#like when someone rubs you the wrong way and you hate someone from a distance but are then forced to spend time with them for whatever

[bunny-jpeg]

price knows best

john price prompt: "you don’t need to go out with them tonight. stay with me instead.”

tags: smut/pwp, toxic relationship, baby trapping, possessive behavior, toxic!price, chubby!reader, established relationship (married), doggy style, carpet sex/carpet burns, rough sex

price hated saturday nights, when he saw you all dressed up for a night out. you looked so sweet in the little outfits that you wore out to the club. he wished that club burnt down to the ground so you'd be forced to stay home.

stay with your husband.

you didn't need to dress like you were looking for attention, was price's large hands on you not enough? at first price liked the idea that other men got to see what belonged to him. but now, you shouldn't be out on a saturday night. you should be at home with your husband, letting him put a baby in you.

"come sit with me before you leave, petal." he said as he spread his legs a little further to let you perch on his strong thigh. price knew he was a burly man, strong in a sense that he could easily crush you if he wanted to.

but he wouldn't be a good husband if he bruised his wife, now would he? his blue eyes were hungry on you as you came over, barefoot in a cute, whorish little dress.

"john, i have to go."

"mmm, gonna miss ya tonight." he purred as he put his hand on your waist, "hate seein' ya go each time." he kissed at your neck.

you pulled away, "honey, you can't convince me to stay home." but his lips only closed the distance and he continued to kiss at your soft skin. you smelt like peaches and the scent only aroused price more.

"baby girl." he purred, "you can't be going out every night. men are gonna get the wrong idea. think that your ass is for sale."

"i wear my ring."

"that don't mean shit to men who are like dogs." he replied as he held onto you a little tighter and pulled you in closer. you whimpered and the sound aroused him further.

you always made the sweetest noises, you sounded so perfect. price was lucky to put a ring on you before anyone else could sink their claws into you. he continued to kiss you and eventually his large hand went up your skirt.

"john."

he chuckled lowly, "someone's excited. like when your husband touches you like this." his voice was a low purr. he rubbed your slit with his thick fingers.

"i have to go soon."

he looked you in the eyes, there was an erection in his flannel pajama pants. he gave you a small smile, the same smile that lured you into marriage. he rubbed your pussy through your thin panties and said, "you don’t need to go out with them tonight. stay with me instead.”

you pouted, "john."

"don't pout, petal. a wife doesn't pout." he rubbed a little harder and kept his grasp on you tight. little thing wasn't going to wiggle out from under him. he saw your resolve start to crack.

"john, please." you said softly.

"petal, love bug, my darlin' wife." his bread grazed across the skin he kissed, "stay home with me. please. i don't want a bad man to hurt you. it's for your best interest. for your safety."

you held onto his shoulders, you felt yourself waver. being with your friends was fun, but the promises of what your husband would do were starting to sound more appealing.

"c'mon, baby. stay home. stay with me." he cooed and you felt the excitement run through you. it was an intense heat that made you curl closer to him. you hated the effect he had on you.

he continued to kiss you and tease you, it made your pulse jump a little. you hated the way price could get under you skin this way. the way he touched you made you soul sing and before you knew it, you were face down on the carpet by the coffee table with your panties around your knees and your ass up to price's cock.

price was on cloud nine at the sight of you, so submissive for him. the perfect wife. couldn't help bu get a little excited in his sweatpants before he pulled them down under his hairy balls.

your husband was bordering on full bush, he said he loved your sweet wetness dripped down his balls and in his dark pubic hair. his cock was hefty, big in a way that there has been a few times it just didn't fit. but you were such a lovely little wife that you found other ways to pleasure him.

he sank into you without much fanfare. the angle let him go a little deeper, you could feel his balls against your ass as he loomed over you. his cock throbbed inside of your pretty little pussy. he said lowly, in that husky voice, "like that, petal? see, isn't it better to stay home? man takes good care of his woman, doesn't need the attention of other men."

"john." you gasped as he clutched onto your soft hips. price liked that you were on the thicker side, he liked that your thigh gap was next to nothing, the pudginess of your hips that he could sink his hands into while he fucked you.

next round he'd smother himself in those pretty fat tits you had. didn't matter how many stretch marks lined your stomach, thighs and even your arms. he didn't care, he hoped to add to them when you got pregnant. not if, when.

he fucked into you, he moved you up against the carpet with each heavy thrust. it felt good, he was certain of that. your cunt always squeezed around his cock, such a struggle for you to accommodate it. poor, poor mrs. price. but that alright, price would just have to continue fucking you till he reshaped your cunt to fit him. only him.

he pressed further into you and got your cheek against the carpet. you whined and he kissed the back of your neck. he laid a large hand across your soft stomach, he could watch your curves shake in that dress you wore with each of his movements. he said lowly, "you'd look good taking care of my kid, right? hefty son at your hip, better ways to spend the weekend. making sure my boys are taken care of." he got a bit more aggressive with his movements and your noises got louder.

you sounded like heaven. a heaven only reserved for him as the tip of his dick drooled pre-cum into your womb while it kissed your cervix. every cell was vital.

"getting older, won't be much longer i can keep up. time to settle you down. you got the body that could handle carrying my kids." your stomach leapt and your pussy clenched around him. you only got more wet from your husband's words, you moaned a little louder and price soaked in the feeling.

he couldn't wait to switch out all of your club clothing with something a little more fitting for a mother. he wanted to highlight how he changed your figure. seeded you perfectly and he would want to show off the slope in your middle, the extra weight in your chest. you were already beautiful, but he knew that you'd be even more perfect with his baby at your hip. it only excited him more, made him eager to nudge his tip a little harder inside of you. he tilted your hips a little more to make sure every drop barrelled towards your waiting womb.

"fuck, john. ah, please." you whimpered. you couldn't be a mother yet, you were still rather young. yes, you got married early. but that didn't mean it was time to get pregnant!

regardless price continued to fuck himself into you. he knew he was leaving poor carpet burns on your body as he fucked you further into the uncomfortable rug. but your pussy just pulled him in. almost milked him for everything.

he knew that your body wanted this, even if you got into your head that it wasn't the right time. biology knew better, and price knew that you wanted his cum. you wanted him to impregnate you. you'd have to cancel more often, if not all the time, because price's babies needed their mama. and price needed his wife.

keep you at home, keep you comfortable. price would provide, and as he fucked you up against the floor, he was proving that he could provide you. that he was still virile and that he would get you pregnant. no questions asked, you were his. all his.

you were panting, whining almost. the pleasure was undeniable for you. you arched your back a little and felt the hammering of your pulse in the back of your head. you couldn't think straight as he fucked you, it was undeniable. you were at his total mercy. damn john price and his power over you.

"please, ah!" you gasped as you tried to find leverage on the carpet but ended up just climaxing all over your husband's heavy cock. doing your wifely duties and letting price have every inch of you. you were his, all his in the end and nothing would change that.

price loved the feeling of that, your pussy clenched around his cock. the heaven between your legs that price got to have at every chance. he was proud to be your husband and a proud husband lets his wife milk his cock for every ounce of cum.

and it wasn't much longer until he shoved his entire length into you and finished inside of you as well. he made sure he was as deep as he could go and was near certain you were going to get pregnant tonight. no more dancing, no more slutty outfits, you were a mama now. time to show a little modesty.

he continued to rut into you while you felt your head swim from the pleasure. he eventually slowed his pace to a stop and kissed your neck as he kept his softening cock inside of you for a little while longer.

he patted your stomach and for the first time in a long time, he prayed that you'd be plump with his child soon enough. even if he had to take you many, many more rounds tonight.

-

price liked saturdays a lot more now.

you were tucked beside him, your button up night shirt undone to let john jr. have his nightly meal. your infant son seemed like a bottomless pit when it came to your milk. you suggested that maybe it was time with switch to formula, but price said that he'd find a way to make sure you made enough milk for your son.

"hungry little bugger." price said with affection, "might need a taste before he drinks it all up." john jr. was five months now, maybe it was time to start working on his little brother.

baby was a spitting image of him, and that fueled a sense of pride in price. hefty son looking exactly like his old man with such a caring mama, even if he had a small habit of sucking on you too hard. he was just hungry, you couldn't be mad at your baby, right?

see, this was better than clubbing. and don't worry, if you felt like dancing tonight you could show off that motherly curves for price before he took what was his.

[topherwrites]

𝘈 𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘐𝘙𝘌

jack abbot x fem!reader — you have a shared understanding of each other, it's the worst sort of relation. warnings: mutual pining, angst, burn out, grief, terminal illness of parent, attending x resident, hr hates to see them coming. a/n: wrote this while sick and sleep deprived, so it's in third person for some reason. let me know if ya'll like this!

Jack has seen burnout, the way this job chips away at even the soundest of doctors. He’s used to tired eyes and cracked hands and sore backs. But this is different. It’s like watching a ghost move through the hospital.

She's crumbling under the weight of grief. She’s always clocked in; there’s no escape from it. No air to come up for. There’s just a void, deep and dark, that she pulls with her through every day.

And she doesn't sleep well anymore—or at all—terrified every time she closes her eyes that she won't be there when it—the horrible thing rapidly approaching—finally happens, that her mother will be alone. That she’ll have failed in the simplest of tasks.

She doesn’t feel human now, not really. She’s a candle burning at both ends—wick nearly gone. 

He sees it, the barely hidden exhaustion, the forced smiles, the vacant stare when she doesn't know anyone’s looking. But he is—always, watching her for a reason he can’t face, knows is wrong.

And so he’s there to witness her collapse, a full breakaway. They lose a patient—young. Stupid young. One of those ones who should’ve made it. Who would’ve made it, if the universe cared for things like fairness.

His eyes stay on her as he calls it, as she slowly stops compressions, discards her gloves silently, and slips from the room like if she’s quiet enough, she can just disappear. He knows that look. He follows her at a distance, checking in with Dana, the other residents, keeps his eye on her the entire time. A ticking time bomb. He sees the tremble in her hands, the measured way she’s taking in every breath. 

And then she bolts—not truly, but in her professional way, she does. Sets the chart in her hand down and goes straight for the stairwell.

Dana catches him watching her and tells him to go.

He pushes the door open, stands in the doorway as he watches her fold into herself on the cold, concrete stairway floor—knees pulled to her chest, shoulders shaking in that awful, silent way. The dam has broken. 

She sees him then, her breath hitching, and a sob, uncontrollable, leaves her throat—because now there’s a witness to her failure. She’s failing her patients and her mother and him. The door shuts behind him with a click, the sound of her breaking echoing around them. 

He moves, kneeling in front of her, as well as he can, every old part of him protesting all the while. He tries not to crowd, just be there. 

“Hey,” he says, voice firm, “Look at me.”

He knows what she needs, her Type-A constitution: someone to tell her what to do, give her permission to stop brute forcing her way through this.

She tries to swallow her emotions back down, regulate her breathing, get back to it. Her eyes raise from the ground, but she doesn't quite look at him. That's fine.

“You’re off.” She opens her mouth. “Don’t argue.”

“I can’t, I just,” her throat clogs, she imagines going home, to that house that shouldn't be as quiet as it is, just dead air and the sounds of machines. 

He sighs a long breath out of his nose, thumbing it as he offers something up to her. A piece of his own grief. 

Death, the great equalizer. 

He husks out, “If you stop for even a second, it’ll all go to shit, right?” 

He waits to see her eyes. 

He knows some of how she’s feeling, not the same, but close. She was there one day, gone the next. No in between, dead in everything but name. He imagines her version is worse. The long goodbye. The drawn-out cruelty of it.

His hand, large and calloused, cups her knee, thumb rubbing gently at the tendon there, grounding. She swallows down hard. Finally, her focus returns to him, and the look in his eye—understanding—draws her out of her spiral, if only for a moment.

“It won’t," he takes a breath, waits to see if she's really listening, “Not unless you don’t take a moment for yourself.”

She wants to believe him. But the thought of having to go back—to that house, to the hospice nurse, to her mother’s living death—makes her stomach churn. She feels ungrateful, selfish. 

Her mother’s dying, and her daughter’s trying to figure out a way not to go home. 

She finds she keeps having a particular thought, more and more these days, I want to go home. And yet she never seems to find herself there in the quiet of her childhood home. There’s no relief or sense of safety. Just quiet dread. I want to go home. And it’s the cool skin of her mother, paper thin. The occasional brittle sound that works its way out of her throat. 

She thinks, I want to go home. 

But there’s no home anymore. Just a ticking clock.

And she’s trying to let go of something that isn’t even gone yet. 

He keeps his eye on her. He’s sure that his words won’t sink in until later, the truth of them hard to swallow for people like them.

“My shift ends in an hour.” He leans back. Reaches into his pocket. His knuckles prod her closed fist, and something cold is placed into her grasp. Keys. He says, “Wait for me.”

She nods. 

What else is she going to do?

Then he leaves her in the stairwell. 

Eventually, she gathers herself together, eases back up onto her feet, and ambles her way out of the sliding doors. In a haze, she clicks the lock button and locates his car by the responding beep. It’s nice, smells like leather and pine—attending salary, she supposes.

She sinks into the passenger seat, numb; it’s the first time she’s sat still in weeks.

The car is quiet when he slides in beside her.

She doesn't open her eyes, just hears the soft click of the door, the sound of his bag hitting the backseat, the sigh he lets out like he’s been holding it in for hours.

He doesn’t start the engine right away. Just sits with her.

“You hungry?” he asks, like any of this is normal routine. Like this could be a date. 

Her tired mind pauses. Like she isn’t very obviously in the midst of a clinical breakdown.

So, she shrugs halfheartedly. Can’t quite remember the last time she ate, especially the last time she ate without her mom’s nurse forcing her to just sit and chew. She feels reduced to a child, unable to care for herself. 

His fingers tap against the steering wheel.

“Okay.” 

The engine turns over. She sits there with her head against the window, watches the city lights blur past in the dawn. He doesn’t talk, doesn't force conversation onto her. But she can feel his eye occasionally drift over; she can’t think about the beat of her heart when it does.

His place is clean in a lived-in way. Coffee cups in the sink. A stack of foreign medical journals on the kitchen counter. Throw slung over the back of the couch. 

She doesn’t say anything, just stands in the doorway. A tad uncertain and eyeing. 

He toes his shoes off onto a rack. Shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on a hook next to her.

He motions for her to turn around, helps her out of the stiff shell of her scrub top with gentle hands. Careful. Like she might break.

She shivers against the cool air of his apartment, sweat clinging to her skin and tank top. 

His hands purposefully don’t linger. He steps away, through the large sliding barn doors at the back, where she assumes his bedroom is. A moment later, he comes back with a sweatshirt and blankets in hand. 

He presents the sweatshirt to her silently. Their fingers brush as she takes it, slipping it on over her head. Worn cotton. Faded logo. It smells like detergent and him.

Already, she feels a little more alive.

“You can take the bed,” he offers, already walking toward the kitchen, giving her space. “I’ll be on the couch.”

It takes a moment. And then, “What?”

She pads quickly after him, floorboards creaking under her foot. 

He doesn’t answer right away—just opens the fridge, peers down, and makes a vague sound of confirmation—nothing particularly edible left.

“I can’t cook for shit, so…” 

She glances past him, can't help the comment, “And your fridge is sad.”

His eyes narrow and slowly, he straightens up, but there’s the giveaway, a little twitch of his lips. “I invite you in and you go in on my-”

“It’s, like, mostly condiments.” 

And beer, but she doesn’t mention that. She’s pretty sure Harrison, McKay's kid, would call it divorced dad core. He pulls two out, silently tips one toward her in offering. Why not, she figures, reaching out and taking the bottle from him. She cracks it open, takes a sip, and leans on the counter—the taste reminds her of college, probably the last time she can remember relaxing. 

Then, she sighs, returning to the topic, despite his attempt at a detour, “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” Voice scratchy with fatigue, she adds lamely, “Don’t be stupid.”

He exhales through his nose, sentiment he doesn't know how to word staying firmly in his throat. 

Arms tucked into the sleeves of his sweatshirt, she watches him over the counter. 

There’s something buzzing in her chest. Inappropriately tender. 

“Not a big deal,” he says finally, then drinks, his eyes on her. Not in a waiting-for-her-to-fall-apart way. Just… on her. He’s watching her like she’s a person and not a patient, not a problem to be solved. 

She’s not quite sure what to do with it. At work, at home, she has to keep it together, pretend in equal measure that nothing is wrong, that she has it all together. So now, with the space to just breathe, she falters. She doesn't know how to be anymore. 

“You let strange, frazzled women crash your place often?” she says, trying for levity, settling into a stool across the island.

He seems to ignore her self-deprecation entirely. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t flinch. Not even a pity laugh thrown her way. The quiet that’s left sobers her. Again, he sees her. 

She shifts, realizing how near he is—how inconsequential the island is between them.

“No,” he swallows, looking down at the counter, then up at her, “just you.”

It lands with weight. She wonders what it means, if he even knows. 

She tries to take it casually. But as it rests in the quiet, she’s forced to swallow down her clashing confusion of feelings. 

She wants to say something, anything, to fill the void. Make a joke about him agreeing with her—she is frazzled. More so now. And there’s something dangerous crackling in the quiet. Instead, she sits there, eyes tracing the lines of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens slightly when he notices her watching him. 

She’s so fucking tired, and her brain is a mess—fogged by grief, adrenaline, the echo of chest compressions, the tremor still in her hands. She could be imagining it all. Probably is.

Just you.

“You need sleep,” he says, firm. “Real sleep. Not just half-hour naps when your body gives out on you.” 

“Look that bad, huh?”

“Little worse for wear,” he starts, a familiar tilt to his mouth, “Still better than most on their best.”

Again, he throws her a fraction off-kilter. 

She takes it better this time. A quick study—as he’s told her before. She’s usually better at volleying, but today she’s an exposed nerve. In the ED, the banter feels harmless, a way to pass the time. Here, in the confines of his place, it feels charged, intentional. Dangerous. 

Jack sighs, more at himself than anything else, and pushes off the counter. Releases himself from looking at her. His fingers flex at his sides, a twitch like muscle memory, like he’s already imagined what it’d be like to touch her. Pull her close. Lay his palm against the back of her neck and give in to the worst of his urges, the ones that have built up in him since he very first saw her.

But he doesn’t.

He won’t.

Because she’s grief-struck and unraveling, and he knows this would be a sort of theft.

He wouldn't be able to take it back. And she rightfully may not forgive him. He might shatter this bit of comfort he’s been able to extend to her. Or perhaps worse, she’ll want him, this, now, but not when the fog dissipates, when a clearer head prevails. 

“I’ll order in,” he says as he turns from her, flicks open a drawer overflowing with takeout menus. Mindlessly, he rifles through them as he takes a breath. He feels her eyes on his back, that prickling awareness at the base of his neck.

She knocks her knuckles on the counter, “Kay. I'm forewarning you, I’m gonna snoop.”

His eyes meet hers over his shoulder, and he nods to the low shelves in the corner, “Records over there.”

He watches her turn, the corners of her lips lifting in response. She unwinds, that last little bit of tension leaving her as she falls back into a familiar rhythm. 

“You're such a hipster piece of shit.”

“No, just old,” he states dryly just to get a smile out of her. He’s rewarded with it, accompanied by a short exhale out of her nose. 

She wanders over to the corner, squatting down as her fingers run over his collection. Taking her time gently sorting through them, she occasionally pulls one from the shelf, eyes scanning the tracklist. He can’t help the interest that’s settled into him: Which ones are to her taste? Which are bands she’s never heard of?

He’s curious about her, always—the briefest glimpses of her leading to more questions.

“You,” she starts, declaring as she pushes to stand, “are a fleetwood mac stan.”

“Of course I am, I'm a self-respecting child of the seventies.”

Her eyes stay on him for a moment before she hums, approving.

It’s that bit of curiosity that’s going to do him in. 

He hasn’t told his therapist about her. Not exactly. Not in a way that counts. The predicament that’s not a predicament. Because he’s kept his head, kept things mostly professional. 

His voice rings in his head, saying what he knows the man would, placid to promote some amount of self-reflection: 'Are you sure that’s a good idea, Jack? '

No. He’s not.

But he’s already in it. Not much farther to fall from here.

She watches as Jack pulls out a diner menu, asks her, “You like pancakes?”

“I'm partial to them.”

They remind her of weekends and summer and her mom. Of giggles and the smell of burnt batter. So yes, she supposed she likes pancakes.

Jack pulls out his phone. Presses it between his ear and shoulder like it’s muscle memory. Always multitasking.

“You a chocolate chip or blueberry kind of gal?”

An hour later, they’re sitting side by side, quietly eating. Forks clink against ceramic. Her elbow brushes his every now and then. Neither moves away. 

He’s taken his leg off. She’s let her hair loose from its bun. Something about it feels telling. 

Too comfortable for what their relationship should be. 

Beer and pancakes. Two things that shouldn't mix.

“Thank you for,” she sighs, “you know.”

The air is still around them. 

He looks over at her, and his eyes are as soft as she’s ever seen them, kind and unguarded in a way that’s a punch to the gut. They quietly roam her face—pinning her. It sits between them—this vast unnamable thing. She wonders what he’s looking for in her face. Perhaps the same thing she’s looking for in his. 

When his gaze lands on her lips—momentary, maybe accidental—it zips down her spine, lands hotly in her stomach.

He doesn’t know how to formulate the devotion on his tongue, say, I’d do anything for you or I’m sorry or Maybe if circumstances were different.

So instead he says, “You’re not a machine. You can’t run on two hours of sleep and caffeine forever.”

She hums in return.

He knows she’ll show up to the next shift the same way—dark circles, thermos in hand, too much tension in her shoulders. Tonight, his words, will probably change very little in the grand scheme of things. Change is difficult at any scale. Especially for people like them. He’s learned that much.

But if she sleeps soundly, lets some of that tension in her shoulders release, even if only for a few hours, then maybe that’s enough.

The rest of their meal is finished over hushed conversation—him digging up the remnants of his past for a good story. A few close calls, some risky maneuvers, the periodic breaking of protocol all teased out to keep her eyes on him. But eventually, time runs out, she stifles a yawn into her fist and her lids grow heavy. 

Quietly, he takes her empty plate and slides it into the dishwasher, urges her up with a hand between her shoulder blades. A gentle push to bed. His grip slides down to her waist as she reaches up onto her toes and thanks him with a press of her lips to his cheek. 

And then she’s gone, the sound of her feet padding down the hallway. She doesn’t say goodnight.

She thinks, in another version of this night, he might have followed her.

But in this version—the only they have—he just stands in the kitchen, eyes on the hallway long after she’s disappeared. He rinses the cups. Wipes down the counter like it matters. Like it keeps him from thinking too hard.

He turns the record player on. Starts an album. Keeps the volume low.

Jack sinks into the couch like it’s an old friend—his hip cracks, his back protests. This isn’t his first stint sleeping in his living room. On certain nights—bad ones—his bed is too big, too empty, too quiet, too full of memory. He’ll grab a blanket and crash out here, maybe catch an hour or two of actual rest before his next shift.

Now, he stares at the ceiling as if it might offer him clarity, like it’s penance.

It doesn’t. It never does.

He remembers how she looked—backlit by his kitchen light, sipping beer like this was any normal Tuesday, like this morning wasn’t a death sentence for his already fragile grip on propriety. It’s not even the presence of her that wrecks him—it’s the ease of it. Like she belongs here. Like it’s natural. Like the universe didn’t put a giant red do not fucking cross this line between their lives and laugh every time he toed it.

She’s asleep in the other room.

And nothing happened.

Nothing will happen.

But still, there’s that buzz in his fingertips. He wanted something to happen. It burns behind his eyelids.

Somewhere, faint through the speakers still murmuring in the background—

Billy Joel starts to hum again.

She steals like a thief, but she's always a woman to me.

Jack sighs, closing his eyes. 

Sun starts to fill the room.

Oh, she takes care of herself; she can wait if she wants. She's ahead of her time.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

[kairakeiji]

kuroo has tried to confess to you twice.

the first was a mistake, a spur of the moment confession as you cried over the boy you just broke up with. the guy was an ass, he didn’t treat you right. he made you commute hours to go see him, he didn’t show up to any of your big events. he didn’t even plan any dates or ask you to hang out. kuroo confessed mid-breakdown, just days after your breakup, as he handed you a cup of coffee (your regular order, nonetheless) and tried to haul you out of your three day hibernation.

he didn’t talk to you for weeks after that, he kicks himself for it to this day.

the second confession went wrong. jealously festered in him after hearing about the date you went on as you worried about getting ghosted. you sat on the phone with him pacing back and forth in your bedroom, checking your texts over and over. and kuroo couldn’t help the way his blood boiled as you continued on and on about your date and how he paid for your meal and how he drove you home and…

“there’s someone i’m thinking of asking out,” he told you.

“you should go for it!” you obliviously replied in the mess of your anxiousness.

“it’s you.”

you froze in your tracks, as the rambles of getting ghosted turned into apologies about how you weren’t ready for a relationship and explanations he already knew, given how much you two spoke. kuroo should’ve given up, he should’ve moved on with his life and accepted that you two were friends and never anything more. he probably should’ve given you some distance, allowed himself the space to get on with his life, and hopefully find someone better.

but he’s stubborn, and frankly, he thinks he’s not going to find anyone as perfect for him as you.

so now he sits on the floor of your bedroom, an air mattress set up next to him as you shower in the bathroom. the onigiri wrappers still sat on the floor, your reward for just barely making it to the convenience store before closing. he hears your laughter in his ears, and a part of him can’t help but smile, his heart sinking slightly.

and he begins to wonder, what is he truly doing here?

a cloud of steam emerges from the bathroom.

“tetsu what time is it?” you mumble as you hang up the wet towel.

tetsu, the stupid nickname you’ve called him since you first met. It’s yours and yours alone, yet he knows you’ll never be his.

your voice sends a jolt down his spine, “somewhere close to 2:30,” he answers.

you sit next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “are you sleepy yet?” you mumble with a sigh.

kuroo’s heart leaps, too scared to actually take a look at you. your wet hair seeps through his shirt, but he truly doesn’t have it in him to care. “a bit, yeah,” he lies, wrapping his arms around you, something that’s become a matter of instinct in your time of friendship.

you lean in closer, eyes shut and a sigh leaves your lips. “we should sleep then, yeah?’

we. the collective we, as if you two were grouped under two letters, as if you two were together.

what was kenma calling it? a situationship?

god, kuroo hated that word. it’s not even a real word.

“we should,” he tells you, before shuffling slightly. “now are you gonna sleep here or are you actually going to get in bed?”

“in a second,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes. “you’re comfy.”

he laughs, “should i take that as a compliment?”

“knowing you, i thought you would.”

“then thank you,” he nods. “glad to be a pillow for you.”

you straighten up, before standing and padding to your bed. “you’re more than just that, you know?”

he quirks a brow, a smirk on his face despite the slight waiver of his voice. “oh really? what am i then?”

“an amazing friend,” you start as you shuffle into bed. “the person who accompanies me on my late night convenience store runs, the person who brags about their grades being significantly better than mine.”

“i don’t say it like that.”

“you totally do, don’t deny it.”

and he scoffs, shaking his head as his lips curve upward.

“you’re the person who was there for me when it felt like no one was, the person who’s willing to help me with anything i need. i feel so safe with you and know i can trust you, and yes, you do make a good pillow.” you sigh and kuroo meets your gaze, the way your eyes shine making his heart sink slightly. “thank you for being here.”

and his heart sinks more, “anything for you.”

you smile at him, “i’m gonna head to bed then, wake me up if you need anything. good-”

“hey can i ask you something?”

you hesitate, “yeah what is it?”

“what am i doing here?”

you blink, “what do you mean?”

“while you were in the shower, i was just thinking, i’m in the room of the person i like, and they know that i like them,” he explains. “they know i like them, yet they continue to be so nice to me and keep me in their lives even though we both know it could possibly be better if i did otherwise.” he meets your gaze, searching in your features for a semblance of an answer. “so really, why am i here?”

you shake your head, before your back hits your bed. “you’re gonna make me say it?” you mumble.

and his stomach drops. “yes, i am,” his voice becoming stern.

“it’s because,” you hesitate, hands covering your eyes. kuroo’s heartbeat thrums in his ears, careful eyes watching you frozen in bed. the air remains quiet, and all kuroo can find himself doing is watch, his third confession lingering in the tense air. maybe this one might be the last one, maybe once he hears you turn him down again, he’ll finally give up for good. they always say third time’s the charm, maybe this one will finally get your message into his brain. a sigh leaves your lips, and kuroo swears his body tenses.

“it’s because i like you.”

and kuroo blinks, “you do?”

you immediately sit up. “what do you mean i do? of course i like you.” and he just stares at you. “i never ask you to sleep over,” you explain. “i told myself that if i didn’t tell you how i felt by the end of today, i was going to drop it and never bring it up again. i told myself i would move on and never act on my feelings.” you finally meet his gaze, eyes widening when you see his jaw slack. “what,” you question, voice getting higher. “did i say something wrong?”

“i thought you were going to reject me,” he mumbles rather candidly.

“i could never,” you tell him. “i didn’t even really reject you the second time you confessed. i just said i wasn’t ready for a relationship, not that i didn’t have feelings for you.”

he blinks, “oh.”

“i thought you picked that up,” you sigh.

he runs a hand through his hair, mentally face palming, “honestly, all i remember is that you didn’t stop talking for ten minutes straight.” you sigh, “i mean, seriously, who yaps for that long?”

“someone who doesn’t know how to say yes but also say no,” you mumble.

“you could've said maybe,” he tries. “i could’ve gotten more of a hint then.”

and you can’t help but giggle, sliding off your place in bed to join him back on the floor. you meet his gaze, his eyes still full of disbelief, “tetsu, i like you.”

kuroo swears he’s dreaming for a second.

he blinks, his answer rather instant. “i like you too.”

you reach for his hand, squeezing it. “so, it’ll stick in your head,” you joke poking his head with your other hand before getting back up.

he keeps a tight grip on your hand, pulling you back to the ground. “tetsu?” his hand rests gently on your cheek as he leans forward, adrenaline coursing through him as his lips meet yours. his heart pounds, his thoughts running at a million miles a minute.

but everything seems to slow when you kiss him back, your hands reaching for his cheeks. and for the first time that night, kuroo feels his heartbeat slow.

he pulls away with a small grin. “so it’ll stick now in yours,” he mumbles.

you hesitate for a second, “you know what? i don’t think it’s sticking,” there’s a slight lilt to your voice.

“you don’t?” he questions.

“i don’t,” you nod rather proudly.

kuroo can’t help but shake his head, his grin growing wider by the second. “there’s no harm in trying again.” and this time, you’re the one to pull him in. your hand rests on the back of his neck and you can feel him smile.

third time’s the charm, they always say. luckily, this time, it worked in his favor.

haikyuu 2021/2022 renaissance era frrrr - I haven't written in so long pls be so kind with feedback she's a little rusty lol, but thank you for reading <3

[harrington-stevie]

just for tonight | S.H.

Summary: You and Steve can't stand each other. You always jump at each other's throats whenever you are together. You have set a goal during his birthday party, but you didn't think it would work.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f! reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v (protected sex), oral (m receiving), choking kink, fingering, (sort of) aftercare, a little bit of angst

Word count: 4.6k

-`♡´-

Steve's biggest annoyance, aside from hating you, is the fact that Robin insisted you attend his birthday party. He believes that your presence would ruin the celebration. In a way, he’s not wrong; you made his life a living hell just for fun, and he always made sure you felt the same way.

And there you were, wearing the same scowl that he often had on his face when it came to you. Whenever he had to walk past you in his large apartment, he would try to avoid your gaze. But deep down, he wanted to express just how much he despised your presence. You couldn't give a shit about him, completely ignoring his existence as you sipped your Piña Colada and chatted with Eddie about something random.

At some point, you started to notice how Steve would pace back and forth. While sitting on a stool in his living room with Robin and Nancy, you realized he was standing there, huffing. You tried to pretend you weren’t listening to him as you looked straight ahead, but your left ear perked up to catch what he was saying. He was complaining about being turned down twice so far. You struggled to hold back a snort and took a sip of your drink to avoid it happening.

Steve Harrington, pretty, golden-kissed skin, flawless hair, muscular, was complaining about being denied. Twice. At first, you thought your night wouldn’t be enjoyable, but seeing him with his pouty lips, talking to Robin and Nancy, made it worth getting out.

You lost count of how many drinks you had by that point, you had already smoked weed with Eddie, who had consumed more beers than he could count as well. was in a hilariously tipsy state. You were dancing with both girls too, bumping into each other repeatedly as the alcohol coursed through your system. In a daze, you swayed your body to the music, barely managing to keep your feet steady. Eddie had to grab your waist a few times to stop you from falling face-first onto the floor. You couldn’t stop laughing.

You laughed even harder when you watched from a distance as a girl broke free from Steve’s grip, giving him an apologetic nod before turning her back to him. He turns his gaze directly to Robin, who was dancing beside you, and it didn’t take long for him to notice that you were watching too. you let out a snort and cackled loudly, unable to contain your amusement. He rolled his eyes and walked toward you, fists clenched, his expression once again a scowl.

"Is it all amusing to you?" He asked, leaning closer. His eyes were slightly glassy from the weed he had also smoked.

You took a sip of your drink, feeling nonchalant as you shrugged "Well, I just think it's funny how king Steve can't seem to score on his birthday"

Robin shot you a glare, trying to scold you "It's okay, Steve! Someone will like you!" She said, offering him a comforting smile as her hand rubbed his shoulder.

He's actually still shooting daggers at you, his mouth pressed into a thin line. You could see his chest puffing up, showing he was tense with anger.

"You should just stop being such a brat. This is my house. Go find something better to do" He said, scanning you with disdain. You held his gaze, unphased.

And you did.

But you never intended to stop glancing his way to make sure he wasn't getting a girl. And it's not like there were many options, because it wasn't a big party anyway. It wasn't like there were many options anyway, since it wasn't a big party. You complained to Eddie about the way Steve was talking to you, and he just laughed it off. He was being annoying too. He would go out of his way to bump into you whenever he got close. It felt like he was trying to get on your nerves so you could what annoyance felt like.

And when you were left alone for a moment, he would send you a taunting, sly smirk. As you left his bathroom, you were caught off guard when his shadow suddenly appeared in the hallway. He brushed past you, shoving his shoulder against yours as he made his way to the bedroom. Back in the living room, when you were all dancing, he made sure he would hit his back against yours, making you stumble forward. It was getting really infuriating. while everyone was dancing, he made a point to hit his back against yours, causing you to stumble forward.

It was getting really infuriating. You looked over your shoulder, just in time to see him mouthing a forced "sorry" along with another smile. Then something shifted inside of you. You weren't getting attention from guys either, but it was because you didn't want to. So you decided to set a goal for yourself that night.

You placed both hands on Eddie's shoulders and danced to the music, swaying your hips to the rhythm. You slid down into a near-crouch, and your dress rode up slightly, revealing more of your skin. Eddie was flabbergasted to see you dancing like that out of nowhere. You stood up, continuing to swing your hips left and right. When you turned your back to your friend, you couldn't help but notice how

Steve's gaze diverted every time you caught him looking at you. You smirked, pleased that your plan was working. Next, you moved toward Robin, dancing with your back to her as she placed her hands on your hips, moving in sync with you. You tilted your head back, resting it against her shoulder while biting your lip. "Yeah, honey. Whoo!" She gripped your skin through the fabric and grazed your stomach.

You and Robin were always too touchy and sometimes it made people think you had a thing going on; Steve included. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump in his throat as he noticed the way she was holding your ribs, her fingers brushing against the curve of your breasts. He tried to focus on his other friends, but it was too difficult when you were looking at him that way. He waved off his feelings, reminding himself why he hated you, why he despised you. He remembered why he hadn't invited in the first place; you were forced to come along because of your friends.

Yet, the thought of ripping off your dress and kissing your skin was making him increasingly annoyed. You were twerking with Robin and Eddie, your ass bouncing to the music. Your hips rolled as your legs tangled with Eddie's. He didn’t care if you looked hot; to him, you were like a sister, and it was hard for him to think of you in a sexual way. The others had noticed too. They could see how tightly Steve was gripping his glass of whiskey. Your eyes flicked to him a few times, and you teasingly let your tongue slip between your teeth. He knew exactly what you were doing.

The kitchen was empty. You went looking for a beer, feeling overwhelmed by the effects of all the drinks you there. There were too many empty bottles spread through the sink, along with the bottles of booze. A few snacks were on top of the kitchen island. were scattered on top of the kitchen island. You were so lost in your thoughts that you mindlessly chew on the food while sipping another beer. You didn't notice when Steve approached you from behind.

His frame caged trapped you between the kitchen island, while towering over you. His large hand found your hips, spinning you around so that your faces were nearly touching. Your eyes widened in surprise as you took in his expression; he wasn’t scowling, but his brows were furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"What?" You asked defiantly, as his arms rested against the furniture behind you "What? You're frustrated no one would fuck you on your birthday?"

Steve didn’t reply directly, instead, he chuckled sarcastically. You watched as he shook his head, looking down for a moment. When he finally met your gaze again, one of his hands shot up to your face, gripping your jawline with surprising force.

"You know it sounds like you're just jealous, right? It seems to me you wish you were the one I was hitting on".

You laughed at his words, you truly laughed. But you couldn't deny the fact that Steve Harrington was almost God's grace.

"Oh, Stevie. Not even if the world was ending" Your own hand came up to his cheek, where you left a mocking slight slap.

He reacted to your words. He truly wished you didn't have to be so bitchy about it. But now it was his turn to play your game. With his free hand, he reached for your side, his fingers sliding up to your ribs. His thumb gently stroked your skin through the dress, right under the curve of your breast.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His breath hit your skin and it left goosebumps.

The ones you couldn't fucking control. He mused at your reaction. "Yeah. That's what I thought".

Your only plan was to induce him. You didn't think Steve would actually come after you at all. And now you didn't have cards to play against him. And it made him realize he was the one ahead of you this time.

"So now that you have no other options, you come crawling to me?" You spread your hands against his chest, slipping your fingers down his white t-shirt, all while he tightens his fingers around your side.

He has to hold a grunt, because you're so hot and yet adorably annoying. He hates you, yes. But he would never deny fucking you either.

"Now, you wish. Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, pretty girl" His voice is like honey when it reaches your ear.

His fingers are rough against your skin, but they never hurt you. The scent of his expensive cologne lingers in the air, and it adds intensity between you two. The way his hair falls across his face makes you wish you could run your fingers through it. Your legs instinctively close in response to the pet name, but he's slips one of his legs between yours, and you didn’t even notice it happening.

"Don't be so arrogant. You may be handsome, but you're far from being worth the time".

And you lie. You don't even budge, you don't blink an eye. It makes you realize how good of a liar you are and how bad it would make you look. But it's not like he doesn't know you well enough to see you're not saying the truth and he laughs again. There's a soft, but still hard look on his face, he pouts at you with a sided smile and tilts his head. You wish you could admit he's not worth it.

"Right. So I won't waste your time" He then leaves your skin, and steps back. You immediately miss his touch. His leg isn't between yours anymore and he gives you another look before going back to the living room.

Steve can't do this anymore. He wished for a long time he would fuck you dumb. Just to hear you say his name. So he slowly retrieves back and turns his footsteps. And he waits, for a moment, but he waits. He's walking away sluggishly from you.

You watch him walking away, your heart pounding faster as your hands grip the edge of the kitchen island too tightly. Your knees feel unsteady. For a few moments, you convince yourself that it's for the best. Maybe you two wouldn't work out in bed either; perhaps it would be a disaster. But your body aches for him, and your stomach burns, craving his touch. You whisper his name, just enough for him to hear you.

He turns his head first, the corner of his eyes peering at you. "Are you sure?" He barely sees when you just nod, still holding yourself up from all the tension. "Fuck this".

He clings to you in a rush, holding your waist with both hands as he brushes his lips against yours. "Tell me we're not gonna regret this" He breathes out.

"I know I won't" Your arms wrap around his neck, hands finally tangling between his hair.

He needed reassurance, because there was no way he would regret this either. A fire was growing inside his chest from seeing you tonight. Of course, he wished he had gone to bed with another woman, but there was something about you that drew him in. He wanted to lose himself in you. His lips collided with yours, and for those first few seconds, it was an intense rush of emotions. You let out a muffled whimper, leaving him desperate to taste more of you.

His tongue slips through your mouth, colliding against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, meeting yours. He tasted your beer, and you tasted the bourbon he had been drinking. It created an explosion of lust between the two of you. lifted one hand and placed it on your neck, his thumb stroking your chin. You would never guess he could be so gentle after all you've been through. All the bickering, all the teasing, every time your paths crossed, there was a look of aversion shared between you.

You were almost always together. when you refused to go out with your friend because he was going too. Or he wouldn’t go to someone’s house or go out either, just because you would be there. It's been like that for almost two years, ever since you saw him making fun of Eddie when he was still a new friend. And you hated that. You began to dislike him with a growing aversion to being near him.

After that, you started mistreating him and being ironic most of the time, until he began to fight back. Eddie was such a sweetheart; he was the one who stopped you from fighting. He said it was okay because he ended up becoming friends with Steve. But you never agreed with that and never forgave him either. Now, you were almost turning into a puddle. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough.

You battled for dominance with your tongues as you pulled the nape of his hair back, causing him to groan. He tugged at you and pushed his hips forward until you felt the bulge straining in his jeans. His thumb slipped down your neck as he felt your pulse and then squeezed your throat lightly. You breathed out against his mouth with a soft moan, and he lost control.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me" His voice is hoarse. Steve opens his lids only a few inches just to look at you with lust fulfilling his eyes.

He doesn't waste any more time as he as he lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He makes his way to his bedroom, locking the door locking the door before pushing both of you against it. He kisses you again, and there's nothing romantic about it; he's impatient. He bites your lower lip gently, pulling it back. It's a mixture of roughness and softness at the same time. He sets you down briefly, only to capture your ass with both hands. His fingertips graze over the curve of your ass, and he digs his nails into your skin.

There's a jolt in your body when he slaps your ass cheek. It stings, but it doesn't hurt "You like that, huh?" He chuckles against your mouth and gives your lips a small peck before slapping you again.

"You're such an arrogant dork" You pull back and use both hands to shove him by his chest until the back of his knees hit his bed.

He watches in awe as you bend down in front of him, small gentle hands undoing his jeans, sliding your fingers against his boxer. You can feel the roughness of it, his cock being pressed by the fabric. A damp patch forming around it. Rather than teasing, you quickly remove both the jeans and boxers, watching as his hardness springs free. Reddened tip glistens with precum. His length surprised you.

You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently a few times. Glancing back at him through your lashes, you notice his eyes fixed on you with an unreadable expression. He doesn't seem to hate you at this moment. You observe his chest rising and falling quickly, and you bite your lower lip as you see his eyes close when you stroke him harder.

Your fingers spread the liquid over his shaft before you finally get to taste him. You lick a stripe from his balls up to the tip and put on a show for him. As you swirl your tongue over the sensitive spot, you open your mouth and start sucking on it. Steve throws his head back and lets out a loud growl in response. You can't heip but hum in delight. You lower your head further down, bobbing it a few times until you're accustomed to his size. You don't think you can deep throat him, but you try your best to take more than half of it without gagging. 

His tip hits the back of your throat and he moans. He doesn't care if he's vocal. You use your free hand to rest against his stomach, using your fingers to graze the hair on his skin, your nails scratching him. You use your tongue to lick him through his length, pumping him with your mouth.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good" Steve groans, eyes dark with lust "I could fuck your face all day and never get tired of it."

He grabs a fistful of your hair, fingers tangling on it. He bucks his hips forward and fucks your mouth. He can't stop whimpering either. You hear your name slipping out of his throat every now and then. You hold his shaft and suck his cock mercilessly, saliva drips down your chin as he starts fucking your mouth in urgency, sliding in and out of your stretched lips. You pull back panting, looking at him straight in the eyes and he hurriedly pulls you back up. Your mouth is so wet, from the spit, from his precum.

Steve is fast when he swings you around, removing your shoes and throwing them off. He pushes you slowly to the bed so you bend over to him, your ass in the air for him. He plants his palms over your cheeks, stroking them before slapping one and you jolt forward again, leaving a mewl.

"You're such a pretty needy thing, aren't you?" His tone is raspy and it trembles from his sight. Another slap. "Always so pretty. Delicate". Another slap. "It's such a shame we hate each other. Could've had fucked you way before".

You feel his hands lifting the hem of your dress, reaching for your underwear. He rolls it off your legs, getting rid of it before opening your legs apart with one knee. The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he uses his thumb to spread your slit. His finger reaches for your clit and rubs circles around it, making your hips stutter.

"Fuck, Steve" You plead. He collects the wetness of your cunt and uses it as leverage to push into your pussy and you cry out. "Shit".

He's lightheaded, drunk on you. Steve strokes his cock as he pumps his finger inside you a few times. He rubs his thumb up and down, pressing your swollen nub. He hisses whenever you roll your hips against his finger, feeling your slippy skin against his thumb. His cock is almost bursting into a mess and he can't seem to hold it back for too long, but he tries. He picks up a condom from his drawer and rolls the plastic around his shaft.

Still on your fours, you can feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself. His free hand stays on your waist as he uses the other one to rub his dick against your slit. You bite your lip from the obscenities you want to scream.

He pushes his tip first, feeling you clench around him. He takes another second before thrusting against you once, carefully so it won't hurt. You drop your weight forward, whimpering from the sensation.

"Fuck, I'm so big for you" His hips slowly start to hit on your ass. "You okay, pretty?"

You can't formulate an answer so you just nod. Steve could never be this gentle in your head. And yet, there he was, making sure you were good. You heard his own voice proclaiming curses under his breath each time he digs his cock further into your pussy. He starts pounding on you quickly, slapping his skin against yours.

You're both a mess of moans, you can't stand on your elbows and you can't stop rolling your hips against him. He holds your waist with both hands, firmly gripping on your skin.

"Oh God, Steve. That's it. That's so good" You yelp when you feel the tip of his cock hitting you.

His hair is a mess, there's a few strands falling over his eyes as he looks down. He takes his shirt off and throws it away as well, feeling his body on fire. Sweat streamed down his hairy chest, reaching his happy trail.

"You're so fucking good" He praises.

He leans down on you, thrusting harder against your pussy. The new position makes you feel every inch of his cock, his balls slapping against your ass too. Steve carefully wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing it. It's enough for your windpipe to close a bit.

You shut your eyes and your brows crease, voice too strained from pleasure to say anything else. He can only listen to your crying moans.

He licks his lips, moving closer to your ear. "You're such a kinky girl, I see" Steve whispers, his hot breath hitting your skin. You clench around him again and he leaves a groan next to you. "Fuck, do that again".

Now you chuckle, still in a daze. He's still gripping your throat tightly, fingers digging on your neck, straining you. You cage his cock so hard with your pussy, he pushes it all inside of you. He can't move it, and the more you clench around him, the more he feels his pleasure building up.

He pounds hard once, his free hand still holding your waist for support. You throw your head back and roll your eyes. His other hand never leaves your throat. He pushes further again, hips meeting your ass, and you cry. He then decides to pull you up, leaning your back against his chest. You're feeling limp already. His tip hits a different spot inside of you and it makes you roll your hips against him.

Steve rests his head over your shoulder, and he whispers such dirty things for you but you can barely comprehend what he's saying. He's wrapped an arm around you, snapping his hips against you. The other hand slips down your body, cupping one of your breasts. His fingers pinch your hardened nipple, ripping another moan from you.

He loves the way you're falling apart for him, as much as he's glad you're doing the same for him. Even though he would love to see you riding him. He feels your legs wobbling, tension contracting your body. Your muscles are sore and there's a knot forming in your stomach.

He's clinging to you, his sweaty chest is sticking to your back. Now he's not even pounding on you anymore, he's just pushing his cock in a soft motion as he whispers into your ear.

He grazes his teeth between your earlobe and breathes against your skin. You're already clenching so hard, he thinks his cock could snap in half. "Come for me, pretty girl".

Steve spreads wet kisses against your neck, sucking on it as he trails your skin down to your shoulder. You don't want to deal with that right now, you don't want to think how soft he's being to you. There's a coil inside of you and it snaps as you cum on his cock. Your body jolts and trembles over him, legs almost faltering.

You're squirming and clenching around him as he thrusts faster when he feels his orgasm reaching its peak. He usually doesn't cum together with a partner. It's either he waits for them to cum first and he finishes minutes later, or when he's feeling needy he finishes first. But it's hard for something like that to happen.

You're still coming down from your high, he spurts into the condom, feeling his muscles contracting. He never leaves you, he groans from the pleasure over your ear and leaves marks from his fingertips on you.

He gives his final thrust, throwing his head over your shoulder. He's heaving against your back, cock still twitching inside of you. You turn your head to the side where his head is resting and kiss his temple, ripping him from his daydream, catching him off guard.

He painfully pulls back from you, missing your pussy right at the same moment. Steve disappears into his bathroom for a few seconds, walking back and picking up the clothes from the floor. You notice you're completely naked and start wondering when the fuck you got rid of your dress.

You look at Steve. Sweat coating his skin. His hair is wet, as well as his chest and his stomach. His face is flushed and his breathing is still uneven just like yours. He hands you your lace underwear and gets dressed up. You're still peering at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way he tries to fix his greasy sweaty hair with his fingers, only making you feel giddy about it.

But it surprises you when he hands out a comb for you to brush your hair. Your head immediately snapping at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He clears his throat when he notices your reaction, sitting on his bed close to you.

"I uh– Maybe we should, you know" He gestures with his fingers, but it's unclear to you what he wants.

And you giggle, tilting your head at him. "Are you getting shy on me, Steve Harrington?"

But he waves you off, pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about. It's kind of a strange feeling to be around him without jumping at each other's throats, but at the same time, it's a good thing.

"I meant, we should talk it off. You know, hating each other. I know you never bothered to show how much you hate me because of Eddie. And I know I was a dick" Steve never even tried to apologize to you before, knowing you were never open to it.

"Let's not get through this tonight, we should try to have fun on your birthday. See if you can actually score".

He chuckles when you finish your sentence, knowing there would be no way he would fuck someone else this night. Not even if he wanted to. "So... we're kinda good tonight?"

You look down at his hand that is expectantly waiting for you to shake it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all. "Yeah, kinda. Just for tonight".

He shakes your hand as well, flicking his eyes between your hand and your lips. God, he wanted to kiss you again. You both get up from the bed and fix your clothes before leaving the bedroom, but when you're holding the doorknob, you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist carefully.

You look to your side, to the way he's facing you in a different way. His hand slips to yours, interlocking his fingers with yours, and he pulls you closer to him. You just let him. He holds your jawline with his free hand and hovers his lips against yours lips.

"Just... let me do it one more time tonight" And he kisses you, soft tongue colliding against yours again.

There's something conflicting inside of him. Like his feelings are battling against his mind. Because to him, there was no way he was starting to have emotions towards you.

Not now, not ever.

He breaks the kiss, and when he opens his eyes he realizes something. He was fucked.

[finelinevogue]

brat

summary - you’re being a brat but there’s a valid reason

pairing - longterm-ceo-boyfriend!harry x reader

word count - +1.5k

Harry grabbed on your arm, leading out of the packed kitchen and down a corridor.

It wasn’t until he had pushed you both into the bathroom and locked the door that you shrugged his hand off of you and huffed at him.

“You going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The way he looked in his black shirt with his tanned arms was making it really difficult for you to concentrate on being mad - well, more jealous than anything.

“Don’t wanna talk.”

“Oh you don’t? Well tough.”

You huffed again, crossing your own arms to match his stance.

It was now a stand-off between who would cave first. Harry knew it would be him, since you were so defiant, so he cracked immediately instead of prolonging this.

“Y/N, you’ve been a right brat all evening. What the hell is going on?”

“Oh, so, because I’m behaving like a brat suddenly means you hate me?” You scoffed.

“Hate you— what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Harry threw his hands up in the air, before they fell down to his sides.

You had to gulp back the stone feeing at the back of your throat. This wasn’t a situation that you felt justified getting upset over, but it was getting close to it.

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”

“Well we sure as hell aren’t leaving until you’ve talked to me.” Harry said sternly, clearly getting frustrated with your mood.

“Harry, I’ve told you…”

“Yes and I would like to know what’s wrong, please.”

“I don’t…”

“Y/N!”

“Do you love me?” You cut him off before he could get any more shots in.

“W-what? Of course I love you.” Harry’s facial expression showed he was really confused as he took a step towards you slowly.

“Okay.” You nodded your head tightly.

“Okay? What does that mean? What just happened?”

You looked at Harry as he stepped closer again. You slowly started shaking your head, the tears starting to fall from your eyes and down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart?”

Harry tried to step towards you, but you held out your arm so he couldn’t close the distance. You allowed yourself to sob then, holding a hand over your mouth to conceal the noise.

You shut your eyes and turned slightly away from Harry so he didn’t have to see you, but also because you were really embarrassed all of a sudden.

As if the timing couldn’t have gotten any worse, someone knocked on the bathroom door.

“Hey! I need the toilet, open up!” It was a girl - kind of sounded like Sadie.

“Occupied!” Harry shouted back, not taking his eyes off you.

Whoever it was on the other-side loudly groaned before stomping away with force.

There was more than one bathroom in this house so you didn’t feel entirely bad for taking up this one.

“Hey, c’mon now.” Harry urged you to let him hold you.

You only grew smaller, backing yourself into a corner that you couldn’t escape from. Your sobs kept coming and the tears melted away the mascara you’d spent a lot of time on this morning.

“Y/N/N, baby, you’re breaking my heart.” Harry said sadly, watching you cave in on yourself, “M’sorry for pushing you to talk. I won’t push you again. I just hate to see you so worked up about something I don’t know.”

Your hand slowly lowered its guard and you looked at him carefully looking at you.

You instantly ran to him, locking your arms around his waist and letting the tears fall onto his chest and shirt. At least the leaking mascara blended in.

“There’s my best girl.” Harry said, wasting no time in rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back.

The other hand cupped the back of your head, so you felt less exposed and more protected against him. He knew you liked to be held like this - especially when you were like this.

“I’m sorry.”

“Can’t accept your apology if I don’t know what it’s before, my love.”

“I’m just sorry.” You hiccuped, keeping your arms tight around him. “Sorry for being a bitch. Sorry for causing a fuss. Sorry for ruining your evening. I’m just so sorry.”

“Still not accepting the apology, because none of that is true. You’ve not ruined anything and you’re not a bitch, baby. You’re my sweet girl and I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head and it only made you latch onto him tighter.

You held onto him and him to you for a while.

“I was a brat though.” You managed to let out a small chuckle.

“You were, but I’m okay with that. But only if you communicate with me why, you know that.”

“I know.”

Harry took charge and cupped his hands onto your thighs to scoop you up, before immediately placing you down on the bathroom counter.

Now you were closer in height to him and he wasn’t intimidatingly taller than you - especially when you were feeling vulnerable.

You matched him.

“My sweet girl.” He smiled at you, using his thumb to wipe away the smudged mascara.

“Bet I look crazy. Like a deranged ex-girlfriend.”

Harry frowned at that, making you question why.

“Don’t like the thought of you ever being my ex.”

Harry focused on clearing your makeup, but stopped when he noticed you’d taken a sad look on your face again with your tears welling up.

He titled your face up and looked at you with concern. “Do.. do you want to breakup? Is that why—.”

“God no!” You rushed out, licking your lips clear of the salty tears, “Never, please.”

“Never.” Harry agreed.

“But that is why I was upset.” You pouted, trying your best not to start crying again as you began to explain to Harry the issue.

Harry just nodded, letting you take your time. Letting you know that he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere until you were ready.

“I saw you talking with Sadie and Rachel - you know, those two pretty blondes - and… God it sounds so shallow saying it out loud…” You had to choke back c a sob from erupting.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Harry kissed your forehead in encouragement.

“I was so fucking jealous, Harry. I felt genuinely crazy. I mean, you look so good and I know that hasn’t got anything to do with the situation but I think seeing you with those young, and beautiful, girls just got me really insecure. This is nothing to do with you, like you constantly show me love and in that situation you never even gave me a reason to be concerned about anything, yet my stupid…” You let out a teary cry, “My stupid fucking head was telling me that you would leave me for someone better. Someone like them.”

You let out a few more cries, reaching for a tissue to blow your nose.

“That sounded so pathetic, but I just got so in my head about it that I went a little overly bratty about it.”

“It’s not pathetic.” Harry started by saying.

You gave him a look.

“It’s not!” He urged.

“H, honey…”

“Baby. I would never think you feeling this way would be pathetic. It’s how you feel - I’m not going to shame you for that. That would make me a pathetic human being. Okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you for telling me how you felt. I’m sorry that you felt that way - no, listen - I know you don’t want my apology but let me just tell you anyways. I can’t pretend I understand how you felt in that moment, but sometimes I get a bit overwhelmed and jealous when I see you with other people too.”

“Really?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

“I would never. I wouldn’t, Harry…”

“I know, baby. Just like I know I would never do that to you.”

You nodded.

“Think maybe we need to talk this through in more detail, but do you want to go home first?”

“Yes, please.” You nodded.

“Always my most polite girl.” Harry smiled, giving you a kiss on the lips that felt like a sweet rewards. “Before we go, though, I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you even more.”

“I love you even when I’m a crazy brat.”

“I love you when you’re a brat, too.” He kissed you then. “My brat.”

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Hello!! Can I request dating hcs of Rex x hypersexual!reader? With him helping them heal from their trauma and fear (and longing) of intimacy and being touched? Thank you, i love the way you write fics 🫶🫶

Thanks baby😘

This is based on my own experience with hypersexuality and the topics you described

Rex Sloan X Hypersexual!Gn!Reader

I think Rex is also hypersexual, or at least has some tendencies, so he'd understand a lot. I also think he would learn more about himself while trying to help you

He knows how sometimes your mind is buzzing with bad thoughts and stress, and the only thing that seems to calm it is by thinking about sex, especially when you're trying to sleep and just can't 

He knows sometimes sex feels like the solution to all problems

And that hipersexuality is a problem because it’s prejudicial to your life, in the sense that maybe you're trying to focus on something else, like studying, working, or a hobby, but your mind just. Won't. Stop. 

Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex

But he's still learning to think before talking, and he just came to terms with the fact that he's actually very empathic 

So he might ask how you feel and what you're thinking from time to time, and what do you think that made you be hypersexual 

He doesn't want you to commit the same mistakes he did, so he makes sure your sexual dynamic with each other is very healthy, obnoxiously healthy, to the point that it's even funny how he’ll just stop in the middle of it to ask “do you want it or do you enthusiastically want it?” with the most serious expression, one it's even weird to see on him, because he's just so goofy

Because if the bar is high enough, you never will accept anything less, just like people with healthy families usually don't accept other people treating them like shit 

He's scared shitless that he’ll accidentally or indirectly hurt you, either because he didn't make sure how you felt, or because you were too good at pretending

He's ruined so many good things before, he doesn't want to do it anymore 

You might have intrusive thoughts, like really, intrusive thoughts. Not the ones most people are used to like “what if I threw my phone out of the window?”, but the real ones. If you have it you know what I’m talking about. 

I’m not sure he has them, because if you have them, you probably hide them, but he surprises you when he takes it seriously, not just thinking you're a freak, or a creep, or a weirdo. He understands right away they're not something you want, you don't condone those actions, you think they're the worst thing the could happen, and yet, your mind is so broken that it throws those thoughts at you, trying to make you hate yourself, and it might even work, and Rex makes sure you know it's not your fault, it's just a mental illness, there's nothing wrong with you, it's common, just talk to him baby, talking will make you feel better

He also becomes clingy, even performing PDA if you're into that. Just because your mind is thinking about all the different sexual scenarios you could do, doesn't mean you want sex, half the time you just want to be held, kissed and feel important. Just receive some attention and love. And he’ll enjoy doing that

Especially in the beginning of your relationship, he understands you might be confused on how to proceed, overthinking, and you might even try to distance yourself from him

Jokes on you, he's not gonna let that happen

I mean, see how his relationship with Rae started on the 3rd season, bro really worked for her

If he didn't like you as much, he would give up, honestly. Rex from the 1st and 2nd season would just offer himself to be your booty call

If you're touch starved, he understands that maybe you feel insecure about that, that the simple act of holding hands and rubbing your thumb on someone’s skin just isn’t second nature to you, isn't your first instinct, when you do it, you're actively thinking about it, afraid to move and disturb the peace, or make him stop touching you

Like one of those videos of abused animals who freak out at the simple mention of someone getting close to them, and when someone does, they need several minutes to get used to it 

He won't judge you for maybe being somewhat socially awkward on that aspect, he actually likes that you aren't used to just throwing yourself at anyone who gives you crumbs of attention, and ruining yourself in the process, almost like he did. It's not worth it, it's humiliating, it changes you so much that you can't recognize yourself in the end

It takes some time, but you get used to having him clinging to you at all and random moments of the day

He wants your first time together to be especial, and when you truly want it, so he doesn't even takes the first step, you have to do it 

I see you just sleeping in the same bed, fully clothed, every night, for several weeks (even months, if that's your thing), before actually having sex

Doesn't mean he won't make out with you, when you're comfortable with that. And he tries not to be the old him that would just grab your ass right away, instead, Rex learns that he likes to just… Explore 

He squeezes your waist, he touches your hair, your scalp, he breathes your scent. He rounds his arms around you and just has nice, quiet conversations. He lays his head on your chest, stomach and lap, closes his eyes, and his mind is suddenly empty, while you take initiative and run your fingers through his ginger locks. He holds your hand when he takes you out

He spoils you, he was never the type of guy to do that, he liked being spoiled instead

Now, he just thinks he needed to meet the right person

He cooks, it's not good, but he's trying to impress and make you happy

He learns your hobbies, and spends quality time with you. You have to know he's not with you just for sex, just for your body, your mind is just as sexy to him babygurl~ (in a gn way)

He shows you his home magazines and you talk about your future home together, despite how surreal it feels, how impossible it seems, how scary, not only to you, but also him. But he wants this. He finally has something good. A purpose in life

And even if you express some negative thought, he’s surprisingly good at comforting and reassuring, on his own unserious and abrasive way

Suddenly, your mind is a lot more peaceful

General masterlist

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[nan-not-found]

Hi I was hoping to request a story about plus sized reader and bakugo. Focusing on the reader feeling self conscious and worrys about not being good enough for the hero he is. NSFW would be preferred. Thank you so much in advance. Even if you don't do it, thank you for writing fanfics.

My first request omg thank you!! This prompt is so good, omg. I hope I did it justice and wrote what you wanted!! <3

-----------

"All of You"

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Plus-Sized!Reader Rating: 🔞 Mature / Explicit

Word Count: 1,658

CW: body insecurity, self-hate, self-doubt, self-body shaming, sexual content

THIS IS NSFW. All characters here are aged/time-skip. You've been warned. Continue reading below.

You didn’t belong here.

Not in the mirror. Not in his arms. Not in this bed you shared on nights when he returned from hero work bruised and tired and needing you more than sleep.

Your reflection didn’t lie — it never had. The rolls, the stretch marks, the way your stomach curved when you sat, or how your thighs refused to keep their distance no matter how hard you tried to pull them apart. You could fake confidence during the day, laugh off comments, post a selfie with the right angle and lighting… but at night, when you were naked in his bed and he looked at you like that —

It made something bitter bloom inside you.

He deserved someone better. Someone who looked like they belonged on his arm. A goddess with legs that didn’t rub raw in summer, whose lingerie didn’t roll down at the waist the second she sat up. You weren’t that. You were soft. Too soft.

“Oi.”

The gravel in his voice yanked you out of your spiral.

You turned your head, heart thudding like you’d been caught doing something wrong. Katsuki leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a towel low around his hips, skin still damp from the shower. His hair was tousled, spiky in that lazy, post-rinse way that made him look unfairly good.

But his eyes?

They weren’t lazy at all.

They were locked on you like a fuse had been lit.

You grabbed for your shirt — something oversized and shapeless — and tugged it down over your thighs. He watched you do it, jaw ticking.

“Thought I told you to wait in bed.”

“I was just…” You swallowed. “Didn’t want to mess your sheets.”

“Tch. Bullshit.”

You flinched. Not at the word, but the way he said it — like he already knew. Katsuki Bakugou didn’t say what he didn’t mean. He didn’t waste breath pretending.

So when he stepped forward, slow and bare and dangerous with that unreadable heat in his gaze, your stomach twisted in ways that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with him.

“Say it.”

“…What?”

“Whatever’s rotting your fuckin’ thoughts. Say it.”

You stared at him. The silence thickened. You thought if you held it long enough, maybe it would swallow you whole. But Katsuki never backed down. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

“I…” You looked away, voice a whisper. “I don’t look like the kind of girl who should be with someone like you.”

There it was. The ugly, sour truth. Ripped out of your chest and laid bare.

And still — he didn’t move.

You braced yourself for indifference. For a sigh. For something cruel and careless. But when he finally crossed the room, it wasn’t with fire. It was with gravity.

Like he was being pulled toward you.

He stopped when he reached your side, towering over where you stood in front of the bedroom mirror. His voice dropped low, rough.

“I don’t need some cookie-cutter chick with a fake fuckin’ smile and airbrushed skin. I don’t want skinny arms that feel like they’ll snap if I touch them.”

His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His voice dipped deeper, raspier.

“I want you.”

The words hit harder than an explosion.

“Don’t matter how many people scream my name. Don’t matter how many hero rankings I climb. When I come home, I want you in my bed. I want your skin on mine. I want the way you look at me like I’m more than a fuckin’ weapon.”

You didn’t realize you were shaking until his hands came up, thumbs stroking slow and reverent over the dip of your waist. He was touching the place you hated the most — and looking at you like it was art.

“You think I don’t notice how you flinch when I see you like this?” he muttered. “Think I haven’t heard you cry in the shower when you think I’m asleep?”

Your chest squeezed so tight you could barely breathe.

“I know you feel like you ain’t enough,” he said. “But I’m tellin’ you now — you’re fuckin’ wrong.”

He leaned in.

“Because I can’t get enough of you.”

And then — he kissed you.

Hard. Desperate. Not gentle, not sweet — but real. His mouth claimed you like he’d waited too long. His hands gripped you like the softness they held was something holy. You whimpered into it, all your fear unraveling under the weight of his want.

And when he pulled back, eyes dark and voice thick with hunger, he said the words that shattered you:

“Now get your ass back in that bed. I’m not done showin’ you what you do to me.”

You barely made it to the bed before his mouth was on you again.

Bakugou didn’t kiss like a hero. He kissed like a man possessed — messy, bruising, starved. His lips crashed into yours, stealing breath and reason, hands already gripping at the hem of your shirt like it offended him just by existing.

“Off,” he growled.

Your fingers fumbled, heart thundering as you tugged the fabric up. He helped, yanking it over your head and tossing it across the room without looking. Then he pulled back — just for a second — and let his eyes roam.

Even now, half-naked under the dim light of his bedroom, arms instinctively curling in front of your stomach — but Katsuki grabbed your wrists before you could shield yourself, pinning them to your sides as his gaze darkened.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

The heat in his voice seared you.

“I wanna see you. All of you. You get that?” His hands ran over your belly, slow and reverent, like he was daring the world to challenge what he saw. “You think this shit makes you less? Hah. You’ve never looked hotter.”

His mouth descended — not on your lips this time, but lower.

You gasped as he kissed your stomach. Open-mouthed and wet. Then again. And again. Trailing down, tongue flicking along stretch marks like they were carved from gold.

“This,” he muttered between kisses. “Is mine.”

Your hips twitched.

He smirked against your skin. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Katsuki—”

He silenced you with a growl. “Lie back.”

You obeyed — breathless, trembling — as he pushed you flat against the mattress, crawling over you like a storm about to break. The towel around his waist slipped, and suddenly there was nothing between you.

You’d seen him naked before, but somehow this felt different. He was looming, hungry, his cock already hard and twitching, dragging along your thigh as he settled between your legs.

“Every fuckin’ time,” he murmured, voice like gravel and fire. “You make me lose my goddamn mind.”

He kissed down your chest, sucking marks into your soft flesh like he was branding you. His hands squeezed at your waist, your hips, your thighs — rough, possessive, hungry.

“Think about you when I’m on patrol. Get hard remembering how you sound when I touch you. Fuck, baby—” he pressed his cock against your heat, not entering, just there, teasing. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You whimpered. “Then show me.”

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed into yours as he hooked your thighs around his waist, dragging you flush against him. He rolled his hips — slow at first, teasing. His cock slid against your soaked folds, the head catching on your clit with each pass.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re soaked.”

You could barely breathe. “Katsuki, please—”

He didn’t make you beg for long.

With one hand braced beside your head and the other guiding himself, he pushed in — inch by thick, aching inch — until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

Your back arched. “Oh fuck—”

He groaned into your neck. “Goddamn, baby. Tight as fuck.”

The stretch was intense — delicious and full and deep. He didn’t rush. He stayed buried, letting you adjust, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your throat, your jaw, your shoulder.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s how deep I wanna be. Always.”

When he pulled back, it was slow, dragging against every nerve — and then he slammed forward, snapping his hips so hard it knocked the breath out of you.

And then he did it again.

And again.

Each thrust was sharp, rough, perfect, rocking the bed, your thighs shaking around his waist as his grip dug into your flesh like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“You feel so good, fuck—gonna ruin you.”

“You already—already have,” you choked out.

He kissed you hard, swallowing your moans. “Say it again.”

You whimpered. “You ruin me.”

“Yeah?” he panted. “Say who’s makin’ you feel this good.”

“You, Katsuki—fuck, you—”

He growled and thrust harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your moans tangled with his as he fucked you like he needed it to breathe. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your nails dragging down his back, and he loved it.

“You’re fuckin’ mine,” he groaned into your ear. “You hear me? Every curve. Every mark. All mine.”

You came undone first.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave — your body tensing, eyes rolling back, a cry tearing from your throat as your walls clamped down around him.

“Shit—fuck, baby,” he snarled, hips stuttering.

He followed with a low, guttural moan, spilling into you with a shudder. His grip on your hips tightened, his body pressed flush to yours, riding out the aftershocks in messy, needy thrusts before finally collapsing onto your chest, panting.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Only the sound of ragged breathing, skin against skin, the thundering of two hearts in sync.

Then —

“I mean it,” he muttered into your collarbone.

You blinked, dazed. “Mean what?”

His lips pressed over your heart.

“You’re fuckin’ enough. You always have been.”

--

End.

Masterlist: Bakugou Masterlist: Other Fanfics

AN: This was... omfg this was so hot but also hard to write. I was this reader, still kind of am even through my weight loss journey. I know the pain of hating what's in the reflections. But, just as Katsuki would say, your weight does not define you. You are beautiful inside and out, all of you <3

[writteninerised]

Let me remind you

(middle photo credit: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

Paring | Eddie Munson x fem!blind reader

Summary | Reader is blind and Eddie is utterly obsessed with you, going out of his way to play you music and read to you. It’s simply a friendship, but he can’t stop himself from crossing the line.

Notes/tags | That’s correct, the reader is blind. I do not mean to write this in any way that would be insensitive; I just loved the idea of seeing Eddie care for someone who has a disability. The way he would be so sweet and go above and beyond. If this fic rubs anyone the wrong way or makes anyone uncomfortable, please let me know, and I’ll remove it. My intentions are pure. It’s a very sweet fic with the vibes of what it feels like to be young and in love. — No smut, but there is making out, and it feels very sensual. Also, cheesy AF.

I do switch back and forth with povs, don’t expect this to go by the writers rules.

— Oh, I listened to Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine while writing this. But what’s new? I always write Eddie fics to that song, even years later.

Word count | 2.1k

Eddie always met you outside. He waits on his porch, finishing his cigarette, and the moment he sees you approaching, he gets up quickly to close the distance, taking your hand to guide you to his place. He loves the excuse to touch you. He’s not greedy either; just your hand in his makes him secretly giddy. He’s focused on it the whole way to his room, even though he’s talking your ear off about a new song he wrote.

Nothing about this is new or different. Eddie inviting you over to play music and talk well into the night has become normal. A friendship that never crosses the line, but Jesus Christ, he thinks of crossing the line all the time. He wonders if your touch would feel different if it was reaching out with love instead of friendship. He doesn’t dare feed into his thoughts of how your kiss would feel and if his name would sound different if you moaned it into his ear.

He admires you as he strums his guitar, only half-focused on the song. By now he’s memorized every curve of your face and has counted every lash on your eyes. It feels wrong to stare, knowing he can’t be caught. Can you feel his gaze?

You’re lying in your usual spot on his bed, surrounded by his scent in the sheets. You try to hide the deep inhales you take as if it were the last time you’d be here. But, it’s not. You’ll be back tomorrow, as you always are.

He plays beautifully, and you try not to smile because he plays softer for you than he does during his shows. Is he nervous to scare you off? He never could.

“I love it,” you say as he finishes the song.

He smiles, and you know because it’s laced with his voice, “You do?”

The sound of his guitar being placed on the wall mount is familiar, followed by the radio on his dresser being turned on. It’s only for background noise. Eddie hates silence, and you can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t like to sit with his thoughts.

You both lie on his bed in deep conversation with no sense of time. Eddie lazily plays with small strands of your hair with the hand draped behind his head. Does he realize that you notice every time he does it? It makes your stomach flutter.

“Read to me?” you ask as you shift onto your stomach, feet rising up behind you.

Eddie takes a moment to speak, but you hear his breath hitch, and when he does speak, his breath is warm against your face. He shouldn’t be surprised by your question as he reads to you every night, but maybe it’s the way you’re closer to him than before.

Your bodies aren’t touching, but there is a sense of intimacy with the way he’s lying on his back, most likely looking up at you, and the way you’re on your stomach, nearly looming over him.

Unsure if he’s uncomfortable by the way his breathing becomes uneven, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your water, trying to make it seem like you’re giving him a little space. When you return to your position, you’re a few inches away from him.

You realize you were wrong about him feeling uncomfortable because when Eddie grabs The Return of the King off his dresser, he returns to the bed even closer than before.

His arm touches yours as he lies back on the bed, and you can’t take your mind off of it. It gently moves against yours as he turns the page.

“Now, where were we?” he says as the sound of pages turning fills the room. “Aha, here it is.” His smile is audible in his words. “You’ll like this part.”

Eddie begins to read. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing to your ears. He makes you giggle occasionally with his exaggerated voices for certain characters. His laughter matches your own, and even though he’s read this book a hundred times, it feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time with you.

As he continues, there’s a subtle change in his tone that you can’t quite place until you listen closely to the words. Two characters in the book kiss, and the way Eddie reads the description makes your stomach flutter more than the romance he’s narrating. You feel your cheeks heat up and lower your head to your arms to hide it.

Eddie chuckles softly, saying your name, “Are you blushing?”

“No!”

You bury your face deeper into your arms, breathing in his scent from the sheets. You would give anything to sink into the mattress, completely enveloped by his smell.

He calls your name again, clearly amused by your reaction. His fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you, forcing you out of hiding. You burst into laughter, trying to grab his hands to push him away, but your laughter only encourages him.

“Look at you. You’re so red you might pop,” he teases, continuing to tickle you.

“Stop,” you manage to say between fits of laughter.

You struggle to fight back, and Eddie laughs at your attempts. Your stomach begins to hurt from the laughter, your breathing becomes ragged, and your hair covers your face from the tussle.

Both of you finally give up, gasping for air. Eddie plops down beside you, the weight of his body next to yours so familiar that you long for it when you’re alone in your own bed.

“I’ve never seen you blush that hard before,” he says, amused.

You can feel his stare, which only makes you blush more. “Can you stop?” you groan, playfully shoving his arm.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me. I can feel it.”

He scoffs, “I’m not staring at you.”

You sit up and demand his bandana. He protests in confusion, but once he understands, he relents. Sitting up directly in front of you, you lift your chin with a sense of victory.

“Because I don’t believe you, this is what I must do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated though he’s smiling like a fool. “If this pleases you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. Reaching out, your fingertips touch the corner of his mouth, feeling it curve up against your touch. His face is smooth, and you take advantage of the moment to trace your fingers across it, finding their way to his hair. He remains silent, but his breathing is slightly heavier—something only you would notice.

His hair is soft, and you resist the urge to twirl his curls around your finger. Instead, you wrap the bandana around his eyes and tie it tightly behind his head.

“Oh,” he says with surprise, followed by a chuckle. “A little tight, huh?”

“Can’t have you peeking.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks.

Your hands drop into your lap as you smile. “Mm, I’m still deciding.”

But that was a lie. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. There were many people you trusted to be alone with, but as you’ve spent time with him, he’s proven that you’re safe with him. The best feeling is being completely vulnerable and knowing without a doubt that the person you count on with your vulnerability handles it with care.

“So, this is what it’s like for you?” he asks softly.

“Something like that.”

The room is silent, the radio off since before he started reading the book you’ve both abandoned. The only sounds are his breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning. But you notice the parting of his lips and the sudden, yet soft, intake of breath as if he were going to say something but decided not to.

“What is it?” you ask.

He clears his throat as if caught and takes a breath. “Can you…touch me?” You’re nearly taken back by that until he speaks up in a rushed sentence. “Uh, sorry, I —uh, I mean, my arm or face. Show me how it feels for you.”

Your heart warms at his request. And you gladly give him what he wants. Your fingers meet his face again and you admire all the softness. You trace the lines and curves, imagining if he’s as beautiful as he feels. Eddie sits there still for a while, softly breathing.

Then his hands grasp your wrists and lower them to your lap. “My turn,” he says as his fingers begin to move up your arms. Goosebumps break out over your skin, and you try your best to control your breathing, knowing he can hear if it catches in your throat.

His calloused fingers brush against your soft skin, but you don’t mind. One hand drops from your arm and takes hold of one of your hands. You fight back a smile, knowing his fingers tracing your features are close enough to feel your reaction. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. It feels incredibly intimate, just the sound of his breathing matching yours as time seems to slow.

He breaks the silence. “You’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks out on your face. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you look like.” His tone is serious yet soft, almost as if he’s in deep thought.

He lets go of your hand and cups your other cheek. Your face fits perfectly between his warm hands.

“Eddie…” you say, wanting to ask what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. But your words fall short as you feel his thumb brush over your bottom lip.

“Tell me you feel this.”

He doesn’t mean his gentle touch on your lips, and you know that. The electrical current between you two could light up Hawkins. He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest. Your breath catches at the feeling of his heart thumping wildly against your palm. It’s so strong that you think it might burst out of his chest and right into your hands.

“Yes,” you answer him.

“Tell me I can kiss you.”

Your stomach flutters so fast that you feel like you could float away. “Yes.”

There is a moment of stillness in the room, time frozen. The sound of you both breathing dulls out and you lose feeling in your cheeks at his touch as you await his lips on yours.

He’s so gentle and slow. His lips meet yours and you welcome it, nearly melting into him. The kisses are soft and lazy, as if you both are drunk off each other. Your hands are in his hair and he moans at the feeling. Heat forms in your lower belly and you can’t help yourself when you crawl into his lap.

“Yes,” he breathes as he welcomes you into his embrace. His arms wrapping tightly around your back, rubbing his hands up and down your back while still kissing you.

His tongue brushes your lower lip and you open your mouth to taste him. He’s perfect. He’s all you feel and taste, nearly drowning in him. His bandana is still tightly secured around his eyes and you wonder if he’s consumed by you as well.

Eddie starts kissing your neck and your head drops to the side in pleasure. His hand wraps around your head, keeping you in place as he begins to suck softly in the right spot. You moan and you feel his smile against your skin.

“There it is,” he mumbles, before finding your lips again. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Stop.” You mutter against his kiss, fighting back a smile. Your cheeks turn hot and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten around you and you sink further into his arms. You both stay like that for a few minutes, resting in each other's arms. You feel him inhale you deeply before he starts stroking your hair.

“You may not realize how beautiful you are,” he says as he begins to play with your hair. “But, I don’t mind reminding you every day.”

“Would you?” You whisper.

“I’ll take your hand, tell you in great detail about the world around us while reminding you how it doesn’t even compare to you.” He kisses your shoulder. “Not even close.”

The smile that spreads across your face is almost painful. “You have such a way with words.”

He takes your face in his hands, “I do write songs, sweetheart.”

With that, he kisses you with such passion that you fall back onto the mattress, giggles spilling from your lips as Eddie turns your darkness into light.

[revelboo]

you producing first so quickly has me inspired to start writing again

That’s awesome! Writing is an escape for me. It can feel like work sometimes, but these are just for fun and I missed writing things that didn’t need to be perfect or meticulously planned out

My Favorite Accident Pt 3

TFP Knockout x Reader

• Slowly following at a distance, he can’t understand why you wouldn’t just let him permanently take care of the problem, namely that other human who’d dared lay hands on you. And because that man’s still alive, he’s had to tail you to make sure you get home safely. While he doubts the man will go anywhere near you after a run in with him, it still bothers him. That uncertainty that something might happen to you if he’s not there as he keeps remembering the fear in your eyes. Realizing that you’re not as tough as you act. No one gets to frighten you like that, except maybe him.

• Pulling into the apartment complex, you press your head back against the headrest. Your nerves finally catching up to you during the drive, leaving your hands faintly trembling at what might have happened. At what likely would have happened if not for Knockout. And maybe he’s right and you should have let him take care of Ricky, but siccing your big, alien racing buddy on that idiot didn’t exactly sit well with you. And there’s that baffling, snarling protectiveness of Knockout’s to figure out, too. He’d been furious, more than ready to stomp the guy just for touching you. Like having your own giant, psychotically violent bodyguard.

• This is where you live? Headlights dimmed, his engine snarls. While he doesn’t claim to know much about human dwellings, this building looks like it’s seen better days. Actually, it looks like burning it down would be doing you a favor. Especially when he sees the other residents lingering outside watching you. Absolutely not. Shifting on his tires, he watches you park and get out, lifting a hand in greeting to the group hanging out. But also reaching back to where you keep that pitiful little knife. That unconscious gesture rubbing him the wrong way and driving home that this place isn’t safe for you and you know it.

• A few more race wins and you’ll have enough for a down payment on a better apartment. Letting yourself inside, there’s time to shower and change, then you’re falling into bed. Too aware that your little extra rendezvous with Knockout have cut your sleep time to five hours, then it’s up for your day job. Every penny you can get going toward getting out of here. Because what would that be like? To not be scared all the time, shuddering as the guys hanging out in the front start yelling at each other and you pull a pillow over your head. Eventually someone calls the cops on them as another unit gets off third shift and cranks rock and roll to rattle your windows.

• He knows he’s been gone too long from the Nemesis, that he’s going to be missed, but hates leaving you here in this pit forsaken cesspool you apparently call home. It bothers him enough he stays the night, watching the drama unfolding right outside your door and getting angrier and angrier, because this is unacceptable. And he’s going to have to do something about it.

Previous

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[strawburry01]

Ain't No Love in Oklahoma

Summary: Tornado wrangler Tyler Owens and his crew find themselves on your farm as a tornado touches down

2.2 k words, nothing crazy.

“What a view,” Tyler mused as he looked out at the great country landscape unfolding below him. Oklahoma wasn’t known for hills or anything that really detracted from its flat-ness, so finding a spot like this where someone could see a far distance out into the expanse was rare. For storm chasing- it was a downright game changer. Like now, him and his motley crue of chasers there was a dark gray cloud formation starting to look interesting to the north. 

“Dude this is so great. The thumbnails are going to go crazy if we can see one from here,” Boone agreed next to him, already swinging his iPad side to side to try and get it all. The crew of them had just been driving when they saw a break in the fence letting them get closer. Sure it might have been trespassing but who was going to care about them all the way out here? 

There was a loud crack that split the silence and the ground next to Tyler sent mud flying into his pant leg. He quickly turned. 

Jesus. 

You sat perched on top of a brown horse, a few yards away, shotgun balancing on your hip. A wide white cowboy hat on your head covered your features, but he was equally turned on and terrified at the same time.

“Y’all got 30 seconds to start moving or the next shot won’t be as friendly,” you called out from your horse. You could see the tallest man chuckle and say something to the shorter one next to him before turning and leisurely jogging to you. What thoughts were running through his head to convince him running towards a woman with a shotgun was a good idea?

“Afternoon ma’am! Pardon my crew and I, but I feel like we’ve started on the wrong foot,” he said as he got closer. He looked straight out of a magazine cover. Chiseled face, scruff, blonde hair peeking out from his cowboy hat, with a red button down that was one button too unbuttoned. You did feel a pang of guilt for almost hitting him.

“Perhaps we did. I just don’t take kindly to trespassers on my property,” you said, swinging your horse to the side so you could face him better. Tyler rubbed his neck. Ah shit.

“That’s my bad ma’am- see we’re storm chasers, we’re always trying to find an edge to get ahead of the next storm or tornado,” he said, gesturing to the darkening sky. You slowly nodded. “My name’s Tyler Owens, you might’ve heard of me on Twitch,” he added with a charming smile as he held his hand up for a handshake. You slowly shook his hand, taking in the weird man.

“My name’s Y/N. What the hell is a Twitch?” you asked after letting go. He opened his mouth to try and explain, but decided it was fruitless. 

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you miss Y/N. Apologies again for stepping into your land, but we’ve got the looks of an EF-4 starting out there on the horizon and damn it’s going to be a good one,” he said, turning back to the crew and the sky. 

“Hate to tell you Tyler but we don’t get tornadoes out here. It’s been years,” you said with a nod, but following his eyes to the sky, leaning closer to your horse and patting his neck whether for your own anxiety or his. As if on cue, a rumble of thunder rolled overhead which caused your horse to whinny. 

“Global warming Y/N. Spots in Oklahoma that have never gotten hit before are getting struck. It’s up to you, but-” he said as he turned back, the clouds getting lower, “I’d get low,”. Rain started to fall in big drops as you tried to think.

“I’ve got animals Tyler, I can’t handle losing this farm,” you said as you chewed your bottom lip. 

“My crew will help. Before we head out,” he said instantly as he started waving to his crew. 

“IT’S COMING TYLER!” Boone shouted, waving the iPad above his head, “IT’S A BIG ONE!”. Another roll of thunder went overhead and your horse brayed again, getting antsy. Okay maybe these strangers had a point. Seeing their suped up trucks and RV showed that they either had way too much money and free-time or they could actually be trusted when it came to this stuff. Fuck it don’t be stupid.

“Get on, I have to get the cows, but you’ll tell me if it gets closer alright?” you stammered over the rain, holding out your hand to Tyler, “tell your guys to head straight for 5 minutes, there’ll be a barn and a house,”. Tyler nodded and relayed the message to Boone as he slowed the truck down passing you. Boone passed a walkie talkie out to Tyler with a nod, and waved politely to you.

“Don’t you worry ma’am you’ve got the best on your side!” he chirped, before peeling out on the truck sending a wave of mud behind him and leaving a large dent in the ground. Best? Tyler sucked air in through his teeth and sheepishly turned back to you. Before you could try to help him up he was already behind you. Obviously not his first time getting on a horse which did catch you off guard. You slung your shotgun over your back as you started heading back to the house. You felt Tyler move closer to you, gripping his hands onto your sides as your tightened your grip on the reins trying not to overthink this. Dammit you can be horny when this is over, not when a tornado is about to come through. It had been a while since any man had been so chivalrous or intriguing to you. The rain started coming down harder, making it tough to see, which only increased the worry in your stomach as you reached the cows. 

“I’m gonna open the gate, you stay here!” you shouted to Tyler as you jumped down into the muddy grass, before hauling your ass to the wooden gate where the cows were already anxiously pacing by. You unlatched it and swung it open before jumping back onto the horse to start cornering the animals back to the barn. Luckily you only had a handful of cows this season, but it was still tough enough. You shouted over the rain to keep the cows moving and Tyler started doing the same. He turned his head and held a hand up to his forehead to try and get a better view.

“Y/N I don’t mean to alarm you, but I believe there’s been landfall,” he said, breathing close to your ear. You wanted to turn and check, but you also knew your job right now was keeping these animals safe. 

“Just tell me if we’re in danger Tyler,” you shouted back, willing your horse to move faster. By the time you got to the barn a few minutes later the rain had turned into hail. You slid off your horse as you tried to unlock your barn gate, but the adrenaline and water made it hard. Tyler appeared next to you and gently tried his own hand at unlocking the door. 

“The lock is 5999!” you shouted, the small number lock keeping the bigger doors shut. You mentally cursed this decision to have it locked at all. Tyler finally got the lock loose and threw the door open. You started pushing and shouting the cows to get inside, where the sides were already shuttering. Tyler grabbed your horse’s reins and brought him inside as well before he ran off in the chaos.

“Is that it?” Tyler asked in the doorway, wind whipping his shirt. You wiped your hands on your jeans to try to focus and dry off before nodding. Tyler suddenly grabbed the shoulders and faced you in the doorway.

“It’s going to be okay Y/N,” he said, locking eyes with you, “we have to get underground now though,”. You nodded furtively, going back to real life and focusing on the task at hand. Tornado, stay alive. You threw the barn door shut and locked it before grabbing Tyler’s hand and pulling him towards the house. The wind whipped against your face and caused your hat to fly off. 

“Shit!” you screamed as you watched it get blown away in the blink of an eye.

“Come on!” Tyler shouted back, pulling you forward again towards the house. Boone was on the porch holding the door open shouting at the two of you to get in. 

You two jumped into the house before Boone slammed the door shut behind you. You wanted to lay down and curl up right there, but Tyler’s crew were all trying to ask you if you had a basement or somewhere to hide or somewhere to keep down. Tyler placed his hand on the small of your back to try and help. “Hey guys one at a time alright,” he said, quieting the group. 

“There’s a basement, it’s not much and I don’t know if it’s storm-proof and all that but-” you said as you moved to lift up the small door that was in the corner of the kitchen. There was a dark staircase downstairs and you shouted for everyone to get in. You screamed as the kitchen window bursted in, letting rain and hail into the house. Tyler grabbed your waist and dragged you down into the basement, door slamming shut behind you both. Everyone was huddled in the corner, light illuminating from their phones as they watched the storm overhead, continuing to chatter.

You slumped against the wall and finally took a breath. You felt the presence of someone slide beside you. 

“How you feeling?” Tyler asked. 

“Tired. I don’t know how you do this for a living,” you laughed as you looked up at him, laying your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m not sure how I do it either all the time,” he sighed, “being able to help people feels good though. Knowing that the more we understand these things the safer the future can be,” he continued.

“Noble,” you remarked.

“When Boone isn’t recording all of it at least,” he chuckled looking over at Boone who was sure enough recording it all on his phone.

“So you’ve got fans?” you asked.

“Lots. Well, okay a fair amount? A million? Saying that to you makes it feel kind of stupid though,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you said, “a million is a lot of people watching you, that’s crazy,”.

“It’s nice and all, but damn. You have it all out here. Alone. Not needing a million people watching you. Just seems nice,” he explained, placing a hand on your knee as he waved his hand during his explanation.

“Lonely though. I bet you’re never lonely,” you murmured. He shrugged.

“I have friends, it's hard to keep a lover with this lifestyle though,” he said absentmindedly.

“Yeah, I can relate to that,” you said softly, “uhm, if we get out of this tornado thing, I’ll give you my number,” you quickly said, before hiding your face into your shoulder. Ugh what were you a high schooler? You felt his chest rise as he laughed.

“You’re cute Y/N, and I’d love to see your farm under less stormy conditions,” he grinned. Your chest fluttered. 

“I’d love to show you it,” you nodded. The two of you kept chatting as the storm went on for another 30 or so minutes. Luckily the basement did a sufficient job of keeping everyone safe, but you couldn’t help but think of the barn and the rest of the house upstairs. You talked about your time growing up in Oklahoma and Arkansas. About how he went to school for meteorology, and how you dropped out of OK State to take care of the property, but you had really wanted to go back later.

“Seems safe guys!” Boone said as he stood up and kicked open the door. The kitchen was still there, and so was the house. You checked out the window, and breathed a sigh of relief to see the barn was still there.

“Cut right through- spared your stuff by like 50 yards!” Tyler said, relieved. Seemed like the best case scenario here happening. You helped his crew get set up to head back out and slowly lead the cows back out to their slightly damaged pasture. 

Tyler stepped into his truck and rolled down the window. You stepped up onto the running board of the truck to get closer. You handed Tyler a post it note with your number scrawled onto it.

“Like I promised,” you said with a smile. Tyler grinned and stuck it to the computer screen in the middle console. He took off his cowboy hat and put it on your head.

“Since you lost yours. I’ll be back for it though,” he said as he moved your hair behind your ear. 

“Alright tornado cowboy,” you smiled as you stepped down.

“It’s tornado wrangler actually,” he noted before blowing you a kiss and rolling up his window. 

It was a few hours later when you were finally making dinner when your phone buzzed. 

Hey Y/N, hope you’re doing well. Sitting at a motel. Wondering what you’re doing.

AN: let me know if anyone wants a one-off of you trying to get divorce papers to your insane storm chaser husband in the middle of the midwest ->(https://www.tumblr.com/strawburry01/756685031316062208/all-yourn-summary-you-visit-your-husband-tyler)

[damnbigguy]

In Sickness

my (currently long distance) boyfriend's sick and this is his favourite series/movie so; Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, Miles Morales [1610] (separate) dealing with their sick partner. Gender-Neutral references to reader, reader never named, sick reader, 2nd pov. References to throwing up.

Hobie Brown

He hates mornings, sleeps until after noon on good days [his current record is staying asleep from eleven to three in the afternoon], but when he blindly shifts as the sun first slides through the blinds and bothers his closed eyes and goes to throw his arm around you and you end up not being there, his mind goes to the worst case scenario; someone figured out what he hasn't even told you yet, that you're the partner of Spider-Punk.

He shoots up, a hand on his forehead and a groan leaving his lips, eyes dancing over the 'controlled' clutter and mess of clothes - he even spots a guitar pic he was searching for days for - but what calms him that you haven't been taken is the retch from the bathroom.

Then he grimaces, remembering what that means.

With great effort, he throws his legs out of bed and stands, glaring at the reflection of sun coming from his phone as he picks it up. 6:23. He pauses before it registers that it's A.M. and not P.M. but he shoves it into the pocket of his plaid pajama pants that he barely remembered to put on in the haze of whatever he had done last night.

"Love?" He calls as he stumbles out of the bedroom, trying to ignore everything he wants to complain about; the cold wood floor, the hour, the fact you didn't wake him (though he briefly admits to himself that, if he was sick, he would try to throw up, clean up, and go right back to bed, but he doesn't remember the last time he was sick, not since the bite, at least), but he stops at the half-cracked open bathroom door. He knocks two knuckles on the door. "Oi, you alright?" He blinks. "Never mind, stupid question," he grunts, pushing the door open.

His stomach twists when he sees you, sitting back with your head against the shower door, tiredly blinking. "'M fine," you grunt, trying to wave him away like he can't see the cold sweat on your body.

He knows it's the enhanced spider senses but it only worries him that he can hear every uncomfortable noise of your turning stomach. "Eat something wrong?" He asks, ignoring your statement. "Or did you catch something?" He steps forward, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead.

"Mhm," you shrug, leaning into his cool touch. "went to bed fine."

He rubs a hand up your back, tired mind running through everything that could have happened, if it's something suspect in the fridge, if it's something from another Earth (why would he give you snacks he finds in other Earths? God, why did he not think that through?), or if it's something like a bug or little flu.

"Think you're finished, love? Let's get ya' back to bed." He plucks you from the ground, an arm under your legs and the other supporting your back, ignoring the slight look of shock on your face when your lanky partner easily hauls you from the ground. He carries you gently, careful not to jostle you too much.

You press your forehead into his shoulder, and he catches the way your body relaxes just a little with the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart under the thin, somewhat ripped, shirt he threw on sometime during the night.

The sheets are still warm from where he’d been moments ago, and he lowers you gently into the bed, tucking them up around your shoulders before crouching beside you. “You want water?” he asks, brushing a bit of hair from your forehead with the back of his knuckles. "Crackers, maybe? Dunno what people eat when they're sick - tea? I think there's, like, mint in the cupboard or somethin'."

You blink up at him, the corners of your lips twitching in the barest hint of a smirk. "You fussing over me?"

"Oi," he snorts, "'course I am. You’re pukin' your guts out and I'm meant to be... here, y'know." He hums, nodding his head towards your form. "Scared me, you not being in bed."

"Scared you?" You chuckle, regretting it with a harsh cough, though the amused smile stays. "Where would I have gone this early? The corner shop isn't even open,"

He shrugs, leaning forward and using the edge of the blanket to wipe the sweat from your forehead. "Don't matter." He murmurs, kissing your warm cheek, the coolness of his lip ring a welcome feeling before he climbs onto the other side of the bed, throwing his arm around you like he wanted to. "We're staying home today, 'm pretty sure we have soup in a cupboard somewhere,"

"You'll get sick." You try to push him back a little.

"Hm," he huffs, hiding his face from the sun in the nook of your neck. "who cares? We're cuddling, that's that."

Pavitr Prabhakar

He bounces his weight from one foot to the other, humming some tune he heard when passing some kids playing jump-rope, looking down at himself to quadruple check he's not wearing his Spider-Man suit before knocking on the door.

You told him your parents wouldn't be home, but he didn't want to waltz in and have to explain to anyone why he's so excited to see 'a friend from class'.

He flinched when the door opens but he puts on his charming smile, only for it to falter when he sees the light of his life, the sun to his dark days, the other half of his heart - but only because you're wrapped in a blanket cocoon, head lowered in a hunch, and your usual grin when seeing him replaced with a tired gaze.

"Eek," he sticks his tongue out for a moment before ushering you inside, closing the door behind him as he guides you to the living room. "are you okay?"

You shrug, collapsing onto the couch and curling your legs up under the blanket. "I got caught in the rain yesterday, must have caught a cold or something,"

He frowns, kneeling on the floor next to the couch, hands cupping your face to make you look at him as if you're dying and not just sniffle-y. "Have you eaten today? Had water? When did you wake up?" He asks one question right after the other, eyes dancing over your skin. "Are you cold? Hot?"

"Shush," you grunt with a sigh, headache worsening as you try to keep up with his worry. "I'm fine, I had some water and just took a painkiller, just been watching TV," you nod towards the little screen where the latest trash TV or medical drama is playing, muted. "should have texted you. Sorry."

His eyes widen like he just watch you get shot and he hurries to speak, "No, no, no, nothing's wrong with that, I barely remember my own name when I'm sick." He sighs, leaning back on his calves as he looks at his lap, toying with the hem of his shirt. "Are you hungry?" He glances up at you.

"Not really," you shake your head, regretting it because it seems to ignite a second wave of your headache. "can you just... stay here?"

He nods, jumping to his feet before throwing himself onto the cushion next to you. "Course," he adjusts, guiding you to lean against his chest - he's silently praying that he doesn't get sick, he'll be absolutely pathetic, but you're much more important to him than avoiding any of his more flashy moves when fighting bad guys with a migraine.

His legs keeps moving, bouncing as he watches you fumble your hand around the side table before the sound from the TV starts again. You cough and he almost immediately shoots up. "Let me make tea-"

"Stay," you grumble, tugging him back down and folding yourself over him so he can't move without disturbing you.

He freezes, then slowly puts his hand on your arm, tracing soft shapes against your skin. "Yeah," he murmurs in something like acknowledgment. "okay."

Miles Morales

He would normally be sprinting back to his current room, the one he shares with Ganke, or being annoyed when he has to fight the villain of the week when he hasn't started his assignment yet, but he's leaning against the wall with his thumbs quickly typing, deleting, and typing again as he tries to think of a reason why he hasn't gotten a response since yesterday afternoon.

Usually, there's at least a lazy back and forth, like a junior badminton game, even when he's hanging upside down or trying to keep a billboard from collapsing. He'll check his phone every few seconds like those times his brain can't remember the time he just saw, trying to decipher the string of emojis he got in response to his question of 'what plans do you have this weekend?', but there's nothing to decipher, nothing to read, not even a 'will be busy today, can't talk much' or the bee emoji because he accidentally called you that and his autocorrect didn't catch it.

He looks up, checking around him to make sure there's nothing his Spider Sense isn't warning him about, before burying his head back into his screen.

He winces before finally typing out; hey, checking in, you okay? and sending it before he can regret it or call himself clingy too much in his own mind.

sick.

That's the text he gets back immediately and while it's nice to hear from you, it only makes him more worried that you're dying and he's not there - obviously you're not actually dying (hopefully), but his mind is already working a million miles an hour and he's still getting over the whole 'getting everyone back to their own Earth safe'.

He doesn't read his next message (don't come over, I just downed a shot glass of NyQuil and will NOT be good conversation lol), his phone already in his pocket and his backpack put on both shoulders instead of letting it hang off his one like usual, and he starts sprinting towards your place.

Your parents' place, but he knows he can be polite enough that they'll let him in, especially if he says he has your charger or something from the last time you came over. And he's still wearing the 'fancy' school uniform so he probably looks super respectable, as long as he doesn't get there sweaty and disheveled.

When he gets there, knocking on the the door twice because one you can never be sure if it was just something falling or a knock and not three times because he's not trying to look desperate.

Your father opens the door, still in his work clothes, immediately eyeing him up and down. Miles tries to stay calm, keep his grin charming and innocent and definitely not panicked (and he is a little sweaty so he just keeps his arms as squared by his side as possible). "What do you want?"

"Just wanted to drop off their charger, sir. Do you mind if I hand it to them?"

He sighs, stepping to the side. "Go ahead. Try not to be too long, they're trying to sleep."

"Thank you, sir," he steps in, glancing down at the shoe rack next to the door as he wipes his shoes on the rug outside.

"You can keep them on. Second room on the right upstairs,"

Miles nods, avoiding telling him that he's been here a good handful of times by climbing up the wall (which he says he can do just because he's done parkour in the past, which he hasn't and he doesn't like lying to you but he's planning on telling you... so, it's not that bad, right?) and waits for him to enter the other room before bounding up the stairs like an over-excited dog.

He slows down just before your door, nearly tripping over his own feet trying to remember how to act like a normal person - and getting used to be taller ever since the bite. His hands awkwardly hover, trying to choose to knock or not, before he opens it a little, peering in.

There's a death rattle of a cough that sounds out and he sympathetically cringes, ignoring you murmur of; "I told you not to come," because he hadn't read that bit.

He steps in. "Sorry, just... got worried," he looks around, studying the tissues over-flowing from the small garbage can like he has to sketch it out for a still-life before his eyes bounce to your form and he has to choke down a smile because you're wearing his hoodie. "nice outfit."

"Shut it," you grumble, head nodding forward. "you left it here, now it's mine."

"That's not how it works," he laughs softly, stepping forward and taking his bag off, leaning it against your bed as he helps you lay down more, adjusting the pillows underneath your head and fixing the blankets so they tuck just below your chin. He whispers. "and if your dad asks, I dropped off your phone charger."

You chuckle, though mostly because you're so tired that anything is funny.

Miles smiles softly, leaning back slightly to give you a little space, trying to adjust to the awkwardness of the moment. He’s used to balancing heroics with everyday life, but moments like this—just sitting in someone’s room, making sure they’re okay—feel different. Maybe it’s because you mean more to him than anyone else.

"You're a mess," he says, teasing as he gently pulls the hood of his sweatshirt a little further over your head, hiding the messy hair you probably hadn't cared about fixing. He sits beside the bed, his eyes flicking to the window to avoid looking too intensely at you, even though he's definitely looking at you.

"Yeah, well," you cough again, wincing. "...we should have another date soon."

"Hm," he can't help but smile, nodding. "yeah, we will, just get some rest, babe." He pauses for a moment before realizing you already have fallen asleep. He bites his lip to keep from laughing, grabbing your phone and putting it onto the charger before grabbing his bag. "Get better soon," he whispers into the air.

[6thscara]

How to Deal With a Jealous Partner? [oneshot]

✭ Scaramouche x Reader

ׂ╰┈➤ scaramouche is bad at feelings / jealousy issues / scaramouche is called Wanderer

.ೃ࿐ synopsis ; Wanderer is jealous of you spending more time with others, so you talk it out together 😿.

1,216 words

——————

i’m sleepy i’m tired i’m htting the hay after this

i haven’t posted in like two months but i basically just write when i’m inconvenienced so

also no beta…

——————

Wanderer’s past has led him to become a jealous person. And jealousy is something that he’s never learned to deal with. Which didn’t help the fact that you’ve been spending a bit more time with others— not leaving much for him.

As a result, he’s been trying to distance himself a bit more. He would divert his attention away from you, trying to shrug off conversations. Like he was trying to leave you before you left him.

But now, it was time to talk. You’re sitting down on your bed with your lover beside you. A dim light illuminates your bedroom, a space of comfort that Wanderer has become well aquatinted with.

His stare shows an irregular expression of vulnerability as he tries to maintain eye contact. Still, the piercing indigo hues show his possessiveness.

It’s also evident in the way he grips your wrist, fingers almost digging into the skin as if you’ll walk away. Of course, you won’t, which you try to tell him through a soft gaze.

He isn’t sure what to make of it— or what to do. It’s new for him. He isn’t used to being reassured like this, to be mannered with so gently.

That’s why he hates it when all he can do is tighten his hold. It hurts a bit.

“Wanderer, please,” you whisper, placing your other hand atop his as if to coax him off. He lets out a quiet breath, taking a second to loosen his grip on your wrist. Carefully, he rubs your skin, most likely as a silent apology for any hurt.

You give him a faint smile, opting to hold his hand instead. An expression of unfamiliarity appears on his face, but he tries not to show it.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong, how you’re feeling, I’m listening.” You say in the kindest voice you can manage. You know he was jealous because of you spending a lot of time with others lately, but you wanted to hear it from him— everything he felt.

After a breath, he looks at you sternly, and grumbles, “I don’t like what you’ve been doing recently.”

You look at him, asking for more. He sighs.

“You’ve been spending most of your time with others, and not me.” Wanderer adds on shyly.

He looks upset, which you assume is because he doesn’t enjoy being vulnerable like this. He hates it— as if his ego is being crushed.

“I understand,” you tell him. You would’ve been jealous, too. There were times where you were, but they’ve been buried sufficiently.

However, it was time to talk through these problems. You knew from the start that being with someone like the Wanderer would be a bit difficult, but you didn’t mind. He has your utmost devotion, as you have his. There was no doubt that you would do everything to make this work.

Your chest feels heavy as you decide what to say. You think carefully, because this moment was a stepping stone for the both of you.

Although you feel a lot of pressure, you knew you had to speak honestly and from the heart, while also being smart about it.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, I get it.” You smile, adding a teasing hint to your voice to lighten the mood. The atmosphere felt a bit suffocating, but you wanted it to be comfortable. After all, talking like this should be normal, right?

Wanderer huffs, scowling at you playfully. He squeezes your hand while you admire how pretty he looks with his face slightly flushed.

“You sure sound to know a lot,” he scoffs.

“I want to make this work! I’m trying…” You tell him, feeling a bit embarrassed now, too.

He lets out a small laugh, looking at you directly. You then continue with your words,

“I still value time with you the most,” you say, “I just also have other people that I care about.” Once you say that, you notice his expression frown a bit. Yet, both of you know it’s necessary to get through.

“So please, don’t try to avoid me anymore because of your jealousy. That’ll make chasing you hurt me more.”

Wanderer slightly opens his mouth before hesitantly speaking, “I know.”

“…I don’t want you to leave.” He pauses.

“The thought of you leaving me for someone else is—… it sounds simply unbearable.”

His words surprise you— it was hard for him to say such things, and you figured it would be a while more until you got to hear him speak so truthfully. Though, you’re glad that he’s comfortable enough to talk.

“I do trust you… I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

Once he says he trusts you, a surge of emotions runs through your body. It causes a gentle smile to emerge along with heat on your cheeks.

He turns his head down, avoiding your eyes. A tender expression makes its way onto your face as your free hand moves to his cheek. His skin feels warm and soft, bringing you comfort.

He squeezes your hand a bit, much more gentler than earlier.

Trust is important— you knew it would be a key to many obstacles. And more than anything, you wanted to be a safe place for him.

You guide his head back up to look at you, and opt to quickly but sweetly kiss his cheek. He doesn’t want to show it, but it makes him feel relieved.

“Don’t think I’ll ever leave you, because I won’t.” You begin, “I’m staying with you forever. You’re the only one for me, Wanderer. I’ll always choose to be with you.”

Heat reaches your palm coming from the skin of his cheek, and you hope your words were alright. He pauses again for a moment.

“…I’ll try to stop being so possessive.” He responds.

“I do want you to be free, and to spend time with others without worry. But I’m not going to lose you,” Wanderer finishes sternly.

For a moment, he runs his hand up to feel yours on his cheek, then slowly glides over your fingers. He lets out a breath as his eyes pierce yours.

“…How about we spend some time together tomorrow? Just the two of us, we can do whatever you’d like.” You suggest, working through the situation.

He nods slowly. “I’ll try to think of something to do.”

“…As long as you’re beside me, I can’t think of anything else that would make it better.” He finishes with a grumble, eyes flickering around the room while his cheeks redden.

Sweet words from Wanderer were rare, but when they came, you appreciated it more than anything. He still has trouble at times, but everything is a process.

You squeeze his cheek a bit, letting out a small giggle when he scowls.

In one motion, you push him down to the bed and hug him. His arms wrap around you as well, allowing the both of you to bask in each other’s affection.

When you cuddle a bit closer, he doesn’t shy away— he buries his head along your collarbone, listening to your heartbeat. A sound he’s grown fond of.

Although there were still many obstacles to get through together, you were both happy to figure everything out with time.

—————

eugh sorry to my 3 followers this sucks but i dont wanna edit i just wanna post and i can’t reallt deliver anything good but i do still have that hanahaki au draft

anyways time to sleep bai ily whoevers reading this

[mamiobesssionfics]

In The End, It Is Always Love

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, childhood trauma mentioned, enemies to lover trope

Summary: You wanted her title, but she wasn’t giving it to you so easily.

She hated you and you hated her.

It was as simple as that.

You were new on the WWE set, the Rookie is what they all called you.

You might be a rookie, but you had big ambitions.

You wanted that belt. It would go so well with your outfit.

It was also a bonus that you loved shiny things.

The current holder of said belt and title, however, Rhea will be a huge challenge.

To say that your relationship with her was rocky would be a major understatement.

She fucking hated your guts.

And she wasn't afraid to say it to your face.

In the beginning, you did try and be nice with her, but she immediately had this wall up.

And so, your rivalry started.

The only good thing about this was that you didn't even have to act like you didn't like each other during fights.

It was real and the fans loved it.

Screw Iron Man vs Captain America, Rhea vs Y/N was the new thing.

And it was genuine.

You two truly didn't like each other.

Even with your dislike towards her, you still tried to keep it professional.

So it wouldn't be so awkward when everyone went out together.

Much like right now.

After another successful event, with all tickets sold, everyone went out to grab drinks and something to eat.

You were having a great time, talking to Dominik and Liv, and you kept your distance from Rhea perfectly.

However, after a couple drinks, you might have forgotten about your surroundings and somehow, you ended up seated next to her.

Thinking back, you could say it was the others putting you next to her just to stir the pot.

In the moment all you could remember was you heard someone behind you mention your name.

And then Rhea went on.

As if you weren't even there.

"She is not that good, and tomorrow, all of you are going to see it when I beat her tiny ass. Someone like her cannot take my title."

Your blood began to boil and you couldn't keep silent.

"Well if you wouldn't be intimidated, maybe you wouldn't keep talking about me. That title will be mine, you can go back crying to your fans about Mami losing her precious little title!" you said before drinking your shot and grabbing your back.

You knew you needed to leave before things got worse.

You quickly said goodbye to everyone and left.

You were just outside when Rhea caught up to you. Letting out a long sigh as you watched her walk over to you.

"Why are you always such a bitch?" she said and it made you even angrier.

"What did you just call me?"

"A bitch! Every time you talk to me, you have this attitude."

"Like you are any better Miss Attitude!" you hated that word with passion. A bitch? For fighting for your like? Your career? And your future?

Would that truly qualify you as a bitch?

"Everything was so much better, but then you decided to show up! You don't even have the talent to be here."

"Shut up." you said but she didn't.

"You are so pathetic."

"Stop it."

"So stupid!"

"Please," you begged with a whisper.

"Such a stupid little bitch." this is when she looked at you and into your eyes. Her face immediately fell when she saw the tears running down your face.

She had gone too far.

You didn't say anything, you just turned around and walked home.

This was enough for a day.

More than enough.

You lay in bed, her words ringing in your head, her words merged with your parents' words as you silently cried.

You heard these words way too much while growing up.

You didn't need your rival to yell them into your face.

Especially outside the ring, when it meant the most.

You didn't sleep that night.

But the next morning you were in your dressing room earlier than anyone.

You wanted to prove that you are not worthless.

But on the other hand, you were so over it.

You knew it was silly to give up only after meeting one person who rubbed you the wrong way.

Your hair and make-up were ready, you looked almost nothing like yourself, which was the point.

You ended up taking a deep breath and putting on a show, fighting with everything you had.

But you lost.

Rhea managed to keep her title, and honestly, it was better this way.

You did feel a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders somehow.

You felt at peace.

You knew there would be time for you to try again, you might be disappointed, but at least you were free of the pressure.

There was a knock on your door, you stood up, and it was the last person you expected to be standing in front of you.

"Rhea?"

"Can we talk, please?" you nodded and opened the door, letting her in.

"Want a drink?" you asked her pointing at the mini fridge.

"Yeah, why not?" you walked over and bent down to grab two sodas from the fridge.

"Not to be rude or anything, but why are you here?" you turned around and at that exact moment she looked away. Was she checking you out?

"I wanted to apologise for what I said yesterday. I took it way too far and I'm truly sorry. I saw that I hurt you." she said as she took the cold drink from you.

"My father always told me how I was worthless, how I will never become anyone. My mother called me a bitch more than my actual name. Your words hurt because I am still struggling to say that my mother and my father were wrong."

"They are. Very wrong. You are such a nice person, kind and you are great at what you do. Acting on another lever, fighting that don't even come near my level."

"You are the World Champion. And you deserve it. Please don't think that your words from yesterday influenced me today and that's why I lost. It's actually nice to lose. At least I still have something to look forward to." you smiled and sat down next to her on the couch. "But I do accept your apology. Thank you for your kind words."

You sat in silence for a moment, you felt her eyes watching you and you turned to look at her.

She had this look on her face, you failed to recognize what it was.

One of her hands came up as her fingers met the side of your face.

Her touch was so soft, you barely felt it. Her fingers ran down your cheeks to your jaw and her thumb found your lips, she softly pulled on your bottom lip, her eyes never leaving your lips.

You didn't even notice her leaning in closer to you. Her thumb once again pulled on your bottom lip.

You watched as she licked her lips before they met yours.

Her kiss was much like her touch, gentle.

You barely had time to close your eyes before she pulled away.

"Sorry." she said as you could see her panic. But before she could pull back, you quickly grabbed her and planted your lips back on hers, this time with more passion.

It took her no time to kiss you back. She was quick to dominate as well. You fought her in the beginning, but soon gave up and allowed her to leave.

The moan she let out to signal just how pleased with your submission she was would be sinful to others, but it was music to your ears.

It became very heated as her hands began to roam your hips and waist.

Finally, you pulled away, lips swollen, pupils dilated as you looked at her.

It felt as if there were no words that needed to be spoken.

In that moment you both felt the exact same, love.

You smiled as she let out a long sigh. She wanted to pull you back for another kiss but you moved back.

"Take me on a date first."

"Oh? Is that right?"

"Tomorrow, 5pm come pick me up." you said and she laughed.

"Bossy now, are we?"

"Of course." you stood up from the couch and walked into the bathroom to wash your face and go home.

You left her in that room but she was smiling. And you knew that she would come pick you up tomorrow at 5 sharp.

You knew because her eyes didn't lie. Suddenly it all made sense, it was never hatred.

It was always love.

[latenightdaydreams]

WereWolf!König x New!Girl Pt2

Part 1

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, forceful, transformation, oral

1.7k word count

🐺

.

.

The very next morning, König wakes up feeling invigorated. There is a peep in his step as he jumps out of bed, your scent lingers on his body. He can’t control his thoughts about you. The simple fact that he can’t be there with you right now is driving him insane. All he wants to do is rub his hands over every single inch of you.

While he usually only goes to the market once a week, he has to go back. Going straight to your home would be too obvious; too weird. The day seems to drag on until it’s late in the afternoon. He showers and quickly gets dressed to rush to the store.

You’re physically at work, but mentally miles away. On the side of your neck is a thick layer of make-up, hiding the bite marks from last night. It’s been a slow day so it’s easy to get lost in thought. When you squat down to restock, you feel a stinging pain shoot through your vagina. You tore, badly. As your eyes stare off into the distance, you accidently place toilet paper in the wrong spot.

“Y/n, hey. What are you doing?” Your uncle comes up behind you, chuckling at your mistake.

“Oh, sorry.” You snap out of it and pull the product back onto the cart. “I’m just so out of it today.”

“Are you doing okay?”

Just as you’re about to answer, the sound of a door shutting outside the store catches your attention. You stand to look over, seeing König walking towards the front door. Frank leaves your side to go greet his friend. A disappointed huff leaves your lips; you really needed to speak to someone.

“König! Did you forget something?”

“Ja, I did.” König chuckles, his eyes instantly landing on you as you walk back to the cash register.

“Well, I’m always glad to have your money.” Frank jokes.

König laughs, his eyes still on you. You linger behind the cash register now, seemingly far away. Hopefully thinking about your night together. He hates the restrictions of human civilization, forcing him to simply smile and nod in your direction as he continues on into the store; stopping where he can watch you from a distance.

“Uncle Frank, can we keep talking?”

“Yup!” He walks back to you and leans against the counter.

“Can you please listen to me without judgment?” You whisper, but König can still hear you.

“Absolutely.”

“I know you said there are no wolves around here, but last night I think one bit me.”

“What? A wolf?” Frank says loudly.

“Shh!” You place your finger over your lips. “Please be quiet. Can you please stay with me? I don’t want to leave alone.”

“Sweety, there are no wolves around here. You only think it bit you? Maybe it was a German Shepherd? Farmer Paul has one that’s a real ass—”

“It wasn’t a dog. It was massive.”

Frank shifts his weight and grabs his keys from his front pocket before letting out a sigh. He knows that you’ve been through a lot lately, but he doesn’t know what to say to you right now. König walks forward and approaches the two of you.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but did you say that a dog attacked you?”

You can feel yourself blush, feeling as if he will think that you’re crazy too. “A wolf.”

“And there aren’t any around here.” Frank says.

“No, there aren’t.” König looks at you and the worry in your eyes. If only he could reassure you that you’re safe with him. “But there is no harm in being safe. I could stay here with you while you close up.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“It’s really not an issue. I have no plans.” König gives you a warm comforting smile.

“Thank you, König.” Frank pats his shoulder.

“Not a problem.”

The last twenty minutes of work pass by quickly for you. König turns out to be a very flirtatious man, his charming smile and hypnotizing blue eyes making the fear of last night’s incident slip far away in your mind. While he may be a bit older than you, you find yourself beginning to like him in an odd way.

“It’s getting dark.” König says, looking out of the window before looking back at you. His once bright blue eyes now darkened, turning a deep yellow. The change is coming, and you’re trapped in here with him.

“It is.” You say as your back is turned to him. “I just have to go grab my keys and I’m ready to…leave.” Your voice drifts off as you turn to see König taking deep breaths, his eyes now animalistic.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today, Maus.” König’s voice has turned raspy as his teeth grow.

“Y- y—” Words escape you as panic takes over your body.

“Don’t be afraid, please.” König slightly hunched over as you watch in horror. Skin falls from his body, replaced by the thick dark fur you remember from last night. His hands grow long claws that scratch the wall as he tries to balance himself.

A blood curdling scream bursts from your lips as König lets out loud groans of pain. Without a second thought you quickly turn on your feet and rush towards the break room door. Your feet carry you across the floor, just able to get to the door and slam it shut. Your fingers shake as you lock the door and rush to your locker to grab your keys.

From the other side of the solid wood door, you hear a loud howl. The sound makes your stomach flip. You stand still, not moving as you listen for any movement. For some reason you thought that he would give up and go hunt, but you’re proven wrong when you hear a loud banging against the door.

“Open.” König hits the door again, impatient and not wanting to play any games.

 “König! Please stop!” Your voice shakes.

“Mine. Open now.”

The next hit cracks the door, your eyes dart to the small window a few feet off the ground. While you might not fit, it's your only way out at this point. You rush to the collapsible table and drag underneath the window; watching your step you climb up and unlock the window. It opens so you turn yourself to the side and start to pull yourself out.

König continues to bang on the door, ready to break in to get to you. He knows once he can get his teeth on your neck you will calm down for him. Just then he hears a thud. His ears perk up before he turns and runs out of the shop quickly. In the dark night he looks around, spotting you running towards your car. Last time was too close, this time he has to be faster.

You get yourself off of the floor quickly, running to your car. As you reach in your pocket for your key, you realize the keys feel when you dropped from the window. “Fuck!” You should as you turn back to grab them. Just as you do, König appears around the corner and just stares at you, breathing heavily. He stands on two feet and holds a hand out for you to accept.

König looks into your eyes. As much as you want to deny him, he knows that you’re attracted to his human form and he knows you enjoyed begin fucked like a wild animal. Yet, that silly human brain wants to reject what it doesn’t understand. You turn and run. He watches you for a few seconds as you take off across the open field before taking off after you.

In no time he is right behind you, jumping to knock you off of your feet. You both crash to the ground, but he quickly recovers and mounts your much smaller body under his. He sticks his wet nose in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent again. He grabs a fist full of your hair and turns your face towards his.

“Mine.” He growls as he sits you up.

You gaze up at him as he stands. He gets closer to you, letting his erect, leaking cock linger in front of your face. A part of you is disgusted by the sight and smell, wanting to turn away and turn. There is another part of you that just wants to reach out and grab it. A small gasp leaves your lips when he grabs your hair again and tilts your head back.

König steps forward and pushes your face into his groin. The strong smell of his musk consumes your nostrils as his long cock rests along your face, his balls pressing against your mouth. You try to shake your head back and forth, to pull away; but you can’t. He holds you there longer for every moment you struggle.

“Lick.”

You part your mouth slightly, letting the tip of your tongue pass back and forth. His sweaty skin is salty, but you find yourself enjoying it. Slowly open your mouth more and let out more of your tongue to lick over his heavy balls.

König looks down at you with a pleased feeling. You’re finally giving into what you know you desire. He pulls back, dragging his cock across your face and down your tongue. A small growl leaves him as he watches your pretty lips carefully wrap around the head of his cock and sucking lightly. His hips push forward, shoving more of his cock into your mouth.

Your hands shoot to his thighs as you gag from him shoving his cock in too far. Tears begin to pool in your eyes as you try to maintain your composure. The girth of his cock causes your jaw to tire quickly, but you don’t dare try to pull away. Thick globs of spit fall from your mouth and fall on to your shirt.

When he pulls back, you cough and gasp for air. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you pant. He watches you try to gather yourself, feeling proud of you for how well you’ve calmed down. His arms wrap around your body, lifting you up, and walking you into the woods so he can fuck you in his den.

[whorediaries-09]

imagine eldest daughter!reader not being able to love anyone and flinch whenever someone touches her, and remus being the only person that can touch her and stay with her while she wants to be alone

oh wow. did u really have to...call me out like that?

archer;

pairing- remus lupin x reader warning(s)- hurt/comfort, details of child abuse, touch sensitivity. (let me know if should add more) a/n- i really went ✨self - indulgent ✨ on this one.

ps- the beginning is from the movie 'five feet apart'. it's a really good one, make sure to check it out.

little train

' i've been the archer, i've been the prey.'

touch. the first form of communication. it began with a soft caress of the finger. or the brush of lips on cheeks. it connects one in the times of happiness, bolsters one in the time of fear and excites one in times of passion and love.

to be touched, was to communicate the feeling of security, the feeling of safety and comfort. but to understand the importance of touch, was different, was difficult. to need the touch from the one you loved was as important as the air needed to breathe.

and you understood it's importance, the need when you had none. perhaps it was because you didn't feel the security, the feeling of being safe when you were being touched. even a simple hug or a handshake could set off ringing bells in your head.

it reminded you of the time when your mother would slap down her hands on your back for a small mishap like spilling the juice on the floor. or burn her cigarettes onto your skin, punishing you for wasting the juice and make you clean up.

'you stupid bitch! i don't have enough fucking money for you to spill juice all over the stupid floor!' she'd scream, boxing your ears. she'd pull you by your ears, taking a ladle and letting the wooden handle rain on your back, make you understand the consequences of your mistake.

'please don't cry angel, she'll beat you again,' your father would comfort you, rubbing a cool soothing balm on your burning wounds. you'd cry into the safety of his arms, his callous and rough palms soothing you. his voice was deep and warm, and he'd hold your face close to his chest to let you cry, so your voice was as muffled as possible. the tears would stick on your face and you blacked out, the exhaustion so deeply rooted within your body. you'd fall asleep in his arms.

because the monsters were gone, and your dad was home.

it was difficult to make friends within the community of witches and wizards. where everyone had their own fears but they had mastered the facade of pretend, to hide behind their smiles. and even in this difficult time, when the war was at large, people still found a way to sneak in a ray of hope and happiness into their life.

they appreciated the hugs and kisses. they never knew when they'd lose it. so you watched from a distance as ron weasley was smothered in kisses by molly weasley. and even though he puckered up his face, by his calm stature, you knew he enjoyed it. he liked it and appreciated it.

but oh how you hated it. you hated the fact that you'd have to stand different, reflect within the clouds of happy cheerful faces. perhaps it was you who was in the wrong. you hated the fact that you flinched when somebody tried to touch you. you wanted to feel the same comfort the others felt when they were touched.

'want another drink?' hermione asked, grabbing your attention from the overwhelming scene that played out in front of you. mrs. weasley going around and distributing gifts amongst the children. hermione had been scratching a purring crookshank's ears. your eyes darted down on your lap, where your finger circled around the rim of the empty cup.

'no thanks,' you smiled.

'you must try the eggnog! sirius is the best at making it!' harry said, a proud smile on his face. sirius threw his arm around his shoulders.

'it's fine harry, i'm sure you've never tried other variations of eggnog, if you find mine to be the best,'

'it'll always be the best to me, sirius,' harry said. sirius let out his usual bark like laughter, his gray eyes full of a raw emotion. in harry's eyes, he saw himself to be the father figure he never had.

'you flatter, me harry james potter, you really do.'

'he's not flattering you sirius, you know your way around the kitchen.' remus said, walking through the door. he set down his battered coat onto the chair. with a loud creak, he pulled it out his chair.

you noticed the aging lines around his eyes and lips. his usually pale skin was red. you assumed it was due to the lack of a muffler and the cold gusts of wind that blew outside. he tried to warm himself up by blowing air within the crevice of his palms and rubbing them together. when he noticed you staring at him, he smiled at you.

'merry christmas,' he whispered. his voice was deep and rich, a beautiful vibrato from the depth of his throat. you gulped slowly, watching as the redness from his face slowly faded as he gave you a warm smile. you felt your heart drown in an inexplainable cozy feeling. you smiled back, toasting the air with your empty glass.

'merry christmas,'

*-

the marks on your skin were evident. to be best described, they were like crescent moons staining your skin. the cause, however was not as pretty as the description.

to be wearing full sleeves on a hot summer day was exhausting and itchy, but it was the only solution to hide the burns from the time when your mother had decided to use you as her ashtray. the abuse had been settling upon you. your mother had been growing sicker as each day passed by.

and grief was a weird thing. you wanted to be sad that your mother was sick, and as each day passed, the days of her life were coming to and end. the woman that birthed you, that cared for you- that threw you into an emotional turmoil when your brother was born was dying.

you didn't feel grief, but neither did you feel happy. you were numb, trying to escape the coddling fumes of the tremendous torture you'd been through. to try and be the best role model for your brother.

to try and not keep a corpse in the cradle.

and again, in the realms of your plethora of emotions, you were numb. you didn't feel the pain when you jumped in front of the curse that was thrown at sirius, dodging him away from the soul trapping veil. it was like a white hot curse that burned through your skin and your mother's voice echoed in your brain.

your eyes closed, and while you could still hear your heart beating and the obnoxious screams, you let the darkness succumb you into a madness of sereness. perhaps you'd meet your mother again. perhaps you'll ask her if she ever loved you. perhaps, you'd asked her why she'd have to make you adore her with her hands around your neck.

perhaps you'd ask her the reason she set fire to the rain.

so, when your senses start numbing and you feel yourself falling on the cold hard ground with your head bursting open, you let the blood flow. you don't dream of the warm, calloused hands tending to your wounds and buying you ice cream to allow your mood to lighten. you don't dream about the monsters who were gone when your dad was home. perhaps you'd meet your dad when the world succumbs.

*-

the moonlight filtered through sheer curtains, falling on your face. the sheets underneath you were warm and cozy, pulling you into a beautiful haze of sleep. your eyelids were heavy when you opened them, and you slowly tried to move around, searching for recognition of the place.

you could only recognize the slumped up man sitting within the folds of his jacket. his hands were wrapped around a folded newspaper. his mouth was open slightly, and through the lens of your groggy drowsiness, you could see the lines on his chapped lips, the wrinkles around his eyes. his spectacles dangled off the edge of his nose.

slowly, under the sheets, you wriggled your toes to feel your body. you suddenly felt as if you were on fire. as if somebody had slayed you alive. you were laying down, for once, and not escaping the endless turmoil thrown at your back. for once, you didn't feel discomfort laying down and not doing anything. but it was hot under the sheets.

'sleep well?' remus asked, rubbing his eyes and fixing the angle of his spectacles. it surprised you, and you flinched slightly. he gets up, keeping his jacket on the chair he'd been sleeping on.

the dark circles under his eyes seemed to have deepened. you felt his eyes wander over you. he lower lip was tucked under his teeth, his hands buried in his pockets. he waits patiently for you to answer.

'yes, mr. lupin. where am i?'

'call me remus please. you're at my house. the order's headquarters weren't safe for you anymore. that's because the death eaters are after you. well specifically bellatrix, because you dodged the curse she threw at sirius. for old times sake, she wanted to end it for once and for all.'

you gulp slowly, letting the realization settle into you. you move your fingers slowly under the sheets, testing your capacity to move. you felt bandage clothe rip into your skin.

'you've broken your fingers.' he says moving closer to your form, lying on the bed. 'it's brutal, because your skeletal muscles have been damaged too. do you understand?' he says patiently, gently. you feel a clump in your throat which burns down into your very core. it makes your eyes water.

'y-yes,' you say, your voice wobbly. he stands beside you, letting you fight your tears. he doesn't say anything. and perhaps, you don't want him to.

it's as if, he can't ever leave you. as if he would stay. so, for once, when his gentle, calloused hands touch your body, helping you sit up, you don't find yourself running away from him. you find yourself chased into his warmth, which echoes a gentleness that stills your heart.

because, there's no invisible smoke, or a fire within the crevices of your body. he helps you hold onto him.

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a/n 2- i know this is a self indulgent statement, but if any of my sirius girlies want me to write something like this with him, please let me know!!

[ashwhowrites]

Reader, who is friends with Eddie ( not best friends but friends) likes Eddie. They hang out but Eddie doesn't see her as anything but a friend. He even tries to fix her up with someone. She is upset but really can't blame Eddie, he doesn't see her like that. She may decide to distance herself from Eddie since he's going out with other girls. Once he sees she's not around as much, he realizes he maybe should have given her a chance. Maybe they do end up together and have mind blowing sex and a happy ending. You know me, I'm a sucker for the triple threat of angst, smut and happy ending.

I hope no one minds that I connected these!! I figured I could knock both out within the same fic :) I hope everyone enjoyed <3

⚠️small amount of smut

The set up

Moodboard by the one and only @starksbabie

Y/N met Eddie just around a year ago. They were friends, but not best friends. She had her own best friends and he had hellfire. They hung out when they could and had fun. But the more she was with him, the more she fell for him.

One night she confessed, and her fear was confirmed. He didn't see her like that, and he only wanted to be friends. It hurt, but she couldn't be mad at him. He was nice and gentle about it. Making sure their friendship would survive. She appreciated how much he cared but it was like a knife repeatedly stabbing her.

Salt was thrown in her wound when he offered to set her up on a date. He had this whole idea of getting her to move on from him, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to go on dates with someone that wasn't him. But she smiled and agreed. A date could be fun and get her mind off of him.

~~~

She was wrong. Eddie left out the part where it was a double date. Gareth, a friend of Eddie's from Hellfire sat next to her. He was sweet. He was a gentleman and made her laugh. She was enjoying the date until Eddie and a girl sat across from them. All her progress out the window as Eddie sucked face with the blonde next to him. She knew he didn't like her, but he knew she liked him. And rubbing this in her face pissed her off. He was insensitive towards her feelings and that stung.

Gareth noticed the awkward energy, trying his best to distract himself and Y/N from the scene across from them.

"Want to get out of here?" Y/N nodded immediately, grabbing her purse as she gladly followed Gareth out of the restaurant.

When they were on their own and Eddie was in the back of her mind, she had a blast. She knew she wasn't going to get over Eddie in one night, but maybe this was a start.

~~~

"I have another guy for you!" Eddie said, smacking his tray down as he sat next to Y/N. She was confused as to why he wasn't at his normal table.

Eddie went on and on about the guy but Y/N wasn't interested. She hated how easy it was for Eddie to talk about her with someone else. Whenever he talked about his dates, Y/N felt like she needed to puke and cry.

She looked around the room and her eyes landed on Gareth. A smile on her face as she waved when he was already staring.

Eddie stopped talking once he realized she wasn't paying attention, he looked over his shoulder to see Gareth waving. Eddie smirked as he looked back at her.

"Oh I see, someone is still thinking about Gareth." Eddie teased. Y/N knew she couldn't date Gareth, he's way too close to Eddie and she'd never get over him. But Gareth made her feel better. She thought a real friendship could be formed there.

"It was one date, Eddie." She rolled her eyes and picked at her lunch.

"Which you both left together." He wiggled his eyebrows as she scoffed at him.

"Yeah because we were sick of tongue tennis." She spat, standing up as she left the cafeteria. Maybe she needed space from him altogether.

~~~

A week passed and Y/N spent most of her time with Gareth. She told him she wasn't interested in anything more than friends. And he was fine with that, he enjoyed her as a friend. She admitted she was trying to get over Eddie and dating his best friend wasn't healthy.

Eddie noticed his two friends were constantly together. Eddie set them up, but now he kinda of wished he never did. Y/N stopped hanging out with him as much, always with Gareth instead. He tried not to let it bother him.

But listening to Gareth talk about her hurt more than he thought it would. He was getting her life updates through her new little boyfriend. He felt replaced, and he missed her.

"How about another double date? Since the first one worked so well for you two." Eddie asked, he wanted an excuse to see her since she blew him off whenever he asked.

"We prefer to be alone," Gareth said, knowing watching Eddie on a date was something Y/N couldn't deal with to see.

"Nonsense! Dinner tonight, my place." Eddie demanded, slapping Gareth's shoulder hard as he walked away.

~~~

"No!" Y/N argued she was not going on another double date.

"Come on! Just think, we can really sell it and make him jealous." Gareth explained, but Y/N rolled her eyes at the idea.

"Jealous of what? He doesn't like me, Gareth. He told me. And he made it clear by hooking us up. Plus he'd have to keep his tongue out of his new slut of the week to even notice us."

Gareth laughed at her pout, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. He rubbed her back softly. "It'll be okay. He seemed very snippy about us hanging out. I think he's realizing he fucked up by not taking a shot with you."

"I really don't think he cares," Y/N argued, mumbling into Gareth's chest.

"The look on his face right now proves you wrong," Gareth smirked, Eddie's heated glare and clenched jaw gave him away. Y/N pulled away, confused, she turned her head to see Eddie glaring at them, a growl on his face as he went in the other direction.

"That was weird." Was Gareth right? Eddie did look pissed off and a little jealous.

~~~

Y/N felt a little excited heading into this date. Seeing Eddie so pissed off and jealous made her rethink the plan. Even if it failed and he didn't get jealous, at least she would be having fun. She wore black jeans, and a cropped band tee, and tied her hair back. She wore red lipstick, a bold color that always made her feel confident.

"Since when does Eddie cook?" Y/N asked as Gareth knocked on his door, hand in hand.

"Since his girl ditched him." Gareth joked, she scoffed and pushed his arm. Laughing right as the door yanked open.

"Aw isn't it the happy couple." Eddie smiled, Y/N swore he almost had crazy eyes as he led them through the door. His tone was too chippy and fake.

Y/N shared a nervous smile with Gareth as they walked in and took a seat at the kitchen table. Some girl was already sitting as she sipped on Wayne's beer.

"Hello, I'm Y/N, what's your name?" Y/N asked politely holding out her hand. The girl rolled her eyes and muttered "Grace."

Y/N coughed awkwardly and took back her hand. A tight smile as she looked at Gareth again, she giggled at the bizarre look on his face.

Eddie felt his whole body tighten when she giggled, snapping his head to look at her as she cuddled into Gareth. Since when was he so damn funny? Eddie angrily chopped up the vegetables, his knife hitting the cutting board repeatedly. Y/N jumped at every smack against it. Gareth smirked and stood up.

"Need a hand?" Gareth offered, joining Eddie at the counter as he chopped up carrots.

"So do you really like her?" Eddie asked a hint of sadness in his voice. He held his breath as he waited for his answer.

"Yeah, she's great. I can't thank you enough for setting us up!" Gareth said, a huge plastered smile on his face as he smacked Eddie's shoulder. "Don't think I'd ever get a girl like that until you just threw her right at me." Gareth knew he sounded like an ass, but he wanted Eddie to admit it to himself.

"Yeah...have you guys been on a lot of dates?" Gareth smirked as Eddie kept digging for information. The plan was working.

"Yeah. Movie dates, arcades, and we even went to that circus at the fair." Eddie felt his stomach drop, he always wanted to bring her to that circus. He wanted to get matching face paint and run around like idiots.

"Did she like it?" Eddie asked, he sounded choked up and Gareth almost felt bad. But Eddie had the chance to be with her, he was too dumb to see it.

"She absolutely loved it. She did wish you were there though." Gareth smiled, walking back to the table as he set down the plates. The girls were sitting in silence and Y/N smiled relieved when Gareth sat down.

Eddie watched them the whole dinner, eyes blazing. He watched as they made each other laugh, the way they held hands and told inside jokes. Eddie wanted to jump over the table and rip them apart.

Y/N couldn't believe the change in Eddie. Just a few weeks ago his tongue was down a girl's throat with no care in the world. But now he watched her every move, Grace ignored it as she picked at her nails. His eyes held so much anger and jealousy that it made her stomach turn. His bitter tone and snarky comments made her throb. Selfishly, she loved the attention he finally put on her.

As they finished dinner, Gareth and Y/N prepared to leave until Eddie asked her to stay.

"I'll bring her home, don't worry," Eddie promised, Gareth kissed Y/N's head as a goodbye and went out the door. Grace follows behind.

Y/N stood nervous as she waited for Eddie to speak. She wasn't sure what he wanted to talk about. Eddie leaned against his counter with his arm crossed, biting his lip as he tried to find the right words.

"I never thought I could miss someone this much," he confessed, "I hate that you replaced me and that you never come around anymore."

"Eddie, I didn't replace you." She defended, but she knew she missed him too. "You set me up because you wanted me to get over you. Of course, I'm going to spend time with him."

"Yeah well, I changed my mind! I wish I never set you guys up in the first place. I hate it. I hate you guys together. I hate hearing him talk about you and the way youlaughateverythinghesays." Eddie ranted. His words blended as he rushed it out.

"So what? You want me just to break up with him because you want to change your mind?" She scoffed.

"Break up with him because you don't love him like you love me." Eddie pleaded, he uncrossed his arms and his body deflated. "Break up with him because you were happier with me and you miss me too."

"Eddie, are you hearing yourself? I told you I fucking loved you and you set me up with your friend. I should fucking hate you! I should hate you for breaking my heart, sending me off for someone else to deal with, and then for you to have the nerve to try to ruin it for me. It sucks because I want to hate you, but I can't. I still love you and I hate that." Her voice cracked as she felt her anger taking control of her. He was so unfair.

"I DIDN'T KNOW! OKAY? I didn't know that seeing you move on was going to hurt. I didn't know that I would be jealous and hate my own best friend. I DIDN'T KNOW THAT I LOVED YOU. I DIDN'T KNOW THAT IT WOULD KILL ME TO SEE YOU WITH HIM" He argued, his own anger filling his bones.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU DIDN'T KNOW!" she screamed back. "I HAD EVERY RIGHT TO MOVE ON. You didn't want me, and I found someone who did." She snapped, walking to his front.

"Don't fucking walk away with me." He growled, walking behind her as he yanked her arm. She turned around with a heated glare.

"Don't touch me." She tried to yank her arm free but he wouldn't budge.

"Break up with him," Eddie demanded again, it wasn't a plea. It was an order.

"Fuck you." She scoffed and laughed. His eyes went even darker. His body pressed right against hers as he held her arm. She could feel all the anger rolling off his body. His hot skin burned against hers.

"Do you want him or me?" His voice was low and strong. Almost sounded like a real growl left his throat. His eyes stared into hers as he challenged her. She walked back but he followed. Her back pressed against the door as he pushed himself against her.

He was right there. Everything she wanted and craved was right there. He admitted he loved her. That it drove him crazy for her to be with someone else. She knew she'd never want Gareth like that. This was the plan all along.

"You." She whispered. That was all Eddie needed to hear. In seconds he removed his grip from her just to trap her hands above her head. She whined as she tried to claw out of his grip but he was too strong. He smashed his lips hungrily on hers. His knee shoved between her thighs, and she found herself grinding herself down on his knee.

He released her hands as he traveled his hands all over her body. She panted as he touched her chest, ass, hips and stomach. His hot touch burned her everywhere. His tongue was in her mouth as he took control of the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as she rocked against his knee. Everything felt like it was moving so fast, it all became a blur.

But she remembered the feeling of his tongue on her neck and his fingers inside of her. How his cock stretched out her cunt and his hand covered her screams. The bruising on her hips from his grip as he pounded into her from behind. The way he yanked her hair and bit her neck. The echoes of their skin smacking rang in her head over and over. The feeling as she came all over his cock and soaked her thighs completely. The softness of his kiss when he cleaned her up. The comfort of his pillow that rested under her head.

"I'm sorry for not seeing it earlier," Eddie mumbled against her bare shoulder, kissing the skin gently.

"Sometimes you don't know what you want until it's gone." She whispered, holding his hand that was around her waist.

"Mhhm, and now I won't mess it up."

"Shh, I just want to relax in your arms."

~~~

Eddie woke up the next morning and she was gone. He could smell bacon traveling through the small trailer. He rolled out of bed and slipped on a new pair of boxers. He yawned as he walked out of his room, the sight of her in his shirt as she flipped the bacon.

"you look really good in my clothes." He complimented, wrapping his arms around her as he nuzzled himself into her neck.

It took a while for Eddie to get here, but he did. And he wasn't going to mess it up for anything.

Tags!

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