likes them too.”

Robin can’t even look at the two of you, appalled by how many times the word “boobies” has been uttered during the duration of the conversation. You can’t blame her, the word has practically lost all meaning for you as well.

Steve, however, can’t seem to get enough of it. “It’s boobies!” He exclaims again to no one in particular.

You and Robin lock eyes, and then, without saying anything, your hand covers Steve’s mouth while Robin flicks his forehead, effectively putting the boob conversation to an end.

–

The moment Steve’s BMW slows in front of the school, Robin throws the door open and rushes out with a quick “see you later!” to you as she runs to follow after her bandmates. Steve waves weakly as she goes and sighs in disappointment.

“She’s never talking to Vickie, is she?”

“Not a chance,” you sigh as well, watching as Robin’s figure disappears in the crowd of students. Spring break looms over the student body, everyone buzzes with excitement over their week of freedom and tonight’s basketball game. The pep rally in just a few short minutes only adds to the exhilaration. Leaning forward, your lips graze against Steve’s. “Anyways, see you tonight?”

He bridges the gap between your lips, skin meets skin and warmth floods your stomach. “Of course, angel. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.” And with one last kiss, you exit Steve’s car and make your way towards the school. As always, Steve waits until you’re safely on the sidewalk before he pulls away and heads towards Family Video. He’s started picking up morning shifts to fill the time he isn’t with you.

On your way inside, you see Ms. Kelly talking to Max near the buses. The conversation is short, doesn’t last much longer than a few seconds, and when Max turns away you notice Ms. Kelly’s patient smile drop. Clearly Max still isn’t being cooperative when it comes to their sessions. She promised you she would start trying, but Max Mayfield has always been stubborn and you’ve always been slightly overbearing.

Not the best combination, honestly.

With a sigh, you make a mental note to ask Max about what the counselor talked to her about later. There’s too much going on this morning to focus on it, and you’re already pushing Max by having her attend the pep rally anyways. Originally she had wanted to skip it and hide in the stairwell, but after begging her about it, Max finally agreed.

The conversation can wait. For now, at least she’ll be next to you in the bleachers alongside the boys to cheer on Lucas.

The thought was enough to brighten your mood a little, but it quickly became a pain in the ass to corral the party into sitting together. It took you almost fifteen minutes to find Mike and Dustin in the mass of students heading into the gym. You’re not necessarily sure how it took so goddamn long given the fact that Mike towers over half of the students anyways. He’s grown freakishly tall since starting freshman year. It unnerves you.

While his towering height annoys you, Mike likes that he can finally, literally, look down on you.

“There you guys are!” You grab the back of Mike’s shirt and he lets out a startled yelp. Dustin stumbles back as well, and an annoyed sophomore glares at the three of you. Ignoring her, you grab your brother’s shirt and start dragging the two boys towards the bleachers. “Thought we agreed on meeting at the water fountain that squirts water in your face?”

“I thought it was the library?” Dustin gives you an odd look. “Wait, is there even a water fountain in the library?”

“You amaze me.” You remark, not even bothering to answer his question. He listens like a bag of rocks. Mike just allows you to pull him, not at all contributing to the conversation.

Max waits for you in the bleachers. She’s saved you seats, something that you feel slight relief over. The simple gesture is small, but it sparks just enough hope within your chest to make you exhale softly. Hope that she’s getting better. Hope that she’s finally trying again.

Thanking Max, you and the others fill the seats as the gym quickly fills with more and more students until it threatens to overflow. The roar of the crowd is nearly deafening. Across from the bleachers resides the marching band. They’re playing the school’s anthem as the cheerleaders start their routine. Chrissy Cunningham leads them, her smile lovely and beautiful, she shines so brightly upon the crowd that you can’t help but fall in love with her.

In the midst of the cheerleaders’ twists and flips, Robin manages to catch your eye from across the room.

You eagerly wave at her and mime playing the trumpet, copying her movements as she actually plays one. Robin laughs, and next to her is a girl with fiery red hair who laughs as well. She’s pretty, you’ve heard countless sonnets about her red hair and dotted freckles. Knowing the girl is Vickie, you point at her as you wink at Robin, who scoffs and goes back to playing the trumpet.

Next to you, you catch the tail end of some bizarre conversation between Mike and Dustin.

“Look, I’m not saying that my girlfriend is better than yours.” Dustin is clarifying, glaring at you when he hears your sarcastic snort. “It’s just that Suzie’s, like, a certified genius.”

Mike crosses his arms, looking towards you as if somehow this is all your fault. “Your brother realizes that El saved the world twice, right?”

“Admittedly that is hard to beat,” you shrug. “That, and she has cool powers.”

Dustin points a finger at the two of you. “And yet Mike still has a C in Spanish while you’re barely passing calculus.”

Mike rolls his eyes and you shrug again. Your brother isn’t necessarily wrong either. El’s saved the world, Suzie has saved his GPA. Both are nearly impossible feats. “Touchy subject, but touché.”

“And what can your boyfriend do, Y/N?” Mike asks, now bringing the attention to your love life.

“He’s good with a bat.”

Both Dustin and Mike groan, but you shush them when the school’s broadcaster announces the Tigers basketball team. Applause breaks out across the bleachers and you notice Max looking around for Lucas. Though she tries to hide it, you can see the interest and excitement in her eyes. She’s happy for him, but it breaks your heart that she feels that she can’t show it.

Jason Carver, captain of the basketball team and former Scoops Ahoy patron before Steve spilled ice cream all over his pants, runs out first. The crowd goes wild, but you don’t start cheering until you see Lucas. He’s smiling wide, proud to be a part of the team. You scream as loud as you can for him, he’s come so far since confessing to you about wanting to join the team earlier this year. As Jason starts his speech, dramatic as he always is, Lucas sees you in the bleachers and waves shyly, a blush creeping across his face. Then, seeing Max next to you, his confidence seems to grow as he waves more enthusiastically at her.

The moment is sweet, it makes you smile.

Except Max doesn’t wave back. She crosses her arms, pretends she hasn’t seen him, and your smile drops alongside Lucas’.

You know they’ve been having some trouble recently. With Max pulling away more and more each day, Lucas struggled to hold onto the fading girl. Despite his pleas and reassurances, Max still seems to be icing him out. According to Dustin, they broke up almost a month ago now.

But they’ve always had a tumultuous relationship, long before nightmares and monsters darkened everything. The news hadn’t worried you at first, you thought it was simply another one of their weekly breakups over something small, innocent. Afterall, they were just kids when they first started dating. Their breakups were always childish, though endearing, and always temporary.

Now, you’re scared that this time it’s permanent.

You’re not sure what that means for Max. She already has so few people left in her life to tether her. Billy died, her mother works two jobs and is never home anymore, El is in California, and you and Lucas are breaking skin trying to claw onto whatever small hold you have left of the girl.

Another loud cheer from the crowd breaks you from your thoughts. Jason must’ve just said something important, something worthy enough of a roaring reaction. He’s always been popular in Hawkins, Steve used to complain about him to you back when he was still on the team. But when Steve graduated and Billy died, Hawkins High had needed a new King to crown.

Jason Carver was more than happy to ascend the throne.

“Chrissy, I love you, babe.” Everyone awes and you see Chrissy blow Jason a kiss. It’s sweet, you suppose. They fit together nicely, head cheerleader with the star of the basketball team, and they seem genuinely happy. Chrissy’s shy and kind demeanor balances Jason’s loud and charismatic boldness. They truly are a good match.

“I think I can speak for all of us when I say it’s been a tough year for Hawkins.” Jason continues his speech, the room is eerily silent as everyone listens with baited breath. “So much loss…” The gym almost exhales simultaneously, remembering all the people who died last summer.

Your own breath exhales, and beside you Max tenses. Billy’s ghost floats through your minds, in through hers and out through yours. Hopper’s own ghost follows after him, only he doesn’t haunt Max the way he haunts you. He lingers over you, his final words to you engraved into your skin.

You’re the best of them.

“And sometimes I wonder, how much loss can one community take?”

Enough to fill a mall of burning bodies, you think bitterly.

Jason paces the gym’s floor now, he almost seems to glow before the crowd. He rambles on about needing something to believe in. That everyone should be doing something to honor all the lives lost in July, that playing basketball can absolve all the despair. As if it can bring them back.

Deep below your ribcage, nestled right underneath your scar and just in front of your stomach, rests a pit of anger that always simmers. You were born with it, it has always followed you. It has grown with you, the anger almost possessed your body when your dad left. Now, hearing Jason recite all the names of the ones who died that Fourth of July, the anger’s low simmer heats into a soft boil.

You try to quell it. Jason means well, he’s only trying to uplift the community in a passionate, albeit uncomfortably pastor-y way. He’s only doing what he knows best; he’s being a leader. In another life, one where Demogorgons never harmed you, you think you would’ve really admired Jason and his resilience.

“Think of Billy,” Your breath stills, yet your hand instinctively finds Max’s. She turns away from you, but the room is spinning and you can’t remember how to inhale. But Jason keeps going. “Think about our heroic police chief, Jim Hopper.”

Next to you, in your haze of grief and panic, you think you can feel Mike and Dustin shift uncomfortably. Grief sinks her claws into the kids, and you want nothing more than to puncture Jason’s lungs with them.

This was supposed to be a pep rally for the Tigers, it was supposed to be joyous, an opportunity to bring Max out of her shell. To distract her from the hell that she calls her life. The entire school knows what happened to Billy, they know that he had a little sister named Max Mayfield.

You hate Jason Carver.

But you’re here for Lucas. Today is about him. He’s finally happy, he’s smiling again. The least you can do is swallow down the anger and grief and hope that you don’t end up choking on them later. That they don’t strangle you in your dreams.

“And now tonight, we’re gonna bring home the championship trophy!” Jason screams into the mic, erupting a volcanic roar from the stadium. People throw paper into the air, whistling and jumping up and down at the prospect of Hawkins High finally winning a championship.

“Tonight?” Dustin’s agonized exclamation causes you to jump. He looks at you, bewildered and panicked. “How is that possible?”

Your heart still hasn’t steadied from the surge of fury Jason evoked. Swallowing once again, you clear your throat and shake your head at your brother. “What, you guys didn’t know about the game tonight?”

“They call it a tournament,” Max explains for you, figuring you need some time to clear your head. You squeeze her hand appreciatively. “You win one game, you go on until there’s only one team left.”

Mike and Dustin exchange frightened looks, and you eye them suspiciously. “Did you guys really not know? I thought Steve explained all of this to you already. Why is it such a big deal, anyways? I mean–wait,” the boys won’t meet your gaze. They avoid facing you, Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets and Dustin pretends to read someone’s poster.

You know the fearful look on their faces. It’s the same look Dustin gave you this morning when he ditched you to ride with Nancy and Mike.

Goddamn Eddie Munson.

“Oh, don’t you guys dare.” They wouldn’t. They wouldn’t fucking dream of missing one of Lucas’ games for a stupid club centered around some guy with enormous ego problems. “I swear to God, if you two skip the game tonight–”

“We won’t! I-I mean… Well. It’s, uh. It’s complicated” Dustin gulps, elbowing his way through the crowd of departing students as the pep rally ends. Mike follows, ready to step in at any moment, while Max slips away before you can stop her. Seeing how contorted your body is from anger, Dustin tries to appease you. “Look, I can’t promise anything, alright? Eddie is… Eddie.”

You’re about to scream some very choice words about that curly haired emo asshole, but Lucas intercepts the group and joins you guys. He looks between you, Mike, and Dustin, sensing some underlying tension. “What about Eddie?”

Mike quickly explains, and the more he talks, the more you want to shove your knives down Eddie’s throat. It’s one night, one goddamn night, and here Mike and Dustin are, almost shitting their pants at the idea of missing one Hellfire meeting to support their friend. While it’s unfortunate that all of this is happening on the same night, and though you recognize how long a campaign can take and how much the game means to the party, for once you can’t bring yourself to understand Dustin’s side.

A championship game versus one single campaign meeting that can easily be done tomorrow instead.

Seems like a pretty easy decision to you.

Lucas doesn’t understand why Mike and Dustin are so conflicted either. “I don’t get the big deal.” You’re all outside now, heading towards the main building for your classes. “Just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire to another night.”

You nod, agreeing with him, and Dustin rolls his eyes. “‘Just talk to Eddie.’”

“You can’t be serious right now,” your shoulder brushes harshly against the boy’s. You’re barely containing your anger right now. “Why does Eddie have such a strong hold over you guys? Hasn’t he repeated senior year twice now?”

“Why does that matter?” Mike looks at you as if you’re the scum of the earth that he just so happened to step on. “Why can’t Lucas just talk to his coach and get him to move the game?”

Dustin quips that he thinks Mike’s idea is a great one, but you shove between them and throw your hands in the air in annoyance. “You can’t possibly think that’s the same thing, right? A nationally organized game being postponed for a board game.”

Mike and Dustin both gasp at you, acting as if you’ve just threatened to kill a baby bunny in front of them, which only annoys you more. Sure, maybe you’re being a little mean right now, but you’re not appreciating how they’re treating Lucas. He’s never done anything to warrant this blatant disrespect from them. They’re refusing to see his side, too lost in their Eddie induced high.

“DnD isn’t just a board game, Y/N! I’m honestly disappointed that you of all people would even say that. You’ve seen the intricacies of a campaign. You know I’ve spent all month now preparing for the end of Eddie’s campaign!” Dustin waves his hands in front of him, he’s in his own ecstasy of anger and annoyance, something innate in the Henderson bloodline. “A semester of adventuring has led to this moment, and we need Lucas.”

“Yeah, and the Tigers don’t.” Mike looks over at Lucas. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve been on the bench all year–shit!”

You swat the back of Mike’s head, the sound of his yelp satisfying and the sting of the hit soothes you. He looks at you, offended, and you just shake your head at him. “No, that was out of line and you know it.”

“One day I’m gonna be too tall for you to hit me, you know.” Mike scowls at you as he rubs his head.

“And I’ll mourn the day when that happens,” you respond dryly before pointing at Lucas. “Now, apologize to him before I hit you again.”

Lucas lowers your finger and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Y/N. Me being on the bench isn’t the point, anyways.”

“Please, arrive at the point.” Your brother drops his head back and closes his eyes. He’s tired, he regrets even starting this conversation in the first place. The more the four of you talk, the angrier he can feel you become. Mike’s head may now be sore, but Dustin lives with you. If anyone here is in danger of your lecturing, it’s him.

“If I get in good with these guys, I’ll be in the popular crowd, and then you guys will be too.” Lucas explains, looking between Dustin and Mike as he urges them to understand, but they don’t. Mike claims that they don’t want to be popular, something that Lucas doesn’t believe. “What, you wanna be stuck with the nerds and freaks for three more years?”

“We are nerds and freaks!” Dustin exclaims, causing a few students in the hall to look at you guys. You wave at them awkwardly, you’re starting to regret following the boys. This conversation feels personal, like you shouldn’t be intruding. Though you think Lucas has every right to want a good high school experience, you also think Mike and Dustin deserve to have their own experiences as well. If they don’t want to be popular, then that’s their decision just as much as it’s Lucas’ to want to be.

You step between the three boys, finally getting their attention. “Guys, no one here is necessarily right or wrong. Lucas has every right to want to be a part of the basketball crowd, and you two,” you raise your eyebrows at Mike and Dustin, “have every right to want to stick with Eddie’s crowd.”

Dustin sighs, “thanks, Y/N–”

“I’m not finished,” you hold a hand up and shush your brother. “What isn’t right, however, is abandoning one another. You guys are friends, and right now Lucas wants you at his game tonight to support him. Tonight is special, everyone will be there, and I want you guys there as well. I know high school is hard, but it’s even harder when you’re alone.”

“Says the girl who is adored by everyone in this shitty town.” Mike huffs, he can’t believe how hypocritical you’re being. “You’ve never had to deal with what we do. No one has ever laughed at you or tried to make you jump off a cliff just because you’re different.”

You clench your jaw. Dustin looks at you wearily, he doesn’t like what Mike is saying, but he also can’t help but agree with his friend. You haven’t ever been bullied. All your life you’ve blended in, stood out only when you were kind to others, admired for your selflessness, but never enough to be invited to parties or dumped behind a dumpster.

“Mike…” Your brother tries to pull him away from you, but you both stand your ground.

“You’re right, Wheeler. I don’t know what it’s like.” You stare up at the boy, and Mike’s expression softens only slightly. He’s just as stubborn as you are, it’s why the two of you admire the other so much. “But you forget that I’m Jonathan’s best friend. The creep, the loser, the psychopath. Kids may not have ever targeted me, but I’ve seen what they do to the people they hate.”

All the times you had to ice Jonathan’s bruised face. The nights you spent in his room holding him as he cried because Lonnie’s fists and Tommy’s cruel words were too much. The sneers, the stares Jonathan received because he was different. Quiet. Being your best friend hadn’t lessened the blows.

For years you wish you could’ve done more for Jonathan. Now, presented with Lucas’ opportunity to befriend the crowd that once was so cruel to your friend, you refuse to lose it. “That’s why I don’t want Lucas skipping the game tonight.”

It’s silent for a few moments, all three boys don’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, Lucas stands beside you and breaks the silence. “We came to high school wanting things to be different, right? Now we have that chance. Like Y/N said, if I skip tonight, that’s all out the window. So I’m asking you guys, as a friend, just talk to Eddie. Get him to move Hellfire.”

Lucas pauses, he wets his lips and looks between his friends again. He feels so small, pleading for their attention. “Come to my game. Please.”

The bell rings, ending the conversation, and Lucas spares one last look at Dustin and Mike before mumbling a soft goodbye to you. He leaves you alone with the boys, who in turn mirror conflicted expressions.

“Shit!” Dustin kicks his foot out and looks at you. “This is all your fault, you know that?”

“What is?”

“Me having empathy. I hate this. Why couldn’t you have raised me to be an asshole?”

You snort at Dustin before pulling him into a weak hug. You only have a few more minutes before you need to get to class, you can’t stay very long, but you also don’t want to leave the boys without some semblance of comfort. “You’re too charming to be an asshole. Just… Come to the game, alright? Both of you. I’ll even make brownies if I have to. I just-I’ve missed you guys. This will be good for all of us.”

Mike ducks his head and Dustin sighs once more. Neither want to say anything else, so you reluctantly release your brother and leave them alone to wallow in their self-created misery.

They’ll do the right thing. You’re sure of it.

–

Lunch comes and Alex sits next to you. He started sitting with you at lunch just after winter break, and you’re endlessly grateful for him. You’re no longer alone, and he’s good company. A part of you regrets that it took the two of you three years to grow your friendship outside of Bookstrorindary.

You’ll miss him when you graduate.

Max is with Ms. Kelly today, a change in their usual meeting schedule of Tuesdays and Thursdays, meaning you had been right. She did skip their meeting yesterday and the counselor had to corner her this morning to schedule another one.

“Be honest, how excited are you to move to New York this summer?” Alex asks you, taking a bite out of his carrot stick. You’ve come to learn that he has a weird obsession with the vegetable, always packing at least twelve of them every day.

You pick at your own lunch, a wilted salad and sandwich your mom left for you this morning. “Honestly? It hasn’t really hit me yet. I mean, I only got in last week. I think my mind is still trying to catch up with reality.”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little excited.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh and nudge the boy. “I’m a little excited. I just.. Haven’t really had time to think too much about it, you know? Between work, my brother, Steve, the kids, and…”

“Jonathan?” Alex finishes for you. He’s the only one who knows about how distant Jonathan has been. You’ve confided in him about how worried you are, about the phone calls while he’s high and the way Jonathan’s voice no longer sounds like his.

You shove your lunch away, no longer hungry. “Yeah.”

“You guys call every Friday, right? Maybe tonight will be different!” Alex tries to cut through the tension that now corrodes your demeanor, which you smile at him gratefully for.

“Yeah, who knows.” A piece of hair falls in your face and you push it behind your ear. Picking up your fork again, you attempt to finish your meal, but a sudden commotion interrupts the low buzz in the lunchroom.

“As long as you’re into band, or science, or parties.” Eddie Munson sneers from the cafeteria table he’s standing on. He looks around the room as if everyone else is beneath him. Not worth his time just because they enjoy different things. Looking at Alex, you both sigh and prepare for whatever Eddie has to say today. His voice grows louder, shouting across the room towards the basketball team’s table. “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

Jason stands up and a few students whoop and cheer. “You want something, freak?”

Eddie sticks to fingers up behind his head as he creates little devil horns, snarling with his tongue out and hissing. Jason grimaces, you do too.

“He’s a little much, isn’t he?” You say to Alex, relieved when Eddie starts to step down from the table.

“He terrifies me.” Alex breathes out, not taking his eyes off Eddie in fear he’ll somehow cast a spell on him.

You laugh at your friend’s unnecessary fear. Eddie is harmless, Hellfire isn’t a demonic cult like some students at Hawkins seem to think. It really is just a club centered around a board game with impressive storytelling and detailed plotlines. From what Dustin has told you, Eddie truly is the best dungeon master in Indiana.

And while you believe him, you can’t wrap your head around why your brother idolizes Eddie so much. The fascination runs deeper than just DnD. Dustin has spent almost every day of his freshman year wrapped around Eddie’s finger. He spends all his time with the teen now, rarely with you, but you’re not bitter. Of course you’re not. Dustin can have his own friends, you know this, but you also feel so… unneeded.

Your little brother doesn’t need you anymore, and it’s a hard pill to swallow.

Truthfully, Alex’s question earlier about moving to New York in the summer sparked more than just your usual anxiety over Jonathan. It also reminded you that in only a few short months you’ll be in an entirely new state, a new city, far away from Dustin.

“Y/N!” Dustin flies into the seat next to you, nearly upending the table itself with how violently he throws himself down.

Alex shrieks and you steady the table before anything can fall. Heart pounding, you clutch at your chest as your nerves settle. “Why must you always be so violent?”

“Because it’s fun,” Dustin responds, not even bothering to acknowledge Alex’s presence. Instead, his eyes are only on you, and there’s a crazed spark in them. He’s breathing heavily, frantic, and you dread where this is going. “Look, I need to ask you a huge favor.”

“Do you realize that this is the first time you’ve sat with me at lunch since the first day?”

He winces. “And I will repent every day for my horrendous sins. I promise, I just–Jesus you’re terrifying when you don’t blink.” Dustin removes his hat to fix his hair, a nervous tick of his. He’s stalling, he should’ve never come here. Gulping, he rips the band aid off. “I need you to sub for Lucas tonight.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re giving him an out, one chance to back down before you strangle him.

Only Dustin tightens the noose even more. “Please, Y/N! Eddie won’t move the campaign. He said something about sheep and-and finding subs because Mike and I are, uh. I guess the future of Hellfire and he needs us and did I mention how important this campaign is? It’s super cool, super gory and totally up your alley and–”

“No.”

“N-no?” Dustin practically deflates in front of you, the light in his eyes dies.

You shove him away from you, you don’t want to look at his pathetic pouting. You’re so unbelievably hurt right now, so fucking infuriated. “You have spent every goddamn waking hour ass kissing Eddie. You haven’t so much as looked at me during lunch this entire year as if I’m a fucking plague. You’ve canceled plans, you’re hardly ever home, and now you expect me to abandon Lucas, someone who has spent time with me this year, someone who has made this entire year less lonely for me. Something, by the way, that you haven’t even noticed, all because you finally need me?”

Dustin’s mouth opens and closes, he doesn’t know what to say, but for once you don’t care. How could he possibly think you’d miss Lucas’ game tonight? You adore the boys, each and every one of them, and now Dustin expects you to just abandon one of them for the others?

“You’re only here because it’s convenient for you.” You hiss, venom pouring from your voice. “For Eddie.”

“Y/N…” Dustin’s voice breaks, he sounds like a little kid again, the baby brother you doted on your entire life. “Please.”

“No!” You scream at him.

The word echoes throughout the cafeteria. A few students turn to you, some curious, some annoyed. Alex draws into himself, wishing he were anywhere but here right now. Dustin’s eyes widen, his skin pales, and you clamp your hand over your mouth, completely and utterly mortified.

You’ve never, ever yelled at Dustin like this before. Not with so much malice, vitriol.

You feel like you’re twelve again, your anger hurting your baby brother.

Red hot with embarrassment and shame, you quickly get up from the table and flee the cafeteria. Dustin calls after you, but you stumble through the hallway towards the nearest bathroom. Tears burn your eyes, guilt wracks your body in painful thuds.

By the time you lock yourself in the bathroom’s stall, your sobs have begun to claw their way out of your throat. Pressing your back against the wall, you sink to the ground and pull your knees into your chest as you finally allow yourself to cry.

Abandonment makes you cruel. Your father taught you that.

–

You don’t see Dustin for the rest of the day. He’s missing Lucas’ game and you’re angry with him for that, but you also feel such an intense guilt over your outburst. You can’t stomach the thought of seeing him.

School ends and Steve drives you to work. The shift will be a short one due to the championship game, and Steve is staying with you so that you can drive to the game together. However, the moment you get into his car, he notices the dried tears on your face and the redness in your eyes and immediately throws his arms around you. In between shaky breaths and cries, you explain what happened to Steve.

He soothes you, tells you that you can always talk to Dustin after tonight’s game. Right now you and your brother need space from one another, and you hate that Steve’s right. You’ll force Dustin into a code blue, you’re long overdue for one, anyways. He’s been acting weird for weeks now. Someone has to give in, you know this, and if it has to be you then you’ll do anything to get your brother back.

For now, Steve holds your hand as he guides you through the crowd of people in the bleachers. They all cheer for Hawkins High, the energy in the gym is electric. Faces are painted, cheerleaders wave their pom-poms, and you’re wearing Steve’s old Tigers jersey. You’re not much for school spirit, but Steve almost crashed the car when he realized you were wearing the jersey, and you know Lucas will appreciate it too.

“Y/N, over here.” Steve’s hand falls onto the small of your back as he gently pushes you towards some open seats he’s found. You lean into his touch and sit beside him. With his body against yours, you try to immerse yourself in the joy from the crowd.

The entire town is here tonight. Everyone is smiling, kids laugh and parents wave posters for their sons. Tonight will be a good night, you’ve decided this to be true.

The national anthem is announced and everyone rises in their seats. When the broadcaster announces that Tammy Thompson will be singing, you and Steve look at each other incredulously. Laughter rises within you and you cackle when Robin finds the two of you in the crowd. There’s no way this won’t end in disaster.

Tammy walks out, wearing a horrendous faux cowboy outfit, and almost immediately sings off-key. You cringe, ears stinging from the attack, and try desperately not to let out any laughter as she continues to butcher the song.

Steve whispers over to Robin, “told you. Muppet.”

“Okay, she does sound like a muppet.” Robin agrees, which only makes it harder to contain your giggles. Tammy is worse than a muppet, she sounds like a goddamn muppet that broke into her dad’s alcohol stash.

“You sound better, angel.” Steve whispers into your ear, breath warm against your skin.

You lean back against him and smile sarcastically. “Anyone can sound better than her.”

Steve chuckles and you can’t help but join him. You know it’s rude, that Tammy is honestly not that bad, though definitely not good enough for Nashville, but you can’t help it. You can’t believe Robin ever had such a huge crush on the girl who now drones the national anthem like a dying parrot.

In between breaths of laughter, you see Lucas looking up at the bleachers. His face is grim, he doesn’t see Mike or Dustin or Max. None of his friends showed up, and you watch him with sympathy. You can’t believe them.

But then Lucas sees you, and he gives you a weak smile. Your attendance isn’t enough, you know it isn’t, but you hold up the poster you made for him and he laughs despite himself.

The game starts, and from the moment the whistle is blown, it’s intense. The Tigers are neck and neck with the Falcons. Steve tries to explain what’s happening throughout the game, but it all goes over your head. The energy in the room is intoxicating, though. You lean forward in your seat, you cheer when everyone else does, boo when you think you should.

“Carver just loves hogging the spotlight, doesn’t he?” Steve says with disdain as he watches Jason side sweep his teammates to score.

You poke his side, you know he’s only saying this because he’s still bitter that Jason tried asking you out last summer. “Honey, your jealousy is showing.”

Steve tries to deny this, but then a player gets injured during a foul from Falcon, causing you and Steve to both spew insults at the player. You have no idea what the foul even is, but you’re enjoying the chaos of the game.

In the midst of your uproar, you almost miss Lucas being sent into the game. You slap Steve’s chest repeatedly to get his attention, you almost don’t believe what you’re seeing. “Steve! Is that–”

“Sinclair!” He whoops, but he quickly scrambles to catch you as you nearly throw yourself off the bleachers in your blind excitement cheering. You’re screaming your head off, hardly even registering Steve’s hands on your waist. You’re incoherent and ecstatic, drunk on adrenaline.

Lucas is playing.

The game only gets more brutal from there. The points even out, both teams neck and neck. Anxious, you squeeze Steve’s hand with anticipation. Everything happens so fast, Lucas plays so naturally with the others, as if he was born to be there.

“Go, Tigers!” You jump up and down as Lucas runs after Jason. They’re doing a new play, attempting to score the tie breaker. Jason shoots, the ball hits off the backboard and onto the rim. Your breath catches, there’s only three seconds left on the clock. The ball falls, and there isn’t any time left.

Until Lucas catches the missed shot. He dribbles the ball, you clutch Steve’s hand, neither one of you utters a single word as Lucas makes the final shot. It’s an all or nothing throw, a risk, but he takes it anyways. The ball soars through the air, hits the rim. The buzzer sounds, the game is over, and the ball spins around the rim before finally sinking through the net.

Your chest burns as you violently cheer, Steve flings himself into your arms. You’re both jumping around, screaming together like little kids. “Hey did it!” You scream, and Steve shakes you in his arms with the biggest smile on his face.

“Sinclair did it!”

Down below, Lucas’ face lights up as the crowd goes wild for him. This is the happiest you’ve seen the kid in so long. The entire basketball team swarms Lucas, they lift him into the air and you cheer alongside them.

Steve tells you he’ll go warm the car up and you practically run outside to find Lucas as soon as the game is done. Your body buzzes, you’re still breathless with exhilaration. When you find Lucas, he’s just left the crowd of teenage boys. Wanting to surprise him, you creep up slowly before throwing your arms from behind him. “There’s the star!”

He stumbles from your weight, but he knows it’s you. Laughing, he turns around and you pull him into a bone crushing hug. “You came!”

“Of course I did, you moron!” You giggle, pulling away to straighten his jacket. “I made you a poster and everything.”

Lucas looks down at the poster that hangs by your side. His eyes light up, he remembers seeing it in the stands at the beginning of the game, but he hadn’t been able to read it from so far away. “Can I see it?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t want to see it.” You unroll the poster and present it with a grand flourish. “Tada!”

Sin to win, Sinclair!

You’re incredibly proud of the wordplay, and Lucas chuckles. It’s good, he has to admit. You’ve left no white space on the poster, littering with small 8’s for his jersey and millions of small stickers and decorations. The poster was made with love, and Lucas knows you spent hours making it.

“I love it, Y/N.” He does. It will hang on his wall as soon as he gets home.

You beam at him. Then, from behind you, you hear your brother’s own cheers as a door opens. Lucas’ smile fades, hurt creeps upon his face. Frowning, you turn and find Dustin and Mike high fiving their Hellfire friends as they all celebrate the end of their campaign. Erica is with them, cheering with everyone else.

“Lucas…” Your breath gives out. He doesn’t deserve this. Tonight was supposed to be his night. You turn to him, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you’re even supposed to say at this moment. Fifty feet away Lucas’ close friends are celebrating a night without him, his sister overjoyed as well. They’ve forgotten about him.

For once, you can’t find the right words to say.

“Thanks for the poster, Y/N.” Lucas doesn’t want your sympathy. He leaves, crestfallen, and you’re left standing alone holding the poster he had been praising seconds ago. The late March air chills your bones.

You’ve never been so disappointed in your brother before.

–

Steve drives you home and you’re silent the entire time.

“Dustin isn’t a bad kid, Y/N. You know that.” Steve tries to reason with you, but what your brother has done tonight leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “I’m sure by tomorrow he’ll realize he was a jerk and apologize. He always does, he’s just being a stupid teen boy right now.”

You face the window, watching the trees fading into the distance. You know Steve is right, you know that Dustin is still growing up, making mistakes. Hell, no one is perfect at fifteen. When you were his age you were falling in love with your best friend as you hunted monsters together. Neither you or Jonathan or Nancy knew what the hell you guys were doing back then.

But this is different. Dustin has never betrayed his friends like this before. He, out of all of them, should understand the pain of being left behind. He spent half the summer upset that the party ditched him, and now he’s ditching Lucas?

“You know, I used to be a stupid teen boy.” Steve says, trying again to get you to say something. To look at him, at least.

It works, a small smile turns your lips. “I never knew.”

He laughs at the sarcasm in your voice, but he plays along anyways. “Oh, I totally was. I just hid it really well by, you know, making you hate me for a while by being annoying. But hey, look at me now! I’m still annoying, but at least I have it all figured out with you.”

“And what do you have figured out, honey?” You turn your head towards him, watch the street lamps illuminate his face.

Steve smiles. “Us. Our future. Sure, I may not know if I’ll ever get a better job, but I’m sure as shit staying with you, starting a life together so that I can annoy you for all eternity.”

“How romantic,” a giggle falls from your lips. You’ve been with Steve for nearly a year now, but you haven’t really talked about the future yet. At least not so intimately, with so much assurance that in the end it’ll be the two of you. “And where will we live, Romeo?”

“New York, obviously. As soon as you graduate, we’ll find some horrible, run down apartment that’s barely big enough for two people. We’ll move in, but there won’t be any air conditioning so we’ll almost murder each other in the heat. Everyone will hate the place, but we’ll love it.”

As Steve talks, the smile that had once been on your face begins to fade. He rambles on, not noticing the shift. He dreams up the plans, how he’ll stay home while you go to class. How he’ll fix the leaky faucet that will inevitably annoy everyone. Steve envisions himself waiting for you to come home after a long day of classes and falling into his arms.

“Steve–” But he doesn’t hear you. He’s busy explaining how he’ll probably have to sell his car to afford the apartment, but that he doesn’t care, and you feel sick. It’s too much, he’s giving up too much. He’s willing to give up his entire life for you, drop everything and follow you without any questions asked.

It’s what your mother did for your father. They met in college, both attending Purdue. Their relationship had been a whirlwind. Love at first sight, married as soon as they graduated, your father convinced your mom to follow him back to Virginia. To abandon her family and move two states over while pregnant with you. She didn’t know anyone in Virginia, her father moved them to a small town where only his name was known.

The divorce that followed twelve years later ruined your mother’s life. She had been left all alone, no family to support her, no friends, in a state she never grew up in.

And now Steve wants to do the same for you.

Raising your voice slightly, you try to interrupt him again. “Steve!”

“What?” He looks over at you, words finally dying. “Do you want to keep the car?”

“You… you can’t.”

Steve frowns. “I can’t what?”

Your hands shake. Your heart trembles. Your words die in your throat. There’s so much you want to say, you can feel the pit in your stomach build into a fist. You can’t let Steve do this. He doesn’t understand that he deserves more than this. “You-you can’t come to New York.”

Everything stills. You don’t dare to breathe, to disrupt the silence. Your words come out all wrong, you know they do, but they’re out in the open and Steve doesn’t look at you as he pulls into your driveway. Silent, he turns the car’s engine off.

“Y/N…” Steve still can’t look at you. He places his hands on the steering wheel, as if bracing himself for whatever will unfold tonight. He’s scared, he doesn’t understand what he’s done wrong. His mind flashes, and for a brief second he’s back at the Halloween party and you’re Nancy in his passenger seat. “Do you not see a future with me?”

“I do!” You sit up in your seat, reach over to touch Steve’s thigh. You need to feel him, to ground yourself to him. Everything about this feels wrong. As if you’re hanging over the edge of a chasm with a long, long fall. “God, of course I see a future with you, I just-this isn’t what you really want.”

Steve doesn’t want to move to New York, even if he doesn’t realize it now. What he’s really doing is chasing after a dream that isn’t his. The timing of this is off, he fought with his dad this morning about a future he was unsure of. You know Steve, maybe even better than he knows himself; he’s not doing it for your relationship or out of love. Steve only wants to appease his father, fulfill whatever desire he thinks you have. This isn’t what he wants, and he’s worked too hard to build the life he has now, without you, to simply throw it all away.

But he can’t see that right now.

“Of course this is what I want, Y/N! All I want is you.” Steve finally looks at you, but there’s a hardness in his eyes. He’s detaching himself from you, putting his walls up. “You and me, that’s what I want.”

You grab his hand, you try to keep your voice calm. “Steve, I love you so, so much, but I can’t-I can’t let you give everything up for me. Your life is here, in Hawkins. You have a job, you have your friends and-and your family, and it wouldn’t be fair to either one of us if you abandon it for me. You could-you could resent me for it later, you could realize you hate our life and wish you never followed me and–”

“Y/N, what did you think was going to happen when you were applying to all those colleges?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, he thought you were beside him this whole time. He assumed you’d been carving out the same future he had been. But he was wrong. “Did you really think I’d just stay behind and wait for you to come home every break?”

“I…” Shamefully, you hadn't been considering what would happen between you and Steve. In your mind, he was your future, he was in it, but the details were hazy. You weren’t sure how, or why, or when, but you knew that in the end, Steve was the person you’d spend forever with.

Steve takes your hesitancy as his answer. “God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Steve–”

“You were just going to leave me.”

He tears his hand from yours and you blink back tears. You’ve never fought with him before, not like this. “I wasn’t just going to leave you! I just-Steve, please just listen!”

“I am, Y/N!” Steve exclaims, voice reverberating the car. You flinch away, and he immediately lowers his voice, apologetic. He hadn’t meant to scare you, he hadn’t meant to make you cry. Ashamed, Steve turns away from you. “I-I’m sorry.”

He wants to wipe the tears he’s caused, but selfishly he also wants you to hurt like he’s hurting. You don’t see a future with Steve. You were going to leave him just like everyone else does.

Steve should’ve known all of this was too good to be true.

“I love you,” your voice is almost inaudible, the three words barely reach the light before they disappear into the dark night. You’re not sure why you say them, the words had built in your chest, the pressure heavy, and you needed to release them. To remind Steve of your oath to him.

Silence fills the car. Steve doesn’t look at you, his shoulders are drawn together. His jaw clenches and you know he’s trying desperately to bite his tongue, withholding the cruel words that only heartbreak can provoke.

“Honey,” you beg him to say something, anything. “Steve.”

“I think you should go.”

The dismissal punches your throat, knocks the wind out of you. He’s shutting you out, closing himself off from you, and you don’t understand how the two of you got here. “I… Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Steve’s words are cool, composed. Indifferent, almost. He still doesn’t look at you, his eyes remain focused on something in your driveway. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

“Okay,” you don’t want to leave, you know it isn’t good to go to bed angry with the one you love. Anger should never simmer, it should never be left unwatched. But Steve is silently asking you to give him space so that he can hurt, and you aren’t selfish enough to deny his request. And yet you’re selfish enough to press your lips to Steve’s cheek, but he doesn’t lean in like how normally does. Instead, he remains stoic, and you swallow down your tears and open the door to leave. “Drive home safe, honey.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he starts the car as soon as the door is closed and drives away. He doesn't look back, he doesn’t wait to see if you’ve made it inside your house safely.

Tears spill down your face as you blindly walk towards your front door. Your argument with Steve replays over and over again in your head. You analyze every second, every word, you try to understand when everything fell apart.

It’s dark in your home, your mother is asleep and Dustin’s door is closed, but right now all you want is your brother. You need to talk to him, cry into his shoulder and smell the shampoo he’s used ever since he was a baby. Your feet carry you to Dustin’s room and you pound on his door, begging him to let you in. You don’t bother masking the tears in your voice, you’re too exhausted to hide them from him. “Dustin, please let me in.”

“Go away!” There’s a thud on the door, he’s thrown something at it to shut you up. He doesn’t want to hear some stupid lecture right now. He knows he was an asshole tonight, he regrets it, but right now all Dustin wants to do is sleep. He’ll deal with you tomorrow.

“Code blue,” you press your forehead against the door, your tears fall to the ground. “C-code blue.” Your voice hiccups, more tears come, minutes pass, and your brother never answers.

For the first time since you were kids, Dustin rejects your request for a code blue.

The phone rings. The sound pierces through your ears, cuts through the headache that is starting to form. It’s Friday night. Jonathan is calling.

Squeezing your eyes shut as you head pounds, you inhale shakily. You have to answer him, otherwise he’ll only call over and over again with concern. You’ve never missed a phone call, not once in the months since Jonathan has moved, but tonight you’re exhausted.

“Can we call tomorrow?” You’re too tired to greet him and voice cracks, revealing far too much already.

“Bug?” Jonathan’s high, he’s always high. And yet even in his cloudy haze of smoke he can hear the anguish in your voice. “Is everythin’ okay?”

His question only makes you cry more. You’ve always tried your best to put up a front for others, to pretend that everything is okay. You’ve never wanted to worry people, you’ve always pushed aside your own hurt for the sake of others. Now, as anger and grief and despair clasp their hands around your throat, you’re terrified you’ll suffocate.

You’ve never been able to lie to Jonathan, and tonight you don’t think you can. “I’ve had… the worst night.” You confess to him, wiping away tears.

You tell him everything, your fight with Dustin, how you think he may resent you leaving for college. You tell Jonathan about Lucas, how you were so disappointed in Dustin and Mike. Choking through tears, you explain to Jonathan your fight with Steve. How your words failed you, how hurt he looked, that you can’t explain to him how he only wants his future to align with yours, but not with your relationship.

Even though you know that Jonathan won’t remember any of this tomorrow, for once you’re grateful that he’s too high to remember anything. It feels good just being able to say it all out loud.

“‘M sorry, bug.” Jonathan mumbles over the phone once you’ve finished explaining everything. He sounds far away, figuratively and literally. You can’t imagine how much his drugged mind retained, but you’re thankful to have gotten it all off your chest anyways.

“It’s fine,” you inhale again, you’ve finally stopped crying, though your chest still hurts and your head still pounds. “Steve and I… We’ll figure it out.”

Jonathan pauses, and for a moment you think he’s fallen asleep, but then his voice floats through the telephone line. “Do you.. Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?”

He strings his words slowly together, says them one by one with a hesitancy, and you frown. You don’t understand what he’s trying to say. What mistakes could you have made together? “What do you mean, bee?”

“I just… everythin’ is so hard. With Nance. Feel like… like ‘m never enough for her. And you, Steve. ‘S hard between you guys.” Jonathan’s words slur, he’s almost too incoherent to understand, and later you will wish that you hadn’t been able to understand him at all. “But you ‘n me? ‘S easy. Always so easy.”

His words toe the line between you, he can’t mean any of it. You don’t want him to mean any of it, because then the fallout would be too catastrophic to contain.

He’s Jonathan. Your oldest, dearest friend. Your best friend. Years ago, you could’ve been something more, you almost were something more, but the time has passed.

You’re with Steve now, you’re happy and so, so in love with him. Even though everything is tangled between you right now, even though you’re fighting, you know that you and Steve will figure it out. He’s the one. He’s the man you want to marry one day, if he’ll allow you to.

Jonathan is your past, Steve is your future, and right now you’re terrified that soon you’ll lose them both.

“Jonathan,” you finally say, his name now heavy on your tongue. It feels like you’re betraying someone while saying his name, but you need to end this conversation. Before Jonathan says something he’ll regret in the morning. “You love Nancy, I love Steve, and you need to go to sleep.”

“Love you,” Jonathan’s words slur even more, his voice drifting off. “You, always you…”

You slam the phone done, ending the call, as a chill runs down your spine. Silence encases you, the house is still. The strings and threads from years ago constrict around your throat. You choke on the lines Jonathan has crossed tonight, the tightness in your head stabs against your skull.

There is no one to hear you, no one there to hear your final words to your best friend. “Goodbye, Jonathan.”

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #bdyr #m's writing #SEASON 4 EVERYONE CHEER !!!!#also i dont hate eddie but bug does #lmao

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sparklystarrrr · 2 months ago

Text

Ignition Under My Touch

Synopsis: Idia finds himself a bit jealous at the amount of attention you're getting on your recent vacation post

Contains: Idia S. x Fem! Reader, sensual scenes (nothing NSFW), flirting, a bit of a Dom!Reader but mostly Dom!Idia, lots of nicknames(pretty boy, pretty girl, baby, ect.), minimal clothing removal, bikini/vacation pics, some cursing, possessive Idia, body descriptions, consensual video/picture taking, groping

It was a simple ping of the phone that attracted the fire-haired boys attention. You, his girlfriend, sat in his bed on your phone, lazily staring at the screen which displayed a plethora of comments likes and dms from random people. Comments and dms varied from simply complimenting the bikini or your looks, to flirtier things like praising your body and asking for your number. Seeing these random people flooding your comments like leeches made him feel something in his gut that he was rather unfamiliar with. He grumbled at the giggle leaving your glossy lips while reading the comments aloud. It got exceedingly harder to focus on the boss fight panned out over his multiple monitors at his desk. That itchy, heavy feeling grabbed at his body and possessed it.

"(y/n), don't entertain those creeps..." He grumbled while shutting down the game on his computer and spinning his chair around to face you. Your tank top hugged each and every curve and piece of fat on your torso. Your shorts were so loose on your hips he saw the band of your panties peaking out. It pulled him in like a sailor to a siren's song. Your sweet voice added fire to the flame creeping up in his heart."Don't worry pretty boy, they know who I belong to~" You cooed. Twisting your body to face him, you raise your brow. The young man stood up with his head tilted slightly down causing a shadow over his glowing yellow eyes. His flaming hair grew furious and the tips became a magenta pink.

"What's wrong baby?" You spoke worriedly at his sudden change in demeanor."Nothing." He sat down uncharacteristically close to you on the bed where you laid in wait for him. His slender pale hands grabbed your phone which had your post still fully displayed for him. In the pictures, the two of you had gone on a trip to the Hero's Island beaches where it had been incredibly sunny and hot so obviously you wore bathing suits most of the time, but the one your body dawned in the post was his favorite by far. It was a black lace ensemble with small blue embroidered flowers on the top that cupped your breasts perfectly and small bottoms that were the same in design but had the prettiest little blue bows tied on the side. The way the bikini hugged every part of you perfectly was salivating. He was starting to understand why you were getting so much attention in this post, but he didn't let that stop his jealousy.

"I can see what these normies are talking about, but only I should be saying that..."He handed your phone back with shaky hands and looked at you through his wild blue flames. His hand crept closer to the fat of your thigh while your hands rested atop his, leading them to where you wanted."I know pretty boy, only my Idia can say that stuff~" It almost seemed like you were just teasing him to joke around, but he wasn't joking one bit. His cheeks flushed at your seductive words, you had him wrapped around your delicate fingers so tight. His chest heaved while tracing the moles scattered across the supple (s/c) skin of your thigh. The way your (e/c) eyes looked up at him through thick black lashes drew him in closer and increased his flaming desire. He had to show you how you were only his, along with all those creepy losers.

His hand went from hesitantly tracing your skin to gripping it, rubbing circles and moving to the fat of your hips concealed by loose shorts. Your knowing smirk only made him look away at the newfound shyness. Panicking a bit at you suddenly moving to sit up impossibly closer to him, he pulled his hand away. You smiled, moving up to his ear and grabbing his hand, placing it back on your hip,"Keep going Idia." It was as if it was a command. He followed your order eagerly, his touch growing more aggressive as he felt himself warming up and seeing your dominance over him waver and crack.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and slid you into his lap. His chest pressed against your own as he spoke a bit more confidently into your ear,"You're mine (y/n)." His voice was deep and clear as water to you. All he needed was that little mewl you squeaked out confirming his statement to get him going. His lips connected feverishly against your neck while his teeth grazed against it leaving behind bites and purple marks. Your hands wrapped tightly around his neck and pulled him closer at the sudden pleasure enveloping your body. His hands made their way to your waist under the fabric of your top while kissing up your neck and connecting your lips passionately. You felt your breath physically be taken away from you.

Pulling away to catch your breath, you look at him wide eyes. He lookes at you with a smirk and a needy look in his eyes while grabbing his phone and opening the camera app,"...Would you let me do this? Just a few pics... I wanna show those magicam idiots you're mine..." Idia had never been this bold before and honestly it surprised you, but at the same time it was just so sexy. Without a second thought you feverishly nodded your head yes and pulled him in closer by the top of his hoodie. Your fingers nimbly clasped the zipper and pulled it down revealing his stripped shirt that subtly showed his muscles. You tore the rest of the oversized hoodie off of his body and grabbed onto his bicep, pressing your slightly swollen lips against his.

His hands went back under your top, this time one was on your back to hold you in place while his other hand held his phone ready to take a picture of the two of you devouring each other's faces. He got the perfect angle where your practically melting into his body, chests against each other, lips connected by the glue of your love, and cleavage spilling out over your top. He dropped his phone to grasp your thin strap and pull it off your shoulder, revealing clear and glittering skin and a seductive white bra strap. His desire to pull off your shirt to feel you closer was so incredibly strong and he just couldn't resist. His hands grasped with unusual gentleness onto the bottom of your tank top and pulled it off you. He bit his lip. This was so much better than winning any boss fight. Staring at you in your white bra and hands gripping his biceps with that needy and flushed look, he heaved"Fuck..." Grabbing his phone once more, he pointed it at you"Lemme take a pic of you. Pose for me, pretty girl." His hands shook while capturing this sensual moment. The way your chest heaved and those little noises left your mouth made him feel like he was in paradise.

Following his previous action, you traced the top of his sweatpants, trailing your hands to the end of his own long-sleeved shirt. He stared at you wide eyed while his hair went completely pink. He wasn't expecting this out of you. You pulled his shirt off with ease and revealed his pale skin that rippled with soft muscles. You dipped your head down to his neck, leaving behind a trail of delicate purple splotches. His hand tangled in your hair while the other got busy playing with the small blue bow attached to your bra between your breasts. Your body pressed closer, moving his hand to cup your supple breast in his hand and giving it a generous squeeze. Next to his ear, your pitched whimper made him roll his head back"Shit pretty girl, keep doing that..." Little did you know, his fingers were busy on his phone recording each and every noise you made as a result of his hands and mouth.

When you pulled away to fill your lungs with air again, he tilted your head up with his fingers to capture the purple bruising and bite marks scattering your neck and shoulders. He pulled down both your bra straps to save the memory of your pure skin being decorated with his markings. He smiled at you as he finished making a secret album on his phone of all the pictures and videos of you"...You're really gonna post that stuff?" You asked quietly. His smile faltered a bit in shame, "I mean, I don't need to post it if ya don't want me to." You smiled at him and giggled softly,"Post it baby, show them I'm yours~" You say in a teasing tone while crawling off his lap, making sure to press your chest near his face to tease him further.

And with a quick peck on the lips you grab your tank top and slip it back on. "I'm gonna go grab some snacks for us, brb pretty boy!" After cheerfully closing the door, Idia turned into a red flushing mess. He stared at the door, then back at the sensual photos he collected from before. "Damn... that girl really is mine... yus!"He cheered silently to himself as he hit post on the pictures he selected. He bagged a baddie and she was all his to show off, mark up with his teeth, and rant about his nerdy interests to, what more could this man ask for!

Oooooo how scandalous of me to write this! I've been wanting to write something steamy recently sooo, here you go, you hungry Idia fans!(kinda feels like in throwing a piece of meat into a lion cage)

(this is my first steamy post ever, pls be nice to me I'm just a princess)

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #ignihyde

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tgcg · 1 year ago

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this is my element (+ album)

asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy

thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota

i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute

but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately

===

so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD

they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit

flipping it turnways

putting the rock in the house like a big man

we had some of their merch actually

===

so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element

released 2007

mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots

this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it

that framing was tight

===

so you may be asking yourself or me

dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem

ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down

but anyways to THAT i say

listen to the music

the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats

got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling

HELLA underground

and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"

dude is my hero seriously

he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff

aside from bro obviously

===

obviously.

===

anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s

revolutionary to the hip hop scene

nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats

still do

i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that

it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk

he had one of those

===

so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am

the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night

ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that

that was goofy lets just keep movin

it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever

random car sequence

yknow what i dont think people respect enough?

the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera

i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me

bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater

thats like an express ticket to the ER imo

the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog

===

ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat

not great on a board myself

kinda dogshit at it actually

so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness

but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?

whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is

and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009

he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti

surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit

thats like

serendipitous as fuck i think!

===

if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with

instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead

i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review

===

so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess

bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man

#dave strider #homestuck #comix #this is my element #the way i drew dave posing here is rly heavily inspired by askinsufferableprick btw #welcome to strider infodump hours

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kimarii-00 · 11 months ago

Text

Regrets and Punishments (2)

❥Summary: Armando knows he made a mistake. He knew when he decided that his mother was more important than his girlfriend. But he planned to return to her, he really did. He never could’ve anticipated being gone for as long as he was. Seeing her face again was like getting shot: You get that adrenaline rush, yet the pain ends up biting you in the ass later on. Especially when he discovers what, or dare I say, who he also left behind all that time ago.

❥Warnings: Slow burn, kidnapping, language, guns/shooting, blood, violence, suggestive scenes (?), eventual happy ending

❥Word Count: 4.8k (2k words more than the last one ;))

❥Part 2/2

PART 1

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AN: I did not expect all the support for the first part, thank you guys!! I hope this last part was worth all the hype! Enjoy!!

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“(Name),” Kelly begins, “I’m so sorry I–”

“What the hell do they even want with her? She’s a fucking child. Four! Four fucking years old,” As angry as you were right now, you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, “I can’t… What if they hurt my baby?”

“They’re probably going to use her as some sort of backup in case their plan with Mike’s wife goes south…”

In all honesty, you think you had a hunch on why they took Demi. Because he’s her father… They must’ve done their research…

You’re surprised Armando hasn’t pressed you more by now about Demi. He must’ve had questions because last time he checked, you didn’t have a kid, so from his perspective, in the years he was gone you either must’ve hooked up with some guy and had his kid, or the passionate night you two shared before he left must’ve really paid off…

“(Name) I swear, we’re not going to let anything happen to Demi,” Kelly said in an attempt to sooth your motherly insticts. You felt nausious but you appreciated that you weren’t in this alone. Kelly had always been there for you, especially when the father of your child left and you found out you were pregnant with his kid a week later. She was there for you when nobody was. She had helped you through depressive episodes so you wouldn’t stress yourself and end up hurting the baby, she was there for you when you went into labor and had to be rushed to the hospital. She was there when the loud cries filled the room when the doctors popped Demi out of you.

Thinking of this only made you angrier, because it was wrong that you had to rely so much on your best friend instead of the man that was supposed to be Demi’s father, and now, because of his involvements with these people, your daughter has been taken. She has nothing to do with this.

You wipe your face, trying to get the tears to stop falling but they just wouldn’t. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Armando looking at you with an expression that you can’t read but when he notices that you’ve seen his antics, he averts his attention elsewhere. You can’t help but think that he wants to say something to you, but you can’t bring yourself to care in this moment.

As much as you’d like to deny it, deep down you still have feelings for that man. But there are many reasons as to why you can’t just happily jump back into his arms and ask him to take you back.

Right now, you have more than yourself to worry about. You have Demi, and if you were going to get with a man, she deserves to have someone that will care and love her and right now, you aren’t sure that man could be Armando.

You aren’t paying much attention to the group as they talk about a plan to get the hostages back, you aren’t in your right mind and it seems everybody notices that. All you can think about is your little girl.

Mike looks at his son, and even though they don’t have the deepest relationship, he can tell that the boy is worried for you. He still isn’t entirely sure what you and him are to each other, but he can definitely tell that seeing you as broken as you are now is breaking something in Armando himself. He makes his way to Armando’s side and slightly nudges his side to get his attention.

“Go talk to her,” he says, gesturing to the grieving woman, “You two clearly have things to discuss, you better get it out of the way before we start making moves.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” Armando grumbles, his eyes wandering to your person for what felt like the hundreth time in the last ten minutes.

“You never know until you try–”

“I did try, she told me to get the hell away from her.”

“Listen man, I don’t know what your relationship is with her, but what I do know is that if you don’t talk to her now, you might not get another chance to.”

Armando takes in his fathers words, contemplating his options and realizing that he really only has two: Not talk to you and then potentially die before he gets the chance to, or two, talk to you know and list the weight thats been on his chest ever since he saw you walk through that front door.

He decides that he would probably come to regret picking the latter, but his feet are gliding him toward where you sat with Kelly before he could find some excuse as to why he should wait until later to have this inevitable conversation.

You don’t seem to notice him until he’s standing before you, yet you don’t lift your head. Kelly does, however, and gives him a certain look that read, “If you hurt her more than she’s already hurting, I swear I’ll kill you”. He nodded to her, and she hesitantly nodded back. She rubbed your back in a comforting way one last time before standing up and walking toward the rest of the group. Armando took her place next to you.

He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you. It’s a mix of awkward and comfortable silence between you two before you break it by suddenly speaking up.

“She’s yours,” You say without warning. You decided that you’d rip the band-aid off and quell any thoughts about you hooking up with some other guy that he might’ve had, “Her name is Demi. She’s four… She’s yours.”

“...I had a feeling,” He starts, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything and wait for him to expand. You wait for his to say anything to help you understand why he left you. Why he abandoned you and your unborn child. But he says nothing.

You sigh, “Why’d you do it?” You sounded tired. You didn’t want to argue. You just wanted him to help you understand his decision all those years ago.

“I got caught up in some shit. Fucked with the wrong people.”

“Yeah no shit,” You spit out.

Silence overtakes you both once again.

“You didn’t even leave a text,” You say quietly, “Y’know I waited for you. I waited, and waited, and waited, and then waited some more, yet you never came home. Never.”

Up until this point your head had been in your hands, trying to soothe your pounding headache, but now your gaze laid on his face, making direct eye contact. You let him see your stinging red eyes from all the crying you’ve been doing.

“I didn’t want to involve you in my shit. I didn’t want you to end up hurt because of me–” He begins, but you don’t take any of that bullshit.

“Yeah? Well I’m involved now, and guess who’s paying the fucking price? My– our child.”

This shuts him up. He doesn’t have anything to say to that, other than, “I’m sorry.”

You scoff. Is that all he can offer you? After all he’s put you through?

“Was it even real?” You ask on a whim.

“What?” He questions.

“Us. Was it real? Since you found it so easy to just up and leave some random day?”

“You think that shit was easy?” He snaps, “I loved you– I love you so much, so how the hell could you say that me leaving you was fuckin’ easy?”

You flinched at the correction from loved to love, “You sure as hell made it seem that way.”

He startled you by grabbing your shoulders tightly. He turned you so you looked at him fully, eye contact as intense as ever.

“I had to damn near fight myself to not turn back and run into your arms again after I left you. I thought about you every fuckin’ day that I wasn’t around you. If I could go back, I swear I would’ve told my mother to fuck off if it meant that I could stay with you… with our child. But at the time I was a fucking idiot and I thought–” He had to stop his rambling for a moment to take a breath. You stared at him with wide eyes, he was never one to go on tangents like this, and you made no effort to stop him. “I thought that leaving was the best decision for you, for us, at the time and I planned on coming back. I really did. But everytime I even thought it was okay to return more shit kept happening and I just– I didn’t want you involved.”

You let him trail on with his words as you found comfort in his somewhat desperate hold in your shoulders.

“I never meant to hurt you the way I did.” Armando concluded.

You avert your eyes down slightly, breaking the eye contact but he puts his finger under your chin to lift it back up. He doesn’t want you avoiding this conversation.

He isn’t sure what possessed him to lean down, shortening the distance between the two of you until there was nothing but a pocket of air seperating his lips from yours, but as he’s about to take the final step, you pull away slowly.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” You begin, unsure of what excuse your about to pull, “I can’t.” You say, deciding not to beat around the bush.

He nods in understanding, yet you immediately recognize the hurt in his eyes.

You pull away from his hands on your shoulders and he makes no move to stop you. You take a deep breath in, like you want to say something else before you part ways, but ultimately decide against it.

You say nothing as you walk back to the group, leaving him standing motionless behind you.

“As far as they know, Lockwood is on his way with a plane to move the hostages to Cuba,” Mike spoke, going over the plan once more. Today was the day you took action to rescue the people that were kidnapped. Mike’s wife, the girl that was with her at the time– Callie, and…Demi. God… I swear if they did something to her… “The second they get close to the plane with the hostages, it’s quick kills. Neutralize all threats. These motherfuckers killed a lot of good cops. They have my wife, they have Callie, and they have (Name)’s daughter.” You lowered your eyes at the aknowledgement.

“They attacked our families. We not losing today.” He concludes, and everyone nods their head.

You were partnered with the tech team in the van, watching the situation from drone footage. You wanted to be on the front lines to get rid of every fucker who thought taking your daughter was a good idea, but you were stuck inside of the van until extra help was needed.

You hear the helicopter pilot through your comms device in your ear, “I got one looking out the front door, right side, I got one sniper on the roof of building two.”

“T those up,” Rita says, who ended up joining the cause after realizing the man she was dating was with the enemy. You quickly code in a few commands for the drone to follow and before long you have eyes on the two mentioned. “Everybody keep moving. What are those?”

She points to the objects presented in the live map of the area, and you answer, “Gaters.”

“I thought it was an abandoned theater park?”

“Abandoned by humans,” Kelly jumps in while loading her gun.

You manage to find the parks webpage from when it was open and discover that the main attraction was an albano aligator named “Duke”. It was sixteen feet long, and there are stories about him still being there to this day.

“Well fuck that…” You mutter.

You watch from the drone as the main team lands in the water as planned, getting into position.

“Armando’s at his QTH,” Dorn confirms, letting everyone know that he’s in position. You swallow the lump in your throat.

Lockwood steps out of the helicopter and walks on the dock, waiting for them to bring out the hostages. You hold your breath and watch closely.

“Hostages are coming out now,” Dorn says. Your eyes dart across the screen, looking for your daughter in particular before spotting her in the arms of a muscular man. They walked behind the other two that were kidnapped and you can barely contain yourself when you take in the terrified look on your four year olds’ face.

“Fuck…” You choke out under your breath. Kelly hears this and rubs circles into your back for comfort. You put your hands over your mouth in a prayer like position and keep watching through the drones.

“Everybody stay calm,” Rita says.

The plan was for Mike to take out their leader as soon as he had the chance to, which was why he was on the front lines, yet when you notice no movement from his end, you begin to become worried that something has gone wrong.

“Mike?” Rita blurts, “Mike do you have the shot?”

“Negative, I do not have a shot, I do not have a shot,” he says into the comms device. Your eyebrows furrow as you look from a perspective of a drone that flew near where the helicopter had landed, and you conclude that from where Mike was posted, he should’ve had a clear shot.

A moment goes by and the kidnappers walk with the hostages, but just a little ways before they reach Lockwood, they stop on the bridge.

“They stopped, why’d they stop?” Dorn hurridly says. The drone is able to catch the sight of something slowly moving through the water and you conclude that it’s what they are looking at as well, you watch as their leader follows whatever is moving and your heart sinks when you realize what the thing in the water is moving towards.

“Armando–” You start, but he seems to have noticed it as well.

“Shit.” He says.

One man signals for the soldiers around him to start a search, suddenly becoming suspicious of where the thing in the water was going, and who it may be targeting. “Armando they’re closing in on you.” Dorn states.

“Do they see him?” Rita asks.

“I don’t know.”

Rita takes the time that they are distracted to pressure Mike, surely he has a shot now, right? “Mike, now! Your chance is now, they can see him, they know we’re here!”

“I don’t have it, negative, negative.”

“You’ve got to take the fucking shot,” Armando mumbles out, keeping his eye on the thing slowly advancing toward him in the water, and the person that was getting dangerously close to his hiding spot above.

You watch as all hell breaks loose when Armando shoots the man who semed to have spotted him, and he falls into the water only to be finished off by the thing in the water, now identified to be the ledgendary sixteen foot long gator. You don’t think you’ve ever been as scared as you had been the moment you realize they know they’ve been set up, and they start taking the hostages back into the building. Your daughter begins to cry and it breaks your heart.

“Engage!” Rita shouts through the comms, “Kelly, get us there.”

You leave your chair and move to the front of the van along with Kelly as she steps on the gas. You take the time to reload your own gun, and slip a knife in your boot for emergencies.

By the time the four of you have arrived, the fight has moved inside. Rita orders you three to go inside and she states that she’ll go after Lockwood and you don’t have to be told twice before you’re rushing in there. You hear Kelly shouting your name behind you, trying to get you to slow down as you leave them in the dust, but all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, desperate to find your daughter. You arrive just in time to see the man who was holding onto your daughter walk up a flight of stairs and you waste no time following after, shooting whoever was in your way.

The path splits into three once you reach the top and you pick a random path, slowly walking into the room.

You make sure the room is clear, making sure there is no one in it before you turn around, only to be smacked in the face with the butt of a gun. You stumble and fall, and make eye contact with the man who took you by surprise. You see him aiming at you, but with no intention to die before you find your daughter, you regain your balance and sweep his leg and quickly make your way on top of him. You snatch the knife out of your boot and put it to his neck, “Where is the child?” You hiss out, “I swear I’ll fucking kill you, where is she?” You barked when he took too long to answer for your liking.

“I don’t know what your talking about–” You decide you don’t have time for this bullshit, and jab him in the stomach with the knife. He lets out a cry of pain and he finds the cool metal of the knife back on the skin of his neck with a noticable change of pressure this time around. He was sure it would cut into the skin at any moment, “Okay, okay! Last I heard she was on the top floor.”

“Fuck,” You say, realizing that there were more floors than you realized. You don’t say another word before puncturing the side of his neck, quickly ending him. You get up, ready to leave the room but you’re grabbed from behind and choked. You grip the arm that wraps around your neck and stab your already bloodied knife into it, releasing yourself from the headlock. Even though the man who’d attacked you had been stabbed he was relentless. He ran at you again, landing a punch into your stomach and you got a few hits in yourself. You smash his head against a wall which either kills or knocks him out, and you can’t bring yourself to care as you see more men rush into the room.

You dance around them, getting in hits and taking some as well and you whip out your gun. You wanted to preserve bullets but you were getting overwhelemed by the amount of people that were flowing into the room. You shoot a few with amazing accuracy.

You hear a grunt behind you and before you can turn around, you are hit in the head with the butt of another gun again. You groan, the pain of your injuries starting to show through the adrenaline and the man behind you grabs you by your hair and pulls you up before wraping his own arm around your neck. You close one eye in pain and watch as one man walks to you, aiming his gun.

Before he can shoot, there is another shot that interrupts their plan and it ends up hitting the man behind you. Now free from his hold, you make use of the distraction and kick the man in front of you in the gut, causing him to double over. You knee him in the face and snatch his gun, shooting him in the face.

You look at your savior, and your eyes widen as you realize who it was. Armando…

“You good?” He asks. You nod, and he joins you at your side to finish off the remaining of the enemy, but before any of you can make a move, a helicopter comes smashing through the window, instantly killing two of the guys. You’re right in the path of the helicopter, and you see out of the corner of your eye Armando running towards you. He grabs onto you and you both fly out of the way. He manuvers both of your bodies until he’s the one to take most of the impact once you land.

Once all the chaos settles, you both stand up. You look at him, his hands still embracing you protectively, “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and continue to stare into his eyes. Those eyes you’ve known for so long. You don’t know what could’ve possessed you to do this, but you feel as if it’s the only thing you could do in the moment. With haste, you push your lips against his.

You can feel his surprise in your sudden action. You bring your hands up and grip his vest for stability and you feel the moment where he begins to reciprocate. Your mouths move together in a practiced motion and you wonder how he’s still such a good kisser after all these years.

The kiss quickly becomes heated, hurried. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you let him, moving the muscles together, competing for dominance. You groan into his mouth.

He then begins to walk forward, and you walk backwards slowly until your back makes contact with the wall behind you and he cages you in, his lips never leaving yours. Tongue never unlocking with your own. One hand is connected to the wall and the other to your hip as he brings you impossibly closer. You bask in the moment.

You break the kiss first, needing air, and his lips search for yours again instantly when you do. Your mind begins to cloud, but you remember why you’re here in the first place. You need to find your daughter. Even knowing this, you find it hard to pull away from the sensation that is his lips against your own, but somehow you find it in you to put your hands on his chest and gently push him away. He looks down at you in question.

“Can…can we continue… after I find my daughter?” You breathe heavily, still breathless from the passionate moment you shared.

“Yeah… okay. I’m coming with you.” Your eyes shot up at him at the statement. You nod at him and he hesitantly releases you from his hold. Desperate to rid yourself of the tension left in your lower area due to the kiss, you walk away, recalling what the man said about another floor.

Armando follows closely behind you.

You eventually find the staircase that would lead you to the top floor, and of course, awaiting you were more of the enemy. With Armando by your side, you make quick work of them and once all that were left were bodies, you begin to search the room. It was the only room on the top floor, so unless that guy was lying to you, Demi must be here.

So where the hell is she?

There is no sign of her being here. You check behind boxes, inside cabinets, everywhere. Your breathing quickly grows rapid as you realize that your daughter is nowhere in sight. If she’s not here, then where the hell could she be? The rest of your team was in the lower areas on the building, and if one of them found her, surely they would’ve announced it over the comms, right? So where the hell is your daughter?

You feel a hand on your back, “Hey, hey, you’re fine. We’ll find her, okay?” Armando says.

You realize you can’t waste time, so you nod and recollect yourself. But that doesn’t change the fact that you have no clue where she could be if not here.

“Look,” Armando states once your breathing had slowed, he points to the left where there seemed to be a door to a balcony of sorts.

You take a deep breath and follow him, as he already started making his way toward it.

He kicks open the door, gun aimed at the figure that stood at the edge of the balcony and your heart dropped. In front of you stood your little girl, and a man that took his place on the ledge of what had to be a long ass drop. You feared the worst and your gun shoot in your hands.

“Put the guns down!” The man demanded, “Right now or I promise you I’ll jump, and take her ass with me!” He says. He emphasizes his words by gripping your daughter tighter and holding his gun to her head, then back at the two of you.

Your daughter is bawling her eyes out. You aren’t even sure if he noticed that you were there for her. She was scared out of your mind. “Demi–”

“Shut up, and put your fucking guns down!” The man demanded. You listen this time, which prompted Armando to do the same. You cursed to yourself, realizing what little power you have in this situation. “I want you two to slowly walk back out that door.”

“We can’t do that,” Armando states, his hands rising in the air after he dropped his gun to show he’s not a threat.

“Fucking do it!” The man boasted. You aren’t sure what your options are, if there were any. You look to Armando, and he seems to sense your eyes on the back of his head.

He then looks at you a certain way, and mouths to you, “Trust me.”

Your eyes widen and you let out a yelp in surprise when Armando takes off running toward the man and your daughter. This takes the man by surprise too, before he makes no effort to pull the trigger and only seems to panick at the incoming threat. He doesn’t get a chance to retaliate before Armando uses his shoulder and back to swiftly steal your daughter from the mans grip, all the while using force to push him off of the balcony.

You watch as Armando sinks to his knees with your daughter, gently combing her hair with his fingers and whispering in her ear words of comfort. She grips onto him tightly and cries into his police vest. It takes you a moment to realize that she is safe. Something about Armando holding your daughter in his arms and caring for her makes you realize and think about some things that you haven’t thought to think about before, but you put that all of the back burner in favor of finally holding Demi in your arms again.

“Baby…” You whisper, almost in disbelief that she really is safe and sound. Demi registers your voice in her little head and whips it around to face you.

“Mama!!” She cries, she leaves Armando’s hold and you drop to your knees to give her the biggest, tightest hug you can. You sniffle and pull her head into your neck.

“Are you okay Mimi? Let me look at you…” You say, pulling away from her to check her from any kind of injury. She shakes her head, you take in the sight of her red eyes from all the crying she’s been doing.

“Mama is hurt…” She mumbles. You move your hand to the various areas that Demi points at and notice that you are indeed hurt in many areas, but you don’t care. Not right now.

“I am… But it’s okay, mama’s strong, just like you baby. God, I love you so much,” You say, planting a long, wet kiss on her forehead and hug her again tightly.

“I love you too, mama,” Demi says into your neck. You look at Armando as you hug Demi, and you mouth a quick “Thank you.” He nods to you, watching the interaction.

The moment is interrupted by Mike on the comms, “Armando, come in Armando.”

“What’s up?” Armando replies.

“You need to get out of here, Judy’s here and is looking for you. Take the boat and get the hell out of here.”

Armando hesitates, looking at you and your daughter… his daughter. Whatever he’s contemplating seems like he’s making a hard decision in his mind, but luckily for him, you’ve already made up yours.

“We’ll come with you.” You state.

“What? No–”

“It wasn’t a question.”

Silence overtakes you, but you don’t let it linger for too long, “Don’t push us away again.”

This looks to have convinced him, as he takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay.”

You don’t know how the future will go for you three. You dread the predestined talk with your daughter that you’re going to have to have with her to tell her that this man is really her father, but all you know is that as your walking through that building, your daughter being carried by him and her hooked onto her neck for safety and comfort, you feel as if you have good things coming.

And so you let yourself crack a genuine smile, one that you felt hasn’t shown itself since the night that he left you.

And he reciprocates the same one. One you haven’t seen in years, and one you’re sure to see in many more to come.

TAGLIST: (if you didn’t get tagged, it’s probably due to settings!)

@dasaniswrlddd @thedarkworldofhananerea @taylormcguire282 @timebomb1101 @5arlan7 @desiiiisworld @babygurl030 @lovelyme22 @Leavemealing @lewispool @yeahnohoneybye @velocitynyoom @maybepersuasivetom @deadpool15

#armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #armando aretas x you #bad boys #bad boys ride or die #kimarii-00

629 notes · View notes

yoshikoooo · 11 months ago

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WIND BREAKER | KAJI REN X Fem!READER

synopsis: in which you are working in a confectionary and you notice your regular customers. Warning: F!reader, harassment (Obviously not by our baby kaji), kinda ooc, swearing. wc: 1.1k

You were wrapping up the freshly made candies, your delicate fingers deftly maneuvering the shiny wrappers around each sweet treat. Miss Miko's cheerful voice broke through your concentration.

"Oh Y/n! It's only been a month since you started working, yet you're doing so well!" Her clapping hands expressed genuine delight at your progress.

"You praise me too much, Miko-san," you replied modestly, continuing to wrap candies. Working at the confectionery store in Makochi Town felt like a blissful escape, despite occasional disruptions from unruly gangs.

"Oh no, you deserve it! Since it's already late, why don't you take some candies with you?" Miss Miko suggested warmly, interrupting your thoughts about the time that had slipped away unnoticed.

"Ah, it's already this late?" You realized, momentarily taken aback. Your shift had ended hours ago, lost in your focused work. Before you could decline, Miss Miko stuffed your pockets with candies and handed you a bag of assorted confections.

"E-Eh?" You stuttered, surprised by her generosity.

"Now, now, go take off your apron. It's time for you to go home and rest. You've done so much today that I have nothing left to do!" Miss Miko sighed playfully, as if lamenting the lack of tasks to occupy her.

You chuckled softly, conceding defeat, and removed your apron before heading towards the exit. As you prepared to leave, you noticed a trio of customers at the counter.

'Ah, it's them again,' you thought, recognizing the group. Holding your bag of sweets tightly, you caught the gaze of dark grey eyes. You offered a small smile before quickly looking away and continuing towards the door.

'They look intimidating, but seeing them buy sweets every time is surprisingly cute'

When you stepped outside, the sight of the setting sun greeted you, with the full bloom sakura tree swaying gently in the soft, melodic breeze. You paused briefly at the bridge, captivated by the serene beauty before you, too awestruck to notice your surroundings.

Suddenly, you felt a rough hand shove you, pulling you out of your reverie.

"ey! You hear me?!" a thug-like voice pierced through your deaf ears. You turned your head to see a man with a harsh grip on your shoulder, his group lingering menacingly behind him.

'Who?'

Despite your delicate appearance, which might suggest you were unworldly and naive, you fixed the man with a cold, unwavering stare. "Yes, do you need something?" you asked, your voice calm and composed. The man's irritation was evident, his grip tightening as he seemed frustrated by your unruffled demeanor.

"You got some nerve, acting all high and mighty," he growled, his voice dripping with annoyance. His posture and the sneers of his companions were clearly intended to intimidate.

You maintained your composure, your eyes unwavering. "If you have something to say, say it," you blankly said, refusing to be rattled by his attempts to scare you.

He scoffed, clearly taken aback by your calmness. "You're new around here, aren't you? You better learn to show some respect!" he snarled, raising his fist in the air. You didn't flinch or close your eyes.

Suddenly, like a scene from an action movie, a hand grabbed the thug's wrist, stopping his punch mid-air. "Huh?! Who the heck—"

'It's him'

It was one of the trio from the store. You recognized them immediately.

"Nice timing, RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRen!" shouted one of them, a second-year with distinctive eyebrows, from afar. Your eyes shifted to the platinum blonde in front of you. He twisted the thug's wrist with ease, forcing him to release you.

'Ren...?'

You heard the cracking of candies, as you watched the blonde move swiftly, taking down the gang members with impressive efficiency.

The boy with the unusual eyebrows quickly joined the brawl, while the third member, who had a mushroom-style haircut, stood beside you, offering a hand as if to protect you as another hand is grabbing onto some headphones.

"Are you hurt?" he asked simply through a text....?

You shook your head. "No."

He smiled reassuringly as the two furin boys dispatched the thugs with practiced ease.

Within minutes, the thugs were lying flat on the ground, defeated. The second-year boy with the odd eyebrows dusted off his hands, glancing over at you. "You okay young miss?"

You nodded, still a bit stunned by the sudden turn of events. "Yes, thank you."

"Still can't believe they're ganging up on a young miss like you" you heard him mumble as he looked at the guys pathetically. A disgrace indeed.

You noticed the blonde approaching you, which caused his two companions to look at him with puzzled expressions. You tilted your head, silently questioning his approach.

He pointed at your shoulder. "You're hurt,". You instinctively grabbed your shoulder, only then noticing the pain.

'Fuck'

"It must be bruised," you mumbled, meeting his grey eyes. "It's not that bad of an injury—"

"How will you make candies when you're injured?" he asked, his eyes still fixed on yours. is he mad? is he worried? is he—

'Ah— He knows me'

"Hmm, you're right..." you said thoughtfully, pondering your next move. "It is what it is. Nevertheless I'll still be able to do something," you added confidently, maintaining eye contact.

He seemed to have no intention of breaking the gaze, which reminded you of something.

"Can you bring both of your hands out?"

you asked, your request causing the trio to exchange confused glances.

His eyes didn't falter as he obeyed. You took a handful of candies and placed them in his hands.

"This is a secret. These candies are a new batch, it's supposed to come out tomorrow, but I'll make an exception," you said, smiling softly. The boy in front of you appeared stunned by your gesture.

"Thank you for saving me. Please share them with the others as well."

Ren blinked, clearly surprised. "thanks," he managed, his tone soft and a bit not audible but you heard it clearly. His companions, still confused, looked at the candies in his hands with interest.

The boy with the odd eyebrows grinned widely. "Wowww, we get the first taste! Thanks young miss!"

You gave a small nod in return, "I'm glad you guys were there. I don't know what would have happened otherwise."

"Anytime, just call us if you need help," the mushroom-haired boy said through a text again, and you nodded in response.

You pulled out your phone to check the time, but before you could, the blonde snatched it from your hand. You hummed in confusion as he typed quickly, then handed it back to you.

A new contact had been added,

"Kaji... Ren?" you said out loud, causing him to turn around.

"Call if you need help, Y/n"

He gave you one last look before walking away. His two companions followed, trying to question him as they went.

You chuckled softly as you watched them fade into the distance.

"How cute,"

____________

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker imagines #kaji ren x reader #fluff #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker satoru nii #short

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quinnysnursery · 7 months ago

Note

HELLO !! c:

could you please make having little!reader having both Matt and Chris as caregivers!

could it also have a colouring scene

c:<

[🥤🩹] the perfect picture | matt & chris sturniolo one-shot

paring : cg!matt sturniolo x fem!little!reader x cg!chris sturniolo

summary : matt and chris are a bit worried about their little one, but she's just busy making the perfect picture!

warning/extra tid-bits : use of y/n, i think that's all!

word count : 722 + not proofread

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (crayons doodles from @thecutestgrotto, AREN'T THEY ADORABLE??)

a/n : dishing these out like hot cakes!! (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

Matt let out a content sigh, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes. The house had been so calm and quiet today that he really felt-

Wait.

The house had been so calm and quiet.

The brunette boy stood up from his spot on the couch, quickly examining the living room and the kitchen for any sign of his little- only to find none. “Baby?” He called out, trying his best not to panic.

Matt waited a few moments for a reply before rushing upstairs to Chris’ room, his heart sinking when he only found his brother. “Dude! Ever heard of knocking?!” Chris said, annoyed.

“Where’s Y/n?” Matt asked seriously, his tone causing Chris’ eyebrows to furrow. “I thought she was with you!” The youngest triplet said, standing up off his bed. Matt shook his head, “No, I thought she was with you!” Matt argued back.

Both brothers stood silently for a few moments before taking off out of the youngest triplet’s room, opening up any door, checking behind or under any Y/n-sized hiding spot.

“Sweetheart?!” Chris called out, bounding down the stairs to check Matt’s room as the other caregiver checked behind the curtain of the bathtub.

Nick looked up, his neck aching slightly from how long he’d been helping you shade in the background of the picture you’d asked for Nick’s help coloring.

“Are they calling for you?” He asked, you blinked up at Nick before shrugging. “Don’ want them to see until ‘m done.” You murmured- words muffled through your pacifier.

Nick nodded, standing up and ruffling your hair before walking out his room, coming face to face with both his brothers.

“Is Y/n in there?” Chris asked, already reaching to open Nick’s door. “Is she?” Matt rushed his response. Nick stuck his arm in the way of Chris and Matt, blocking his younger brothers from opening his bedroom door.

“She is, we’re working on something to show you.” The eldest triplet explained, both caregivers breathed out sighs of relief- relieved to know their little was at least in the house.

“Wait, what?” Chris asked, processing his older brother's words. Matt nodded- equally as curious.

“Don’ tell them Nicky!” Y/n yelled out from inside the room, earning a soft chuckle from Nick. “Can’t tell you guys, sorry.” Nick said before slipping back into his room- ignoring the protests from Chris and Matt.

The two caregivers stood outside the door, thinking for a few moments.

“Should we be worried?” Chris asked, breaking the silence. Matt thought for a few moments before responding, “...Only mildly.”

Inside Nick’s room, the little was giggling away as she added details to each and every one of her doodles of her caregivers. “Nicky,” She called out, causing the eldest triplet to turn his head to face the little.

“Help.” She said, pointing to Chris’ figure. “Help with that?” Nick asked gently, examining the girl's crayon marks. “D’aw a hat, peas’.” She requested, making Nick smile brightly.

“Okay, let’s draw a hat.” He smiled, grabbing his pen from his nightstand and beginning on a baseball cap.

Soon, the perfect picture was complete- much to Nick and Y/n’s delightment. “Daddy! Papa!” Y/n called out, bounding down the stairs despite knowing it was against the rules to rush up and down the stairs.

Chris and Matt looked up from their phones, smiling brightly at the sight of their little. “What is it, sweetheart?” Matt asked, earning a soft giggle from the regressed girl.

“Look!” She smiled, proudly presenting the drawing to both her caregivers.

It was a crayon drawing with some details outlined in pen- thanks to Nick. The drawing showcased Chris, Matt, Nick and Y/n standing outside their Boston house, playing in the leaves. Chris adorned a red baseball cap with a gray hoodie, Matt was sporting a baggy sweater and an equally baggy pair of pants. It was clear Nick was wearing his famous black and red sweater, and it appeared Y/n was wearing a flowy maxi dress.

“Oh baby…” Chris smiled, overly proud of his girl. “Nicky helped! Bu’ I colored most’a it!” She excitedly told her caregivers- earning even more praise.Matt and Chris hugged their girl tightly, Nick joining in not long after. Each triplet was careful not to crush the perfect picture.

taglist !! :

@mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall

@hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart

@pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

@tyummyz @starri-nightss @cyberskulzzz @nicksbestie

@urfavbestiee @nicksloverrr @babybatxxx @ivysturnss

@natedoeswife @blahbel668 @nicksloverrr @flow3rsturns13

@pkfferoo @pixxiies @mattsturnswhore @17welch17 @pinksikhewei

@v33angel @conspiracy-ash @hoes4matthew @elislytherpuffsturn

@mattsturnsgirlie

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detectivestucks2 · 3 months ago

Text

Toji as Your Ex Husband

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Toji x F!Reader

Summary: Toji sees you at the park with your kid while he was on a job and becomes obsessed with seducing you into weekly quickies in the back of his car

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, toy usage, unprotected sex, anal play, cum feeding

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!!

Ex Husband Toji who you only thought of twice as you got ready for your Valentine’s Day date. Your shimmering baby pink dress looks adorable against your skin complexion. Paired with black leather high heel boots and a leather choker, you skate the line between edgy and classy in a most seductive way.

Ex Husband Toji who you continue to push out of your mind as you finish fluffing your brows and running one last coat of mascara over your lashes. Proud of the way you look, once you stand up straight and really observe the end result, you can’t help but post a selfie of how cute your blind date look came together.

Ex Husband Toji who blows up your phone with four missed calls and eight text messages as you enter your uber, heading off to your date

You’re going on a date? Since when are you seeing someone?

What’s his name?

Don’t ignore me. Name. Now.

We’re really playing this game, huh?

I forbid you to go out tonight. My wife isn’t slutting herself out on Valentine’s Day.

If you don’t respond to me, I’m coming to get you.

Woman, respond to me or else.

You think this is funny? Let’s see who’s laughing once I come over.

Ex Husband Toji who’s threats you ignore, knowing he no longer has any control over your life. The Zenin lad may still call himself by your last name but he has no right to continue to soil your family’s legacy with his dirty work.

Ex Husband Toji who secretly enabled a tracking app on your phone so he doesn’t need you to respond to his text messages. He can confront your bratty behavior at the restaurant where he plans to teach you a lesson you won’t forget. He hops on his motorcycle and rides to your location, stalking through the crowds outside several restaurants till he’s on top of you. Eyes anxiously scouring the hordes of people, he uses his height as a vantage point till he sees you, his gorgeous ex wife who had no business being here unless it’s with him.

Ex Husband Toji who’s heart stops when he sees you with another man. Sure he’s a pretty boy, but his muscles are just for show. He obviously can fight and doesn’t know anything about protecting you. This boy can’t provide for you the way he can. You don’t need this guy, you need someone like him. Anger and desperation brew in his gut and he marches over to where you sit, ready to make a scene.

Ex Husband Toji who scares you when he pops up next to you, “Toji! What are you doing here?!”

“Why are you mad at me? I’m the one who’s wife is on a date with a stranger on Valentine’s Day! How could you do this to me, baby?”

“Baby?”

“Woah, wait” your date interjects, “You’re married?!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“We’re not married, Toji! You know as well as I that we got divorced last year. Let it go. Move on.”

“I’m not moving on. You’re my wife. Till death do we part.” Your pulse thunders in your neck as your anger rises.

“Look, I’m not trying to get in the middle of anything.” Your date says, with his hands raised. “I just wanted to meet a nice girl, I don’t have time for whatever this is.”

“No, wait!”

But your date didn’t listen, he took out his wallet and dropped a $50 on the table before staring at Toji’s mountainous figure in horror, and scurrying off to his sports car.

“Good, now that the trash has taken itself out, we need to talk”

“No we don't, Toji. Leave me alone. Haven’t you done enough this evening?” You stand up in fury, making to leave when he snatches your wrist.

Ex Husband Toji who grips you so tightly you feel your skin bruise. His desperation makes him forget his strength as he stares at you, trying to understand what he just witnessed. You were with another man. You dressed like this for someone else. His soul felt like it had been crushed, and just like that the anger returned. “What you did tonight is unacceptable” he fumes, “apologize.”

“Are you insane?!”

“Apologize or I will bend you over right here and give you a spanking.”

You tug at your arm, trying to free your wrist from his clutches, but his grip is too strong. You begin to whine as you realize how useless your efforts are. With a sickening smirk Toji yanks you to him and lays you over his knees. “No Toji!” you shout but the hand gripping the back of your neck is unmoving. His muscles are so massive that even his forearm is difficult to grip as you struggle. The combined efforts of both of your hands are no match and before you can do anything to stop him, Toji is striking your backside for insubordination.

Ex Husband Toji who has you yelping and shouting in the middle of a fancy restaurant on one of the busiest nights of the year, publicly shaming you for trying to move on, and for acting like a little slut. When he feels you still haven’t learned your lesson he lifts your skirt so your bottom is barren except for the thin fabric of your lace thong. The sight begins to make him drool but his fury rages on and his palm turns the flesh fuschia before the eyes of every patron dinning nearby.

Ex Husband Toji who is tapped on the shoulder by the restaurant’s manager, demanding Toji leave or they’re calling the cops. Rounding his shoulders and cracking his neck, Toji stands up, holding you around the waist. When you try to walk away he grips you tightly and throws you over his shoulder. “Like hell, woman. You’re coming with me.”

Ex Husband Toji who carries you to his motorcycle with you protesting the entire way. It didn’t matter how much you kicked or how hard you punched his back, he set you down on the seat of his bike like you were a toy doll and sat behind you, caging you in to make sure you wouldn’t jump off. When he starts his bike he spins out towards your home and your gut fills with rocks, knowing nothing good is going to come from this.

Ex Husband Toji who kicks open the side door of your home as he drags you inside still protesting. He doesn’t understand why you continue to resist him when there’s no point. “Stop Toji. I’m home, okay? I’m home, there’s no guy coming. You can leave now.”

“NO! I’m not leaving. I left you too many times. I can’t do it anymore.”

Something twitches in your abdomen, something like a tiny butterfly as you see one of the most gorgeous men on this planet’s face crack with sadness at the thought of leaving you. “No, Toji.” you say softer than before. “We don’t work. We tried and this doesn’t work.”

“I’ll make it work” he says as he comes closer, hands tracing up your forearms and biceps. “Please baby. I need you.”

“You don’t need me.” you whisper as you look down. “You could have any woman you wanted.”

“Not when that woman’s you.” he whispers back.

Ex Husband Toji who brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before pulling you into a kiss. That twitch in your stomach erupts into full on butterflies and at the same time you’re kicking yourself for caving because this only ever leads to one thing…

Ex Husband Toji who tears off your dress before carrying you into the room and tossing you on the bed. You grapple at his shirt as he removes his belt, laying it on the bed before he lowers his pants, tossing them aside. Once naked, he pulls off your boots, one by one, kissing each leg as he does so.

Ex Husband Toji who spreads your legs, cause he is the only man allowed to do so, licking and nipping your inner thighs while enjoying how you flinch from sensitivity. When his mouth finds your center he bites down on your bud, making you scream from both pain and pleasure. Your hands fly into his messy black locks, pulling him off and pushing him back into you, unable to decide what you want. His tongue flicks out of his mouth paying special attention to your nub before pointing and slotting into your center. Your head lolls back and you moan, the sound ringing in Toji’s ear like a an anthem. You grind your hips up into his mouth, fisting his hair and pushing his face into you. He won. He knew he would, but the victory is just as sweet, nonetheless.

Ex Husband Toji who turns you into a needy puddle with his mouth before denying you your orgasm. Your upset whine brings a mischievous grin to his lips. “Not so fast, hun. We have some behavior to address.” Just as you register what he means, Toji reaches for his nearby belt and slips it around your neck, the end already threaded through the buckle. He yanks on the leather as he flips you onto your knees, letting it bite into your column. Your fingers try to slip into the loop, to release the pressure but it’s too tight.

Ex Husband Toji who sinks his weighty girth into your dripping hole as he chokes you. “I knew a filthy slut like you would get wet from being treated like a bitch. You like your new leash? I hope so, cause you’ll be wearing it awhile.” He continues to berate you, his hips beginning to grind into you.

His member throbs in your walls as he drags in and out of you, pushing in and retreating slowly. But it was too slow. Even though he had you drooling, you wanted more. You begin to throw your hips back and a dangerous chuckle fans your ear. “Oh, is that what you want? Okay baby. I can give you that.”

Ex Husband Toji who wraps the leather around his knuckles, tightening your leash before he pistons into you. His breathing labors and his lungs grunt. Your eyes flutter from the familiar sounds, it is all so dirty and erotic, you clench around him tighter, unable to hide your arousal. “That’s it baby. Just like that. Take this dick like the good little slut you are.” You cry out, feeling him tighten the belt again. You can barely breathe and it makes you so wet your fluids are dripping onto the bed.

Ex Husband Toji who pounds into you, bouncing you off his pelvis as he spears your cute little cunt. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from oxygen deprivation while the most whorish sounds fill the room. He turned you into exactly what he wanted. His slut, serving him and only him. You feel like a slave to his passions. This is how he gets you every time. This is how you ended up marrying him. He fucked you till you said yes.

Ex Husband Toji who spanks your already red rear as he hammers into you, reminding you of the naughty girl you’ve been, trying to give this pussy to another man. This is his pussy, and no one else is allowed to touch it. He’ll make sure you remember this lesson. Manipulating you with his belt, Toji whips you over to your back and folds you in half. He pushes your feet to your ears and raises his body so he can pummel down into your folds, making you scream from the intensity. You sound so beautiful when you’re like this, all mouth and no words. You try to form them, it’s not as if there’s a lack of effort, he just gets you so good you grow dumb on his length.

Ex Husband Toji who pulls your face up to his by fisting your hair. Your eyes scrunch in pain but at the end of the day, you like it rough. If he were more prepared he would’ve brought the whip you like, but for now he’ll settle for his hands. He tugs your face to his lips so he can kiss you feverishly. You open your mouth obediently, waiting for him to spit in it before he dives his tongue in to dance with yours.

Ex Husband Toji who loses his composure after the kiss, becoming more beast than man as he quickens his pace and pumps into you so hard that your entire bed is rockings, scooting inch by inch across the floor from how he chases his orgasm. He doesn’t even care if you cum because 1) you didn’t earn it and 2) he knows you're going to anyway. You have a habit of finishing at the same time he does so when your velvet interior flutters around him just as a prolonged scream released from your throat, it does the trick and his seed explodes inside of you, painting your cavern white and swimming into your cervix, looking to get you pregnant before you can come to your senses.

Ex Husband Toji who pins you down, exerting his power over you for a few more minutes, while he can. He looks down on your glazed over eyes, savoring how he can wreck your body and praying his spend finds its way to your fallopian tubes to make a baby. He needs you to get pregnant so he never has to let you go.

Ex Husband Toji who gets to spend the night because you passed out shortly after he finished. He gets up to go to the bathroom and grabs you a washcloth, cleaning up your legs before tucking you under the bed covers. When he’s done he slips between the sheets with you, and presses his body against yours, falling asleep immediately because for the first time in months he is home and he isn’t going anywhere.

Masterlist

#jjk smut #toji smut #toji headcanons #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #exhusband toji

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jilyawards · 18 days ago

Text

April

late afternoon, early spring light (completed, 2.2k) by @ohhevans. Rated G.

“You’re causing a raucous, Evans,” he says, “drunk, knocking over glasses, tickling me, very unbecoming behavior of a Hogwarts Head Girl, if you ask me.” “The Head Boy is the one who got the Head Girl drunk,” she says, “so I think you’d be better off blaming him for the raucous.” -OR- one more happy birthday to james potter

it’s a game of give and take (completed, 10.2k) by @fishyspots. Rated T.

That horrible Halloween night, James and Lily wake up with matching curse scars and a missing child. Six years later, they get him back.

all your life you've never seen (completed, 4k) by westeriss. Rated G.

Lily knows all his friends; of course he’s probably curious about hers, about her whole life outside Hogwarts since she doesn’t really talk much about it during term. “I wasn’t really friends with anyone in primary,” Lily tells him absently, words fluttering from her lips, then sips at her coffee to stop any more. It's bitter, without cream, and ugh. Her quip has James shifting, though, leaning a bit closer. He sets his cup on his knee. “What d’you mean?” ----- James visits Lily the summer before seventh year, and accidentally, maybe, sort of learns she's Cokeworth's resident enigma. Just a little scene in the middle of their early months of dating, between sixth and seventh year of school.

You light up... my phone (completed, 247 words) by @abihastastybeans. Rated T.

March Jilymicrofics Prompt no.25: Echoes Lily receives texts from a drunk James

Big Plans (completed, 3.7k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated E.

A menace. That’s what she had called him yesterday when he had pushed her up against one of the wooden beams under the quidditch stands. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she had said, her hands easily undoing the drawstring of his quidditch trousers. “You’re going to be the death of me because I could shag you everyday for the rest of my life and still not be satisfied.”

birthday mornings (completed, 807 words) by @petalsandantlers. Rated G.

in honor of james' birthday, just a short, fluffy microfic of jily being cute

(be) as you've always been (completed, 2.7k) by @juniperpyre. Rated G.

it's the morning of James' 21st birthday and he's in bed with Lily and Harry. they discuss having another baby, fear, and hope.

emergency contact (completed, 1.8k) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated G.

The intern clears his throat. "I can’t legally—" He swallows, eyes darting up at her like he already knows this is about to go badly. “Release private information about Mr. Potter to you.” Lily blinks. “I’m his wife.”

Dinner Can Wait (completed, 4.7k) by @livelaughlovetoread. Rated E.

James made eye contact with Lily and immediately knew they were not going to make it to dinner without getting their hands on each other.

Method Acting (completed, 23.6k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” How many times over the years has he said those words and when did he actually start meaning them? All of them--every single bloody time.

a love that won't ever let go (completed, 1.2k) by @petalsandantlers. Rated G.

written for jily challenges march 2025 prompt: drown in my own tears by ray charles partner: Merlinsbbeard

Oh My God, She's Insane (completed, 7.6k) by @annabtg. Rated M.

When the Order of the Phoenix discovers that Lucius Malfoy, rich bachelor and womaniser extraordinaire, may secretly be a Death Eater with access to an item that could be the key to bringing down Voldemort, Lily Evans comes up with a brilliant plan: to seduce him into inviting her to his house, and then take the opportunity to snoop around for information. James Potter, her mission partner, is less than thrilled with this idea.

I’m So Afraid I Sealed My Fate (Even Statues Crumble If They’re Made to Wait) (WIP, 75.6k as of 30 April 2025) by tulipslilliesiloveyou. Not rated.

Six years ago an owl with Lily Evans’ Hogwarts letter was sent—six years ago, that owl never made it. Until now. Following a great tragedy, with nowhere else to go, Muggle-raised Lily Evans has no other choice but to accept her identity as a witch and enroll at Hogwarts as a seventh-year. Six years ago, James Potter started at Hogwarts—with just one year left, he already has his future figured out: move-in with his mates, help stop the Blood War, win the Quidditch cup. But the moment he lays eyes on Lily Evans, everything changes. A beautiful mystery tangled in a hidden destiny that threatens to break them both—as long as it doesn’t tear down the rest of the world first.

How to Not Win Friends (with your girlfriend's father) and Influence People (completed, 1k) by @eastwindmlk. Rated M.

James and Lily have the house to themselves... Or so they think.

Find the previous months' recs: November & December | January | February | March

#jily fandom rec list 2025

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hoshieeyewrinkles · 1 year ago

Text

S t r a w b e r r y p r i n t e d

(nct dream x reader)

Tw warning: non-con, drugs uses, intoxication, humiliation, degradation, perv! Dreamies, angst ig. Minors dni

A/n: Y'all I wrote this when I was sleepy and tired af, didn't like how it went

Haechan, who sits next to you in class and becomes so casually friends with you that you never would have known he is a huge pervert, as are his friends who dared him to do so so they could all make crude remarks about you while he discreetly takes up skirt pictures of yours.

He would say as they jerked off together, "I told you she has the cutest cunt."

Haechan who buys you popsicles and candies watching you suck on them while he pretends to take your cute pictures. All while he is sending it in his group chat.

"y'all seeing this whore suck that popsicle like a dick?"

"Jaemin was right, he always has an eye for total sluts"

When you complain that you have no friends but him, Haechan offers to introduce you to his friends. You gladly agree because Haechan's friends are most likely as civil and fun as him.

You were surprised to be brought to a lavish mansion finding his friends smoking in, a cloud of smoke hung in the air, thick enough to almost be tangible. Their eyes, red nd glassy, seemed to pierce through you, each one a predator sizing up its prey. And then, you saw them. All incredibly handsome, impossibly so, their gazes fixed on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, you stumbled towards the couch, collapsing beside Haechan. A ripple of laughter followed.

"Wanna try, sweetheart?" Jaemin's voice, smooth as honey, offered his joint. You shook your head, feeling his intense gaze like a physical weight on your skin. Nervousness gnawed at you, making your fingers flutter like trapped butterflies.

"Chill, Jaem," Mark chuckled, casually dropping into the space beside you and draping an arm across your shoulder. "You're scaring the poor thing."

Ignoring his touch, you kept your eyes glued to your lap, desperately avoiding their scrutiny.

"You know Haechan never shuts up about you," Jeno drawled, winking at the boy beside you. Haechan reached out and placed a reassuring hand on your plush thigh smirking at you. "His words got us all hooked, sweetheart," Chenle, the one with the designer clothes, purred, his dark eyes gazing through you "We just had to meet the girl who stole his attention."

Haechan tried to persuade you by putting his joint forward and saying, "Just one puff, baby." Not wanting to be a joy-killer, you took a puff after noticing their anticipatory stares and discovered that it was addictive after just one. It was impossible not to take another drag. It seemed as if the time passed by so quickly as you sat on Mark's lap and caressed his chest in a completely high state, the boys laughed at your eagerness, and Jisung pulled out his phone to record you. Marks stares back at you puffing out smoke on your face before pulling you in for a sloppy kiss while fondling your ass under your skirt.

"Oh my fucking god!" Jeno laughed in disbelief after seeing your strawberry printed panties. "I mean it kinda turns me on..." Chenle joined in the laughter. You continued to make out with Mark without a care in world, completely out of your senses.

Everything felt like a dream: you being stripped naked and left in your strawberry printed panties in a doggy position, Jeno rapidly fingering your ass, Jaemin and Mark latching onto your tits, your hands occupied with Chenle and Haechan's cocks and Jisung filming you guys.

Darkness took your senses, yet a tiny thought flickered, why did you find pleasure in this mess, this dirt and shame? Were you really this - someone begging for humiliation? To be assaulted by these boys and haechan- haechan was someone you trusted. You felt sick, your whole being screaming against this awful scene. Maybe, you thought, this was always you, the hidden truth. Shame and wanting fought inside you, a messy, painful struggle. Even as you hated yourself, waves of pleasures flowed through you.

"fuck man... She is dripping" Mark let out a hoarse moan at the sight of your dripping cunt.

Hours passed, and you were passed out on the couch, hickeys covering your entire chest and neck, sore from every corner, handprints left on your thighs and throat. You were mumbling incoherent sentences, lost in the high. All the boys had collapsed, but Haechan was still lapping on your tits as if they were his last meal.

"This motherfucker has lost it..." Jaemin grumbled in a groggy state, lightly kicking Haechan, who chose to ignore him while the other boys laughed weakly.

"Can we keep her?" Jisung inquired timidly; for a brief moment, a wave of guilt washed over him, but he brushed it off knowing you clearly enjoyed it. You were begging for more, it doesn't matter if you weren't in your senses. Your body gave all the reactions they needed, right?

"We brought this whore here for a reason, of course we are gonna keep Ms.strawberries around for a while well if she wishes to..." Chenle replied narrowing his eyes.

"clearly..." Jeno let out a mocking laugh, as they nudged each other waiting for you to come into senses. A potent potion of exhilaration intoxicated their minds, blurring the lines between right and wrong. Guilt held no sway over them, nor did regret's sting pierce their hearts. You, with your dignity and vulnerability laid bare, were like a beacon to their darkness.

#nct dream #nct smut #tw noncon #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #jaemin smut #nct jeno #nct jeno smut #jeno smut #mark x reader #nct mark smut #nct jaemin #nct jaemin smur #nct chenle smut #nct jisung smut #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader

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buccini555 · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

How would they react to the news that their girlfriend ended her own life?

A n g s t H e a d c a n o n s !

𝐹𝑡. Manjiro Sano, Izana Kurokawa, Kakucho Hitto, Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani and Baji Keisuke

Requested by: My bestie ♡

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

At the exact moment he received the notice announcing that his girl was in the hospital after an attempt to take her own life, Manjiro did not hesitate to go to the place at the same time, so when he arrived at the hospital, the first thing he did was try to find out the condition of his beloved, until then, still hoping to find her well again.

As soon as he saw one of the doctors pass him in that freezing hallway, Manjiro immediately questioned how the girl was, "S-she's okay, isn't she? How is she?" Insistently, he questioned, however, the doctor only gave the news that the girl had not survived her to injuries.

At that same time, Manjiro felt as if his world was collapsing, he couldn't even believe it and for a brief moment, he still begged for that fact to be nothing more than a simple mistake, despite that, when part of him accepted what had really happened, the boy felt completely apathetic, as if some kind of emptiness took over him, after that event, Manjiro was never the same or could come back to his normal state, all he felt was guilt.

𝐈𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

"Baby?" He looked for his loved one in every room of that house, until he entered the bedroom and saw water running under the bathroom door, tension spread throughout his body, but he did not lack the courage to open that same door.

When faced with such a scene, Izana hurried to try to save her, even doing anything at that moment, he couldn't believe his own eyes when he saw that it was already too late, even trying to stay in hope.

Although he could still save her life, the boy burst into tears when he realized that there was nothing left that could bring his beloved back.

After that day, Izana was never the same, becoming even more closed in his own world and carrying the guilt he condemned himself for not having arrived sooner to avoid all that tragedy.

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

Upon receiving the news that his loved one had just been hospitalized, the boy left everything behind, overcome by worry, he could barely think about what he would do if something bad actually happened.

When he arrived at the place, he immediately went to find out about the girl's condition, but, as soon as he learned the worst news he could receive, Kakucho just refused to accept that she hadn't resisted.

Alone, sitting in an empty corridor of a hospital, still in denial, he remained at the door of the room where his loved one was, when he cruelly realized that he would never see her alive again, he could not control his incessant crying, sitting on that floor, blaming himself for not having saved her from herself, he would definitely never be able to feel joy again, no longer caring about being alive or not, after all, after that day, the boy no longer felt anything.

𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

Finding his beloved's absence strange when he arrived home, something like an intuition made the heart of the tallest one feel distressed, for this reason, it didn't take him long to go up the stairs and look for her, the moment he opened the bedroom door, he saw her, but not as he wanted and then, the blood spread on the floor announced the tragedy that had occurred. "Shit... Shit!" The boy held the girl on his lap and took her to the hospital, believing that he could still save her.

Pacing insistently from side to side, Ran waited in anguish of worry, however, once he could finally be notified of the condition of his gentle girl, he could not believe that she simply had not resisted.

"She's gone... I couldn't save her, I failed." He repeated to himself sitting in one of the hospital chairs, Ran couldn't shed a tear or simply have any reaction other than blaming himself for not having made her stay, even if he had already accepted that he would never see her again, he still He refused to accept that she had left in such a cruel way, so this fact directly affected him, making him completely empty and with a coldness he had never seen before.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

"C'mon, don't do this to me, wake up, please, wake up..." Holding the girl in his arms, he did his best to try to save her and have time to take her to the hospital, but his hopes were destroyed when it happened realizing that she was leaving before his own eyes, even though he didn't want to and couldn't accept that he would lose her that night, Rindou hugged her, still trying to make her get rid of those medications, despite all his efforts, he instinctively He knew she was gone when he felt his skin turning cold.

"Baby? Baby, please, wake up!" He began to cry compulsively when he saw her leave before his eyes and in her arms she rested, Rindou just begged for her forgiveness for not having saved her and even if the girl could return to forgive him, the sameHe would carry that pain and guilt for the rest of his life and he did so, Rindou was never able to forgive himself.

𝐁𝐚𝐣𝐢 𝐊𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞

"S-she... tell me, tells me how she is, now!" Arriving at the hospital after receiving such shocking news, Baji immediately went to find out about the girl's condition, no matter how much he tried to control himself or just remain calm, he could not deny himself that he expected the worst, and when unfortunately his intuition did not made a mistake, Baji could not accept that he had lost his beloved so unexpectedly.

Sitting on the hospital floor, he just begged for it to be a mistake or a lie. "...She's fine, this...this can't be real, it's a fucking nightmare." He repeated, despite this, when he realized that it had really happened, his heart broke instantly, the pain caused by the loss of the girl being one of the worst things he could feel.

After that fact, Baji started to get into even more trouble to try to dispel all that feeling and the longing that that girl left behind, becoming a danger even to himself, Keisuke never went back to being who he was.

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amethystarachnid · 3 months ago

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Hii! I read your "Christmas morning with Tony" and I think its so cute and funny... I appreciate the time and effort you put into writing for us. I admire your writing style. I'm a huge fan of Tony Stark.😁 Your povs are so great and heart touching.🧡 I'm new so I don't know if you accept requests but can I request for something? No force. You can only make it if you want to... If you can, please make a oneshot of Tony x Fem reader (with age gap) married couple with a cute little toddler daughter and a baby boy, a lovely family. Tony's sass and Y/N's softness. (And how Y/N feels like she is raising 3 kids including Tony) How they deal with Tony's fame and protect the kids. How Y/N feels about all of this. Some slight flirtation, fluff and fun. I'll be so happy if you can make this or if you've already made something like this, can you please suggest that? Sorry for boring you with my long text 😭 I don't even know if you'll reply but it'd be so cool if you did omg... Kudos bestie!

XOXO ❤️

PAPARAZZI

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.6k

ᯓ★ Summary: when you married Tony stark you knew you were leaving your privacy behind, but your kids? oh that' s a whole different story, and Tony will make sure the press knows that

ᯓ★ TW(s): little spicy scenes at the end, nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ omg i was so sure I had posted this story like a few days ago, now I open up my draft and see that it's still here? and there's another story too? omg I'm so sorry for the delay

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sound of tiny feet racing down the hallway pulls you from sleep before the baby monitor even has a chance to crackle. You blink against the soft light filtering through the curtains, trying to shake off the lingering haze of exhaustion. It’s too early—your body knows it, but the Stark household rarely lets you sleep in past sunrise these days.

“Mommy!” Luna’s voice echoes outside the door, high-pitched and insistent.

You nudge Tony, whose warm weight is sprawled beside you. “Your turn,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

“Mm-mm,” he grunts, burrowing deeper into the pillow. “I did the midnight shift.”

“That was my shift,” you remind him, though there’s no heat in your voice.

Before he can argue, the door creaks open, and Luna’s curly head pops into view. She’s clutching her stuffed bunny, her chubby cheeks flushed from sleep. “Mommy! Daddy! I awake!”

Tony groans, but he’s already rolling onto his back, cracking one eye open. “Morning, boss,” he greets her, his voice gravelly but amused.

Luna wastes no time climbing onto the bed. She doesn’t crawl to your side, though—her target is clear. She clambers onto Tony’s chest with a determination only a toddler can muster, settling there like she’s claimed her throne.

“Hi, Daddy,” she chirps, grinning down at him.

“Hi, baby girl,” he says, wrapping his hands loosely around her waist to keep her steady. “What’s up?”

She thrusts a crumpled piece of paper at him, one of her many drawings. “S’you!”

Tony takes the paper, squinting at the chaotic mix of lines and colors. “Me? No way. This is way too good to be me.”

“Daddy!” Luna giggles, but the moment of happiness flickers when a faint cry comes through the baby monitor on Tony’s nightstand.

Howard.

You sit up, ready to move, but Luna’s face twists into an immediate pout. “Noooo,” she whines, grabbing Tony’s arm with surprising strength for someone her size. “Daddy stay!”

“Luna,” you say gently, reaching out to brush her curls back from her forehead, “Howard’s awake. He needs Mommy and Daddy too.”

“Nooo!” she insists, eyes welling up with tears as she clings tighter to Tony. “No baby! Daddy stay here!”

Tony shifts her so he can sit up properly, cradling her against his chest as she buries her face in his shirt. His free hand rubs her back, his voice soft but firm. “Hey, hey, none of that. Howard’s not going anywhere. You’re still my number one, okay?”

“Promise?” Her voice is muffled against him.

“Promise,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “But you gotta share me a little, Luna Bean. Teamwork, remember?”

She sniffles, her little body still tense, but she doesn’t argue further.

You glance at Tony, mouthing, I’ll get him, but he shakes his head. “Nah, I got it. You stay here with the queen of the universe.”

“Queen Luna,” you say with a smile, and she peeks out from Tony’s shirt, her pout shifting to the tiniest of grins.

Tony shifts her onto the bed beside you, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before he heads toward the nursery. Luna watches him go, her expression still wary.

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “What do you think, Luna? Should we make Daddy some coffee while he gets Howard?”

She considers this, then nods. “I help.”

“Of course you do,” you say, tickling her side until she giggles.

Together, you head to the kitchen, Luna’s hand tightly clutching yours.

By the time Tony comes downstairs, Howard in his arms, Luna is standing on her step stool at the counter, proudly stirring a bowl of oatmeal. “Daddy!” she shouts when she sees him, immediately abandoning her spoon to reach for him.

“Hey, Luna Bean,” Tony says, walking over with a grin. He juggles Howard expertly as Luna throws her arms around his legs. “What’s going on in here?”

“I cook!” she announces, pointing to the oatmeal like it’s a Michelin-starred masterpiece.

“You’re amazing,” he tells her, and she practically glows under his praise.

Howard squirms in his arms, letting out a little coo, and Luna’s face falls slightly. She tugs on Tony’s pant leg again. “Daddy, me up!”

Tony glances at you, then back at Luna. “Sweetheart, I’m holding Howard right now. But maybe after breakfast—”

“No! Me!” Her lower lip juts out, and you can see the storm coming before it hits.

“Luna,” you say, crouching down beside her, “Daddy can’t hold both of you at the same time. But maybe you can sit next to him while he feeds Howard, huh? You can be his helper.”

She scowls at first, but the word “helper” seems to sway her. “Helper?”

“Big helper,” Tony agrees, setting Howard into his high chair before crouching down to scoop Luna into his arms. “You can be in charge of making sure your little brother doesn’t make a huge mess. Think you’re up for it?”

She nods solemnly, her little face serious as Tony carries her to the table.

Breakfast is its usual chaotic blur. Howard smears oatmeal on his cheeks more than he eats it, Luna spends most of her time “helping” by narrating Howard’s every move, and Tony is caught somewhere between managing both kids and stealing sips of coffee whenever he can.

“Look, Mommy!” Luna calls out at one point, holding up a spoonful of oatmeal that she’s managed to guide toward Howard’s mouth. Most of it dribbles down his bib, but her excitement is infectious.

“You’re such a good big sister,” you tell her, and she beams.

Tony meets your eyes across the table, and you share a smile. It’s exhausting, yes, but these little moments—messy, loud, and chaotic—are what make it all worth it.

For now, Luna seems happy enough, basking in the attention from both of you. But you know the balancing act is far from over.

The idea of going to the park electrifies Luna, who hasn’t stopped chanting “big slide!” from the second she decided on the plan. You’re impressed by her enthusiasm but a little less thrilled by the sheer logistics of getting two kids—and one Tony Stark—out the door in one piece.

“Alright, Bean, grab your shoes,” Tony says as he crouches to tie his sneakers. Luna runs off, only to return moments later with two mismatched shoes in her hands—a sparkly sandal and a rain boot.

You stifle a laugh. “Sweetheart, those don’t match.”

“Is fashion,” Luna insists, holding them out proudly.

Tony leans down to her level, nodding solemnly. “You’re absolutely right. Who am I to argue with haute couture?” He takes the mismatched shoes and looks over his shoulder at you. “You heard the boss. Let’s roll with it.”

“She’s going to look like she dressed herself,” you tease, handing him the diaper bag as you grab Howard from his bassinet.

“She did dress herself,” Tony shoots back, tossing Luna’s bunny into the stroller. “Besides, we’ll make it work. Howard here won’t rat us out.”

Howard, nestled in your arms, lets out a little hiccup, blinking up at you with big eyes that seem to say, You’re doomed, Mom.

The park itself is only a ten-minute drive, but Tony takes longer than usual to circle the area. You know exactly why. His eyes are constantly scanning the streets for cameras or sketchy parked cars.

“Still clear,” he says finally, pulling into the parking lot.

“Relax, Tony,” you murmur. “We’ve been here a million times without any trouble.”

“Yeah, and all it takes is one overpaid idiot with a zoom lens,” he mutters, shutting off the car.

Luna, oblivious to the ongoing Stark-level security measures, kicks her feet excitedly in her car seat. “Go play! Go play!”

Tony hops out and unbuckles her first, letting her bounce to the ground with all the energy of someone who hasn’t had their soul drained by a toddler tantrum at 6 a.m.

“Alright, Bean, ground rules: you stay where Mommy and I can see you, and no wandering off to join a rogue pack of preschoolers, okay?”

“‘Kay!” Luna shouts before taking off toward the jungle gym, leaving Tony standing there with his hands on his hips.

You smirk. “She definitely got her listening skills from you.”

Tony looks at you, feigning offense. “I listen! I’m fantastic at listening. Just ask… anyone but you.”

“Sure you are,” you tease, wheeling Howard’s stroller closer to the bench nearest the playground.

Luna climbs the jungle gym with the fearless determination of a child who doesn’t yet understand the concept of gravity. She zooms down the big slide with wild abandon, screaming, “Daddy, watch!” every single time, as though he hasn’t been staring at her like she’s the most fascinating thing in the universe.

Tony, of course, eats it up. “That’s my girl! Ten out of ten, Bean! Gold medal for sliding!”

You sit nearby with Howard in your lap, who’s happily gnawing on his teething toy. The sight of Tony sprinting to catch Luna at the bottom of the slide—only for her to scramble back up and do it again—makes your chest ache in the best way.

Watching him as a dad is both endearing and exhausting. He’s fully in it, down to the goofy voices and over-the-top reactions, but sometimes it’s like raising a third child. Case in point: the way he almost topples into the sandbox trying to show Luna how to build a “Stark-grade” sandcastle.

“Careful, Tony,” you call, adjusting Howard’s sun hat. “If you break something, I’m not driving you to the ER.”

He glances over his shoulder with a grin. “You kidding? My castle-building technique is flawless.”

After about an hour, Luna runs up to you, her curls wild and cheeks flushed. “Mommy, hungry!”

You smile, brushing some sand off her shirt. “Okay, what do you want? We can eat at home—”

“McD’nald’s!” she interrupts, her eyes lighting up.

Tony perks up immediately. “McDonald’s, huh? The kid’s got taste. Can’t argue with a Happy Meal.”

You give him a look. “You’re going to use her as an excuse to eat fries, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he says, already folding up the stroller.

The McDonald’s trip is pure chaos, as expected. You pull into the parking lot, and Tony insists on ordering at the counter instead of using the drive-thru.

“It’s the full experience,” he says, hoisting Luna onto his hip.

“Or it’s an unnecessary production,” you counter, adjusting Howard in his carrier.

Inside, Luna presses her nose against the glass of the Happy Meal display, pointing at the toys. “That one! I want dat one!”

“Luna, it’s random,” you explain patiently. “They give you whatever toy they have.”

“No, dat one!”

Tony leans down conspiratorially. “Here’s the deal, Bean: if they don’t give you the one you want, we’ll just buy the whole set. Problem solved.”

You gape at him. “Tony.”

“What? She’s three. Let her dream big,” he says with a shrug.

You finally settle in a booth near the window, juggling trays of food, a Happy Meal, and a baby who’s decided he absolutely doesn’t want to stay in his carrier. Luna sits between you and Tony, gleefully dipping her nuggets into ketchup while you try to convince Howard that teething on a fry is not part of his diet.

“This,” Tony says, holding up his Big Mac, “is the pinnacle of American cuisine. Stark-approved.”

“Stop corrupting the children,” you say, stealing one of his fries.

“Too late,” he replies with a grin.

Of course, nothing stays peaceful for long. You notice it first—a flicker of movement outside the window. A guy with a camera, half-hidden behind a parked car.

“Tony,” you murmur, nudging his arm.

He follows your gaze, his jaw tightening when he spots the photographer. “Unbelievable,” he mutters.

“What’s wrong?” Luna asks, looking up from her nuggets.

“Nothing, Bean,” Tony says smoothly, pulling her closer to his side. “Just some grown-ups who don’t know how to mind their own business.”

“Should we leave?” you ask quietly, glancing at the stroller.

Tony shakes his head. “Nope. We’re not running because some idiot wants a payday. Let them snap their pictures. We’ll look fabulous.”

You sigh, but there’s no arguing with him when he’s like this.

Sure enough, more paparazzi show up within minutes, crowding outside the restaurant. You can hear the faint clicks of their cameras even through the glass.

Luna looks out the window, her brow furrowed. “What they doin’, Daddy?”

“They’re taking pictures, sweetheart,” you say gently.

“Why?”

Tony smirks. “Because they think your old man eating a Big Mac is front-page news.”

She frowns. “Dat’s silly.”

“Extremely,” Tony agrees, popping a fry into his mouth.

Despite the commotion outside, you manage to finish your meal, though you can’t help feeling a little on edge. You glance at Tony, who’s completely unbothered, making silly faces at Howard while Luna plays with her Happy Meal toy.

“You’re taking this remarkably well,” you say, folding up the wrappers.

He shrugs. “Let them have their fun. The world deserves to see me rocking dad mode. Besides, they’ll leave once they realize we’re not doing anything scandalous.”

“Define ‘scandalous,’” you mutter, eyeing the pile of ketchup-covered napkins Luna has somehow created.

Tony grins. “Relax, sweetheart. We’re good. I’ve got this.”

And as much as you want to roll your eyes at him, you can’t help but believe him—because if there’s one thing Tony Stark knows how to do, it’s handle the chaos of life with a smirk and a perfectly timed quip.

Even if it involves paparazzi documenting his three-year-old’s first Happy Meal.

The drive home from McDonald’s is a symphony of exhaustion and mild sugar highs. Luna, sitting in her car seat, is clutching her Happy Meal toy like it’s the most precious artifact in existence, while Howard is finally dozing off in his carrier, a little line of drool trailing down his chin.

“Mission accomplished,” Tony declares, steering the car with one hand while fiddling with the radio. “One kid happy, one kid asleep. I’m officially a superhero again.”

You shoot him a look, cradling Howard’s head to keep it from bobbing too much as the car bumps along. “Sure, Iron Dad. Tell that to Luna when she refuses to nap.”

At the mention of napping, Luna perks up immediately. “No nap!” she declares, her voice loud enough to make Howard stir.

Tony glances at her in the rearview mirror. “Whoa, Bean, keep it down. You’ll wake up your brother.”

“No nap!” she repeats, kicking her feet for emphasis.

You sigh, already anticipating the battle ahead. “Luna, everyone needs a little quiet time after a big day. Even Daddy.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at you. “Speak for yourself. I thrive on chaos.”

“Clearly,” you mutter, watching as Luna crosses her arms, her pout deepening.

When you get home, it’s a delicate operation to get both kids out of the car without waking Howard or setting Luna off on a full-blown tantrum. You manage to carry Howard inside, still asleep, while Tony coaxes Luna through the door with the promise of reading her favorite bedtime story—twice.

You head upstairs to settle Howard in his crib, marveling at how peaceful he looks when he’s asleep. It’s a stark contrast to the hurricane of teething pains and babbling that he usually is during the day.

By the time you come back downstairs, Tony’s on the couch, flipping through one of Luna’s storybooks while she sits cross-legged beside him, stubbornly refusing to lie down.

“Alright, Luna Bean,” he says, pretending to squint at the book like it’s the most complicated thing he’s ever read. “Once upon a time, there was a little bunny who—”

“No bunny!” Luna interrupts, pointing at the book. “Princess one!”

Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Princess again? What about the bunny? The bunny’s got dreams too, you know.”

You can’t help but laugh as you join them, sitting on Luna’s other side. “Princess it is, Tony. You’ve been outvoted.”

It takes two princess stories, a glass of water, and a very firm “no” to her demand for a third book before Luna finally concedes to lying down in her toddler bed. You sit with her, rubbing her back softly as she murmurs something about her Happy Meal toy and the “big slide.”

Tony leans against the doorframe, watching you with a smile that softens the sharp edges of his usual sarcasm.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that look,” you whisper once Luna’s breathing evens out and you join him by the door.

“What look?” he whispers back, feigning innocence as you head down the stairs together.

“The one where you think you’re the luckiest man alive,” you tease, bumping your shoulder against his.

“Well, I am,” he says, not missing a beat.

Back in the living room, the house is finally quiet. Howard’s asleep upstairs, Luna’s out like a light, and the chaos of the morning has melted into the calm of the afternoon.

Tony collapses onto the couch with a groan, pulling you down beside him. “Finally. Alone time with my favorite person.”

“Aw, thanks,” you say, leaning into his side. “Though I’m not sure you’ve earned it after hyping Luna up all morning.”

“Hey, I was just fueling her creativity,” he says, draping an arm around your shoulders. “That’s good parenting, right?”

You laugh softly, resting your head against his chest. For a few blissful moments, it’s just the two of you—no demands, no tantrums, no distractions.

And then your phone buzzes.

The sharp vibration pulls you out of the moment, and you glance at the screen, frowning when you see the notification. Tony’s phone buzzes a second later, and he groans.

“Who’s bothering us now?” he mutters, grabbing his phone.

You open the notification, your heart sinking as you see the headline: “Starks Spotted at McDonald’s with Rare Family Sighting—First Photos of Their Kids!”

Your stomach twists as you click the link. Sure enough, there are the photos—taken through the window of the restaurant, clearly showing you, Tony, Luna, and even Howard in his carrier.

Tony’s jaw tightens beside you as he scrolls through the same article. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, his voice low and dangerous.

Your hand shakes as you set your phone down. “They weren’t supposed to—”

“I know,” Tony interrupts, his tone sharp. “I know, sweetheart. We were careful. Those bastards must’ve had some insane zoom lenses.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. You and Tony had been so adamant about keeping the kids out of the public eye, wanting them to have as normal a childhood as possible. Now, their faces are plastered all over the internet for anyone to see.

“They’re just babies,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Tony pulls you closer, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Hey, hey. We’ll handle this, okay? We always do.”

For a while, neither of you says anything. Tony’s hand never leaves your back, and you focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing to keep yourself grounded.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “I’ll call the lawyers in the morning. Get those pictures taken down. I’ll throw every cent I have at it if I have to.”

You nod, though you know it’s not that simple. The photos are already out there, circulating on social media and gossip sites.

“Do you think they’ll ever have privacy?” you ask quietly, looking up at him.

Tony’s face softens, his usual bravado giving way to something raw and vulnerable. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure they do,” he says. “They didn’t ask for this. They deserve to just be kids.”

The rest of the evening passes in a haze. You and Tony go through the motions—dinner, tidying up, checking on the kids—while the weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air.

Later, as you lie in bed together, Tony wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You nod, burying your face in his chest. Despite the whirlwind of emotions, there’s a small comfort in knowing that whatever happens, you’ll face it together.

The next morning, the house feels emptier without Tony’s usual presence.

It’s not that he’s never at work—he still runs a billion-dollar company, after all—but ever since Luna was born, Tony’s made it a point to work from home as often as possible. He has an entire high-tech office two floors below, but more often than not, he sets up camp at the kitchen counter or sprawls out on the living room floor with his laptop, Howard napping beside him and Luna sticking stickers on his arms.

Today, though, he had an in-person meeting that “absolutely required his presence,” which you both knew was business-speak for some rich guy wants to see Tony Stark in the flesh to feel important.

So here you are, juggling Luna’s boundless energy and Howard’s never-ending need for attention, all while attempting to get at least a little work done.

Luna sits on the floor next to the couch, meticulously lining up her stuffed animals in some kind of toddler government meeting. “Bunny sit here,” she mumbles to herself. “Bear go there.”

Howard, meanwhile, is in his bouncer, happily gurgling as he kicks his feet.

You take a sip of coffee and glance at your laptop screen. Emails. Reports. A reminder that you still have to reschedule a meeting from last week. All things you should be focusing on, but it’s hard when your three-year-old is currently reprimanding a stuffed giraffe for not listening.

“Luna, sweetheart, do you want to watch something while Mommy works?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

She gasps dramatically. “Movie!”

“Okay, okay. But something calm,” you warn.

You put on a gentle animated movie, the kind with soft colors and soothing music, hoping it’ll buy you some time. It works for a little while—Luna is curled up with her bunny, and Howard is kicking happily—but then, just as you’re about to type out an important email, the TV screen suddenly changes.

You blink. That’s not the movie. That’s… a live news broadcast.

And right in the middle of the screen is Tony.

At first, you think it’s a business-related conference, maybe something about Stark Industries’ latest project. But the second you see his expression—hard, angry, and completely pissed off—you know this isn’t about work.

He’s standing at a podium, his signature sunglasses pushed up onto his head, one hand gripping the edge of the lectern like he’s physically restraining himself from flipping the whole thing over. Cameras are flashing wildly, reporters jostling for position, but Tony’s voice cuts through the chaos as he speaks.

“Good morning, everyone. I hope you all had your coffee and enjoyed whatever invasive gossip you got paid to publish today.”

Your mouth falls open.

Luna, meanwhile, claps. “Daddy on TV!”

Howard, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, lets out a happy gurgle.

Tony continues, his voice firm. “I wasn’t planning on standing here today, but since some of you have absolutely no boundaries, I figured it was time for a little heart-to-heart. Or, as I like to call it, a public shaming.”

The reporters stir, their murmurs audible even through the broadcast.

“I get it,” Tony says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m Tony Stark. I’ve done some questionable shit. You’ve followed me through every headline-worthy disaster, and I’ve played along. But my kids? My wife? That’s where I draw the line.”

You stare at the screen, your heart pounding. He didn’t tell you he was going to do this.

“I didn’t ask to have my daughter’s face plastered all over the internet because some idiot with a camera thought a trip to McDonald’s was breaking news,” Tony continues, his voice sharp with barely controlled anger. “She’s three years old. She doesn’t even know what privacy is yet, and now thanks to you, she has less of it than most adults.”

The camera pans to the crowd of reporters, some shifting uncomfortably under his glare.

“I’ve spent decades dealing with the press. I know how this game works. But let me make something very clear—my kids are off-limits. They’re not public figures. They didn’t sign up for this. And if I catch anyone else pulling that same stunt again, I will find out who you are, and I will make sure you regret it. Legally. Or financially. Or, I don’t know, maybe I’ll get creative.”

You can practically hear Pepper groaning somewhere in the distance.

The murmurs among the reporters grow louder, but Tony isn’t done. He leans in slightly, his expression dark. “I am not above buying out entire media companies just to fire the people responsible.”

You choke on your coffee.

Luna laughs. “Daddy funny.”

Tony exhales sharply, straightening. “So, here’s the deal. Leave my family alone. Act like human beings. And maybe, just maybe, we can all move on with our lives.”

With that, he steps back, yanks off the microphone, and walks away from the podium, ignoring the shouted questions and flashing cameras.

The news anchors are stunned into silence for a moment before they start analyzing everything he just said, but you don’t hear any of it.

Because all you can do is stare at the screen, your heart full and your hands shaking.

By the time Tony gets home, you’re already waiting for him at the front door.

He doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a fierce hug.

“Whoa, okay,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Did I miss something? Did Luna start speaking fluent French while I was gone?”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining. “You did that for us.”

Tony blinks. “Uh, yeah? Of course I did.”

You shake your head, overwhelmed. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“Well, I figured if I did, you’d tell me to calm down and ‘handle it diplomatically’ or whatever.” He smirks, but it softens as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I meant every word, sweetheart. They don’t get to do this to our kids.”

Your throat tightens as you cup his face. “Thank you.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Always.”

A loud thump interrupts the moment, followed by Luna’s voice from the living room. “Daddy home?!”

Tony grins, pulling away and turning toward the noise. “That’s my cue.”

As soon as Luna spots him, she launches herself at him, and he catches her with ease, spinning her in the air.

“Didja see me on TV, Bean?” he asks, grinning.

“Yeah! You say bad words!”

Tony gasps dramatically. “I absolutely did not. Those were strongly worded suggestions.”

Luna giggles, and you laugh, watching them with your heart full.

Howard, still in his bouncer, lets out a sleepy coo, and Tony turns toward him with a smirk. “Don’t worry, little man. Daddy defended your honor too.”

You shake your head fondly. “So what happens now?”

Tony sighs, bouncing Luna on his hip. “Now? The lawyers do their thing, the press goes nuts for a few days, and then some other scandal distracts them.”

You nod, still holding onto him. “And us?”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We do what we always do—take care of our little circus. Together.”

And just like that, despite everything, the world feels a little more right again.

The house is finally quiet.

It took two bedtime stories, a glass of water, a very dramatic protest from Luna about how she wasn’t tired (even though she was literally falling asleep mid-sentence), and Howard fighting sleep like it was his mortal enemy, but at last—at last—both kids are down.

And that means you finally get a moment to yourselves.

It had been too long since you and Tony had time for just you two, without interruptions or exhaustion taking over the second your heads hit the pillow. So when Tony pulled you into him the second you closed the door to your bedroom, his hands warm and greedy against your waist, it didn’t take much for things to escalate.

It wasn’t just need—it was relief. Relief that despite everything, despite the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, you still had this. You still had him. And he still had you.

Now, you’re both sprawled across the bed, tangled in each other, skin warm and flushed, your bodies still humming from the aftershocks of finally having time to reconnect.

Tony lies back against the pillows, shirtless, only wearing his pajama pants. His arm is draped behind his head, and his other hand lazily trails over your back as you sit up, reaching for the silk pajama set you’d left on the edge of the bed.

“You know, you don’t have to put that on,” Tony murmurs, voice heavy with sleep and satisfaction.

You scoff, slipping the silk top over your arms. “I do, actually. Because unlike someone, I remember that we have a very curious three-year-old who has no concept of knocking.”

Tony groans dramatically, running a hand over his face. “Right. Luna the Unstoppable.”

You laugh softly, buttoning up the top before pulling on the matching shorts. “Exactly. And I’d rather not traumatize her for life, thank you very much.”

Tony watches you with lazy admiration, his eyes trailing over your figure. Even after all these years, the way he looks at you still makes your skin feel warm.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes fondly but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just saying that because we just had sex.”

Tony smirks, reaching for your wrist and pulling you back onto the bed beside him. “Nah, I say that all the time. You’re the one who only believes me when you’re half-naked.”

You swat his chest playfully, but before you can say anything else, his phone buzzes. Then again. Then again.

Tony groans, rolling over to grab it from the nightstand. “Ugh. If this is some corporate nonsense, I’m quitting my own company.”

But when he unlocks the screen, both of you freeze.

Because his phone is absolutely blowing up.

Notifications flood the screen—texts, missed calls, Twitter mentions, news alerts, emails. Your own phone, still on the dresser, starts buzzing too.

“What the hell…” Tony mutters, sitting up.

You grab your own phone and check the notifications. The first thing you see is a trending topic:

#TonyStarkWasRight

Your breath catches as you click on it, scrolling through the tweets.

“For once, I actually agree with Tony Stark. Paparazzi need to leave celebrity kids alone. Period.”

“Tony Stark threatening to buy entire media companies just to fire people?? Iconic behavior. A legend.”

“This shouldn’t even be up for debate. Kids deserve privacy. No matter who their parents are. #TonyStarkWasRight”

Your mouth falls open as you keep scrolling. It’s not just regular people supporting him—celebrities, influencers, and even massive companies are weighing in.

One post from a major media company stands out:

“Following recent events, we will be revising our policies on publishing unauthorized photos of celebrity children. Privacy matters. #RespectBoundaries”

You turn to Tony, eyes wide. “Tony… people agree with you.”

He blinks, still processing as he scrolls through his own feed. “Huh.”

“Huh?” you echo. “That’s all you have to say?”

Tony smirks, throwing his phone onto the bed and stretching lazily. “I mean, of course they agree with me. I’m always right.”

You swat his arm. “Tony, I’m serious! I thought this would be a mess—like, lawsuits and debates and public backlash—but people are actually supporting us.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer until you’re curled up against his side. “Sweetheart, I’ve been a PR nightmare since the ‘90s. People are just used to me stirring up trouble. The difference is, this time, I was actually right.”

You shake your head in disbelief, still scrolling through the endless support pouring in online. “I can’t believe it. Even big companies are changing their policies. You—Tony Stark—actually made people rethink media ethics.”

Tony grins smugly. “I am pretty influential.”

You snort. “Oh, please.”

But beneath the usual Stark-level ego, you can tell he’s genuinely touched. You know he didn’t do this for clout—he did it for Luna. For Howard. For you. And seeing the world actually agree with him, rather than fight back or twist his words, means more than he’ll admit.

Tony presses a kiss to your temple, his voice softer now. “I told you, sweetheart. I’ll always protect my family. No matter what.”

You nuzzle into his chest, your fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin. “I know.”

For a while, neither of you say anything, just lying there in the quiet glow of your phones still lighting up with notifications.

Then Tony sighs dramatically. “You know what this means, right?”

You glance up at him. “What?”

He smirks. “Now I definitely have to buy a media company. Just to prove a point.”

You groan, laughing as you swat his arm again. “Tony, no.”

“Tony, yes.”

“Tony, we have two kids to raise.”

“Even more reason! I need to make sure their first headlines are, like, ‘genius billionaire heir builds rocket before kindergarten’, not ‘celebrity baby caught eating crayons.’”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me.”

You sigh dramatically, snuggling into him. “Unfortunately.”

He grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Lucky me.”

Tony stretches beneath you, arms lazily folding behind his head, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. His bare chest is still warm from your body, his muscles relaxed, but there’s an undeniable glint in his eyes—the kind of look that tells you he’s not done with you yet.

“Well, well, well,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like I still got it.”

You scoff, propping yourself up on his chest, your fingers tracing over his arc reactor. “That’s what you’re focusing on right now?”

“Uh, yeah?” Tony gestures at himself. “Did you see that performance? That was vintage Stark—no enhancements, no extra tech, just pure skill.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back a laugh. “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he murmurs, flipping you onto your back with ease, hovering over you now, “you love it.”

Your breath hitches as he leans down, his mouth trailing teasingly along your jaw. His hands slide down your sides, slow, deliberate, and you know exactly where this is going.

“Tony,” you whisper, already feeling the heat rise between you again.

He grins against your skin, his voice low and full of mischief. “Round two?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, but you’re already pulling him closer. “You are insatiable.”

“Hey, I’ve got a reputation to maintain,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

You sigh, sinking into him, ready to lose yourself in him all over again—

—and then, of course, because your life is chaos, Howard wails.

Tony freezes above you, his face scrunching up in frustration. “Oh, come on!”

You groan, dropping your head back against the pillows. “Your son needs you, Mr. ‘Still Got It.’”

Tony sighs dramatically, rolling off of you and throwing an arm over his face. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own offspring.”

You swat at his chest, already reaching for your silk robe. “He’s six months old, Tony. He doesn’t know he just ruined your big moment.”

Tony mutters something under his breath about babies having “terrible timing,” but he sits up, running a hand through his messy hair as you go to settle Howard.

It doesn’t take long—he just needed a bottle and a little comforting. Within minutes, he’s calm again, safely back in his crib, tiny fists curling against his chest.

You tiptoe back into your room, shaking your head as you see Tony sprawled out dramatically on the bed, looking like a man who has suffered the greatest injustice.

“Really?” you tease, slipping under the sheets beside him. “You’re pouting?”

Tony huffs. “I was in the zone. I was about to give you the full experience.”

You laugh softly, nuzzling into him. “We live with a toddler and a baby, Tony. This is the full experience.”

He sighs, rubbing his face. “God, we’re never gonna be alone again, are we?”

You shake your head. “Not for, like… another eighteen years.”

Tony groans. “Fantastic.”

But despite his words, he still rolls over and pulls you against him, pressing his lips to your shoulder, his hands already wandering again.

You close your eyes, smiling, sinking into the warmth of him—

—and then the bedroom door creaks open.

Both of you go completely still.

A tiny sniffle breaks the silence.

“Mommy?”

You and Tony exchange a look.

Luna stands in the doorway, clutching her bunny, her little face scrunched up in distress.

You sit up immediately, pulling the covers up higher, your heart already melting at the sight of her. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

She sniffles again, rubbing her eyes. “Bad d’weam.”

Tony groans quietly beside you, muttering, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Luna takes a few slow steps toward the bed, her bottom lip wobbling. “Can sleep wif you?”

You’re about to say yes—because of course you are—but Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh, throwing his head back against the pillows.

“Luna, baby, listen,” he says, rubbing his temples. “You’re three now. You’re a big girl. Don’t you wanna sleep in your own room like a big kid?”

Luna frowns, considering it for about two seconds before she shakes her head. “Nope.”

Tony groans. “Figures.”

You bite back a laugh, watching him struggle. He wants to say no—he should say no—but you already know he’s not going to.

And sure enough, the second Luna takes another sniffly step closer, looking tiny in the dim glow of the nightlight, Tony’s whole demeanor softens.

“Oh, come here, you little con artist,” he mutters, sitting up and holding his arms out.

Luna immediately scrambles onto the bed, crawling straight into his lap and curling up against his chest.

You smile as Tony sighs dramatically, running a hand through her messy curls. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbles. “I used to be Iron Man. Now I’m a glorified stuffed animal.”

Luna lets out a sleepy giggle, nuzzling into him. “You soft, Daddy.”

Tony blinks, mouth opening and closing. “I—what? No! I am not soft.”

You smirk, settling back into the pillows. “Oh, you so are.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it.

Luna yawns, already dozing off in his arms, and Tony lets out another resigned sigh. “This kid’s got me wrapped around her tiny little fingers,” he mutters.

You smile, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “She loves you.”

He exhales, his features softening as he looks down at the little girl nestled into his chest. “Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her curls. “I love her too.”

Luna shifts slightly, her tiny hands gripping Tony’s shirt as she sighs in her sleep.

You watch them for a moment, warmth spreading through your chest.

Tony catches you staring and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Nothing. Just… I love you.”

He smirks, shifting so that Luna is curled between the two of you. “Yeah, yeah. I still got it, huh?”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “Go to sleep, Tony.”

He grins, tucking Luna in a little closer.

And despite his earlier complaints, despite the interruptions, despite the lack of alone time—

You’ve never seen him happier.

maybe a part 2 with them trying for another kid and make it rom-com like the end of this part?

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