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imliterallyf7ckin9crazy · 6 hours ago

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“ℑ’𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔶𝔢𝔱, ℑ’𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢”

Squid game season 2

In-ho x f!reader

Warnings: in ho is obsessive, stalking, poverty, cannon violence, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, loss of sanity, reader is an absurdist, childhood abuse, obsession, sad stuff.

NOT PROOF READ OR EDITED. This will also be a THREE PART SERIES bc quite honestly I can’t write much at one time smh. Also do not take reader too seriously she crazy as hell.

Also sorry reader and in-ho barely interact this chapter bc I needed to set the scene so you know what I’m talking abt. Pls read still tho bc I think it’s cool :3 you’ll need it for part two and part three.

TLDR: this is gonna be long af. So basically the reader is previous winner like gi hun only she went kinda crazy after her first game. So she gets like mentally locked in the games so to speak and so after she wins she doesn’t pay any of her debts and actually tried to accumulate more so she can be recruited again. She gets her card and when she talks to in ho he is like “why would u do this” and she’s like “bro bc i think I understand you and shi” and he’s like “if you can win again we can talk lol” and she is like bet. Only he tries to rig it against her. But she is dead set on winning.

A/N: am I projecting? Maybe. Also this shit is LONG sorry it took so long

————

Sometimes, when you find yourself winding through random back alleys or when you lie your head to rest at night, you can still hear the screams..

You can still feel the reverberation of each gunshot fired into the innocent flesh of desperate people. The wetness of the blood that splatters your face as others die before your eyes and you can’t quite tell if the screaming your were hearing was theirs or yours.

And sometimes you can still make out all the promises that were made in the dormitory. The faint memories of the voices of friends you made. The exact sound of their voices lost to time, but the faces of their lifeless bodies remained unchanged in your mind. Some of them were at the hands of players and some of pink soldiers.

And one at your hands.

Life had been cruel to you long before being convinced to risk it all. To say your early life was messy would be an understatement. Years of falling to sleep bloody and bruised, countless hours of begging for basic needs, and endless attempts to run away and make it better. Trying anything to make you feel whole. Like nothing ever happened at all. Once you got a job your parents kicked you out and left you to fend for yourself. At first it was great, you didn’t feel like you were being suffocated anymore. Until you got fired.

The place you worked at was shut down due to the owner embezzling the money and getting caught. The business soon went down at for lack of funds. And the reality of life became clear to you once again. Over time the hope you had to escape your parents and live the life you dreamed of as a young girl was drained from your soul. Ever since then you’ve been doing this. Wandering the streets aimlessly, almost as if you had never been in your home city a day in your life. You can’t even see the faces of those around you. Every face is replaced by one of four faces… ever since then that is.

The first face is younger you, battered and bruised to all hell. You see her face on usually younger people. No matter what they’re saying or doing the expression she gives is always the same. Glosses over eyes and facial features set in a way that screams both “why would this happen to me” and “what the hell became of us”. You cant even begin to answer those questions.

The second is the face of your father. Almost every man looks like him now. Though you haven’t seen him in years, since the game he’s come back to haunt you. To remind you there’s more wrong with you than what happened in those couple days. That there’s more broken about you. His expression stays angry. Tense like he’s going to hit you. For this you almost never interact with men and if you do it always end poorly.

The third is the one drives you insane most.

There was this beautiful, kind girl you once knew. Growing up she was the only thing that made living worth it. You were picked on quite a bit at school, be it because you never really spoke or because you had to be such a goodie two shoes to stay out of trouble at home. But she always stepped in at just the right time to save you. Even though her own home situation was much less than desirable she still found time to comfort you when you were in shambles or got into trouble to defend you. You both told each other everything, both pillars in the other’s lives. But after being kicked out you were forced to lose contact, solely because you couldn’t contact her or get to her part of town. That was until you joined the games at your lowest possible time to try and get some money to keep your loaners from finding you and gutting you for profit. Guess who you saw.

The girl that meant everything to you was suddenly standing before you. Deep You both scolded each other for getting into so much debt you had to meet here. Giving each other shit, like you used to. Looking back you almost chuckle at that for the nativity you both had. You watched people die together. Sprayed and stained with so much blood you didn’t now who’s it was. She kept you alive in there, with out her keeping you calm you probably would have died or quite frankly killed yourself. Against all odds you made it to the final three together against a man who needed the money for his family. She told you it was “okay “to take his life in his sleep after the final dinner because he would have done the same if either of you if you had fallen asleep. That morals in this situation would only get you both stuffed into a gift box. And so you both took his life for the sake of yours. You can still feel your stomach dropping as he pleaded for his life while you and your friend stared down at him cruelly, begging falling on deaf ears as you tore him to shreds with dirty steak knives.

Of course after that it was final two. When the last game was revealed, squid game, you remembered only one could leave. Actually, the both of you used to play squid game in school. Even if it’s typically a “boys game”, she was great defense and you were quick enough for easy offense. Genuinely, those were one of your fondest memories. Of course you’d be pinned against each other for the last time. Though you didn’t know it, the VIPs plans were to be able to watch an animalistic death match. However, you and your friend came to an agreement. No weapons, no fist fights to the death. You both knew you couldn’t kill each other, so you decided to simply play the game for the last time. The loser would take their lives themselves, with honor. And so you did. It became your last good memory. You were laughing for the last time, giggling like you were back to being school girls beating the popular boys at their favorite game. You still roughed each other up, nearing the end you both couldn’t ignore you were fighting for the death. That one of your lives hinged on this moment.

At the end, it was you who had won. You told her that you could both just back down and go home. You tried to convince her but she was set on this being the end, regardless how much you cry. You still remember what she told you before she slit her own throat clean open with her steak knife right before you, blood mixing with the mud and rain of the arena.

She said “I can’t go back there. Not without that money. I’ve had more fun here with you than I ever did my whole life. I got to be a little girl again with you. I can’t go back. This is the way I want to go, y/n.” And gave you a smile with tears turned invisible because of the rain. But you knew she was crying. “I love you”

then she was gone. As you rushed to her side, screaming her name until your throat was raw and starting to bleed you noticed her face. This look of bliss on her face, this twisted look of satisfaction graced her features as she bled from her self inflicted wound and stained your clothes and soul forever. You see that face on almost every woman. Eyes wide in ecstasy, faint smile and whole face covered in bright red blood. How badly you wished it was you instead of her, how badly you wanted to feel the contentment in life she had in those final not. That day you decided when you died it would be like her on that day.

Lastly, the fourth one you weren’t sure if it really counted as a face. It was the black geometric mask of the man who supposedly put you there. After you won you got to speak with him on the way home. Blindfold sure, but you found a tiny sliver where you were able to make out what he looked like. It was less soulless than the pink guards you had seen. It actually looked like a face, only it was made of many shapes. No one ever has his face, but you see him everywhere, more than any of the others. He’s always in the corner of your eye, you can make out his mask in the shadows of buildings, swearing you can see him watching you through your house window at night. No matter where you are you feel him watching.

For those reasons you almost never go out during the day, preferring to slink around and waste your hard earned murder money on stupid shit or alcohol. After all, why not? It goes without saying you were never the same after the games. It became all you thought about, every waking hour became ‘how was that possible? Who was really behind it? Why would they do this?’ So many questions swirled in your mind. You had theories for each of those questions already sure, but physically no way to know for certain. That not knowing sunk so deeply into your blood and poisoned your mind you came up with a new question to silence the voices that screamed at you and the faces you saw.

‘How do I get back?’

You became obsessed with many insane schemes and ploys to get yourself back in. Countless hours poured into the optimum plan to weasel a way inside the game again and truly figure this shit out. So you went back to the basics

Question: how where the games possible? Answer: clearly it was a high budget operation, meaning the money was coming from somewhere. But I mean come on-that’s too much money for just one person not even including the cash prize! So it has to be multiple people funding the whole thing. Thats theory #1

Question: who is really behind it? Answer: Ties into previous theory. If it’s multiple people, then who? Who’s setting it up and then who’s paying? Clearly that masked man is the leader or else he wouldn’t be so reclusive… but who is he throwing these games for? He said it’s just to give people a second chance but that just can’t be true but it can’t be just for him. There has to be people watching, that’s theory #2.

Question: why would they do this? Answer: clearly it’s not just for helping the poor- that much is obvious. Now here’s the theory you have that will be impossible to prove without going back. You were thinking about the games…. Kids games and team games. Like ones you would see on tv. Then you remembered how many cameras were everywhere. LITERALLY everywhere. Could just be security but it feels like more. Then the amount of cash and not everyone has that much money. What if there was a couple people paying to watch? Honestly you couldn’t tell if you were onto something or on something but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched by something bigger. Theory #3

And lastly and the most important question.

“How are you getting back?”

Why did they pick everyone? Because you had crazy amounts of debt. How did they get you there? Played games in train stations, then got picked up in a car and gassed out.

After months of speculation and planing this was what you could come up with. You had already paid off all of your debt and had so much left over money. You started spending recklessly, at one point just handing out money. People looked at you crazy but you didn’t even know it. You were in your own world let alone had the courage to look at their faces…

You began taking out extremely large loans with no intentions of paying anything. You were going out of your way to accumulate as much debt as possible. Consciously double crossing dangerous people. You kinda hoped sometimes that all these people would be able to find you and put you out of your misery but you were just too good at playing life threatening games. As the year went on you continued to pour so much money into the drain in hopes to be put back on the list for the games. Until that fated time of year came, when you remember being kidnapped.

You eventually realized no matter what you did you’d probably never run out of cash. One very late night after a particularly rough day you decided to gather all your money and dump it into your fire pit and set it all on fire. The tears running down your face contrasting with the wide smile on your face. It was a very bittersweet feeling to watch all the money you killed and almost died for burn in front of your eyes. The money 455 people fought and were slaughtered like animals for being reduced to ashes. But it also felt so good to lose it all and return to at least one about your old life. The time of recruitment was drawing near. You kept wasting money and hiding for your life until you gained even more debt than you had the first time. Honestly you were kind of impressed with yourself- think about it! You were able to accrue more debt in one year than you did your whole life up to this point.

It did briefly cross your mind that if this doesn’t work you literally burned all your money and multiple gangs and organizations wanting to harvest your organs for a quick paycheck. If you don’t get back in this year the chances of you trying again next year before one of many catch and kill you are extremely low. Oddly enough you didn’t mind living on the edge anymore, living within an inch of losing your life daily became so normal to you it almost felt fun. You started to see the world much differently the closer it came to hunt for that elusive recruiter. You think you’re starting understand the whole point of the games themselves.

The more you lived the way you did the more of humanity you saw. The lows of the human experience and the ugliness that controlled the heart of every person alive. And you noticed that the grand majority of these horrors revolved around money. Now that money had lost all value to you it became silly to see all these people just like you were so desperate for just enough money to save them to come along. To be fair it gets to a point where all you can do is pray it will work itself out.

But you watched people run themselves in circles for cash. Kill and be killed for cash. Lie, cheat, betray all for money. You see that no amount of money can take away the wrongs you did for it. All it really is is paper with no actual value. That money doesn’t really mean anything, it’s all an imaginary system people made themselves. All people do to become rich means nothing but they are greedy enough to put money before life. The money means nothing, the actions mean everything.

So then what’s the point of living? If it’s all based off a make believe value system built to extort and corrupt. If everything is rendered meaningless because people put values in the wrong things. If humanity is rotten to the core and unable to see what really matters then what the fuck is the reason to exist?

There is none. Isn’t that beautiful? All that you strive to do in life will not matter once you die. At death a successful man is as poor as a homeless man. In 100 years whatever you did in your small, insignificant life will be forgotten. There’s no point!! You could go and burn all your money, kill someone, lie and cheat and you’d STILL be on the same level as the richest person in the world. That revelation changed your whole view of the world and yourself.

Then the same day came again. The same exact day a year ago when you were suddenly approached by a man with a suitcase full of money and two pieces of paper. You went to the same train station at around the same time as you did before. Your mind was completely fogged with anticipation as your heart raced. You could barely walk straight or hear anything. You had to actually look at people to see if you could see that man, and every face was one you always tried to run from.

You breathed heavily and tears started to prick your eyes as they darted from person to person. You, your dad, your friend. You, your dad, your friend. They were everywhere. You felt as though you were going faint or throw up or both? You knew the people in the station had to be judging you even if you couldn’t quite see them. You felt like a fish In the ocean wandering without a reason. Eventually after you didn’t even know how long you chose to sit down on a bench and you just started to cry into your hands. You heard people mumble about if they should help you or not. Unsurprisingly no one did.

This wasn’t working and you were so fucked. But even as you cried you still believed this suffering was just a drop in the bucket. It didn’t really matter. Not anymore

Just as you were about to call it quits and go back home and hide until you couldn’t anymore you heard a voice so familiar it sent a shock through your whole body. Your head snapped up and a gasp was ripped from your throat

“Ms.(last name). I hoped we’d never have to meet here again”

Your eyes widened as you saw his face. It was the same man who came to you a year ago. You could actually see his face, the first real face you’ve seen on a person since you’ve gotten back since the game. All you could do is look up at him from your spot on the bench with wide delusional looking eyes.

“May I sit here?” He asks politely, to which you responded with a fast nod. He looked at you with this look of… pity? You figured you must look pretty pathetic nowadays. You have maybe 3 outfits total and you really haven’t been eating well. He smiled. before speaking again.

“Your debt has increased since the last time we met, but you knew that correct?” He asks. You nod again. You planned everything but what to say. “Why haven’t you payed it off?”

“Well I uh… kinda did? Most of it now is all new” you said with a shaky voice. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled a bit, finding it at least amusing. You knew it was an impressive feat. “I also set all my money on fire maybe a month or two ago? I’m actually not sure when…” you trailed off, trying to pinpoint the time when it dawned on you that you actually have had no true concept of time. You just know it’s been a year since you returned home. You can only really remember events but the time not so much.

“Ah, grown bored have we?” He mused. You knew that wasn’t quite it but seeing as you didn’t really know what’s made you do everything you have so far, only you knew you had to do it. You gave him another nod. He kept the same customer service type smile as he reached over and opened his case. It was set just as you remembered with the money and the ddakji. You sighed a bit before speaking “do I have to play again? I already know what happens and I don’t really want to be hit right now” you said, not really thinking. You didn’t know if you were in a place to be making requests but here you are.

You got another laugh from him, you didn’t know you were just so passively comical. “You dont have to, no. But maybe it will bring you back to your senses and you’ll live life how you were supposed to”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. ‘Live life like I was supposed to’. Is there any way someone is supposed to live? You didn’t think that way. You weren’t supposed to live any type of way, you should have died in that arena and-

“Are you sure this is what you want to do. What are you trying to gain?” His voice sounded pressed now, clearly trying to guide you into walking away. But if that was going to work you would have kept your money and moved far far away. You didn’t like being talked to like you didn’t know what’s made you were doing. You knew better than anyone you had lost your mind. You knew the things you were thinking, feeling, and thinking were most likely wrong. But you had no other option. No treatment for whatever illness is controlling your life.

“Im not trying to gain anything. I lost what I lost and I want it to stay gone…Please, just give me the card” your eyes were looking dead into his, voice wobbly with both terror and excitement. You held your hand out and you couldn’t even tell it was shaking. You couldn’t tell anything from anything. He lightly shook his head before reaching into his suits breast pocket and pulls out a brown business card. Upon seeing it you almost felt as if you were going to throw up right there. Your throat itched to scream and your legs twitched as if you were about to run away.

However when he placed the card into your hand all you did was close your fingers around it. Whole body shaking as you thanked him for the opportunity, just as you did when he gave it to you the first time. You both stood up and got ready to part ways for the second time. Right as you were about to bow your head he stopped you.

“Don’t become too full of yourself. Just because you won before means nothing the second time. I’ve seen many winners over the years, you will be no different than the other pieces of trash when you die in there. Is that really what you want?”

You opened your mouth to retaliate when he lifted his hand to stop you. “Have a great life, young miss. I hope you make the right decision” he says with his signature smirk and bow he walked in the direction opposite of the way you had to go. Presumably off to recruit more clueless individuals down on their luck. You had to hurry home now, you’d been out far too long and you knew people had people looking out for you. Waiting to catch you and make you pay. You quickly got out of the train station and started on your way back to the shitty, cheap hotel you’ve been hiding in. You’d been in that danm station for so long the sun had began to rise. The sky looked more pigmented, the air felt cleaner and you could actually think without hearing stray gunshots or phantom screams. You looked down at the small card in your clutches and flipped it over, revealing the number you had to call.

For the first time you hesitated in your plan. You were really about to go back to the place that ruined you. You missed the old version of you, when your real personality existed and you had a life. All you do all day is cry and shake and bang your head until you can form a thought. You were nothing like you remember being.

Maybe that’s what pulled you back there. The old you bringing you back to the last place she existed. A part of you actually did die in there, the part that still believed in people. She died right there with your friend, you left your soul in that dirt plot. And maybe you could find her again.

Once you got to the door of your room and got yourself inside you dialed up the number on your card and hit call. It rung a few times and when it picked up the automated voice command the same statement as before.

“If you wish to participate please state your full name and date of birth”

The words got stuck in your throat as you held the phone up to your mouth. This was your last chance to find something within you to back away.

“Y/n, D/O/B” you barely got it out fully as your stomach sank. This is what you wanted. This is what you asked for. Nothing matters. Nothing matters. Nothing-

“Player 444.” That’s him. That man with the black mask, that’s his voice. Hearing your number made you hold your breath and lose your balance. It’s been so long since you’ve been called that name. You knew it was him because his voice changer was a slightly different pitch than the other workers. “What is the point of this?” He asked with a serious voice, bordering threatening. You had an answer for this. “There is none. Get it? If there’s no reason to do it there’s no reason not to.”

He only hummed in response. Seemingly understanding at least a bit of what you said. “I have questions for you” you continued. This is what you’ve been waiting for. This was the point. You just needed to know

“questions?” He repeated. You guess he’s never been pressed by someone before. Small amounts of amusement was in his voice as if shocked anyone would speak to him like that

“Yes questions that’s what I said. Who are you and how are you able to get our information. Where did you take me. What is the point of-“

“I’ll tell you what” he cut you off in the middle of your frantic questioning. It’s probably for the best of you would never had stopped talking for him to even answer. You waited on bated breath, hanging on his words as you kept the phone pressed flush against your skin. Compartmentalizing his voice and how he talks into a file in your mind. “You want to play again because you want to know if your right, is that correct”

what he said caught you so off guard you didn’t even reply when he gave you a chance to respond. Every word got stuck in your throat to the point all that came out was strangled starts of a sentence. “You must have many theories in that little mind of yours. You’re coming because you think you’re smart enough to figure everything out, don’t you?”

Well… like kinda yeah that is what you think. You didn’t really know what to say, he hit it right on the head. You did think you could figure it out, actually you think you already have most of it. Not even his taunting could pull you out of that.

“Let’s play a game. If you can win again we can have a talk and I’ll tell you all you need to know. Only if you’re the last one standing.”

You knew it could never be that easy. With an operation of this scale and price you knew you would never get an offer so open. ‘If you can win again I’ll tell you anything’ they must believe you lost your brains when you lost your mind. Suddenly you did feel like you really didn’t know what you were getting into. It feels like a trap has already been set for you, it feels like they knew you were going to return all along. You struggled to breathe until you manged to force out a “okay”.

There was a muffled chuckle you could barely hear. There was something different now. You weren’t so sure about your plan anymore. He hadn’t said anything out right threatening or scary yet you knew he had something in store for you or else he never would put so much on the line. You just made a deal with the devil.

The original phone opera voice came back to tell you where to be picked up and that it would be this night. The phone hung up after that. All that remained was a deafening silence. It was done. You got what you had so badly wanted. But why doesn’t it feel as good as you wanted. Why don’t you feel fixed? Why hasn’t the old you come back to fix everything? That sinking feeling started bubbling over as you stood there with your phone in your hand. Beginning to hyperventilate you make your way to the crumby hotel bathroom and splash water in your face. You keep from looking in the mirror because you know what you’ll see. It will either be your friend or younger you. It used to be a huge problem when you first got out. Every time you’d forget and see them staring back at you you’d have another break down. Now it just puts you on edge, but it would be best if you just refrained from looking. You keep telling yourself that you can figure it out, you keep telling yourself it doesn’t matter if you live or die in there, you keep believing there’s no point in running from what would free you of your pain. Something deep inside tells you that you are close to seeing what the people who run this game do. That the epiphany they had to come up with this would make it all worth it. All you wanted was to see the bigger picture.

You could die happy and content dying just like your dear friend if it meant you could understand what it was all for. It’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to said and recognized.

You spend hours mulling over thoughts similar to these ones while you counted down the time before being relocated to what might as well be hell. You knew at this point you were walking into a death trap made just for you. You were going to either be granted the privilege of seeing the greater purpose of your suffering. You believed there had to be a reason, someone had to have figured out something huge to make them come to this.

Finally the fateful time reared its ugly head and you tugged on your coat. You looked at your room for the last time. You stood in the door way as your eyes brushed over all you had been. Papers scattered about, bottles of alcohol strewn about and random belongings resting in odd spots. It was time to say good bye once again. You are willing to leave it all behind and relive everything if it meant finding a purpose.

Eventually you arrived to you meet spot, an extremely expensive looking limousine was parked and waiting for you exactly where the phone operator said it would be. It was shiny and black with completely tinted windows. The anxiety you felt caused you to raggedly pant as you approached the car with unsteady steps. You gently opened the car door and stepped inside. The interior was white and luxurious and in front of your seat laid a golden pig. You sighed and closed your eyes waiting for the gas to kick in and claim your consciousness. Tears rolled slowly down your face as every even that happened in the games flash before your eyes. The blood, the screaming, the bits of brains and guts dried onto your clothes, and most of all the severed neck of the only friend you ever had. And to even your surprise you began to smile and giggle as you saw what happened to you play out like a movie in your minds eye. The gas started to be deployed into your enclosed car as your giggles became louder and more deranged. Sobs and laughter being mixed together as everything became hazy and burred.

Right before you black out you hear the masked man’s voice come from the little pigs speaker, loud and clear

“Welcome back, player 444. I hope you are happy with your decision”

_______

Sorry the friend is gonna remain nameless so you can imagine whoever. But next chapter when you get in the games there will be named characters. Again sorry you and in ho barely talked I just needed to get the exposition out before writing the main bits. Thank you sm gang and the next part will be out soon.

Also sorry end is kinda rushed I’m tired

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x you #x reader #in ho x reader #front man x reader #front man #in ho squid game #player 001 #squid game 2 #this is so shit #hwang in ho #you x squid game #001 x reader

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dixonverse · 8 hours ago

Text

His Heart, My Hands

Daryl x Reader || MLM

WARNING: sexual intercourse, oral, smoking, swearing

Daryl had been in love with you for a while now, relentlessly trying to win you over. But you—emotionally unavailable and unwilling to risk the inevitable fallout—kept him at arm’s length. You knew how these things ended. If you gave in, if you let him in, it would only break apart, leaving him hurt in the end. And that was something you couldn’t allow.

But Daryl didn’t see it that way. His devotion to you was unwavering, almost desperate. He had never loved anyone before—not like this. He practically worshiped the ground you walked on, always putting you first. On runs, his priority was keeping you safe. When supplies were scarce, he’d offer you everything before even considering himself. Any excuse to be near you, to do something for you, he took it. And every time he made his feelings known, you pulled away.

Tonight was no different. The two of you sat on your porch, a cigarette passed between you, the air thick with unspoken words. The conversation was easy, routine—until Daryl broke the rhythm. His voice was quieter this time, laced with something raw, something that made it impossible to ignore him this time.

“Think ‘bout you every damn day, y’know? Can’t get ya outta my head, no matter what I do. Hell, I sleep just hopin’ I’ll see ya in my dreams, for cryin’ out loud.”

He looked down at his boots, his fingers idly picking at the fraying threads on his jeans. His expression was unreadable—too solemn, too vulnerable.

“Ain’t never loved anybody before—never. Not ‘til you. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, can’t help how damn obsessed I am. It kills me you won’t even give this a chance.”

You sighed. “Daryl, we've talked about this.” He also sighed, taking another hit from his cigarette before handing it back to you. “I know but I can't help it. I love you and you don't feel the same way and it's killin’ me.” You look down, shaking your head and taking a long drag from your cigarette before answering softly. “You know how I feel, it's not you, it's me and all that crap.” He stared down at his lap, feeling a pang of hurt and disappointment in his chest. “I know, I just wish you'd let me in, let me show you how much you mean to me. You keep pushing me away but I can't just stop feelin’ the way I do.” You nod slowly. “I know how much I mean to you, Daryl, we don't have to be dating for me to know that.” He chuckled lightly, looking up at you.

“Yeah but you also know . I want more than just being friends, more than what we have now. Why wont you just give it a try?” You shrug and shake your head, giving the cigarette back. “it’s really complicated man…” He took the cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression a mix of hope and desperation. “I don't care if it's complicated. I've been through worse, I can handle it. Just give me a chance, that's all I'm asking for.” He spoke quietly “I care about you too much for you to get hurt because of me” you sigh, his eyes softened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I'm already hurt. Being around you, loving you from afar, it's killing me. But I'd rather have that than not have you at all.” His voice was low and husky, his words laced with emotion.

“But at least I know I'm doing what I think is right, because you'd be hurt 10 times more if I broke your heart. and I just… I can't let that happen” you shook your head. He dropped his hand, his face falling, his eyes clouding over with a mix of sadness and frustration. “You think you're doing what's right, but I don't see it that way. I see you shutting me out, shutting yourself off from feeling anything at all. And that's not living. That's just existing. You deserve more than that, we both do.”

He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of you, his movements agitated. “Calm down, Daryl, sit down” You say softly, “Listen, exactly, you deserve more, you said it yourself” He stopped pacing, his chest heaving as he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He looked at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of passion and frustration, before finally sitting back down beside you, his leg brushing against yours "I know I deserve more, but I want to deserve more with you. I don't want anyone else. I want you."

His voice was low and rough, his words sending a jolt of electricity through the air. You sigh and run a hand over your face. “You know this kills me too right? But I just can’t… I've seen how I am in relationships. I ain’t good at them, I wouldn’t treat you how you deserve. I've seen the looks on peoples faces when I inevitably break their hearts. It kills me” He reached out, his hand gently grasping yours, his calloused fingers intertwining yours. "I don't care if you think you're bad at relationships. I'm not asking for a fairytale ending. I'm asking for a chance to love you, to be there for you, no matter what. I've seen you in action, I know you're tough, I know you're guarded, but I also know that there's a heart in there somewhere. And I want to be the one to bring it out."

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. You slowly take your hand out of his and shake your head, putting your head in your hands. “I don't think I can..” he felt a pang of despair as you pulled your hand away, his heart sinking in his chest. He wanted to reach out and comfort you, to hold you close and tell you it was okay, but he knew that would only make things worse.

“Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't shut me out completely. Just... just don't." he sat there, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes fixed on the ground, his body tense with a mix of longing and resignation. “It's not completely, I want you here as a friend, I do.” You said softly. He looked up, his eyes searching yours, trying to read the truth behind your words. He knew you were trying to give him something, but it wasn't enough.

He wanted more, he needed more. "Friends don't make my heart race like this. Friends don't make me feel like I'm dying inside every time I see you. I can't just be friends with you, not when I'm in love with you." His voice was low and raw, his words spilling out in a torrent of emotion. “So what, if I say no to being together you can’t be my friend anymore?” You ask quietly and hesitantly.

He looked at you, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt, before he took a deep breath and his expression softened. "No. I'll always be your friend. I'll always be there for you, no matter what. But I can't promise I won't try to win your heart. I can't promise I won't keep hoping and trying, even if it's a lost cause." His voice was laced with determination, his jaw set in a firm line. "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." He forced a small, sad smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You sighed and shook your head “But that ain’t right, yes we can still be friends but you gotta put yourself out there for other people, try and find happiness with someone else. You can’t keep trying for me, I've seen you shut everyone else out who try and make a move on you, you don’t even give them the time of day.” He let out a dry, humorless laugh, his eyes glinting with a hint of bitterness

"You think I don't know that? You think I haven't tried? I've been with people. I've tried to move on, to forget about you. But every time, every damn time, I just end up comparing them to you. And they all come up short." He looked away, his jaw clenched, his voice laced with frustration. "You're the one I want. No one can compare to you. And I can't just turn off my feelings for you. It's not that easy." He paused, his chest heaving with emotion, before looking back at you. "I'll try, for you. I'll try to be your friend and support you. But don't ask me to give up on us completely. Because I won't." You nod slowly and place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I understand. I’m not asking you to shut your feelings off okay? I’d never expect that from you, just try.”

He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing slightly as your hand made contact with his shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay," He whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll try. For you, I'll try." He opened his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and longing, before gently covering your hand on his shoulder with his own. "But don't think for a second that I'll ever stop loving you. It's a part of me now."

His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense and unwavering, as if trying to convey the depth of his feelings through sheer willpower. You smile and nod. “Okay I won’t… but as long as you’ll try to put yourself more open i'm okay with it” He smiled back, a hint of relief and resignation in his eyes, as if he was grateful for the chance to at least try to be with you in some way. He released your hand from his shoulder and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Well, I think that's enough deep talk for one night," He said, trying to lighten the mood. "How about we go inside and watch some TV or something? I think we could both use a distraction." He extended a hand to you, a silent invitation to join him in the house. You nodded and followed him into your shared house in Alexandria. “Yeah let’s watch something, how about a horror movie? I know how much you hate those, you scaredy cat.” You say playfully shoving him as we get into the living room. He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that was music to your ears, as he caught your shove and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him on the couch.

"Hey, I'm not a scaredy cat, I just have a healthy respect for things that go bump in the night," He said, feigning indignation, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "But fine, if you want to torture me with a horror movie, go ahead. I'll try not to scream too loud." He grinned at you, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, his body warm and solid against yours. “Yeah, yeah. I know you’ll be jumping on my damn lap. How is it that we kill walkers and bad people all the time but you can’t handle a horror movie?” You say with a smile as you flip through selections. He chuckled, his chest rumbling against your shoulder, as he squeezed you tighter.

"Hey, it's not the same thing! Walkers and bad people are tangible threats, they're not going to jump out at me from the shadows or give me nightmares for weeks," He said, his voice laced with playful exasperation. "But fine, I'll try to keep my reactions to a minimum. For you," He added, giving you a sidelong glance and a wink "But don't say I didn't warn you when I'm burying my face in your neck trying to hide from the scary stuff." “Yeah, you big baby.” You say, settling on a super scary one. Thing is, you secretly like when he gets all scared and jumpy, it’s cute. Of course he’d never know that because you’d never say it. “Let’s watch this one” You say pressing play. He groaned and rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile at your teasing.

"Oh great, a super scary one. Just what I need to give me nightmares for the rest of my life," He muttered, but settled next to you on the couch, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, his body tense with anticipation. "You're going to owe me big time for this," He said, his voice low and mock-threatening, as the opening credits began to roll. “Uh huh just hush and watch it.” You say jokingly. He chuckled and shook his head, but dutifully turned his attention to the TV screen, his eyes fixed on the unfolding horror.

"Fine, fine. I'll shut up and watch the movie. But if I scream like a little girl, don't say I didn't warn you," He said, his voice laced with a mixture of bravado and trepidation. As the movie progressed, he tensed up even more, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he braced himself for the inevitable jump scares. As the movie reached a particularly scary scene, Daryl's eyes widened, and he let out a low, strangled noise in the back of his throat. He immediately buried his face in your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he tried to hide from the gruesome images on the screen.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." He muttered, his voice muffled against your skin, his body trembling slightly as he sought refuge in your presence. You chuckled, secretly loving this. “Crybaby,” you whispered. He lifted his head slightly, his face still pressed against your neck, and shot you a half-hearted glare. "Hey, I'm not a crybaby," He whispered back, his voice slightly defensive, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "I'm just... reacting appropriately to the horrors on the screen," He said, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine. "And you're not exactly helping me stay calm, you know," He added, his voice taking on a playful tone as he nuzzled your neck.

“No, you're the biggest crybaby ever.” He chuckled, the sound sending vibrations through your body, as he pressed his face back into your neck, his beard scratching against your skin. "Fine, I'm the biggest crybaby ever," He conceded, his voice muffled against your skin, but the amusement was clear in his tone. "But only when it comes to horror movies. I'm a tough guy in every other situation," He said, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer, as if seeking comfort and reassurance from your presence. “Sure whatever you say.” You say wrapping your arm around him to comfort him, not even realizing it.

He sighed, his body relaxing slightly as you wrapped your arm around him. He melted into your embrace, his face still buried in your neck. "Thanks for holding me," He whispered, his voice soft and sincere, as he snuggled closer to you, his arms tightening around you. "I don't know what I'd do without you," He said, his words laced with a deep affection and gratitude, as he found solace in your presence, even in the midst of a scary movie. You nod slowly, realizing you're holding him. But for once you don’t pull away, it feels too right. You focus your attention back on screen as it gets to even scarier parts. As the movie reaches its climax, Daryl's grip on you tightens even further, his body tense and rigid as he tries to brace himself for the inevitable jump scares.

"Oh God, oh God, it's getting worse," He whispers, his voice barely audible, his face still hidden in your neck, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, and you can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness and affection wash over you. You smile and pull him closer. Daryl's grip on you tightens in response, and he lets out a soft sigh of contentment, his body relaxing further in your embrace "Mmm, I love being held by you," He murmurs, his voice barely audible, as he snuggles closer, his face still buried in your shoulder. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, and seems to find comfort in the simple act of holding you, of being held by you. Daryl's gaze lingers on you, his eyes locked on yours, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of your face.

He slowly raises his hand, his fingers trailing down the side of your face, before coming to rest on your jawline. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he traces the line of your jaw with his thumb, his eyes filled with a deep sense of longing and adoration. "I love you," He whispers, his voice filled with raw emotion, as he gazes up at you with an intensity that takes your breath away. You swallow hard and nod. “I know you do.” You say gently brushing some hair from his face. Daryl's arms tighten around you, and he lets out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours as he holds you in a warm, comforting embrace.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, simply holding each other, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Daryl's breath is warm against your skin, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, as he seems to take comfort in the simple act of being close to you. After a few more moments of quiet, Daryl pulls back slightly, his eyes still closed, and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It's a tender, loving gesture, filled with warmth and affection, as he holds you close. He lets out a soft sigh, his lips still pressed against your skin, before he slowly opens his eyes and gazes at you with a soft, loving expression. You look down at him, and for a moment something different shines in your eyes, pure love and affection, something you’ve been trying to hide.

Daryl's eyes widen slightly, as he gazes up at you, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the pure love and affection shining in your eyes. He's taken aback by the intensity of the emotion, and for a moment, he's speechless. His breath catches in his throat, and he can feel his own heart swelling with love and emotion, as he gazes back at you, his own eyes filled with a deep, unspoken longing. He wants to say something, to express how much he feels for you in that moment, but the words seem to stick in his throat, and all he can do is stare at you, his eyes locked on yours, his heart pounding in his chest.

Daryl's face slowly breaks out into a radiant smile, a smile that's filled with pure joy and happiness, as he gazes up at you. His eyes sparkle with tears, but they're tears of happiness, as he's overcome with emotion at the sight of the love and affection in your eyes. He reaches up, his hands cupping your face, as he gently pulls you down towards him, his lips seeking yours in a desperate, passionate kiss.

The kiss is filled with a deep, overwhelming longing, as if he's pouring all of his emotions into it, trying to convey everything he feels for you in that one moment. You gasp softly as he kisses you, your eyes wide. Any other time, you’d pull away, tell him you can’t do this, that it’s you not him. You find yourself melting into the kiss and deepening it with a low groan. Daryl's eyes flutter closed, as he feels you respond to the kiss, and he deepens it further, his lips moving against yours with a hunger and passion that's been building for so long.

His hands slide down from your face, wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer, as he holds you tight, his body pressed against yours. He lets out a low moan, the sound muffled against your lips, as he feels your tongue slip into his mouth, and he responds by sucking on it gently, his own tongue tangling with yours in a passionate dance. His heart is racing, his blood pounding in his ears, as he loses himself in the kiss, his entire being focused on you and the moment. You groan in response to his moan and gently pull him onto your lap and kiss him passionately, dominating the kiss with hunger.

Daryl lets out a surprised gasp, his eyes flying open for a moment, as you effortlessly pull him onto your lap and take control of the kiss, dominating his mouth with an intense hunger that leaves him reeling. He quickly melts into the kiss, his initial surprise giving way to an overwhelming wave of desire. He straddles your lap, his arms wrapping around your neck, as he surrenders to your dominance, his tongue submitting to yours in a heated tangle. His hands slide up into your hair, gripping it tightly, as he loses himself in the kiss, his body trembling with need and desire, and his heart pounding so loudly he's sure you can hear it.

As the kiss continues, Daryl's breathing becomes more and more ragged, his chest heaving against yours as he struggles to keep up with the intense passion. He can feel himself growing hard in his pants, his desire for you overwhelming him completely. He grinds against you, letting out a needy whimper into your mouth, his hands tightening in your hair as he silently begs for more, his tongue submitting to yours even further, wanting nothing more than to please you and be consumed by your passion. You moan into the kiss and buck your hips up against his, your hands gripping his hips tightly.

Daryl's eyes roll back in his head, and he lets out a loud, wanton moan, his entire body shuddering with pleasure as you buck your hips up against his. The feeling of your hands on his hips, holding him in place, sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin, making him even harder than before. He grinds down against you desperately, whimpering and moaning into the kiss, completely lost in the sensations. He's never felt so dominated, so submissive, so turned on in his life. All he can think about is you and how much he wants you to keep touching him, keep taking control. You moan deeper into the kiss, your hands guiding his hips to roll against your own as yours meet his in slow sensual grinding.

You can feel your cock growing harder, the confines of your jeans almost painful. Daryl's mind goes blank with pleasure as you begin to guide his hips in slow, sensual grinding motions, meeting his own grinding with your own. The feeling of your growing hardness against his own straining erection is almost too much for him to bear, and he lets out a string of needy whimpers and moans into your mouth. He can feel the rough denim of your jeans rubbing against his sensitive cock, the friction both pleasurable and maddening. His hands are fisted tightly in your hair, his hips moving instinctively, seeking more of the delicious friction and contact. He can feel his own jeans getting damp with precum, his desire and need for you reaching fever pitch. You grind harder and firmer and trail kisses down his jawline and neck, nipping and sucking at certain sensitive spots.

Daryl's breath hitches as you begin to grind harder and firmer against him, the sensations almost overwhelming his senses. He throws his head back, a loud, desperate moan escaping his lips as you trail kisses down his jawline and neck, nipping and sucking at sensitive spots along the way. His hips jerk erratically against yours, meeting your movements with his own desperate, needy thrusts. The feeling of your lips on his neck, sucking and nibbling, is almost too much for him to handle, and he feels like he's about to come undone right then and there. His grip on your hair tightens even further, pulling at it almost painfully as he lets out a stream of incoherent pleas and moans. You find his most sensitive spot and attack it with your mouth, nipping and sucking hard, leaving a dark bruise that’ll last for days to come. Daryl lets out a strangled cry as you find his most sensitive spot on his neck and attack it mercilessly with your mouth, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave a dark, obvious bruise that will be there for days to come.

The sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through his body, making his hips jerk violently against yours and his cock twitch in his jeans. He's practically trembling with need now, reduced to a quivering mess of desire and submission. His mind is clouded with pleasure and desire, the only thought left in his head being "More, please, more." He can feel himself getting close, the grinding and hickey pushing him closer and closer to the edge with each passing moment. You reach down and palm him through his jeans, your hand moving firmly and skillfully as you suck on his sensitive skin.

Daryl lets out a loud, desperate cry as you palm his cock through his jeans, the firm, skilled movements of your hand sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. His hips buck up into your hand, seeking more friction, as his breathing becomes more and more ragged and his moans more frequent. The combination of your hand on his cock, your mouth sucking a hickey into his neck, and the grinding is almost too much for him to bear. He can feel his orgasm approaching rapidly, the pressure building up inside him like a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. He's never felt so dominated, so out of control, and he loves every second of it. He lets out a choked sob of pleasure, his eyes rolling back in his head as he teeters on the edge of release. You start to quickly take his jeans off, your lips not leaving his neck as you move down to his collarbone.

Daryl lifts his hips up automatically as you start to take off his jeans, a needy whine escaping his lips at the loss of contact with your hand on his cock. But it's quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of anticipation and excitement as you move your lips down to his collarbone, nipping and sucking at the skin there. He can feel his cock springing free from the confines of his jeans, hard and leaking precum onto his stomach.

He's shaking with need now, his hands tangled in your hair, pulling at it desperately as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for more, for you to touch him again, to make him come undone completely. You move positions and lay him on the couch as you hover over him and take his shirt off. Once it's off you start to kiss down his chest, finding the spots that make him shiver. You take one of his nipples and swirl it with your tongue as you take hold of his cock and start to slowly stroke him.

Daryl lets out a shuddering moan as you maneuver him onto the couch and start to remove his shirt, his cock throbbing with need as your lips trail down his chest, seeking out the sensitive spots that make him shiver. When you take one of his nipples into your mouth and start to swirl it with your tongue while stroking his cock, he nearly comes undone right then and there. He arches his back, a loud cry of pleasure tearing from his throat, his hands fisting tightly in your hair once more.

The feeling of your hot, wet mouth on his nipple, your hand slowly stroking his cock, is almost too much for him to handle. He's reduced to a trembling, whimpering mess, completely at your mercy, his mind clouded with pleasure. He looks up at you with desperate eyes, pleading with you not to stop, needing release more than anything else in the world.

Daryl's pleading eyes roll back in his head as you switch to his other nipple, swirling it with your tongue while continuing to slowly stroke his cock. His breathing is ragged and uneven, his hips jerking up into your hand with each stroke, desperate for more friction and speed. The feeling of your mouth on his chest, your hand working his cock, is like torture, driving him higher and higher towards the edge, but keeping him there, teetering on the brink of release without actually pushing him over.

He can feel his balls tightening, the pressure building to an almost unbearable level. He wants to come so badly, but he also wants to savor this moment, the feeling of being completely consumed by you. He moans desperately, his body trembling with need and desire, tears streaming down his face from the intensity of it all.

Daryl lets out a string of loud, desperate cries as you kiss and nip your way down his body, stopping to suck on his sensitive stomach. The sensations are almost too much for him to bear, and he thrashes beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair and the couch cushions, his whole body shaking with pleasure and need. When you pick up the pace with your hand, expertly stroking his cock with just the right amount of pressure and speed, he completely loses it.

His hips buck up wildly, his cock throbbing and twitching in your hand. He can feel his orgasm rushing towards him like a tidal wave, but he fights it back desperately, not wanting this moment to end, not wanting to come until you tell him to. He looks down at you, his eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for permission to come, his entire body taut with need and tension.

You lean in and nip and suck his earlobe as you stroke him faster. “Cum for me.. let me see you come undone for me..” You growl out huskily. Daryl lets out a choked sob of pleasure as you nip and suck his earlobe, your gruff command to "cum for me" sending him hurtling over the edge with a loud, desperate cry of your name. His back arches off the couch, his hips bucking up wildly into your hand as his cock erupts in a massive orgasm, thick ropes of cum shooting out and splattering all over his chest and stomach.

His eyes roll back in his head, tears streaming down his face as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him. He's never come so hard in his life, and it feels like it will never end. He writhes beneath you, completely lost in the sensations, his hands tugging desperately at your hair and the couch cushions as he continues to come undone, his moans and cries echoing throughout the room. You stroke him through his orgasm as you lavish attention all over his body with your mouth, the cum that splatters on his chest and abs you lick clean.

Daryl lets out a string of incoherent moans and whimpers as you continue to stroke him through his orgasm, your skilled hand milking him for every last drop of cum. The feeling of your lips lavishing attention all over his body, licking up the come that spilled on his chest and abs, is almost too much for him to handle. He's trembling and shaking uncontrollably, his cock twitching weakly in your hand, and tears streaming down his face from the intensity of his release.

He's never felt so vulnerable, so completely dominated and consumed by someone else. It's a feeling that both terrifies and excites him. As you continue to stroke him, bringing him to the brink of overstimulation, he looks down at you with adoration and devotion, completely under your spell. Once his orgasm subsides you stop stroking him and pull your head up to look at him, licking your lips clean of his cum.

“God you're so damn hot when you come.. and you taste so good.” You say huskily. Daryl's breath hitches as you pull your head up to look at him, licking your lips clean of his cum with a satisfied moan. The sight of you savoring the taste of his cum is almost enough to make him come again right then and there, and his cock gives a feeble twitch in response. He blushes deeply at your praise, feeling both flattered and embarrassed. He's never had anyone talk to him like that before, let alone suck his cum off his abs. He's overwhelmed with desire and need for you, feeling completely claimed and owned in that moment. He reaches up with a trembling hand and brushes a strand of hair out of your face, looking up at you with wide, adoring eyes “Please…”

You smirk. “Please what?” Daryl's breath hitches again at the gruffness of your voice. His cock twitches weakly, starting to harden again despite just having come harder than he ever had in his life. He looks up at you with desperate eyes, feeling a mix of desire, need, and submission wash over him. He wants to please you, wants to do whatever you tell him to do, wants to feel your dominance and control over him again. The words spill out of him in a rush, laced with desperation and desire. “Please.. let me taste myself on your tongue…” You smirk wider and lean in to capture his lips in a slow sensual kiss, letting him taste himself. Daryl moans into the kiss, his hips jerking up against you, his cock rubbing against your stomach, desperate for friction. He can feel himself slipping further and further under your spell, losing himself in the sensations and the feeling of your dominance.

He wants more, wants everything you have to give him, and wants to give you everything in return. He breaks the kiss, panting heavily, and looks up at you with glazed-over eyes, a mix of need and desire etched across his face. "Please…can i suck your cock.. please let me suck it…” Daryl's eyes widen in awe and desire as you remove your pants and reveal your large, perfect, aching cock. It's the most beautiful cock he's ever seen, and he feels his mouth water at the sight of it. He looks up at you with pure adoration and need, his hands moving to your hips, gripping them tightly, like a lifeline. He wants to feel it inside him, wants to choke on it, wants to worship it with his mouth.

He starts to lean forward, his lips parting eagerly, ready to take your cock into his mouth, when suddenly he stops and looks up at you again, his eyes pleading for permission. You nod with a smile, running your hand through his hair. Daryl shudders at the feeling of your hand running through his hair and your encouraging nod. He feels like he's in heaven, getting to pleasure you like this.

He looks down at your cock, takes a deep breath, and wraps his lips around the head, moaning loudly at the taste and feel of it. It's even better than he imagined, thick and heavy on his tongue, with a salty tang that drives him wild. He swirls his tongue around the head a few times, savoring the taste and feel of it, before taking more of it into his mouth, slowly bobbing his head up and down on your length. You moan deeply, your hand tightening in his hair as your head falls back in pleasure. “Fuck..” You groan.

Daryl moans around your cock at the sound of your deep, guttural moan and the feeling of your hand tightening in his hair. The vibrations from his moan send shivers through your body, and he can feel your cock twitch and throb in his mouth. He takes it as a sign to keep going, and starts bobbing his head up and down faster, taking more and more of your length into his throat with each stroke. His eyes flutter shut in pleasure, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breathe around your girthy cock, the taste and feel of it overwhelming his senses. He reaches down and starts stroking his own cock, needing some relief for the ache between his legs. You grab his wrist and shake your head, replacing his hand with your own as you start to stroke it in time with his mouth on your own cock.

Daryl lets out a choked cry of pleasure as you grab his wrist and stop him from touching himself, replacing his hand with your own. The feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking it in time with the bobbing of his head on yours, is almost too much for him to handle. He moans loudly around your cock, his hips jerking up into your hand, desperate for more friction and release. Tears stream down his face, mingling with drool and precum as he looks up at you with adoring, glazed-over eyes, feeling completely consumed by the sensations and your dominance over him.

He starts to hum around your cock, sending vibrations straight to your balls. You moan loudly and grit your teeth as your eyes roll back in pleasure and you continue to stroke him skillfully. Daryl feels a surge of pride and pleasure as your moans grow louder and more guttural, your eyes rolling back in your head in ecstasy. He knows he's doing a good job, and it spurs him on to take your cock even deeper into his throat, determined to make you feel even better. He starts to pick up the pace, bobbing his head up and down your cock with renewed vigor, slurping loudly and messily as he does so. His humming becomes more intense, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your cock and balls, his own cock throbbing and twitching in your hand as you continue to stroke him at a steady pace.

Daryl looks up at you with pleading eyes, wanting to taste your cum so badly it's driving him crazy. He can feel your cock throbbing and twitching in his mouth, taste the salty precum leaking from the tip, and hear the low, guttural sounds escaping your throat. He starts to bob his head up and down even faster, determined to make you cum down his throat. His hand on your hip digs in hard, urging you to cum, his own hips jerking up into your hand as he moans and hums around your cock, his breathing ragged and labored as he struggles to breathe around your girthy length. You gasp and moan deep and gutturally “fuckin christ… oh god… i’m gonna cum” Daryl's eyes light up with excitement and anticipation as you gasp and moan out that you're about to cum. He moans loudly around your cock, the sound muffled and desperate, and starts bobbing his head up and down even faster, his tongue swirling around the head on each upstroke.

He looks up at you with adoring eyes, silently begging you to cum down his throat, his own cock twitching and throbbing in your hand as he hums and slurps around your length, eager to swallow every drop of your load. Daryl can feel your cock start to pulse and throb in his mouth, a sure sign that you're about to explode. He pulls back slightly, taking just the head of your cock into his mouth, and starts sucking on it hard, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping loudly. He flicks his tongue rapidly over your sensitive tip, his hand on your hip squeezing tighter as he looks up at you, ready to swallow everything you give him.

His breathing is ragged and fast, his own cock about to burst from how turned on he is by the situation. Your eyes snap open and you cum immediately with his skilled ministrations. You cum deep in his throat with a loud guttural moan. Daryl's eyes widen in ecstasy as you suddenly cum deep in his throat with a loud, guttural moan. The hot, thick ropes of cum shooting down his throat make him see stars, and he lets out a choked cry of pleasure around your cock. He swallows it all down greedily, his throat working overtime to take your massive load, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to breathe and keep up with the onslaught of cum. His own cock erupts in a powerful orgasm in your hand, his cum shooting out in thick spurts all over your fingers and the floor.

Daryl's orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks as you cum down his throat and continue to stroke him through it. His eyes roll back in his head, his body trembling and jerking with the force of his release. His cock twitches and jerks wildly in your hand, painting your fingers and the floor with his cum, a puddle of it forming beneath him. He swallows every last drop of your load, his throat bobbing frantically as he tries to keep up, and when you finally finish cumming, he pulls back, gasping for air, his mouth hanging open and a dazed expression on his face. He's never felt so completely used and dominated in his life, and he loves it. You groan and collapse on the couch, completely blissfully spent. “Fuuck.”

Daryl collapses to his knees, gasping for air and still shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He looks up at you, collapsed on the couch, your cock now limp and spent, and feels a surge of pride and satisfaction. He made you cum that hard. He coughs a few times, his throat raw and sore from taking your massive load, and looks down at the mess he made on the floor, feeling a mix of embarrassment and desire wash over him. He starts to get up to clean it, but his legs are shaking too much. You gently take his wrist and shake your head, pulling him down on top of you and wrapping your arms around him.

“Not now…” Daryl's heart skips a beat as you pull him down on top of you and wrap your arms around him, shaking your head when he tries to get up to clean the mess. He feels a rush of affection and desire flood through him, and he melts into your embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He loves the feeling of being held by you, of being cuddled and comforted after sucking your massive cock and cumming all over the floor. He lays on top of you, listening to your ragged breathing and feeling your strong arms around him, feeling more at peace and content than he ever has in his life.

Daryl buries his face deeper into your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling like he's in heaven. He can feel your cum drying on his face, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is being here with you, cuddling on the couch after you dominated him and gave him the best orgasm of his life. He starts to doze off, feeling completely spent and content, the mess on the floor and his face forgotten for the moment. He mumbles against your neck, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Love you so much…" You smile and nod sleepily “i…I love you too...” You whisper back before falling asleep. Daryl's eyes snap open at your whispered confession, his heart stopping for a moment.

He can't believe what he just heard. You love him too? The words echo in his mind, filling him with an indescribable joy and warmth. He tightens his arms around you, holding you even closer, feeling like he's dreaming. But no, this is real. You just said you love him. He looks up at your face, seeing your closed eyes and relaxed features, and feels tears prickle at the corners of his own eyes. He can't believe his luck, can't believe that after all this time pining for you, you love him back. He buries his face back into your neck, a wide grin spreading across his face, and drifts off to sleep, feeling happier than he ever thought possible.

Daryl wakes up the next morning still on top of you, his face buried in your neck, feeling more well-rested and happy than he ever has. For a moment, he forgets about the mess they made the night before, the cum drying on his face, and the fact that you had confessed your love to him. Then he remembers, and his heart starts to race with excitement and anticipation. He looks up at your sleeping face, feeling a surge of affection and desire, and gently kisses your neck, nuzzling his face against it, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of your confession without sounding too eager or hopeful. You groan as you awake from the kiss on your neck and look up at him with a sleepy smile “mornin”

Daryl's heart skips a beat at the sound of your sleepy morning voice and the lazy smile on your face. You look so relaxed and happy, and he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight. He can't help but grin back at you, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. He looks into your eyes, his own filled with hope and excitement, and gently runs his fingers through your messy hair, wanting to savor this moment with you for as long as possible before bringing up the confession. “Mornin’… How did you sleep?” You chuckle gruffly “Fucking amazing.” Daryl feels a shiver run down his spine at the sound of your deep, gruff chuckle and your sleepy response. He loves how rough and sexy your voice sounds in the morning, and he can feel his cock start to harden again at the thought of waking up next to you every day. He chuckles along with you, feeling giddy and elated, and gently rubs your shoulders, trying to keep his cool and not bring up the fact that you told him you loved him right away. “I bet you’re still tired. We were up pretty late last night…” You nod and speak quietly “Yeah I'm beat.”

Daryl melts into your touch as you run your fingers through his hair, feeling like he could purr with contentment. The fact that you're still running your fingers through his hair after you confessed your love to him fills him with hope and affection. He can't help but smile up at you, feeling a mix of tenderness and desire wash over him. He looks into your eyes, seeing the exhaustion there, and feels a pang of guilt for wearing you out so much the night before. But at the same time, he can't bring himself to feel too bad about it. He loved making you feel good and would do it again in a heartbeat. “Well… I should probably let you get back to sleep then..” You shake your head slowly “Nah.. It’s too late… Besides, you look like you have something on your mind”

Daryl's heart races as you shake your head and tell him that you’re already awake. He feels a mix of excitement and nervousness well up inside him as you mention that he looks like he has something on his mind. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself to bring up the subject of your confession. He looks into your eyes, seeing the sleepy yet inquisitive look in them. He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. "I… I wanted to talk to you about something.” You nod and brush some hair away from his face. “What's up?” Daryl's heart skips a beat at your casual gesture, brushing the hair away from his face like it's the most natural thing in the world. He feels his resolve start to crumble as he looks into your sleepy, affectionate eyes, the weight of your confession heavy on his mind. He takes another deep breath, steeling himself once more, and blurts out: "You told me you loved me last night…” You widen my eyes and almost choke on your saliva. “What? I did?” Daryl's own eyes widen in surprise at your response, seeing the shock and confusion on your face. He can tell by your reaction that you don’t remember telling him you loved him.

His heart sinks for a moment, feeling a pang of disappointment and disbelief. How could you not remember something like that? But then he sees the realization dawning on your face, sees the panic and embarrassment starting to set in, and feels a glimmer of hope rise up inside him again. “Shit.. Okay I think I remember.” You say sheepishly with a small smile.

Daryl's heart skips another beat as you sheepishly admit that you think you remember confessing your love to him. The glimmer of hope inside him flares up into a full-blown inferno, and he can feel himself start to tremble with anticipation and excitement. He looks up at you, seeing the sheepish smile on your face, and feels a rush of emotions wash over him. Relief, joy, disbelief, and a whole lot of hope all at once. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself, and grins up at you, feeling like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. "And what do you think it means?” You sigh and cup his face. “It means i love you stupid” You say teasingly. “I love you. I always have, probably as long as you loved me. i just… I was so damn scared of hurting you… but I don't care anymore, I don't want to hurt you and I'm gonna do everything in my power to protect you from any type of hurt, including from me.”

Daryl's heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest at your heartfelt confession, your words and touch sending him into a state of blissful euphoria. He can hardly believe what he's hearing. You love him. And not just that, but you've loved him for a long time, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to protect him, even from yourself. Tears start to spill down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them back, and he lets out a choked sob, burying his face in your neck again, overwhelmed with emotion. You hold him tight against your chest, you both bask in the love for each other, it’s content and in that moment you know that you’ll always love him, and he’s it for you, as much as your it for him. Daryl buries his face in your neck, his tears soaking into your skin as he clings to you like a lifeline. He's never felt so loved, so happy, so fulfilled in his entire life.

The weight of his love for you, the years of pining and hopeless longing, the constant worry and fear of rejection, all melt away in that moment. All that's left is pure, unadulterated love and joy. He knows in his heart that he'll always love you, that you're the only person he's ever loved like this, and that he's never going to let you go. You’re it for him, and as he feels your strong arms around him, holding him close, he knows that you feel the same way. Whatever challenges bring the future doesn’t matter in the moment, only knowing that you both love each other unconditionally right now in this moment is enough.

#daryl dixon #norman reedus #the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl x reader #twd #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x male reader #twd daryl dixon

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achaotichuman · 2 days ago

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Ok, wolf's here again with another quick ask (sorry I couldn't resist!) but... I actually believe that Rhysand doesn't really love Feyre. He's obsessed with the mating bond (he begged and dreamed of it), and here she is: his mate. He tries so hard to make HER fall for him, to keep her but at the same time she has to PROVE to him she's worth it (I'm sorry, but making her steal the ring from the Weaver? MHM) and to see she's over Tamlin (HMMMMMMM) and her tattoos, their death pact (the stupidest thing EVER it really doesn't even make sense in the narrative, like 0 to 0 sense) then the BABY.

I can't stress it enough about that plot (truly, my hate for it is beyond, that book? It's better if I do not speak on it) and overall he is... unhappy. He looks even more so after everything. In the bonus story of Hofas he literally loses his cool, he's brash - more so than in the past. His powers do explode. (Yes, yes, bc of the risks and all that, but still... even some of his stans saw it as a surprise and not IC for him, so...)

Feyre let go of Tamlin. As she said, she wants him to be better (personal eye roll here) and be happy.

She's over him.

Rhysand isn't. Rhysand can't let go of him.

He needs to taunt him, to see him explode, a reaction. He says he hates him, he is obsessed with him.

He wants him to die.

He cooks him a meal. He asks Summer to make sure someone is patrolling.

He says it's for the good of Prythian. He says it's for a better cause.

He loves her. He has everything he wanted, begged, and dreamed for. He has all of it, while Tamlin doesn't.

And he still said no. It's not enough. He needs more.

I fear this man will never be happy until he has Tamlin under him, and loves him.

But we will see, this is how I came to think of it all because I read Crescent City, I did read Throne of Glass at the time and I know that she can... sell me a love story. With Rhysand and Feyre? I see it from her, but sometimes even from her POV it feels forced, but from Rhys? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Like, truly, a Honeymoon phase that is coming to an end, but she is his mate, so he IS happy. He must be.

I won't say he doesn't love her at all, but still. Mhm. Maybe it's my dislike for how SJM pushed the narrative (retcons, errors, etc etc) and the fact that in the book I do dislike the two as characters (how no matter what they do the narrative won't punish them, when IT SHOULD! She even does so in her other series, maybe not in a really deep way, but still. Here in acotar - after the first book - nothing the main characters do is ever seen as bad when it's clear some repercussion must be seen/happen)

Aaaand, I said quick but I lost the plot, sorry!!

TDLR: Rhysand doesn't really love love Feyre, it's more the mating bond and his expectation and I think so for many reasons, but most of all, because he said, with Tamlin, No. It isn't enough when it should be.

(Another thing: Tamlin is truly the one who sees him as he is, and they both know it. I'm sorry, but nothing will change my mind about that dfdfsdfsdfs

And the other "love story" she isn't able to sell me is... Cassian and Nesta. Their bond even sounds fake in the narrative, and what love? My man is in love with Rhysand, Azriel and Mor if anything lol)

Aaaand sorry for this long rant and rambling about this! Hope it didn't bother you too much!

Again, sending you all the love and good vibes I can! ♥

AHHH OKAY I WAS SO SO SO EXCITED TO SEE THIS (I love long asks!!) BUT I BAD AT ANSWERING LONG ASKS, SO I WILL DO THIS PARAGRAPH BY PARAGRAPH

I actually believe that Rhysand doesn't really love Feyre. He's obsessed with the mating bond (he begged and dreamed of it), and here she is: his mate. He tries so hard to make HER fall for him, to keep her but at the same time she has to PROVE to him she's worth it (I'm sorry, but making her steal the ring from the Weaver? MHM) and to see she's over Tamlin (HMMMMMMM) and her tattoos, their death pact (the stupidest thing EVER it really doesn't even make sense in the narrative, like 0 to 0 sense) then the BABY.

YES OMFG YES, THIS RHYSAND DOESNT TRULY LOVE FEYRE THEORY, BUT IS OBSESSED WITH THE MATING BOND (I see a version of this kind of theory in regards to Azriel with Elain, but I really like it in terms of Rhysand) He is absolutely obsessed with the idea of Feyre, but couldn't really handle the wildchild she truly was, so at her absolute lowest he swooped her up and molded her into a version he preferred.

Ooooooh I really like this idea!!! (pls correct me if I am misunderstanding) But Rhysand deep down being unhappy with the bond and his relationship with Feyre because it isn't the dream he imagined it to be, and has its issues and complications which despite being normal for any relationship, is not the perfection he imagined, and at their core, no amount of molding is ever going to make Feyre compatible to Rhysand, unless she has absolutely no drive at all, he has to resort to manipulation tactics to get her to do what he wants, and I dont think anybody could be truly happy like that. Rhysand obviously wants someone who *thinks* like him, and Feyre just plain doesn't. She thinks like TAMLIN

To me, he looks like a caged beast that should be happy. HE IS HAPPY, or so he says. But then, with Tamlin in that novella... he says No. When Tamlin asks him "Isn't that enough," he says No. And - as someone just reminded me - even when he leaves Nesta and Cassian in Spring, he looks toward the mansion. He's always, in a way, thinking about him. Feyre let go of Tamlin. As she said, she wants him to be better (personal eye roll here) and be happy. She's over him. Rhysand isn't. Rhysand can't let go of him. He needs to taunt him, to see him explode, a reaction. He says he hates him, he is obsessed with him. He wants him to die. He cooks him a meal. He asks Summer to make sure someone is patrolling. He says it's for the good of Prythian. He says it's for a better cause.

Oooooooooh yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes

Rhysand cannot let go of Tamlin, absolutely, he is in a way always revolving around him. All his decisions, in the end, have Tamlin in mind in some way or another. Or end up with him near Tamlin again. I wonder if this could link back to a time where Rhysand was another, freer, better version of himself, where Tamlin's thinking and personality was not a clash but a compliment. And now that he can no longer have that person, Tamlin's gentler, kinder but strong-willed and stubborn personality now uncomfortably scraps against Rhysand, but still Rhys wants him back. But since Tamlin will never ever go crawling back to him, the closest thing he can get is Feyre. But again, Feyre resembles Tamlin, and Tamlin and Rhysand no longer work. So neither do Feyre and Rhysand (I AM SO SORRY FOR HIJACKING YOUR THEORY MY BRAIN IS GOING 100 MILES PER HOUR)

But is it really? I know that SJM probably (99.99%) doesn't even see the subtext she almost implies, but I do really wonder if Rhysand is actually in love with Feyre, if it's not their 2 years honeymoon phase (longer maybe because they are Faes) + the mating bond and him trying to reinforce over and over that he is happy. He loves her. He has everything he wanted, begged, and dreamed for. He has all of it, while Tamlin doesn't. And he still said no. It's not enough. He needs more. I fear this man will never be happy until he has Tamlin under him, and loves him.

Oh SJM is useless in this scenario, I don't even mention her when I talk about possibilities between Rhysand and Tamlin. I make my own rules. Canon is my playground.

I adore this theory, one of the best I've seen for Feyre and Rhysand, it just works so well. If this were to happen between them, I would love to see how Rhysand handles the fallout. It would be gradual ofc, but seeing everything unravel slowly around him, leaving him in the same lonely place he was before the fifty years. *chefs kiss*

AHH YOU ARE COOKING WITH THISSSSS, SJM does know how to write romance, so I am still left very confused on how she went so horribly wrong with Feysand.

But the angst of the honeymoon phase slowly coming to an end for Rhysand, just sounds delicious, and I would love to see this happen in canon, but alas I will settle for a fic!

Rhysand definitely has affection for Feyre, but I struggle to see how it runs deeper than the forced affection from the mating bond and general empathy for her. SJM I think probably rushed Feysand because she got obsessed with it (cough, guilty here, cough) but her editors should have caught that, and, tbh I think if she really wanted to sell Feysand, she should have ditched the "Tamlins an abuser! So Rhysand by comparison is the (only) better option!" and stretched ACOMAF over two more books. We should have also had more worldbuilding with the Night Court, and been shown Feyre intergrating with the Night Court in a similar, preferrably deeper way, to the Spring Court. Plus, I would have killed to have some real education classes for Feyre. Tutoring would have been cool, in House of Hunger, Marion has actual lessons on the Houses in the North. The scenes on page didn't go super deep into what she was learning, but we knew she was learning, and we got some cool scenes of it. I think something like that for Feyre, would have been wonderful. Plus, I think having Morrigan as like a history teacher would have been fun and opened a deeper level of friendship between them, further opening Feyre to the Inner Circle, but Ill shut up now, cause Im ranting

Aaaand, I said quick but I lost the plot, sorry!! TDLR: Rhysand doesn't really love love Feyre, it's more the mating bond and his expectation and I think so for many reasons, but most of all, because he said, with Tamlin, No. It isn't enough when it should be. (Another thing: Tamlin is truly the one who sees him as he is, and they both know it. I'm sorry, but nothing will change my mind about that dfdfsdfsdfs And the other "love story" she isn't able to sell me is... Cassian and Nesta. Their bond even sounds fake in the narrative, and what love? My man is in love with Rhysand, Azriel and Mor if anything lol) Aaaand sorry for this long rant and rambling about this! Hope it didn't bother you too much! Again, sending you all the love and good vibes I can! ♥

DONT WORRY ABOUT LOSING THE PLOT IN ASKS, I GET IT, I DO IT TOO!!! DONT BE SORRY!!!

I do like Tamlin being the one to truly see Rhys, he would most certainly know him the most intimately, because he's seen Rhys at his absolute best and his absolute rock bottom worst. Truly the toxic, doomed yaoi we were so horribly denied!

Ugh, I won't even get started on Cassian and Nesta. Nesta deserves so so so much better, end of dicussion!

IT DID NOT BOTHER ME, I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO REPLY TOO, THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT, I AM SENDING YOU ALL OF THE GOOD VIBES AND LOVE AS WELL!!

#wolf asks #acotar #tamlin #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #feylin #tamsand

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thejawsofmax · 1 day ago

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Klance-coded Pierce the Veil songs !!

— i only did 7 songs but i might make a big post with a few songs from each album that make me think of klance (also please be nice to me, this makes more sense in my head and im bad at describing stuff!!!!!)

Caraphernila

“and baby honestly it’s harder breathing next to you”

i think of it as keith and lance’s envy towards each other. they both feel overshadowed by the other without knowing how much they are admired by them

“hold my heart, it’s beating for you anyway”

holding his heart is letting him feel all of his love and emotions, even if it gets crushed. i think this is how keith and lance’s relationship works. lance is literally one of the only people that makes keith feel seen, being able to understand his emotions with barely any words (i think about the scene where everyone just looks over at lance and waits for him to go comfort keith. and lance does so, not even knowing that everyone was expecting him to do it)

“So what if I can't forget you? I'll burn your name into my throat, I'll be the fire that'll catch you”

i think about this as post canon klance. they have left such a big impact on each other’s lives, and then they just go their separate ways??? like no keith is definitely still thinking about lance who’s down on earth. he doesn’t want to forget him and probably never will

Million Dollar Houses (The Painter)

“would you ever try to leave me for somebody who deserves you most”

i think keith would still have some sort of lingering fear that he isn’t enough for lance, despite not actually dating him. so lance “leaving” him for allura in season 8. this can also play on lance’s insecurities, especially when in comparison to keith

“but, baby no, sometimes things don’t work out the way we planned”

OKAY THIS ONE IS DUMB and like kinda generic but it makes me think of how they were doomed by the writers LMAO

“maybe we’re meant to lose the ones we love but i’ll fight for you till then”

both keith and lance have lost a lot during the series’s events but they keep pushing further (especially with the help of each other)

Flawless Execution

“i’ll scar you with my flawless execution every time”

i think about this a lot with black paladin keith + red paladin lance. they are both learning to step up, wanting to prove themselves worthy of their positions.

“i’m not obsessed, far worse, i’m fine” “i didn’t mean to burden you with love in my condition”

this describes someone who’s love is so intense that it’s overwhelming. this is very klance to me because of how deeply connected they are to each other without even knowing it. keith being the person who gives lance the reassurance he needs, and lance being the person who is able to either push keith to do something or pull him back to rationalize his thoughts. THEY CANT LOVE LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE because they are stupid and i hate them

“you and i are blood and wine”

shows how different they are. they’re complete opposites but still somehow complete each other

First Punch

“i’ve got so much to give, but i would kill just to feel less invisible. and you got so much to learn about gravity, so live it up baby don’t look down”

this one is more about lance and his insecurities of being a paladin. although he desperately wanted to use the black lion, (s3 in the ep where they were seeing who the black lion would respond to, lance really hoped it would be him, even sitting in the lion longer than the other paladins did, just hoping it would work) he supported keith and pushed him into stepping into his new role.

the rest of the song is a lot more aggressive and i don’t think it fits keith and lance’s feelings towards each other. like even early season klance doesn’t have the same hatred as in the song but the bridge will always be lance to me

Dive In

“now i wanna be the tattoo ink that swims down through the needle in your skin”

PEAK ROMANCE‼️ i don’t have a lot of reason for this one but being tattoo ink in someone’s skin is like being with someone forever. it makes me think of the permanent scarring there were left with by the end of the series (keith’s face scar after returning to voltron and lance’s altean marks in the finale)

I Don’t Care If You’re Contagious

“And I don't care if you're sick. I don't care if you're contagious. I would kiss you even if you were dead”

this is not really based on any canon content. keith and lance are so deeply intertwined with each other without even knowing it. platonic or romantic, they care about each other. and i have very much think this insane devotion in this song feels like klance core

“I'm gonna tear out the thread one by one from your skin. Till your bones feel embarrassed from all the attention. Kiss me while I drive”

PEAK ROMANCE‼️‼️ this song just generally makes me think of ships i like because this song is full of love and devotion i love it

Even When I’m Not With You

“Even when I'm not with you, I'm still with you”

this always makes me think of when keith and lance get separated. especially when keith leaves voltron, he’s still with lance (especially bc i like to think about keith leaving lance with his red lion, giving lance a little piece of him). this can so be post-canon klance because i know they are still thinking about each other even though they’re off doing their own things

“Even when I think I hate you, I still love you”

even despite any fighting, bickering, and disputes, keith and lance always care about each other, wanting them to be able to work together as a team. especially with black paladin keith!!! lance is always trying to make things work because he’s passionate about voltron’s success (and by further extension, wanting keith to be a good leader)

“Look how far we've come. Think I've finally won”

vic fuentes “think i’ve finally won” is in reference to being able to settle down with his wife. and so like i think about this as klance. by the end of the series, they both got their ending (i don’t like lance’s ending i fear) but they actually are “winning” when they are together

notes: IM SORRY A LOT OF THESE ARE POORLY EXPLAINED :(( but i heart klance and ptv so much

my secret useless talent is that i can make any pierce the veil song be about klance

#klance #pierce the veil #voltron #vld

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mbat · 3 months ago

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jews: this thing in fiction feels jew coded to me, this character/group has several parallels to jewish people and i see myself here :)

non-jews: nah, that aint right, its clearly coded to be this other thing/youre stretching so hard to find a connection that isnt there

jews: this thing in fiction falls into antisemitic tropes, this character/group has several common antisemitic tropes that have a long history of being used against my people, and i think we should really consider not using these tropes anymore/consider if theres a better way to go about making the same point without doing it in this specific way

non-jews: nah, that aint right, its clearly coded to be this other thing/youre stretching so hard to find a connection that isnt there

just something ive noticed

#my post #jewblr #jumblr #antisemitism #jewish #me trying to look up both positively(ish) and negatively jew coded characters/groups and finding people saying this EVERY TIME #the draenei from world of warcraft are so jew coded to me. in some ways not great but in other ways i think better #but i can either find few people agreeing with me about that #but even when i find people who agree. theres people replying to them that they disagree!#'the draenei actually make me think more of this other group. therefore they cant be jew coded' shut uppp shut the fuck uppp #they can literally be coded as multiple things LET ME HAVE THIS #AND YES in the very same game we have the goblins and i dont think i need to tell anyone how antisemitic goblins tend to be #the world of warcraft ones specifically...#that said theres obviously way more examples i just have brainrot #also a similar but slightly different issue is when we try to point out antisemitism but are just completely ignored altogether #COUGH AUGHK COUGH COUGH ME ABOUT DOCTOR 15S PREMIERE EPISODE WITH THE BLOOD LIBEL GOBLINS COUGH AUGH #sorry something in my throat #everyone was obsessed with the episode that was about racism but in the same season they had antisemitism and no one cared #👍 thanks tumblr #the racism episode was good. this isnt to take away from that. but we can have both conversations. they can coexist.

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weaverofink · 4 months ago

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My sonic OC :) her name is Dizzy and her hobbies are lounging around and giving terrible advice

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic oc #sth #shadow the hedgehog #cream the rabbit #sonic fanart #i love her so much. i know i literally created her but im so obsessed w her #i love maned wolves. they're so tall and weird looking #in my mind the 'legality is relative' one is her trying and failing to talk her way out of a fine for fishing without a license #she's like 23. she works at the corner store and some odd jobs. she has too much free time #oh and ur lying if u think shadow wouldn't rock up to the function in a hawaiian shirt. its very him coded #i like to think they both arrived to an event wearing basically the same clothes. shadow has never felt more like committing violence #which is saying something.#my oc #art #my art #weaverofink #i like never make ocs for properties. this is very rare for me #idk something about this universe just calls for it!!! they're so fun to make

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rexcaliburechoes · 11 months ago

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gale is ambition, so he has both crippling self doubt and debilitating pride in his work.

gale is ambition, so if a character tries to undermine him by one-upping him, he'll think he's not nothing left. more else can the orb destroy that it hasn't already?

gale is ambition, so if a character tries to undermine him by one-upping him, he'll vehemently deny that. he's the wizard of waterdeep. he was mystra's chosen. he was her lover. who could be any better than that?

gale is ambition. it's his greatest flaw and his greatest asset.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #bg3 gale #spoilers #bg3 spoilers #rex rambles #obvious take is obvious but i've been ruminating on his reactions to sorcerer tav/tav generally undermining his experience and expertise #it's the same principle if anyone's every played an instrument and you see a 5 year old playing music better than you #who has had 20+ years of study and practice #it's humbling; it makes you feel like shit; it incenses you to try harder to get better #that's ambition. it's both the self doubt and the pride #of course gale is going to be petty back; you've literally just stepped on both the pride and self doubt at the same time #ruminating on the bg3 cast a little too late but it's fine lmao. i think he's neat and i like him a lot #i'm very obsessed with my own drow war cleric though. oh no he's hot ig lmao #i also have some thoughts about the soundtrack which ar very interesting to me

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

#SO long.#but also about like. siblings.#in this is one of the only times we learn the writer is in fact a middle child #i keep my family out of my writing which means i almost never write about sibling dynamics #but it's out of respect for their privacy #so gettin to play with the dynamics of siblings is fun when it's clearly not about us :)#but im very lucky to say im close with both of them!!#also somewhat been on both sides of this - being both like the Good Kid that is Unnoticed #and also the Complete Mess that fucks things up for their sibling without meaning it #this author has been permanently fucked up by that one scene in lilo & stitch #some of the real ones will identify ashe as being one of the only characters i've ever repeated #in the inkskinned universe #ps: i very carefully called it an event space and not a church :) they are not getting married in a church!!#1. they're getting gay married. so they might not even be able to get married in a church. & 2.#she really did want him to come. she chose a place he could come. he was just late and accidentally ruined it #(based on what my anxiety thinks will happen if i am late to events. im like. oh it would ruin everything and burn the place down.#better be safe and be there 3 hours early and then wait in my car for an hour and a half)#ps ps ps this is based off my relationship with my siblings so some of it is just like. sibling sense . i cannot explain #but the reason he brings up the fact she tried to kill him 2x as evidence she treated him the same is like -#she tried to kill him bc he is her brother and u try to kill your siblings sometimes #she was on that cain instinct.#but usually people respond like how we see in the story - screaming and worship and yes he absolutely has ppl tryna kill him #to like ''save the world'' when he's really just there to like do a job. HE didn't invent hell. he just runs it #and like i fully believe even before he had his powers he had the Sibling Instinct of like - she's not killing you bc of what you are #(the devil) she's tryna kill you bc of what you are to HER (her brother) . and i think that . really mattered to him #tbh low key became obsessed with this concept and was like. it would be such a good short-run tv show . fleabag style #bc i would write the demon king to be like. what it feels like to be neurodivergent. that no matter what you do . it STILL feels like you'r #never able to hide how inhuman you are. that you're always going to be alien to these people.#and just have the entire first season start here and be about him trying to throw a wedding for his twin sister #second episode is him in a farmer's market trying to find a good florist for it . just picture the dialogue with me. please.

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prlssprfctn · 27 days ago

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Kinda obsessed with headcanon, where Damian and Jason just randomly (out of nowhere, completely unprompted) start to referring to their shared past in the League in the middle of the family conversations, while everyone just stare at them in concern

Jason, staring at Dick, trying to put Tim's shoulder back: huh, do you remember that one time-

Damian, instantly: when grandfather's shoulder relocated by itself, but instead of properly putting in on its place, he killed himself and mother threw him in the Lazarus Pit?

Jason, cackling: it was hilarious

Damian, no less amused: right?

Bruce, sitting behind them: (concerned sips of tea)

Or, it is not necessarily funny, but it just cute (or sad) details, regarding each other that others are confused about.

Jason, who accidentally fell asleep in the Batcave: (instinctively cards through his hair as he naps)

Tim, teasing: ladies and gentlemen, the criminal lord of the year--

Damian: Drake, bluntly, that's not funny. Back when he was out of the Pit, this was the only thing that could help him to calm down.

Dick, knowing that this is because Bruce constantly stroked Robin!Jason's hair, when he saw nightmares, with eyes full of tears: oh

Jason on the random Friday night, trying to be less awkward about staying with Bruce in one room: actually, Damian's first word was my name

Bruce: really?

Jason: he had, uh, problems with saying his first word. People around him were constantly speaking on both language at the same time, and, I guess, he couldn't figure out what to say. Then, Ra's said that if his heir doesn't get his word in the next two weeks, he will throw him in the Lazarus Pit (as a joke), but I wasn't sure if it was a joke (Talia said later it was), and I panicked, and since Talia wasn't around, I just kept repeating him her name, or just word Mother, but he just, uh, wouldn't say anything - kept blinking and staring at me like a little idiot. And then on a random night, he just grabbed me by the hair, and said, Jason. Food. And he kinda spoke properly since then. Like in full sentences and stuff. I think he just didn't want to speak with us, actually--

Bruce, getting grey hair out of nowhere: RA'S SAID WHAT--

And sometimes they just speak in Arabic, and Damian keeps bullying Jason that his skills are getting rustier.

#i just miss my blorbos #kids struggling with first words when having a multilanguage surroundings so REAL #i was silent until i was like 4-5 bc i was taught three languages at the same time #then on a random night got annoyed and spoke in the whole sentence all while my family thought i was mute or something #never shut up since then tbh #dc universe #dcu #dcu comics #jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #bruce wayne #batman #batfam #batfamily #dick grayson #tim drake

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stevesherdaddynowlover · 7 months ago

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indifferent [s.h.] 18+

an: heyyyy me again so yeah could not stop thinking about a pathetic steve so here we are!! enjoy and feel free to send suggestions, concepts, or just chat!!

side note i listened to i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys on a loop while writing this so do with thag what you will!

masterlist here!!

summary: you and steve are coworkers and while you try (and fail) to act like he doesn’t exist, he’s a little obsessed with you and would do anything to have your attention

(fem!reader x steve harrington)

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, public teasing (nothing too crazy), jealous reader, dirty talk, f masturbation, fingering, biting, kissing, spit, handjob MDNI!!!!!

wc: 15.5k

When it came to Steve Harrington, you were indifferent.

You didn’t fall in with the group of girls who fawned over him like some king, worshiping the ground he walked on and giggling at his attempts at jokes. But you didn’t fall in with the other group either. The ones that hated him, that called him names and rolled their eyes when he walked in the room with a smile on his face.

So you fell somewhere in the middle. To you Steve Harrington was your coworker, someone you often had to pick up the slack for or cover for when he was running late. You wouldn’t call him a friend but wouldn’t say he was your enemy either.

The arrangement the two of you had worked well for you. You’d cover for him or save his ass when needed, and in turn he’d leave you alone. Well sometimes he would. You didn’t mind him but sometimes it seemed like he could go on forever and you just…it drove you a little crazy, okay? He was good about leaving you be, making small talk for a little before the both of you quieted down and went about your shift.

Part of this arrangement was you teasing him until his cheeks burned and his felt fuzzy, but that was neither here nor there.

But sometimes you think he just couldn’t help it. He’d start going on about something and then it would be 45 minutes later and he’d still be going. You let him do this about once or twice a week. You didn’t mind him or his company, so if it made him happy to ramble on every once in a while you could live with that. He was a yapper and you were quiet. You would hum along to something you’d heard on the way to work and entertain his chit chat for a few minutes but that was really it.

Did that mean you couldn’t appreciate that he was actually really pretty? Of course not! He had dimples that made him seem boyish and sweet, even when he was being a menace. His hair was perfect, especially after he’d spent the day running his hands through it a million and one times. His lips were pouty and pink and so what if you stared at them when he was droning on about something? A perfect nose that you’d admired the slope of more times than you could count when he was sitting beside you going through returns.

He was pretty. You wouldn’t deny that. But that was it. No more, no less. It didn’t mean you liked him or wanted him or would fall to your knees for him like half of Hawkins did. Sure, you passed the time at work by teasing him and making him squirm, but it was only because you were bored and he was there, all pretty and willing.

You were indifferent.

****************************************

Steve liked you.

If you were in the same room as him he couldn’t help but to watch you. He didn’t know if you saw him and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d watch the way you’d tuck your hair behind your ear once every few minutes. He’d watch you scrunch your nose when you were reading and pout your rosy lips when sorting through dvd’s. God you were just so pretty.

He wanted your attention all the time, he craved it. He knew he looked like a little lovesick puppy the way he followed you around and hoped you’d smile at him or indulge his ramblings every now and then.

Pathetic. That’s what he was when it came to you. Sometimes you were a little mean to him but he liked it, loved anything you’d give him. He would even show up late on purpose sometimes just to hear you scold him!

“M’not always gonna be here to cover for you, Harrington. Be a big boy and get to work on time.”

His cheeks would be pink and he’d give you a shy smile, promising this was the last time but you both knew better than to believe that. You didn’t put up with his bullshit, you called him out when he needed it and you didn’t try and act like somebody you weren’t around him. He loved it.

Like today, you’d barely come in the door before he was on your heels, going on about some party from the weekend before and how it was sooo lame and that he didn’t have any fun. He’s so occupied with his rambling he doesn’t realize you’ve stopped until he slams into your back, hands coming up to grip your shoulders so you don’t both fall over.

Your hands grip the counter just in time and he expects you to turn around and gripe at him, scolding him like a toddler who’d been on your heels but you don’t. You huff a laugh and playfully shove at his shoulder, shaking your head.

“Jesus, Harrington. Maybe I need to get you a leash, hm?”

And maybe Steve likes that a little too much because he can feel the tips of his ears burning and blush working its way up his neck and covering his cheeks in a pink that makes him squirm.

He watched you quirk an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk on those lips he’s dreamed about for months and he wonders why he’s not more embarrassed, why his heart is racing and his cock is swelling in his pants. Fuck.

“On second thought, I think maybe you’d like that a little too much.”

*************************************

One thing you love about working with Steve is teasing him. You’ve done good to not let him get too close to you, staying neutral when it comes to his antics but you can’t help the giddiness you feel watching him blush and squirm when you’re mean to him. You’ve come to learn he likes when you embarrass him.

You’re embarrassed to admit it makes you feel a little powerful, a little special when you make him this way. He’s not the big, bad, ‘King Steve’ he was in high school when he’s in front of you, oh no. You think he’s quite pathetic the way he’s practically attached to your hip and you relish in the way he hangs onto every word you give him, especially considering you don’t give him much.

Like today you’re perched on a stool at the cash register, barely working oscillating fan doing little to cool you down when the ac is shitty, pushing around warm air that makes your thighs stick together and leaves a sheen of sweat on your forehead. You hate the heat, but what you don’t hate is the way Steve’s eyes are glued to your thighs, watching closely every time you readjust or a bead of sweat slides down your leg.

“Careful, Steve, I won't be happy if you drool on my leg.” That snaps him out of it, shoulders thrown back as he whips his head up to your face and oh yep! There’s those red cheeks you’ve come to like so much.

He opens his mouth to say something, probably nothing that would make sense but you spare him from trying to explain his wandering eyes, reaching down into your bag to pull out your next bit of entertainment for the day.

This’ll be good.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him watching you closely and you can’t help the smirk you wear when your fingers find what you were looking for, wrapping around it and pulling it out for Steve to see. You don’t miss the way his lips part or the way he grips the counter in front of you.

“They’re my favorite,” you wave the cherry blow pop in front of you like you’ve found gold, smirking at the way his eyes follow it through the air, “I only have the one but I can share, I guess.”

It would be rude of you to not offer him any. You might tease and be mean, but you certainly weren’t rude!

Ripping the wrapper off you waste no time, sticking the sweet treat in your cheek, throwing away the trash and swinging your legs around so you’re face to face with Steve, knees pressed against his as your feet dangle off the stool.

Maybe you could blame the way you make a show out of it on the lack of customers today. You’ve been here for 4 hours and only a handful of people have come in. Yeah, that’ll do. That’s why you pull it from your mouth with a pop that makes him flinch, lolling your tongue around the candy in a way that makes his eyes glaze over. You can hear him gulp when you hollow your cheeks and close your eyes, pretending like the taste of artificial cherry is what’s making your ears buzz and your heart race.

Dragging the blow pop from your mouth you gasp, letting your tongue swipe against your bottom lip that you’re sure is shiny with spit. “Oh, where are my manners! Here ya go, Harrington, have a lick.”

Not giving him a second to react, you surge forward, pushing the sucker against his lips before he has the chance to open, smearing the stickiness and your spit around his mouth and smiling wide at the sight of him, a tint of red around his pouty lips that suits him well.

“Messy boy, aren’t you?” You swipe your thumb over his lips, collecting some of the mess and you can see the way his tongue peaks out and you know he’s dying to let it touch your thumb. You pull back before he can, popping your thumb in your mouth and humming around it as if it’s the blow pop itself.

“Told you I could share!”

You could be indifferent to him and still want to make him melt to his knees for you, right?

**************************************

Steve thought about the cherry blow pop incident for weeks. He was surprised he didn’t cum in his pants like a teenager when the spit soaked treat touched his lips or when he watched you suck on your thumb after it swiped across his mouth.

That was just one example of how you tortured him, how he loved it. He’d had to go home that night and barely made it through the front door before he was pulling his cock out and picturing you on your knees in front of him, teasing him for being a “messy boy.”

You had no idea.

This shit would happen, these events that Steve was positive were chemically altering his brain chemistry, and he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you? You’d do something like that, something so hot it was engraved in his mind forever and then five minutes later it would be as though it never happened. You’d smirk at him, go back to what you were doing and spend the rest of the day ignoring him or giving him one word responses while he begged at your feet for a scrap of attention.

He really was like a puppy.

So he was confused, beyond confused on if you were friends, if you wanted him…he just didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen you act this way with anyone else and it made him feel…special. God he was pathetic.

The problem with all this was that he wasn’t entirely sure you didn’t hate his guts. I mean yeah, you’d tease and scold him when he was being an idiot and you were mean but never cruel or malicious. But you also never really went out of your way to start a conversation, never really cared to keep one up with him either. You rarely smiled at him, which killed him, because he saw the way you’d laugh at something Robin said or the amusement dancing in your eyes when the kids came in to raise hell. You never let him have it though, and fuck he wishes you would. All he got were teasing smirks and he wasn’t complaining about them, not one bit, but he wanted to see if he could make you all sweet and mushy like everyone else did.

There’s been a few times he’s caught you staring but you never back down, never look embarrassed to have been watching him and he wonders if you were staring so hard to put a curse on his bloodline or something! He wouldn’t mind if you were, the feel of your eyes on him somewhat satiate the craving he has for you.

He’s thinking about you again, just like always. In fact he’s so deep in thought, leaned forward letting his chin rest in his palm that for once he doesn’t notice you come up behind him.

He wishes he would have noticed you because then maybe he could have prepared himself to talk you and then maybe he wouldn’t have fucked everything up the way he did. Maybe it would’ve gone differently and ended without you in tears and him feeling the world's biggest douche bag.

“Dreamin’ about me, Harrington?”

“Aren’t I always.” He meant for it to come out teasing—but it didn’t. Now you were staring at him and he was staring out the window, the tips of his ears burning and he wished he could swallow his own tongue.

“Anyways, any chance you’ll cover my shift this Friday?”

“Why? Where are you going?” Full on pouting now he finally met your gaze. You never missed a shift, in fact you were the only one that anyone could count on to pick up extra shifts.

“Who are you, my daddy?”

His fingers twitched on the counter in front of him and neither of you missed the way his throat bobbed. Jesus Christ you made him crazy. “If you must know, I have a date and Friday is the only day that works.”

Wait—what? You had a date? With someone who was not him. Based on the way his heart dropped to his ass, he realized he might want far more than just your attention. His throat clogged as he looked at you, waiting as patiently as possible for his answer but fuck a date? You’d never gone on one as long as he’d known you—well that he knew of.

“But…you don’t go on dates.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Oh he was fucked now. He’d opened his big mouth and pissed you off—not in the way he’d liked either. “Well I just, I just meant I’ve never seen anyone ask yo—I didn’t think anyone…or you…I’ve never seen you go on one so I just figured you didn’t.” His foot could not get any further down his throat. He was fucking this up royally, but he was flustered! The pretty girl he liked was going out with someone, god knows who, and his feelings were a little hurt, even if he didn’t have the right!

“Forget it.” Any amusement you’d held towards him vanished, something else passed over you that he recognized as hurt and then anger. Lots of anger.

“Wait! M’sorry, I didn’t mean it like tha—”

“No you wait, Harrington. I don’t care what you think or what you think you know, it’s none of your business. I didn’t ask for you to question whether it was possible someone could like me enough to take me out, I asked if you’d cover my shift. Which—by the way—is not a big ask considering I cover your ass at least two times a week! But forget it, asshole, I’m sure my date was a fluke anyways, right?”

Before he could apologize or even blink you’d stormed away, slamming the break room door behind you. Shit he was an idiot! A huge, massive, blubbering idiot who’d made you more mad than he’d ever seen. His words got all jumbled around you anyways let alone when he was jealous over someone else getting to take you out.

He’d fucked up big time and was just sure you were cursing his bloodline now.

*********************************

Big, angry tears rolled down your cheeks in the employee bathroom you’d locked yourself in for the last twenty minutes. You were pissed, livid even, but more than that you were hurt. Which was only making you more mad, because why the hell did Steve Harrington have the power to hurt your feelings! He wasn’t anyone to you but a coworker, maybe an acquaintance, and yet here you were crying in the bathroom at work because he…what? Didn’t think you were pretty enough or cool enough or—whatever he fuckin’ thought—to date?

Okay, sure he didn’t say that exactly, but how else were you supposed to take his blubbering. And yeah, for the most part you were quiet and reserved and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have feelings for godsake.

At the end of the day Steve was a guy, a cute guy that you’d admired for his beauty and wouldn’t deny that he was overall sweet and kind, and you were a girl, a girl who apparently was not meant for dates.

And that hurts your feelings more than you’d care to admit.

A knock on the door had you wiping at your cheeks furiously, though at this point nothing would be able to hide your red cheeks and swollen eyes. “Who is it?” You cringed at how your voice sounded cracked and whiny.

“It’s Robin,” Oh thank god. Thank fucking god it wasn’t Steve. “Dingus is out here looking like he’s about to have a meltdown but won’t tell me what’s up, just said you were back here and that I should come check on you.”

Taking a deep breath you pulled the door open just enough for Robin to slip in, quickly closing it back behind her and trying not to let your bottom lip tremble when she turned to look at you and gasped. You weren’t even a crier! What was going on!

“Woa—shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Are you okay? What happened? Did they get Steve too, he seriously looks two seconds away from curling up on the floor.” Hands immediately covering your face you sigh, willing no more tears to fall until you can get out of here and into your own bed.

“It’s not, I just—I really don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay? Do you think you could start early and cover the rest of my shift? I promise I’ll make it up to you I just…Rob I just need to go home.”

“Of course I can, are you crazy? There’s nothing to make up. Go! I’ll tell Harrington you’re not feeling well and he’s stuck with me for the rest of the night,” giving you a reassuring squeeze as you gathered your things you’d grabbed on the way in here you gave her what you hoped came off as a thankful smile, “and when—if—you wanna talk about this, I’m here. Just so you know. I can listen sometimes despite what they all say.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand and giving yourself one last look in the mirror, grimacing at the utter mess you saw staring back at you. Hiking your bag on your shoulder you fled the safety of the bathroom and all but ran to the door.

Steve was with a customer, the polite smile he had on his face completely wiped off when he caught a glimpse at your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You didn’t spare him one look, practically running for the door without uttering a word in his direction.

God he felt like a piece of shit. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen you upset, let alone crying. He’d fucked up bad and didn’t know how to fix it when he’s sure you wouldn’t give him the time of day now.

He’d have to find a way to make this better, the pit in his stomach growing when he thought of you being upset—hurt—because of him.

He stood there staring at the door until Robin came up beside him, a concerned look on her face as she studied him. “Did she say what happened?”

“No, she didn’t. Just said she needed to go home and didn’t want to talk about it. I’ve never seen her so upset though, I’m worried.”

He was thankful she didn’t call him out for his bullshit. It was obvious whatever happened had been between the two of you and he didn’t think he couldn’t take Robin ripping into him right now, even if he deserved it.

“Yeah, me too.” And fuck he was.

*************************************

3 days since Steve had made you cry. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt because if you were being honest with yourself, maybe there was a small, teeny tiny part of you that grew fond of Steve. Steve with his goofy smile and bashful grin when he’d tell you stupid jokes.

It was one thing to be hurt because he’d been a jerk, but now you were dealing with feelings you didn’t want. You’d been hurt because you liked Steve and hearing him say…well you guess he didn’t say much, just stumbled his way through some sentences that all started pretty shitty, your feelings were all twisted up that he viewed you a certain way.

But instead of thinking too hard about these newfound feelings you had, you chose to ignore it completely. Obviously! You didn’t have the time or energy to worry about what Steve Harrington thought of you, especially when you glance at the clock on your nightstand and shit you’re gonna be late for work!

This is your first shift in 3 days and your stomach turns because you know you’ll be working with Steve. It also happened to be Friday, the day of your date that you had canceled in a fit of hurt and anger when you got home from your last shift. But based on how that jackass you couldn’t even remember the name of took it, you’d dodged a bullet.

You’re pulling into Family Video before you know it, dread washing over you and it doesn’t help that the humid summer heat as your bare thighs sticking to your seat, it only adds to your frustration. You make no move to actually get out, but you know you can’t afford to miss a shift or risk this job so you get it over with, pulling yourself out and walking in before you say fuck it and head back home.

Walking through the front doors you see him immediately, standing behind the counter with worry etched between his brows and a small frown on his face. He looks like a kicked puppy, staring you down as if you’ve wronged him.

“You’re late.”

You stiffen, spine straightening at his words and a string of curses are on the tip of your tongue, ready to lash out at him because how dare he. But before you get the chance he’s speaking again, effectively cutting off the tyrade you had going on your head.

“And that’s fine, totally fine! You’re just never late so I was worried, but then again I know today’s Friday so I wasn’t sure if you’d be showing up at all…I didn’t get the chance to tell you the other day I’d already told Robin I’d cover her shift today but I talked to the boss and if you need to go you can, I can manage one night by myself, I swear!”

You didn’t answer him, walking past and heading to the break room to hang up your things and try and mentally prepare for what was sure to be the longest shift of your life. The only thing you had going for you was that it was a Friday night, so hopefully you’d be busy and not have time to stress over being stuck with Steve.

When you come back out he’s standing in the same spot you left him, staring around like a lost little kid waiting for someone to give him direction. Well you won't be doing it tonight. Wordlessly you take a seat on the stool, trying your best to ignore his stare burning into the side of your face. You’d snap at him if you didn’t think you’d have a meltdown.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? I know you said tonight was the only night that would work for your date and I swear to you I can handle it. The place’ll still be standing tomorrow.”

Maybe you should go. You could go home and lay in your bed and wallow some more, eat some ice cream and try and forget the past week had ever happened. But you couldn’t. You needed the money and you certainly weren’t gonna hide from Steve when he’s the one that fucked up. So with all the courage you can muster you turn to him, doing your best to give a blank face so he can’t see the hurt brewing behind your eyes.

“No, Harrington. I don’t go on dates, remember?”

**************************************

Steve watches you turn away from him and fuck, okay he deserved that. He was a major asshole who had spent the last 3 days trying and failing to figure out how to get you to forgive him.

Then you walk in looking so pretty that for a second he forgets that you’re mad at him, that he had fucked up. But then he sees your eyes and they look sad, detached and that kills him all over again.

If he thought you might have disliked him before then he had no idea how good he had it! He’d give anything for you to smirk at him, to call him an idiot or to roll your eyes and pretend like you didn’t care when he rambled on, even though he could tell you did care, your eyes always gave you away.

“Can I please just—”

“No.”

“Please, I’m begging for you to just—”

“No, Steve.”

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Goddamnit please just let me at least try and explain myself a little bit. I know I don’t deserve it but I hurt you and I never, ever wanted to do that. Please. 5 minutes, honey. Please.”

He thinks he’s shocked you, eyes widening the tiniest bit before you shrug at him, casting a quick look his way before you turn back around and face away from him.

“I’m listening.”

Doing your best to ignore the fact that he just called you honey, he’s never done that, you turn to him and shrug, trying to act indifferent but on the inside you’re dying to know what he has to say. You want to know what he really thinks even though it goes against everything you’ve ever thought or stood for.

Jesus Christ you were the pathetic one, hoping for the reassurance of King Steve. Highschool you would absolutely kick your ass if she could see you now.

“I’m not…good at sorting my thoughts, especially around you and the shit I said the other day came out so wrong, so not how I meant it and I just—fuck I’m sorry. I never want you to be sad or hurt because of me…or anything at all,” He didn’t even know how to properly say anything without it coming out that he just liked you so much it made him a fool! “I was not trying to suggest people didn’t want to take you out, that came out all wrong. I’m sure there’s a line of people just waiting for you to give them a chance,” I would know, I’m front and center. “But I was just surprised because I hadn’t ever heard you talk about going on dates so I guess I just assumed…I don’t know. I’m an idiot who was also maybe just a little jealous and fuck it’s not even my business what you do! The point is that I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings, it was never my intention.”

It had been a few minutes with neither of you saying anything, the store empty and only the buzz of the crappy ac could be heard around you as he waited for you to say something, anything.

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness? I’ll do it, I swear. I hate you being upset with me, it fuckin’ sucks.” He couldn’t help it, his skin was crawling the longer you stayed quiet and he thinks he’d do anything to get you to not look so sad.

He hears a small huff from you and if he was looking he’d have seen it was a small laugh of disbelief. “I may be mean but I’m not cruel, Harrington. I wouldn’t make you get on your knees on this floor.”

Relief flooded through him and despite the humidity swirling around in the air he swore he felt cooler, lighter than he did before. “Does this mean I’m off your shit list then?”

Your laugh was loud this time and he felt his chest swell with pride that he had been the one to cause it, even if he hadn’t meant to.

“What makes you so sure I have a shit list?”

“Oh come on, you definitely do.” Things felt somewhat normal again and it eased the ache in his chest that had lived there for 3 long days. Maybe this whole thing would make you guys even closer, actually make you friends.

“Alright, maybe I do. And you’re definitely on it, but not because of what happened,” He found himself smiling at you and if he looked close enough he swore he saw a ghost of a smile on your lips before you wiped it away with the back of your hand, “but about the other day, I…you did hurt my feelings. I know, it’s shocking I have them but every once in a while I’m reminded I’m just like the rest of you, unfortunately. Look, I’ve worked with you a while and you’re sweet, Steve. You’re a good guy and when you were saying those things…I know you didn’t mean it the way it came out, but it made me feel..fuck I hate this shit. It made me feel like you thought I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or some shit like that and it just…it fucked with me, okay? But I know you’d never be cruel like that so I forgive you. We’ll forget this happened so I don’t have to talk about my feelings anymore and we’ll be good. We are good. Fuck I’ll even admit we’re friends if we can not talk about this ever again.”

“You think I don’t think you’re pretty or good enough?” That was all his brain could think of. How the fuck could you think that? Had he not been obvious? He all but drooled over you every time you were in his line of sight.

“Really, Steve? That’s all you got! I just said we were friends. I'd thought you’d be over the moon.” Your eyes were looking everywhere but him and he knew you were trying to deflect. You’d just been vulnerable with him and he should move on but he couldn’t stomach you thinking you weren’t good enough or pretty enough, let alone thinking that he thought those things!

“Honey, I’d be lucky even if you even gave me a second glance. Good enough? You’re too good for me and every other sorry prick in this town. I fuckin’ swear it. I was caught off guard and jealous. Jealous that someone else had gotten you to give them the time of day!” You looked stunned but he kept going, “And I can give you all the dirty details about how pretty you are. How I spend all day practically getting paid to stare at you, what a job! How I’ve memorized every little detail of your pretty face, how I stare a little too long when you’re bent over in front of me. Or how I think about your cute little mouth wrapped around that blow pop and wish it was my—”

“Steve Harrington!” You’d slapped your palm over his mouth to shut him up and if he wasn’t enjoying how squirmy you suddenly were he’d nip at your palm to make you jump. It was nice seeing you all red faced and hot because of him for a change, even though he loved it when it was the other way around.

Maybe he’d said too much, let his filter slip a little too far but he wanted—no needed for you to know how perfect you were. Not just to him but to anyone with common sense.

Pulling your palm away he opened his mouth but you shot him a glare as he did, as if you could sense he was going to do it. He watched as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and cleared your throat bringing your weary eyes to meet his.

“Smacking me around now?” He was a little shit, he knew it but he was sure you liked it anyway.

“You love it.” And shit, you’d got him there. He’d let you do anything you wanted to him with a smile on his face and his heart happy. But just because he’d made you feel better didn’t mean the hurt just went away and he’d do whatever it took to fix it.

“Caught me,” He threw you a wink that you ignored, rolling your eyes at him, “but seriously, there’s not one thing wrong with you and I’m sorry that I made you feel any different. I’m a dick. I’ll tell you till I’m blue in the face how pretty you are if that’s what it takes.”

“Oh no, I’ve heard plenty, you perv. Now I know why you’re so quiet when I’m reorganizing the bottom shelves, you’re staring at my ass!” He shrugged at you sheepishly, not being near as embarrassed as he should be for admitting that.

“But…thank you, Steve. This was just a misunderstanding that you’ve more than cleared up. We’re good, Harrington. I’m good.” And the relief he felt was seen on his face and felt throughout his body. He could’ve used the moment to be sweet, dragging out the conversation but you still looked a little uneasy about opening up to him so he thought it better to go back to territory you were comfortable with, him annoying you.

“Oh I know we’re good! We’re friends now, remember? Don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it.”

*************************************

Things between you and Steve had been…good.

There was a bit of tension between you, the kind that made your throat dry when you looked at him and your thighs clench when he whispered something in your ear if customers were around and he didn’t want them to hear. Maybe it was from the things he admitted or maybe it was because you were suddenly much more aware of Steve.

You’d had your talk, if you could call it that, a few weeks ago and the time you’ve spent together since then had been mostly normal. Steve, getting on your nerves, rambling about nothing for as long as you’d let him, looking at you with those pitiful puppy dog eyes when you gave him some attention. You, teasing him relentlessly, even more now than before. Covering for him less, he’d been showing up on time almost every shift you had together. Bending over in front of him more just to hear him curse and see his cheeks flush.

And maybe kind of developing a crush on him.

It’s not your fault, it’s his! How were you supposed to resist him after he said he’d be lucky to go out with you, after he told you he’d been jealous someone else was, after he told you how pretty you were and how he thought about your mouth wrapped around his—

Fuck—no, you were not going down that road again. Every time you thought about what he said, how genuine and needy he seemed when he talked about you, your head got all fuzzy and your knees threatened to give out. It was all you could do not to pounce on him the second the words left his mouth.

So yeah, you had a big fat crush on Steve Harrington.

He’d also taken your comment about being friends to heart, bringing it up every chance he got and using it as an excuse for the two of you to spend even more time together. You’d walk in Family Video and he’d flash you that smile, opening his arms for a hug you pretended to hate but in reality looked forward to every day.

“Hello, friend.”

“As your friend I have to tell you how pretty you look today.”

“C’mon friend, come to this party with me. It’ll be lame without you.”

You’d threatened to revoke his “friend” privileges and he’d gasped, clutching his chest dramatically and pretending to stumble to the floor. It took everything in you not to giggle at his antics. You were quickly becoming obsessed with Steve, and even more obsessed with how quick you could get him to turn into a puddle at your feet.

That was how you find yourself here at the Hawkins public pool with your bag strap digging uncomfortably into your shoulder and sweat dripping down your back, wearing what you’d bet was a grimace as you walked around the scattered chairs looking for Steve.

One thing that remained constant and strong was the mid summer heat that took your breath away and put you in a less than pleasant mood most of the time. Poor Steve got the brunt of your frustration but he never complained. And that’s why you finally agreed to come to the pool with him, because he was sweet and patient and adorable, even when he was annoying the shit out of you.

What you didn’t account for was the added heat you’d endure from seeing Steve shirtless before you, arms crossed over his chest and pale pink swim trunks sitting on his hips.

When did Steve Harrington get chest hair and why was your mouth watering over it? It made him look sexy, older in a way that erased all boyish features you’d come to love. He looked…fuck he looked hot. His hair was slicked back and you knew he’d already gotten in, too impatient to wait for the 10 minutes longer it had taken you to get here. He had a trail of hair on his lower belly that ran down under the band of his swim trunks and you think you might have actually let out a whimper at the sight.

You took a step toward him and cursed yourself when your legs wobbled a little bit. If he saw it he didn’t say anything, righting yourself quickly and making your way over so you could toss your bag into his waiting arms, trying not to look at the patch of chest hair just inches from your face and failing miserably.

“My own personal pool boy, a girl could get used to this.”

It didn’t take long to figure out that the easiest and quickest way to get yourself together was to turn it on him, to make his hands twitch and his stomach clench and to tease him until he was panting like a puppy.

“At your service, ma’am.”

Grabbing your arm he tugged you to the chairs he’d saved for the two of you, a cooler sitting between them with the lunch he’d made for the both of you. It makes your heart skip a beat and your tummy flutters. Your sweet Stevie.

He sat your bag down between the chairs, laying back so his arms were stretched back and crossed behind his head, a twinge in your stomach tightening as you watched him stretch out before you. A fucking Greek god. You needed to even the playing field and you needed to do it now.

Grabbing the sunscreen from your bag you put on the sweetest smile you could conjure while your body screamed at you to straddle his thighs and kiss him dumb. “Stevie, can you help me out with this?” He nodded without thought, that’s just how kind he was, sitting up to grab the bottle from your hands.

Before he could make a move to get up you knocked his legs apart, pushing yourself down and back so that you were wedged between his thighs, your back almost completely pressed against his front.

He cursed behind you, trying to scoot back but your hands dug into his thighs to keep him there, a silent plea. You’re sure if you could see his face he’d look almost pained at the feeling of your skin pressed to his.

You heard him flip the cap open and squeeze some sunscreen in his hand, neither of you saying anything for a moment before he leaned forward, his lips almost touching the shell of your ear when he spoke, “s’gonna be cold.” You nodded wordlessly and straightened up a little, pushing back further into him.

“Fuck.” You didn’t mean for it to slip out and hoped you could blame it on the cold lotion hitting your back, but you knew that was a lie. Steve’s big, calloused hands on your shoulders and back had you holding back whines and moans threatening to climb up your throat. Jesus Christ this felt good, too good.

Any composure you had left flew out the window at his next move and you were quickly falling behind in the one sided game you’d started with him.

You felt his hands move down lower to where the string of your bikini tied in the back, your thighs clenching hard when he slid them toward the front, following the line of your top and just barely slipping under the cup of your breast to tease the skin there before he was pulling back and going to your shoulders again.

Holy fuck.

He tensed behind you when your fingers dug harder into his thighs, but you didn’t even mean to. It was just a knee jerk reaction to his fingers gliding over the underside of your boob for Christ's sake. It wasn’t until you leaned back just a little, totally innocent you were just readjusting, that you felt it.

Steve was hard. His swimsuit did a shit job of concealing it. And he was pressed up against you so tightly you could feel him throb against your lower back when you gasped. This was your opportunity to one up him, to move ahead a few spaces.

Head turning to the side just slightly so he was in your peripheral, you needed to make sure he was looking and listening. You spoke as if you weren’t dripping wet yourself, thighs sore from how hard you’d been squeezing them together.

“Poor baby, touching my shoulders and grazing a pair of tits has you all needy, huh?”

He whined low in his throat, leaning forward to press his forehead against your back. You could feel little puffs of air against your skin as he tried to compose himself, not that you’d let him.

“Stop. Don’t be mean.” The words were whispered against your skin and you smiled.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean. Gets you hard, doesn't it, when I tease you?” You were being mean, so mean, but if the way he subtly tried to buck up against you was indication of how he felt, he loved it.

You kept going, basking in the feeling of his hands grilling your hips tight and his breathing against your back was getting faster the more you talked.

“You really are like a puppy. It’s just so fucking cute how whiny you get when you’re like this.”

Both of you stilled when a whimper slipped out a little too loud and all of a sudden you remembered where you were, a fucking public pool. Steve must have realized too because he pulled back, scooting far enough away that you weren’t touching anymore and you hated how you already missed the feel of his skin on yours.

Clearing your throat you shuffled over to the other chair, glancing at Steve to see his mouth shut and eyes looking anywhere but you. Maybe you’d gone too far. You opened your mouth to apologize but before you could he was up and tugging you to the edge of the pool, jumping in and practically dragging you in with him.

The cool water actually did a good job of cooling you down, physically and mentally. When you broke the surface, gasping for air, Steve was already there looking at you. You couldn’t read the look on his face, couldn’t tell if he was upset with you so you bit the bullet.

“M’sorry if I went too far, Steve. It’s just…you were…the sunscreen—you were making me feel crazy so I wanted to even it up. I shouldn’t have done that though, especially not here. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

For the first time since you came up from the water he broke his stare, opting to look around you before he came closer, pulling you in so no one would hear your conversation.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m not. I only pulled away because I was seconds from cumming in my shorts like a teenage boy and I was embarrassed.”

Lips pulling into a smile you covered your mouth and he pouted at you, huffing like a child when he saw you trying not to laugh at him. “No need to be embarrassed, Stevie. You can’t help that you’re a needy little thing.”

His hand swatted at yours that had come up to pinch his cheeks and you cooed at him to tease him further. “So mean.” He tried to look annoyed but failed and it made your stomach dip at how pretty he looked, drops of water falling off his lashes, lashes you and every girl in Hawkins would kill for.

“You really are pretty, Harrington.” The tips of his ears burned bright red and he moved toward you instinctively, like he wanted to kiss you. God did you want to kiss him. But you didn’t want to do it in a public place where you wouldn’t be able to make a mess of him after so you pulled back and splashed some water in his face with a giggle.

“C’mon big boy, let’s swim! I didn't come all this way just to stare at your cute face.”

Although you wouldn’t mind it.

*******************************************

The next few weeks are quiet, work goes by painfully slow when you’re not with Steve and you hate it. Your shifts with Steve are filled with teasing touches and flushed cheeks and very little work.

You’ve also been spending a good chunk of the time you’re not at work with Steve as well. He somehow almost always convinces you to come over to watch a movie or go with him for a late night ice cream run. You find yourself in his car or playing with his hair while you lay in your bed more often than not.

And you love it.

Trying to act like you weren’t obsessed with him was exhausting so you mostly gave it up. You’d smile at him more, laugh at his jokes more freely, and have become much more touchy with him.

Neither of you could seem to keep your hands off each other if you were in the same room. He always had to have a hand on your hip or one holding your thigh and you couldn’t keep your fingers from rubbing at his neck or slipping through his hair if he was close.

There hadn’t been a conversation about what was happening, but neither of you seemed to mind. You think that you’d become best friends who were just crazy about each other and that was enough for both of you.

Until it wasn’t.

If you were being fair, you knew that technically you and Steve hadn’t officially become exclusive or anything. The two of you probably weren’t even dating, even though you spent all your time together. Cuddling and teasing constantly.

But you weren’t fair. Everyone who spent any amount of time in a public setting knew that you and Steve were, for lack of a better word, an item. If someone saw you at the grocery store or at the post office, or anywhere, it was a safe bet that Steve was two paces behind you if he wasn’t already at your hip.

This was common knowledge. Or at least you thought it was. So it’s a surprise, a bad one at that, when you come back from your break with a smile on your face that is quickly wiped away when you see some blonde you went to school with hanging over the counter with her tits pushed at Steve, a devious smile on her face as she bats her eyelashes at him.

All the blood rushes from your body and you’re not sure you can even keep down the sandwich you’d had for lunch. A sandwich that Steve had made for you, might you add. There’s a horrible twist in your belly and you’ve never felt such rage as you have looking at the way she toys with the collar of his shirt between her fingers and at the way he gives her a small smile and doesn’t pull away.

You were jealous. So jealous it took the breath right out of you and made your brain go blank. One minute you’re standing there with your skin hot and heart pounding and the next you’re sliding back into your seat beside Steve with a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

“Need help with anything or are you just gonna keep groping the staff?” If your glare was sharp your words were sharper, serious and stern and directed at the girl who was still touching Steve, your Steve.

Both the girl and Steve’s eyes widen at your tone. She finally takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again. You see the way Steve’s staring at you but you don’t look at him, you can’t or you might do something crazy like hit this girl, or even worse, cry.

Once the initial embarrassment from your words wears off she straightens her back and narrows her eyes in your direction. “I think we had it handled, sweetie. Your coworker here,” You flinch at the way she emphasizes coworker and feel yourself shrink a little, “was just giving me some movie recommendations. But thanks for the offer.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” The words taste bitter on your tongue and you want to slap the smirk off her face so bad your palm twitches. Steve is quiet beside you and you can’t even begin to process how that adds to your fury, to the pain that’s bubbling up beneath your skin and threatening to spill out.

You’ve taken one, maybe two steps away from the counter, ready to go back to the bathroom of shame and cry again over Steve fucking Harrington when a hand on your wrist stops you.

The same hand, the one that belongs to the boy you’ve become enamored with, tugs you gently back to his side, hand leaving you for just a second so he can wrap his arm around your waist and tug you into his side. Your hips are touching and you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the pain and anger dissolving while his hand grips you tightly against him.

A sick satisfaction runs through you as you watch the way her jaw clenches and her eyes dim as his arm curls around you. Coworker my ass. Steve clears his throat beside you, catching yours and her attention, “I’m afraid I’m all out of recommendations for you, but maybe my coworker here has some for you.” Before she can even think about speaking you cut her off with a faux pout, “I don’t think I do, sorry!”

Deciding Steve isn’t worth the battle you’re more than willing to start, what an idiot, she turns around and pretends to look through the new releases for all of five seconds before she’s scurrying out of the store and leaving you both alone again.

Steve gives one last squeeze to your hip before he moves to sit back down, the reality of your little outburst smacking you in the face. Well, this is awkward. You sit down on your stool, tapping your hands on the counter while you try and gather the courage to look at him.

You hope he’s not upset with you and if he is well…fuck him! Just because you haven’t said it out loud doesn’t mean he’s not yours. You know for a fact if he caught you flirting with a guy he’d be pissed! All whiny and pouty and pawing at you for attention. So you were justified in being upset, totally and fully justified.

Now you’ve worked yourself up to tell him off and give him a piece of your mind, and you turn to him to do just that when it all slips away in an instant. Because Steve isn’t upset, no, he’s staring at you with wide, bright eyes and a smirk so big and knowing you curse yourself in your head.

Oh this is even worse! Now you’ve given him a big head, bigger than he already had!

“So that was…interesting.” You can hear the amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. You much prefer him all pathetic and whiny over this…cocky Steve. But really you don’t mind this either.

“Shut it, Harrington.” You think if you weren’t so obsessed with him you’d have the decency to be even a little embarrassed at how you acted but you aren’t! You practically marked your territory in front of her and you can’t find it in you to care or regret it.

“You were jealous. Over me! I’ll never shut up about this! I’m taking a spot in the paper for this, alerting the press as we speak!” His bottom lip between his teeth and he looked giddy like it was Christmas morning and he’d gotten the brand new shiny bicycle he’d spent all year wishing for.

You could have denied it, but what was the point in that? Everyone already knew anyway how you felt, you weren’t exactly subtle about it. Might as well embrace it at this point.

“And so what if I was? Figure you’re mine anyways, right?” Your cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink as you watch him take in your words, his eyes a little wide and a small shy smile on his lips.

“I am?”

God okay, maybe you hadn’t been as obvious as you thought the last months.

“Well…I thought so. You take up all my time anyways, Harrington, might as well. Plus I like you—well a lot. I’m yours too, ya know. If you want I guess, I don’t know, I thought this was just unspoken between us and now you’re making me nervous!”

His lips parted in what could either be shock or awe, you weren’t sure. He didn’t look appalled at the idea so that was a good sign, right?

“I’m sorry I just…sometimes I’m not even sure you like me all that much so I’m just a little shocked but yes! Fuck—yes I’ll be whatever you want.”

Maybe he was a little dumb or maybe you weren’t as good at showing your feelings as you thought but either way you’d make sure he felt wanted, needed by you.

“Steve, if I didn’t like you I promise I would not be spending all my time with you. I’m mean sometimes because you like it and I like seeing you all messy and cute. M’kinda obsessed with you, you idiot.”

His grin widened, dimples popping out and your heart sped up at the sight. He was pretty, so pretty and despite how you acted sometimes you felt so lucky that he even wanted to spend any time with you, let alone all of it. Steve Harrington had wiggled his way deep into your heart and your brain and you think your life would be dull without him.

“I’d ask you to pinch me but I know you’ll make it hurt,” Your hand reached out automatically towards his thigh and he swatted you away with an eye roll, “I’m obsessed with you too, have been for months. Since the first day you started actually. Want you to be my girl, wanna be yours too.”

Leaning forward you pressed a quick peck to the corner of his mouth and you felt his head turn, trying to catch your lips. He wouldn’t get off the hook that easily, it took no effort to remember how it felt to see that girl's hands all over him. Even if it wasn’t his fault you don’t think he’d mind paying for it anyways. Add on the cocky grin he had earlier when he realized you were jealous and all of a sudden you had big plans for Steve Harrington, plans that made your thighs clench and had you pulsing around nothing.

You cooed at him, pulling back just in time to see his brows furrowed and a cute little pout working its way on his lips. He had no idea what was coming to him and you couldn’t want to see how sorry he would be.

“Patience is key, baby.”

*****************************************

It was a week later when it all clicked for Steve.

A week of teasing touches and sneaky glances his way, even when people were looking. You’d leave a kiss on his cheek or the corner of his mouth or on the side of his neck right right under his ear. He was going crazy, body leaning forward subconsciously anytime you were near him.

You’ve barely let him touch you and at first he was worried but you’d whisper in his ear about “payback” for making you jealous and while he was nervous, now he was just excited. And impatient, wanting and begging for you to just do it already. He couldn’t take much more teasing, his cock had been aching for what felt like forever and no matter how many times he found himself in bed, stroking himself to the thought of you, it wouldn’t ever be enough.

He thinks you’ve finally decided to put him out of his misery, calling him earlier to ask if you could come over, that you had a special surprise that was just for him. He’d agreed without hesitation, telling you to come over whenever you wanted and that he’d be waiting for you. His parents weren’t around this weekend so he didn’t have to worry about them and he was thanking god for that.

It had been 4 hours and 37 minutes since you called, not that he’d been counting, when he heard a knock at his door that had him all but jumping over the couch and sprinting for the front door. He practically ripped it open, grinning wide as he took you in with dreamy eyes and his stomach twisted in knots.

You were wearing a sundress that reached about mid thigh and he had to hold himself upright with the door at the sight of your bare legs, tan and smooth and fuck he just needed to bite at the skin between your thighs. The dress had little strawberries printed all over and he’d bet money that you tasted just as sweet as the fruit. His mouth watered at the sight of your full lips all glossy with whatever you’d put on them and it took everything in him not to lean forward and suck your bottom lip into his mouth.

He didn’t realize he had been standing there just staring until you cleared your throat, a knowing smirk on your lips as he shook his head to clear him from the daze you’d put him in. “S’pretty, you’re so pretty.” His voice was quiet and he wasn’t sure if he meant for you to hear or if he was just talking to himself.

“Thank you, handsome. Can I come in or do I need to stand on the porch with you eye-fucking me all night?” He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to your crassness, even though he wasn’t complaining about it. He loved that you spoke your mind, no matter how dirty, and hoped what one day he’d be comfortable doing that too.

“Right, right, yes come in,” Pulling the door open he stepped to the side so you could come in, knees wobbling when he caught a whiff of your perfume as you passed, “Are you hungry? I can…order something. I don’t have much to cool but maybe I could run to the store real quick?”

He heard your muffled giggle as you walked through the house in front of him, hips swaying as you walked and he felt his cock twitch in his pants just looking at you.

“Just hungry for you, Stevie.”

You were teasing, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure you weren’t serious by the way you eyed him over your shoulder like he was your prey. And fuck did he want to be. He’d crawl around on the floor if you asked.

By the time he followed your trail and made it through the living room you were at the foot of the stairs, lip between your teeth and hands together behind your back all innocent. You both knew better than to believe that.

“Can I see your room?” Fuck this was happening. He nodded at you, grabbing your small hand with his and relishing in the way it felt to hold you. He led you up the stairs and was careful not to go too fast, to seem too eager. He knows you’d tease him for being so excited but based on the look in your eyes he thought that maybe you were pretty excited too.

Pushing his door open he watched as you took in his room, eyes light as you scanned over the posters he’d hung haphazardly, some artwork the kids had drawn for him hanging above his desk. His bed was unmade and he cursed himself, as if you’d care.

“Looks exactly how I pictured it.”

“You pictured my room?”

“Maybe.”

He stood still, leaning up against the door he’d closed and locked behind him as you made your way around, lifting up papers and magazines, humming quietly to yourself. You must have been a witch or something the way he’d become so entranced with you, following your every move like he wasn’t meant to do anything else.

So when you turn around to face him quickly, he’s startled, eyes shooting up to meet yours like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner.

“Alright then, on the bed.”

The flurry of questions he has does little to deter him as he scrambles past you and pushes on the bed a little too quickly. He falls forward face first and hears you snicker behind him. He’s not sure where you want him so he hopes he’s right. He scoots back, flush against the wall, the headboard on his left and foot of the bed on his right.

“You want this, Harrington? I’m not misreading anything, right?”

He’s shaking his head furiously, eyes wide and mouth closed as he watches for your next move.

“Oh now you have nothing to say? Months of knowing you and you’re hardly ever quiet. Use your words, big boy.”

“Y-yes, I want this. Whatever you want.”

The smile you reward him with makes his chest ache and the blood rush through him so fast he can hear it pounding in his ears. He thinks he wants you looking like that all the time, proud and pleased with him.

“Good! It’s time for payback then.”

**********************************************

You really really hoped your nerves didn’t show on your face as you stood in front of Steve. You don’t think he’d notice even if they did, eyes glazed over as he waited for whatever you had planned.

Now at this point you were over the whole jealousy thing from last week, really you were! But you played into it a little extra just so you could be mean to him right now. Although with the plans you had, you’d be being mean to him and yourself.

Wordlessly you reached down, fingers toying with the hem of your dress and you watched as Steve’s eyes tracked the movement, throat bobbing slightly as you lifted it a few inches before letting it drop back down.

This only lasted for a few minutes before you’d had enough, gripping your dress and almost ripping it over your head and letting it drop to your feet. What you hadn’t mentioned was that you had nothing underneath it, absolutely nothing.

Steve drank you in, slack jawed with his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he moved from your face to your tits, staring at your already hard nipples that you would blame on the coolness in his room. His eyes moved down further and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made your clit throb under his stare.

Was that some drool leaking down to his chin?

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Can I?” You don’t think he even realized the words left his mouth and you fought the urge to laugh at how out of it he seemed already.

“Not tonight, baby.”

His hands fisted the sheets below him as the pet name slipped past your lips and you smiled sweetly at him. Pointing to the headboard you directed him with a quiet voice, “I’m gonna sit there,” moving your hand to point toward the foot of his bed he followed your finger eagerly, “and you’re gonna sit there, facing me.”

He obeyed instantly, shuffling toward where’d you directed him while you climbed onto the bed and and situated yourself against his headboard with your legs stretched out in front of you.

“Can I have your shirt?” It wasn’t anything special, a plain white t-shirt that hugged him beautifully, but you wanted it all the same. To have his smell surrounding you, covering you in him. He peeled it off so he was left in a pair of jeans that stuck to him in all the right places. Unsure of what to do he tossed it to you and you wasted no time in slipping it over your bare frame, pleased that it bunched at your hips just how you’d hoped.

You could see the disappointment in his face at the extra layer you’d added and you itched to lean forward and pinch his flushed cheeks in adoration. He was just so adorable it made you crazy. With everyone else he was strong and stern, the babysitter and protector and king of Hawkins.

But with you…with you he was soft and sweet, pliable in your hands like putty and you ate up every second of it.

****************************************

Steve thinks he might have gone to heaven, you sitting across from him in nothing but his shirt with your thighs on display.

His chest feels hot despite the cool air hitting his skin and he thinks if he doesn’t get his hands on you in the next three seconds something horrible might happen. You're giving him that teasing smile that makes his tummy clench and sends excitement zipping down his spine.

He still can’t believe you like him, that you’re obsessed with him. It’s like a dream come true and he thinks he’s pinched himself at least 17 times in the last week.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you call his name softly, head snapping up to meet yours and he feels dizzy all over again from how pretty you look.

“You’re gonna watch me, okay? No touching me or yourself until I say.” Wait—what? He gives you a nod and tries not to let his disappointment show in his face, and he knows he fails based on the way you smile and shake your head at him.

But any disappointment he had is gone in a flash when you lean back and spread your legs to give him a glimpse at just how much you like him. He might black out, he’s not sure. You’re glistening for him, a little bit of slick on your thighs and suddenly he’s starved. He audibly groans at the sight of you on display for him.

“She’s pretty—fuck so pretty.” He’s talking more to himself than you but he sees the way you twitch at him referring to your pussy as “her” and it makes him smile shyly, still not moving his eyes from where you’re dripping on his bed.

He watches closely as your hand trails down, rubbing over your thighs for just a second before you’re taking two fingers and spreading yourself open for him, both of you too impatient to drag this out too long. Before he can stop himself he’s moving forward, going to his knees and crawling across his bed that feels far too big all of a sudden. He doesn’t realize he’s moved until your legs are closed and one foot is pressed against his bare chest, stopping him from getting any closer.

One hand is holding him up and the other is holding onto your ankle as he pleads with his eyes for you to let him closer, just a taste, he just needs one little taste.

“We’ve just started and you’re already breaking the rules?” The faux disappointment in your tone makes him pout, leaning down to press a small kiss against your calf and he hears you chuckle at his attempt at distracting you.

“M’sorry, baby, you’re just so pretty, she’s so pretty. Let me have a taste, please? I’ll be good after that, I swear. Just one taste, honey.”

He watches in anticipation, hope is swelling in his chest as you study him and he can see the contemplation in your eyes as you take him in. He’s so close he can smell you and it lights his whole body up, cock so hard pressed up against his jeans he could cry.

“Hmm, no,” He hears the whine he makes but can’t be bothered to care, “what fun is payback if I give in before I’ve even touched myself! You can be patient, I know you can.” You have much more faith in him than he has in himself, body slumping in defeat before he’s moving back to where you directed him the first time.

“Can I at least take these jeans off? It hurts, baby.”

“Fine, but the boxers stay on, sneaky.” It takes him no time before he’s peeling his jeans off, sighing in relief when some of the pressure is released and he feels like he can breathe again.

Well he can breathe until you’re spreading your legs again, fingers slipping back down to tease at your clit as your eyes stay locked on him. His chest is tightening as he watches you. Watching the way your legs spread wider when you notice him fisting the sheets beside him. Watching the way your head falls back against his headboard when you move down to circle your messy hole, a moan so lewd coming from your mouth he feels a bead of precum drip down his cock.

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t decide if this was heaven or hell but he’s sure that either way he’d gladly spend an eternity here.

He’s torn between watching your face or watching your fingers in your cunt, eyes flickering between the two every few seconds so he didn’t miss something important. He remembers how you compare him to a puppy and he’s sure he’s never looked more like one than he does right now. He’s practically panting across from you and you’re the treat that would be making his tail wag—if he had one.

“Feels so good, Stevie. This is how wet I get just from thinking about you, ya know? Always have me messy and ready for you.”

“Please let me touch you. Fuck—please, sweetheart. Need it so bad, need you so bad. I’ll be good, I swear. Never make you jealous again. God I swear I’ll do anything.”

He knew you were getting close, thighs threatening to close on your hand and hips lifting from the bed eagerly. He could see it on your face too—you wanted to deny him, to torture him some more but he could see you giving in.

“You beg so pretty, Harrington. Fuck, get over here. Now.”

He didn't need to be told twice, launching himself across the bed and fitting himself between your thighs that had opened a little to accommodate his wide frame. He waited expectantly, and you smiled down at him fondly.

“You know, you really look like a—”

“A puppy, I know. So can I have my treat then?”

Nodding at him you swiped your fingers through your folds and held your hand out to him, fingers shiny with you and he opened his mouth quickly. His head moved forward and he took your fingers in his mouth, lapping his tongue around them greedily, determined not to waste a single drop. He hummed around them, eyes closed so he didn't see the way you were staring at him like he’d hung the moon.

“S’good then?” You sounded breathless above him and he could only nod, not wanting to drop your fingers from his mouth just yet. God, you tasted good. He’d compare you to a nice summer treat but the truth is you’d be perfect for any season, any day. Fuck he’d stay buried between your thighs 24/7 if you’d let him.

He finally pulled off just enough so that he could speak, “better than a blow pop.” The laugh that pulled from you made his heart warm. It was loud and genuine, shoulders shaking slightly as you grinned at him, teeth on display and everything.

It was quiet for a few minutes, you pressing your fingers down on his tongue and even though he’d cleaned them up, the taste of you lingered and he would gladly sit here with your fingers in his mouth for hours.

But you had other plans.

“Need your fingers, Stevie. They’re bigger than mine and I’m already close from watching you lap at my fingers like a little greedy puppy.” His eyes fell from yours, cheeks red and ears burning as you teased him.

“Can I use my mouth?”

“Mhm, not today. I already gave in way too quick, you were just too cute to say no to.” He wants to pout, to protest and beg but he thinks just watching you fall apart on his fingers will be more than enough for him.

You part your legs further as he slips down to rest his cheek against your inner thigh. His hair tickles the soft, sensitive skin there and you giggle. He moves just enough to press a quick, open mouthed kiss and dreams about the marks he hopes you’ll let him leave there one day.

With a nod from you he moves his eyes to your cunt, swollen and dripping, and runs his fingers over your clit just to feel your thigh twitch against his cheek. He wraps the hand he’s not using around your thigh, clutching it to him tightly as he eases two of his fingers into you. They slip in easily with no resistance and the feeling of your warm, hot walls snug on his fingers makes him grind his hips down into his bed.

“Shit—she feels good, hugging my fingers so tight.” Your hips buck up against his hand, urging him in deeper and he smiles against your leg. A groan slips out of him when your hand slips down to rub slow, loose circles on your clit, head rolling back so that all you can see is his eyes peeking up at you.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so hot in his entire life. He can see the little beads of sweat rolling down your forehead and how you’re panting and whining above him, especially when he curls his fingers upward and finds that spongy spot that has your mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing shut.

“There it is, yeah? That’s the spot?” You’re nodding quickly, fingers that were circling your clit are now sliding into his hair and gripping it tightly. The burn of it makes him moan against your thigh, the sting of your grip making his eyes roll back into his head almost.

“D-don’t you dare stop, Harrington. M’close, so so close.” He doesn’t think there is anything that could get him to stop. Not when you’re dripping down his hand and your thighs are shaking like they are.

The final straw is when he moves his mouth down a couple of inches, teeth scraping against the skin where your thighs almost touch and he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. He hears the thud of your head knocking against his headboard and the curse that flies out of your mouth as you clench down on him so hard you almost push his fingers out. He works you through it, licking over the mark he just left to soothe the sting and slowing down his fingers once you start to twitch and whine from the feeling.

It’s not until you're pushing his hand away and letting your legs slump that he takes a peek at you, a lazy smile on your face and hair sticking to your forehead where you’d been sweating. He knows there’s a widening grin on his face as he looks up at you, placing one last kiss before he’s sitting himself up so his legs are under yours and his hands are resting on the tops of your thighs.

“If that’s what you call payback then remind me to piss you off more often!”

You roll your eyes, letting your body fall back against his headboard, “Don’t get smart with me now, Harrington. Not when I’m about to make you cum. I would hate to change my mind.”

His ears perk up and honestly he hadn’t even thought about himself since he’d gotten between your thighs, content with watching you squirm and moan around his fingers. But he wasn’t gonna turn you down, hell no! Just the thought of you anywhere near his cock had him twitching in his boxers.

He closed his mouth, fingers coming up to mimic zipping a zipper of his lips and tossing the non existent key far behind him. You smirked at him, hand coming close to pat his cheek, almost like you’d pet his head.

“Good boy, now turn around and take those boxers off, please.”

********************************************

Holy shit. You didn’t think you'd ever cum so hard in your life. You swear you might have actually seen stars for a minute there when he curled his fingers just right. And when he bit you? How the hell did he know you had a thing for biting.

Keeping him at arm's length had been the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, especially when he was looking at you like you were a five course meal in front of him. He’d practically been salivating at the sight of you and it took everything in you not to give into him immediately.

But now that you’d cum, all you could think about was him. About finally getting your hand on his cock and listening to the way he’d gasp and whine with your hand around him. Just the thought was enough to send another wave of arousal and need over you, your toes curling and fingers digging into his bed.

He still hadn’t moved in front of you and you cocked your head at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly had that sad pout on his lips. “What’s the matter?”

His cheeks were red and he looked almost embarrassed as he tried to avoid eye contact with you and you worried you’d done something to upset him. Maybe this wasn’t as good for him, maybe he didn’t like you teasing him?

“S’just…you haven’t kissed me and I just—I wanna kiss you so bad but I didn’t know if there was a reason you hadn’t or maybe you just didn’t want to or—”

You cut him off, gripping his shoulders and pushing your lips against his that were swollen and slick with spit. He moaned against you, sighing and relaxing in your hold. Fuck—how had you not kissed him yet?

His tongue swiped against your bottom lip and you heard the little whine he let out when you didn’t let him in, laughing against his lips. He took the opportunity to move closer, hands moving to fist at your hair and you felt lightheaded from how good he felt, how sweet he tasted.

When you needed to breathe you regretfully pulled back, foreheads touching and noses bumping into one another as you both took big, greedy gulps of air. His eyes almost sparkled as he looked at you, a shy smirk on both your mouths.

“Better?”

“Perfect.” It was hard to ignore the way your heart thumped against your rib cage like it was trying to fight its way out. He was perfect. Everything about him and the way he carried himself drew you to him like a moth to a flame. Your mind was consumed with all things Steve.

And while you wanted to be mushy and sweet with him, one glance down between you had your mouth watering and fingers twitching at your sides. There was a dark wet patch on his blue boxers and the outline of his cock was prominent. You think you know why he was so cocky in high school now, he definitely had the goods to back it up.

“Kiss me whenever you want but if you don’t get your boxers off in the next 5 seconds I might do something crazy.”

Your words snapped him out of his post kiss haze and you laughed softly as he scrambled off the bed to pull his boxers down his legs and practically kick them across the room. You gulped at the sight of him, of his pretty and thick cock already leaking and shiny for you. You motioned him forward, eyes kind and soft as you spread your legs for him.

He smiled when you patted the space in front of you and he crawled back between your legs and shuffled so that he was sitting in front of you, his back pressed to your front, the material of his shirt clinging to his sweaty back. Your thighs stretched around his hips but you loved the slight burn it brought you. You laid back and brought him with you so that he was slumped against your chest, your feet hooked over his calves.

His hands were on either one of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there while his arms were loose at his sides. You took the opportunity to slip your hands under his arms, hands reaching up to run over his chest, tweaking one of his nipples on your way and watching the way his cock twitched where it was resting against his lower belly.

Steve looked like a dream, head thrown back on your shoulder, thigh thighs spread open with his pretty cock on display for you. As your hands made their way to his tummy you scratched softly, fingers sliding through the trail that started under his belly button and went down. He must have felt sensitive there because he turned his head to the side, mouth pressed against your neck as he cursed.

“S’good, so good. Fuck, I swear anything you do feels fuckin’ perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder at his words, feeling the high of them as he spoke.

Holding your hand out in front of him, palm up toward his face he hummed against you, not sure what you were wanting him to do, but willing to do just about anything if it meant your hand would be on his cock.

“Spit.”

All that was heard in the room was his quick intake of air, eyes fluttering as he leaned toward your hand. He looked back at you once, to double check that this was real or for confirmation that you really wanted him to spit in your hand, you’re not sure. But you nodded, throat bobbing as he turned back and spit, watching in awe.

“Good boy.”

Any strength he had left was gone at your words, head falling back to its place on your shoulder as you moved your hand down, taking hold of his cock and hearing him hiss at the contact.

You think this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

His cock was hot and smooth under your touch, a mix of his spit and precum making it easy to glide your hand over his shaft, letting your thumb catch on the tip and relishing in the way he gasped in your ear.

“Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy, hmm?” The feeling of his fingers digging into your thighs only spurred you on, hand tight around him as you stroked him quickly, loving the way his tummy would clench and he’d gasp at how slick he was, how good it felt.

You’d never seen him so needy, so pathetic as he was right now, little whines and pleas against the shell of your ear as you gripped him. He was heavy in your hand and you wondered how he’d feel on your tongue, how he’d taste when he thrusted into your mouth. You’d add that to the list of things you needed to do immediately.

“M’sorry, sorry fuck—you’re gonna make me cum, m’gonna cum—oh shit.” He was throbbing hard against your palm, breathing even harder against your neck and you cooed at him when his hips started thrusting up in time with your strokes.

“Without asking? I don’t think so, Stevie. You haven’t even said please!” Your hand slowed and he moved so his hand was wrapped over yours, trying to get you to go faster but you swatted him away, scolding him with a pinch to his hip.

Taking one look at his face that was still buried in your throat, you could tell he was out of it, so fucked out you weren’t sure he could even form words, let alone beg. But that didn’t stop you from egging him on, slowing down until he was so worked up he was on the verge of tears.

“Oh fuck—please…baby, honey, please let me cum? I’ve been so good I just..shit I need it. You feel so good, perfect girl. O-oh my god, please. Please please please.”

He was mumbling, a mix of curses and pleas as he left sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your throat. You think you’d give him anything he wanted right now with how pretty he sounded, all pathetic and fucked out for you.

“Go ahead, pretty boy. Cum on my hand, yeah? Make a mess of us.” Your hand sped up on his cock, feeling yourself leak into his bed as he twitched against your fingers. You kept going, kept talking as his hips got sloppy and cock was red and begging for release.

“Don’t know how you’ll ever fit inside me, Stevie. Gonna have to prep me for days I think.”

“Next time you’ll have to use my mouth, yeah? I hate letting your cum go to waste.”

“Y’look so pretty like this. My sweet boy thrusting up into my hand, gonna think about this for days.”

He thrusted up one final time, hips stilling and body going tight as his orgasm took over. His cum coated your fist that was still wrapped around him, reaching his belly and even spilling down onto his thighs. He couldn’t even see the way you pouted at how much had been wasted, cursing yourself for not letting him use your mouth.

Slumped completely against your chest he mumbled something about his legs feeling like jelly and you giggled, cheek resting against his forehead.

“Soooo, good then?”

It took all the energy he could muster to squeeze your thigh, head moving to the side a fraction so he could look at you, smiling so big his cheeks had to hurt. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? I think I just saw god for a second.”

Rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders, butterflies danced in your stomach at how pretty he looked. His skin was flushed and glowing, hair a mess where you’d both pulled at it, lips swollen and red from biting and kissing and holding them between his teeth. He looked phenomenal.

As much as you’d love to stay here wrapped up in him for the rest of your life, your thighs had gone numb from being stretched around his hips and your back ached from sitting back against his headboard for so long.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nodding off on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and little puffs of air hitting your skin. You tapped his cheeks with your clean hand, “C’mon, Stevie. Gotta clean us up and then we can go straight to bed.”

He groaned in protest but leaned up enough so that you could slip from behind him, legs tingling when you stood on them, hobbling to the bathroom on shaky legs and flipping Steve off when you heard him chuckle from behind you.

“Oh fuck off, Harrington.”

******************************************

When Steve wakes up the next morning it’s slow and sweet, eyes blinking open and a small smile on his lips when he feels you pressed into his side.

He looks down and tries not to laugh at your mouth hanging open, a little bit of drool on his chest from where your cheek is squished against his skin. Your hair is sticking up in every direction and he can feel your breath on him. It makes his heart grow in his chest, an overwhelming sense of joy and contentment washing over him as he stares down at you. He could get used to this, you attached to his hip and waking up to you in his bed.

Thinking back to when you barely gave him the time of day, he smiles at your relationship now. How you’re just as needy as him, tugging on his belt loop to pull him to you if he’s not close enough for your liking, pulling his hand to your thigh in his car if he doesn’t do it first. He’s seen you use your foot to pull his chair closer to yours at work countless times, a little smile on his mouth every time.

There’s a part of him that doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He feels that way all the time but especially when you laugh louder than you mean to, hand coming up to cover your mouth with a bashful smile. He feels it when you're humming along to a song you’d heard on the radio, head moving side to side and hips swaying to the beat in your head. He feels it when you randomly bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm and to his fingertips.

He feels it all the time, really.

And he loves when you're mean to him, when you tease him about staring at you too long or for getting all bashful when you do something normal like tuck your hair behind your ear or scrunch your nose. He loves that you turn him into mush.

“Stop staring, you creep.” He’d been so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice your eyes opening or how’d you had scooted closer to him, one leg coming up to tangle with his, wrapped together tightly.

“That’s rich coming from you considering I’m gonna have to clean your drool off me.” You gasped, sitting up straight and smacking at this chest, appalled at the notion that you would ever—could ever—drool on him in your sleep.

“Keep it up, Steve. Remember what happened the last time you pissed me off?”

As if he’d ever forget. Unfortunately for you, the idea of repeating last night, or anything like it, was hardly going to deter him from pressing your buttons in the way that only he knew how to do. Reaching out he tugged you back down to him, tucking you back into his side and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

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