#please let them win all the awards

[moonlitdark]

"Their bond." MTV loves them too. 🫶

[fallinallincurls]

nhl awards are tonight and if nate doesn’t win the hart and quinn doesn’t win the norris, i’m going to be SO mad omg

[jrueships]

JAREN WON DPOY OMGGG

MY BABYDOLL!!! MY BABYGIRL!!!!! MY SWEET!!

ONE STEP FOR MAN!

ONE G I A N T LEAP FOR WARRIORCATS ROLEPLAY 🥳 🎊 🥂 🎉 🪅 !!!!!

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ when the love and deepspace boys get jealous

warnings: pouty men, jealous xavier is a warning in itself, sorry if i mischaracterise…. and i also have favourites LOLL

characters: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier

link to master list here!

author notes: all i can think of is pouty rafayel and jealous xavier my brain is a melted goop of lnds brainrot… also sorry for not posting in a while i was on holiday!!

also quick reminder that i have requests open but 1. i’ll get to them slowly and 2. please read my pinned post about rules!

more under the cut ~

out of the four men i think sylus is the least jealous - now let me elaborate that possessiveness and jealousy (in my eyes) are very different

if you talk to another man, sylus both trusts you and has enough faith in himself to know that no matter what the dude does, sylus is yours and you’re his

he trusts you 100%, without a shadow of a doubt. and this translates through his lack of jealousy when you spend time with other people

however, if the man even attempts to lay a finger on you, his tone becomes too sweet or his hand inches a bit too close and you’re getting uncomfortable?

you bet your ass sylus is interfering.

immediately shifts his body to create distance between you and the other party

he flashes a dangerous look at the other man, evol glowing dangerously as it whispers a small warning into the other’s ear

“Stay away and you get to stay alive.”

he seriously doesn't fuck around when it comes to your comfort and safety, and if he feels that another man is compromising it or pushing the boundaries it really ticks him off

when does sylus get jealous?

mostly when you start to spend less time with him and more time with others

it’s not as if as soon as you spend time with someone else he gets jealous, but if it causes you to start to ignore him/spend less time with him he gets jealous

when he gets jealous, he doesn’t hide it at all

sylus isn’t one to keep his feelings from you, so when you see his displeasured frown you know immediately something is up

he doesn’t get angry or petty when jealous, he just makes it clear that he’s not happy with the division of attention

when you ask him what’s up, he gives you the answer plain and simple

“Getting bored of me already? How come you’re spending more time with […] than me, I’m jealous.”

his voice is slow and clearly unimpressed, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down.

luckily for you, he’s not hard to win over

spend time with him, even if it’s not active such as going out to restaurants or to one of his formal events

the two of you sitting in comfortable silence, him reading a magazine and you looking through moments, that’s more than enough for him

he’s not opposed to displays of physical affection either, cuddling or kisses to his face - anything that tells him “you’re mine/i’m yours” will satisfy him

just make sure not to spend TOO much time with the other person, otherwise sylus might seriously hunt them down

he’d never make you jealous on purpose, he had no interest in other women/men at all and respects you way too much to pull petty moves like that

when sylus accidentally makes you jealous, he’ll definitely pamper you, spoil you with gifts and spend time with you

wanted to get the new limited edition plushie? he’ll stay in the arcade with you until you get all of them. wanted a new game on steam? he’s bought both the game, all the dlcs and any in game passes and currency.

Somewhere at some point during the day he'll simply come clean about it, after all he's a straight forward man and he trusts you.

"I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to make you jealous. Forgive me, please?"

tldr; sylus is a love sick loser that knows you’re equally in love with him as he is with you

here goes the award to the most composed LI - zayne gets jealous alright, not nearly as much as the coming two but he still gets jealous

it's not that he doesn't trust you, but watching you smile so brightly to the café employee or get a little too friendly with another doctor sets him on edge

if you're talking to male friends/giving them friendly hugs zayne's completely fine with it, he's happy to see you surrounded by people who care for you and for you to be happy too

at first it's hard to tell when zayne gets jealous, he has a poker face that would put lady gaga to shame

however, after a while you discover the few subtleties that give away his disgruntled state

for example, if you're talking a bit too excitedly or friendly to the barista - especially one you'd both met just today - there'd be a little crease in his forehead, his mouthwould be a fraction more downturned and his eyes a bit narrower as if he was squinting

or if you talk to him about a male colleague when you two were supposed to be out on a date, he'd definitely be jealous... however the only give away would be the faintest purse of his lips and twitch of his eyebrow

if you ask him if he's jealous he's going to deny it, he usually doesn't lie but when it comes to vulnerable emotions such as jealousy i feel he'd have difficulties expressing them

"Jealous? I'm not jealous, don't worry about me."

but then the right side of his mouth is twitching a little and if you focus hard enough he gives the impression of a kicked puppy, a very subtle hint of 'give me attention'

if you manage to learn the art of 'zayne expression reading' and finally notice that he's not 'lactose-intolerant-and-having-stomach-issues-causing-him-to-look-like-that' but in fact jealous, here's a few ways to heal your zayne!!

zayne specialists recommend a good dosage of subtle affections - e.g. bringing up one of his interests or reminiscing upon something you two did in the past, basically indicating to him 'hey, i still love you most in the world!'

he's a perceptive man and will pick up on what you're doing relatively quick, and his little grumpy face will relax back into the unconscious, soft smile he adopts when in your presence

if he accidentally makes you jealous, he makes sure you know more than anyone else in the world that he's yours and yours only.

reciprocates the small gestures such as holding your hand in public or introducing you to his colleagues

"Good afternoon to you too. I believe you haven't met [Y/N] before?"

and then he'll adjust his hand placement, sliding from patting your shoulder to gentle resting on the small of your back, a little intimate gesture that screams "I'm their partner."

makes sure by the end of the day he's got the message across, and at one point brings it up (even though you've basically forgotten what he did to make you jealous anyways)

"I didn't mean to upset you, [Y/N]. I love you only, no one else could replace you, I promise."

okay, yeah, we made it to jealous, pouty, bratty man territory

there’s an evident gap between zayne level jealousy and rafayel level jealousy

don’t get me wrong, rafayel would do anything you asked of him - partially because of his whole lumerian bond and also because he’s utterly whipped for you

does he love you? that’s a stupid question to ask oh course he does… but does he truly trust you?

i’d like to think that rafayel (if he was dating you in this situation) is absolutely devoted to you and trusts you wholeheartedly, but in reality rafayel has deep engraved fears and uncertainties

he has a fear of being forgotten about, and likely (as a consequence of being forgotten multiple times) - the idea of being abandoned or replaced sends physical chills down his spine

so honestly, rafayel’s jealousy stems from the unwavering fear of being left alone, lost and forgotten again…

the pain of being forgotten, it’s not something he’s willing to go through any more, causing it to be difficult to fully reassure him that you’re his.

on a more lighter, more playful level, rafayel’s jealousy would probably lay with animals - specifically cats and sea creatures

one day he finds that instead of lazing about with him indoors, that you were outside napping with a cat on your lap

if he wasn’t so afraid of the cat concerned for your quality and length of sleep he would’ve had a go at the cat as it smirked triumphantly at him, licking its paws as it rolls around in your lap.

when complaining later on he would be his usual, petulant self, pouting and crossing his arms, tilting his chin up etc

“I guess you prefer those furry monsters over a fishie like me, why don’t you just leave me for one?”

to fix this petty brattiness is simple!

simply devote all your attention and affections to rafayel, as in when you two are alone and spending time together you can just pat his head or trace his beauty marks

he’ll be pouting the whole time, but after a few pats he’ll get embarrassed and his ears will go red as he says something like “I’m not a cat…” yet he still lets you pet him lol

rafayel especially likes it when you gently stroke at the roots of his hair, leaning into your touch a little every time you thread deeper into his hair

however, if you spend too much time with another man rather than rafayel, it’s a whole different type of jealousy/insecurity

he’s quiet, too quiet, and withdrawn

the situation was deeply confusing the first time around

it’s as if you ordered the wrong rafayel, what happened to his usual bratty and playful personality? this wasn’t like all the other times.

unlike his childish display of jealousy when you were with the cat, this time he had a schooled expression, blank, a facade

his expression was eerie, you’d never seen him like this, so… emotionless seeming

rafayel, really, was emotionally detaching from the relationship - he still loves you oh my god he adores you so much he’d sacrifice everything he had for you, but the idea of you preferring that other person over him?

it sends him into panic, and all he (believed he) could do was numb himself, anticipate the leave or him getting forgotten

(am i projecting too much here… avoidant attachment rafayel believer and lover 😞🙏)

if he withdrew from the relationship first, maybe it would hurt less being left again

of course you weren’t intending to leave him, so how do you fix this?

well, as unhealthy as this may seem, spending less time with the new person and more time with rafayel really would be the only way i could think of making him feel better

saying things such as “Rafayel I would never leave you.” can only provide him with short-term reassurance, after all how many times have you said that before and then still proceeded to leave him?

instead, caress him gently, give him time to feel safe in the relationship again. late night calls where you two fall asleep together or hold him in your arms as you two both sleep at night

this avoidant attachment style will, however, probably go when you two start dating, since in dating you rafayel has probably decided to let you into his heart and whole heartedly trusts you now :)

if rafayel accidentally makes you jealous, depending on the severity (again) here’s what he’d do

if it was a simple thing (such as spending too much time with the shakes idk something more tame) he’d definitely tease you

“Awwh cutie? Getting jealous of the sharks? Don’t worry, I prefer you over them any day.”

he’ll have this smug ass grin that pisses you off, as much as it makes you love him too

rafayel will give you more hugs and gifts than usual for a while after, claiming it’s ‘nothing’ and that you’re ’hallucinating things’ when you ask what he’s doing

really he’s apologising, but you don’t need to know that

if he made you really jealous/upset he’ll make is extremely clear to you that he belongs to you, his heart and will is yours

will become more clingy and affectionate with you (not that he does it on purpose infact he’s only showing his true desires more), forever. like, you get jealous? don’t worry, literally for the rest of your life you’ll know that rafayel is head-over-heels for you.

tldr: he needs a hug :( also i ended up writing way more than intended but im a rafayel lover, writer and if he has no stans left im dead

here he is, the most jealous and arguably possessive man in lnd.

xavier tries to hide it, but everyone knows that he’s yours, without a shadow of a doubt

we all saw what happened with jeremiah, don’t make me pull out the receipts LOL. like jeremiah was just happy to finally see the girl xavier was lining over for centuries and xavier was already losing his shit 😭

literally anyone talking to you too affectionately will tick him off, but xavier’s too sly to make it obvious

you’re talking to a doctor (cough zayne) ? xavier brings up some sort of old medicine they don’t or asks about their speciality so you stop talking to them

talking to a protocore specialist? he’ll all of a sudden be holding a textbook worthy protocore, worth the poor persons whole shop

a florist? he’s pointing at every flower and naming them, both common and scientific name.

“Oh [Y/N], look at that flower. I believe it’s called a Lonicera periclymenum?”

*turns to face the clearly shocked and flustered florist with a polite smile*

“Well, maybe you know it as a honeysuckle, is that correct?”

after living for so long he’s learnt many things, and boy does he use it to his advantage

when xavier gets jealous, he doesn’t expect anything from you, no no, this man is a service boyfriend if i’ve ever seen one, he was MADE to please you

rather than thinking “oh you don’t like me anymore i’m so upset“ he thinks “i need to serve and show you i’m yours.”

do you like sweet things? he’s buying you chocolates of all kinds, if that’s not your jam he’s got pastries, or candy, or fresh fruit, maybe everything in a little gift box

prefer savoury foods? he’ll cook you a meal that he knows you like (even if you don’t trust the food) he’ll practice making it until you like it

if you talk about another person when you’re one on one with him, he’ll do little things to get your attention, maybe bite your finger softly or tuck hair behind your ear, little fleeting touches and such

cheeky little grins and conversational diversions such as 'Oh? What about you, how did you do in the exam?' or 'What were you buying in the supermarket?' - more ways of saying "i'm yours, don't forget"

but if you wanted to reassure xavier, physical affections such as cuddling and kisses can win him over

nap with him for a few nights (really he forgave you the first night, he just pretended to be grumpy with you for a while longer for more naps) and he’ll be satisfied (for now)

“Come cuddle with me starlight, I’ve still not forgiven you.”

(he’s lying, he forgave you like a week ago)

likes it when you play with his hair when you two cuddle - now this makes me want to write abt how the men cuddle lol

if he accidentally makes you jealous it’d probably be when the two of you are on a mission and he flirts with another woman to easily progress through a mission

the two of you are in the hotel room and you’re sulking in the bed, turning away from him and clearly displeased

xavier knows you’re jealous, and can only huff out an amused breath - he doesn’t like that you’re feeling bad but he’s happy that you’re jealous… means you like him as much as he likes you!

he gently walks over to the bed, shifting onto the duvet beside you and reaches out to touch your shoulder - making sure you’re okay with him touching you

if you let him, he’ll lie down next to you and slowly wrap his arms around you, spooning you from behind as he slowly kisses the top of your head

slipping your shirt down to just below your shoulder, he gives the skin of your back gentle kisses as he apologises

“I’m sorry, it was for the mission. I’ve only ever loved you, so please don’t be angry.”

and then he nuzzled into your back until you finally cave in, twisting around and hugging him back.

he’ll be seriously apologetic about it though, and in the future avoid such intimate forms of gathering information even *if* you told him it was okay

AN; i got way too carried away with rafayel ANYWAYS hope you enjoy and now i want to write smaller hcs on how the men cuddle lolol

also this isn’t proofread no beta we die like caleb ig

[leesalchemybook]

I have discovered there's now a tipping option on here :0 would people hate me if I turned it on? i don't know what the views/attitude towards it are on here. would people see it and turn their noses up at me and my blog/content, or would they cheer me on and be like yeah get that bread or something! or would people laugh because i'm not a good enough artist to ask for tips or get paid for my work? D:

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

summary ; coriolanus needs to learn how to relax.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; smut. 18+ content. minors do not interact! handjob (male receiving). swearing. spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

coriolanus’ determination to achieve the plinth prize was palpable. the coveted prize, awarded annually to the top students at the academy, granting them money and essentially a free ride through the university, was all he had been focusing on. 

countless books lay strewn across his desk, balls of crumpled up paper scattered around the room, as he stood before it. leaning against the old wooden table as his arms firmly held him steady. it was a clear indication that coriolanus had been pushing himself, striving to make every word and every thought count. 

while it was something to admire, that didn’t stop the worry that had been seeping in. it wouldn’t have been obvious to most, but to you, someone who spent a lot of time with him, you could see the dark circles that had begun to encapsulate his eyes, the way his hair was slightly disarrayed, or the fact that he hadn’t even completely changed out of his academy uniform. only his bright red pants and blue shirt still firmly clad on his body. 

he doesn’t hear you come in, doesn’t hear the thud from you closing the door, or you dropping your bag on the chair in the corner of the room. too enthralled by his textbooks and whatever scribbled nonsense is written in them, that it’s not until you wrap your arms around him from the back that he finally takes notice of your presence. 

a smile spreads across his face as he places a hand atop of yours, “what are you doing here?” he asks, surprised but pleased to see you. 

you pull him closer, embracing the feeling of holding him in your arms after barely getting to see him that day. the smell of roses filling your senses as you drink him in, “tigris let me in, said you’ve been cooped up in here all afternoon. plus, i… missed you.”

“i really missed you too, my love, but i-”

“-have so much to do. i know,” you cut him off, finishing his sentence. the same sentence you had been getting for weeks now. “which is exactly why you are going to put away the books and spend some time with your girlfriend.” 

you can physically see the gears beginning to turn in his head, trying to think of a way to let you down gently. you didn’t take it to heart, you knew how important it was for him to win the plinth prize. you were the only one outside of his family that did. 

“you already know you’re going to get that prize, coryo,” you sigh, “nobody even comes close in comparison to how hard you’ve been working for it, but you’ve gotta stop spreading yourself so thin.”

“i know, but tigris and grandma’am-”

“-would agree with me, that you need a night off,” you press a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder, and pull him in even tighter. his head lulls back to lean against yours, blond curls falling into his face as a sigh leaves his lips. he knew you were right. “you’re always taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once.”

he turns to look at you now, eyes big and dewy, a mixture of surprise and understanding as he comprehends the hidden meaning behind your words. however, before he can utter a single word in response, your hands gently glides along his abdomen, gradually tracing its way down to were the band of his pants delicately meets his waist. his breath catches momentarily, captured by a flicker of anticipation, while his unwavering gaze remains fixed upon your own, unyielding and brimming with unspoken emotions. 

“you’ve been working so hard,” your voice is barely above a whisper, almost tauntingly, but he hears you all the same, “... let me help you relieve some of that tension.”

coriolanus swallows hard, falling into your hands, both physically and metaphorically, and he surrenders with a nod. it brought a smile to your face to see the hard exterior he put on crumble, become powerless, and just from your mere touch. 

his back stiffened as he leaned against you, watching as your hand roamed lower now, trailing down to where he was confined behind his pants. a shaky breath escapes him and he shifts on the balls of his feet, waiting with anticipation as you finally make contact with his now pulsing bulge. nothing separating you except for the thin material of his underwear. 

“y/n,” he sighs, your name falling from his lips so gracefully. 

you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you, pleased to see the effect you had on him. “shh, don’t think about it, you do enough of that as it is. just relax,” you push on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, as a bright flush spreads across it. 

you could feel him getting harder in your grasp, his breaths growing shorter and lower, eyes flailing closed with desperation. your hand runs circles around him, groping him where he needed you the most. it brought you pleasure just to hear the soft moans escaping him, watching him lose control to you. 

his chest rises and falls at a dramatic pace, his patience wearing thin, but that was all part of the fun. you wanted him needy, begging for you to touch him. 

“fuck, y/n,” he gasps, illiciting a stroke of excitement in you. 

deciding that he had enough of you teasing him, you waste no time delving into his underwear and releasing him from the constraints of his pants. an audible sigh of relief comes from coriolanus as you do so, his body shuddering slightly at the warmth of your hand finally making contact. 

he rests in your hand, his largely endowed member, all pretty and pink at the tip. you stroke him teasingly, rubbing the end with your finger to gather the pre-cum that had trickled out, using it to help you start stroking him. he shudders from the movement, struggling to stand still as you slowly pump your hand up and down his shaft. 

you remove your hand momentarily to collect some of your spit and when you hold him once more he shudders, struggling to stand still, and his hips begin to move involuntarily. if there was one thing coriolanus loved more than you pleasuring him, it was watching you pleasure him. 

tucking his chin against his chest, he watches as your hand works his length, pumping back and forth with ease. his hips jut forward, begging for more, until it all becomes to much and his hands lurch forward to grasp onto the table before him, just like they were when you walked in. 

“let it out for me, baby,” your voice is reassuring in his ear, sweet and soft, full of promise. 

hearing you speak to him in such a way pulls a moan from the back of his throat and he just about loses it. his body tightens at the same time, hips bucking himself into your hand faster as the coil in the pit of his stomach finally bends and breaks.

he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip to muffle his moans, trying to remain quiet so that no one else could hear what the two of you were up to. his knuckles turn white as he gently bangs his fist down on the desk, and it’s only seconds before your hand is warm with his cum. 

“fuck me,” he whisper-shouts, eyes clenching shut as his hips jut and dick twitches in your hand. 

“that’s my boy,” the comment pulls a small chuckle from coryo as you remove your hand, his white secretion now coating it, “though, it does seem like an awful waste. i guess it’s a good thing i’m not done with you yet.”

[auroralwriting]

helping hands

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

after a rough case, spencer offers to help your muscles relax

word count: 1.0k

warnings: no y/n, pre-established relationship, pure fluff, absolute comfort fic, one small sexual innuendo, it's a short one, but sweet!

from, anon: hello! i'm a little nervous to request something this is actually my first time doing it! but i have an oddly specific request that i felt you would be able to bring to life beautifully. i was wondering if u would maybe be write something for Spencer giving the reader a massage on their back to try and help? just lots of fluffy love and extra extra bonus points if you add lots of kisses

Physically demanding cases were the worst. Sure, dealing with psychopaths was tough, but chasing them down or fighting them was probably worse.

This specific case, the unsub was actually an award-winning tri-athlete. He put up a good chase, and then an even better fight. Usually, Derek took the brunt of these, but with him checking out the secondary location, it was you and Kate, who was pregnant.

Of course you weren't going to let a pregnant woman do all that work, so you kept her back and took as much of the brunt as she'd let you take. Thankfully, you both got out nearly unharmed, just with a few minor cuts, scratches, and bruises.

The one issue that you didn't account for was hurting your back, again. The last time you'd gotten hurt was during a case in Atlanta where you fell down a flight of stairs after being pushed by the unsub. You'd sustained some pretty nasty back injuries. Even after they had healed, some of your muscles overcompensated for the others, causing you to have back pain flare ups.

Normally, you could keep them at bay with simple stretches and some medication. This time, you realized that you'd done a number on your back during the fight.

Spencer took quick note of your posture during the flight home. You struggled to find a comfortable position, constantly trying to stretch your back or shoulder blades, seeking any form of relief from the pain. He knew how much you hated being put under a microscope, especially in front of the team, so he kept quiet until you arrived back to your shared apartment.

Walking in, you sighed as you kicked off your shoes, not caring how or where they landed on the floor as you bolted to the couch, flopping down on it. You were honestly too tired and in pain to care. Spencer chuckled in the background, and you could hear him set your shoes down on the shoe rack you had.

Your eyes, which had been previously shut, opened to see Spencer kneeling in front of you. "Hi, pretty girl." Spencer smiled at you, brushing some of your hair out of your face with a loving look gracing his features.

"Hi," you softly replied.

"You feeling alright?" Spencer now caressed your cheek with his thumb softly. "I noticed you stretching a lot on the jet."

With a small shake of your head, your lips fell into a soft pout. "I hurt my back, I think."

Spencer gently grabbed your arms and help you sit up. He carefully slid your coat down your arms with furrowed brows. "Did you get hit?"

"No," you answered, "I think I twisted my back wrong when I tried to jump in front of Kate. I think I felt it hurt then, but I had a lot of adrenaline."

"You were in flight-or-fight mode," Spencer nodded. "Now that you're safe and sound, you're gonna feel it more." His large hands slowly rubbed at your tense shoulders. He felt your body relax beneath his touch. "You want me to massage you a little, love?"

A sigh of contentment escaped your lips as his hands worked magic on your shoulders, "Please, Spence."

Spencer moved your body so you were laid down. He set a pillow beneath your head as you got yourself situated and comfortable.

Spencer had prepared for this moment for what felt like his whole life. You weren't dating when your first injury occurred, but after going out for a few dates, Spencer bought seven books, all on muscles in the back, massage techniques, and different pain relieving strategies all for this exact moment. You were careful with your injury, and Spencer trusted you, but he also understood that accidents and situations like these happen, especially in your shared line of work.

The sounds of your soft hums and sighs were a sign that Spencer was doing all the right things. You knew Spencer had magic fingers, but this was the best work they'd ever done. He worked out the kinks and aches in your back.

"Did you know that roses have been cultivated since ancient times, with evidence of their cultivation dating back to the Babylonians and the Egyptians around five-thousand years ago?" Spencer rambled, his voice quiet as he worked.

You loved Spencer's rambles, "Mm-mm." you hummed, "Why?"

"They were used for their fragrance and beauty. It lead to their association with the Egyption goddess, Hathor, and then to the Greek goddess Aphrodite, and so on." Spencer explained further.

Without warning, you turned over to look up a him. Spencer smiled down at you as you softly grabbed his neck, pulling him closer to press a kiss onto his lips.

"I love your brain," You commented with a smile, watching his face light up at the compliment.

"I'm not done yet, silly girl. Roll back over for me." Spencer chuckled.

Giggling, you rolled back onto your stomach as Spencer began to work into your back. You felt his hot breath over the back of your neck as he began to trail kisses downwards, down your spine. You shivered at the touch, smiling to yourself when he moved back up to press a gentle kiss onto your head.

"I don't think masseuses normally get this touchy," you joked.

Spencer shook his head, "They don't, but my client's just too pretty."

"Are you done yet?" You turned your head to look at him.

"Do you feel any better?" Spencer asked.

You sat up, moving your arms and gently twisting your back. "Mhm, thank you, baby."

"Then yes," Spencer smiled, "I'm all done. What's the rush?"

"I wanted to watch Doctor Who before we get too sleepy." You replied, then giving a soft roll to your eyes, "Or before we get called in again."

Spencer sighed, "Don't even say it. I don't think I can handle another case for at least two weeks." He took your hand as you leaned into him. He grabbed the remote and clicked the tv on. "But I'm never one to say no to Doctor Who and my girl."

"Thank you for helping," You lovingly said, snuggling into your boyfriend's chest.

"Anytime, lovely."

[maxwhathappened]

price tag

Lando Norris x reader

warnings: none!

summary: Lando buys you an expensive gift, but you struggle to let him spoil you.

word count: 1.5k

You were going to the FIA awards and Lando was set to win. You were beyond proud of him. You had given Lando a gift before you left Monaco. It was a painting of him kissing his trophy after his first win. You had it commissioned from an artist you found on instagram and framed it for him. It wasn’t much, but it was the best you could do. You, unfortunately, didn’t have a job that paid you millions. 

You just finished getting ready for the evening when Lando walked up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist while you looked yourself over in the mirror. Your hands went to cover his, holding them in place. Lando leaned down and pressed a kiss to your jaw before he spoke in the soft tone he reserved for you. 

“Come sit with me. I have a present for you.”

“A present for me?” You asked. “Lan, this is your night.” 

“Yeah, and I like to do things for you,” he replied. You chuckled and followed him out to the couch where a velvet box was sitting on the coffee table. The hotel room was big. They always were when you stayed with Lando. He got the penthouses and suites. There were usually more beds than you needed, but Lando didn’t care. He always wanted to provide you with the best.

You sat down on the couch. Lando picked up the velvet box and held it out to you. He was looking at you with a bright smile across his face. You glanced up at him with panic rising in your chest. The size and velvet on the box alone told you its contents weren’t cheap. 

“Open it,” he requested. You took the box from him. It was heavy. He grinned as you opened it. When you lifted the lid you revealed a necklace. The whole chain was covered in diamonds and three large sapphires were hanging off the diamond chain. You gasped. 

“You like it?” He asked. You were staring down at it with your mouth hanging open. You looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Lando, I can’t take this,” you told him. 

“I want you to have it,” he responded. 

“It’s too much.” 

“It’s not,” he started to assure you. 

“Lan, look at this,” you said and gestured to the necklace. “It must have cost a fortune.” 

“It doesn’t matter what it cost,” Lando said simply. He knew you struggled to let him spoil you the way he was able to. He never really understood it. He did his best to keep things modest for you most of the time. He knew it was what you preferred. He couldn’t help it this time though. He’d walked into the jewelry store to daydream about the engagement rings he could get for you, but when he saw the necklace behind the counter he couldn’t leave it behind. 

“Lando…” You whispered. “This is—” You started to protest. Lando sat down beside you. 

“It’s not too much, and you can take it, love,” Lando said. “Please. Wear it tonight,” he practically begged. A tear fell from your eye. He noticed and quickly wiped it away with his thumb. “Baby?” He called to you softly. “What’s this about?”

“Lando, you can’t give this to me,” you told him. 

“Why?” He asked. “You know I’m good with my money. I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t reasonable,” he said. 

“Reasonable?” You chuckled. “This has to cost more than some houses.” 

“It doesn’t matter how much it was, love. And I’m not going to return it.” 

“I feel bad, Lan,” you started to protest. 

“You don’t need to feel bad when I spend money on you, baby,” he told you. “It’s not the same for me.” 

“That’s exactly the problem, Lan!” You told him. “You buy me all these beautiful things. You take me all around the world and pay for everything and I—” You paused. “I can’t do anything like that for you.” Lando was quiet for a moment.

“That’s what it’s been about this whole time?” He asked. 

“Lando, I barely have anything. The only reason I can get you any decent gifts is because you pay for everything else” 

“I’ve loved everything you’ve ever given me,” he assured you. “I don’t care how much the things you buy me cost you, and you shouldn’t care how much the things I buy you cost me,” he said. 

“That’s not fair, Lan,” you tried. “It’s not the same.”

“Baby, you are the only person I’ve ever dated that doesn’t want me to buy them expensive things,” Lando said. “And it’s nice. It made me feel good the first few times because I knew you weren’t with me for my money.” He took your hand. “But we’ve been together for years now,” he said. “I want to give you things like this.” 

“I just feel bad that I can’t do things like this for you,” you said. Lando put the necklace on the coffee table. He pulled at your hands and made you look him in the eye. 

“Don’t feel bad. I’m with you because I love you,” he said. “Not because of anything you’ll ever buy me.” You started to open your mouth to protest. “And,” he continued. “You’ve given me better gifts than anyone ever has,” he said. 

“Lan, you used to date that millionaire supermodel,” you said. 

“Yeah, and she just bought me a Rolex whenever she got me something.” 

“Just a Rolex,” you said. “One is more than everything I’ve ever given you.” 

“I don’t care. That painting was beautiful. I’d rather have that than a Rolex any day,” he said. “How is that a bad gift?” 

“It barely cost $100,” you said forlornly. 

“I’ll see it everyday and it’ll make me smile every time,” he said. “You’ll only be able to wear the necklace a few times a year.” Lando saw that you were still struggling with it. “Darling,” he called. “Look at me.” You met his eyes.

“Lando, I can’t,” you protested. 

“You can,” he said. “You deserve it,” he said. He sighed when you didn’t respond. “I’m gonna tell you something, but you need to know it’s because I want you to take this.”

“What?” You asked quietly. 

“I never bought anyone a gift half as nice as this,” he said. He saw the mortified expression beginning to spread over your face. “When I got them things they always wanted more from me,” he said. “Nothing I ever got them was enough, because they knew how much I have.” He pushed your hair behind your ear. “You have been terrified every time I spend any money on you. You try to pay for dinners. The people I dated before didn’t even pay for the gifts they bought me.” You screwed your eyebrows together, confused at the concept of buying someone a gift with their money. “You have put thought into everything you have ever given me. My parents barely even do that anymore,” he said. 

“I just—I’ll never be able to get you anything even close to this,” you said.

“When we get married we’ll have one bank account. You won’t be able to tell anymore,” he said. You were quiet. 

“When we get married?” You asked with a smile. Lando chuckled. 

“I suppose I’ve still got to convince you into it.” It was quiet for a moment–a pleasant silence. “Take the necklace, please,” he begged. You looked into his eyes and saw just how bad he wanted you to do this. 

“No more fancy gifts for a year,” you instructed him. Lando smiled softly. “Normal things. Things I could buy you.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he answered. 

“Cross your heart,” you ordered him. He chuckled before raising his hand and drawing an X over his heart. 

“No more fancy gifts for a year,” Lando promised. “Now let me help you put it on.” He took the necklace from the box. You turned so that he could wrap the necklace around your neck, clasping it together. You turned back to face him once he’d gotten it locked. He smiled brightly. He nodded towards the mirror. 

“Go take a look,” Lando told you. You went towards the mirror. You looked at yourself, gasping at the sight of something so grand around your neck. You raised your hand, gently running a finger over the center gem. Lando stepped up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “It looks pretty on you.” 

“It looks pretty in the box,” you said with a laugh. 

“You like it then?” He asked. 

“Lando, anyone would like it,” you told him. 

“You’re not just anyone,” he said. 

“I like it,” you assured him. “It’s beautiful, Lan. Look at it.” 

“It’s hard to look at it when I can look at you instead,” he flirted. 

“Nobody else is going to have that problem,” you replied. 

“I don’t think that’s true but it’s alright with me,” he said. “Don’t really want anyone looking at what’s mine anyway.”

divider @sweetmelodygraphics

[honeyedmiller]

The Hills | Joel Miller

pairing: actor!joel x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: no outbreak!joel, joel miller au, use of marijuana (reader gets high and joel takes a hit), alcohol consumption, enemies to not-so-much-enemies, joel is on his freak shit in this one, smut (fingering, ass play, cum eating, rimming, unprotected piv, spitting, m & f oral receiving, consensual choking and breath play), reader is lowkey a brat but joel is also an ass, joel’s twitchy palm™, two (2) ass slaps, reader is described to be wearing a dress and heels, mentions of usage of cocaine (non-descriptive and it’s neither reader or joel using—just had to add the warning), no use of y/n. if there’s anything that i missed, please lmk.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: drugs. sex. fame. joel miller—the very man you despise. something about hollywood or other. it all seems to become a blurred line when you get invited to an oscars after party at a house in the hills.

a/n: shoutout to @joelsgreys for keeping eyes on this for me, for beta’ing, for letting me rant about this continuously in our texts, etc etc. ily

Hollywood: the definition of glitz and glamor, celebrities galore, and wild parties.

Right?

Sort of.

You’d been to these afterparties before—chaos, laughter, and drunk or high celebrities every which way. The afterparties that showed the real side of Hollywood’s favorite people. The afterparties where secretive sex ensues in a hidden room tucked in the back of the mansion. The afterparties where people let loose, had fun, and celebrated their wins, or the wins of their friends.

That’s exactly why you were here. This particular multi-million dollar home was chalk-full of familiar famous faces that would get absolutely trashed without the public knowing a single thing about their rendezvous, celebrating each other’s wins.

It was like an unspoken rule amongst all the attendees: what happens at the after party, stays at the after party.

Tess Servopoulos, a well-known actress, was your best friend. She always invited you to the award shows when she could, and made sure you were invited to the afterparties. In this case, it was the after party for The Oscars, where her other best friend was celebrating his wins tonight, taking home three Oscars just hours prior.

And it’s funny, because to you, the devil wasn’t down in Georgia. He was in fucking Los Angeles, California, and his name is Joel Miller.

Arrogant, conceited, and a complete asshole as far as you were concerned. You’d never had a good interaction with the man, always seeming to have targeted hatred toward you for no particular reason.

So you hated him right back.

Because, honestly, who the fuck did he think he was?

You didn’t give two shits if he was an A-lister. Good for him. His arrogance and asshole-ish nature was enough to make you roll your eyes at the mere sight of him. He was one of those people that everybody seemed to absolutely adore, thinking he was doing everyone a solid favor just by being in their presence.

And you think, the fuck does it matter anyway? Your opinion of one man in a room full of elites is about as relevant as a speck of fucking dirt on the bottom of some Louboutins.

You inwardly sighed and drank from the champagne flute that was placed in your hand once you maneuvered your way into the house. Tess dragged you along to say hello to people you’ve met before, and introduced you to those you hadn’t. Most of them were fairly nice, some remembering you from previous parties or recognizing you in god-awful candid shots that paparazzi took of you when you were with Tess.

Tabloids were always a funny thing. There were multiple times where you’d see a photo of yourself in public with Tess, plastered in some stupid celebrity magazine claiming you were her ‘mystery lover.’ Or, there were the times where they’d call you a gold digger; someone who wanted fifteen minutes of fame and all the “luxuries” that came with being acquainted with a celebrity.

You always had a good laugh with Tess about them, and she’d tell you that one day she’d share the story behind you: a college roommate who was her total opposite, but it worked. You were there from the beginning—she’d get casted in parts for commercials, then extras for TV shows, and then bigger roles like a supporting character, and eventually the lead character in many blockbuster hits.

You were her biggest supporter, there for her through her wins and losses. She was truly your platonic soulmate, and you, hers.

You always plastered a smile on your face when making your rounds at these things. Got a little star-struck here and there, but you kept your cool. Celebrities are human beings, after all.

The party was in full swing, people plastered and laughing loudly over the thumping music. Sometimes you thought these parties got a little ridiculous, but you knew this was a rare occasion where these people—faces of the public, under a watchful eye of millions of adoring fans and the scrutinizing media—got the chance to loosen up and be their real selves.

You swirled the champagne around your flute, babysitting the same glass from when you first walked into this party. You leaned against a crisp white wall adorned with what you were sure were very expensive paintings, observing the crowd before you.

The familiarity that drifted through the room was almost unsettling for you. Friends with arms slung over each other’s shoulders, casual and comfortable conversation—and then there was you, who didn’t really know anyone but Tess. She didn’t want to leave your side, but she’d gotten pulled every which way for a conversation and you didn’t want to ride her coattail all night, so you told her you’d get yourself another drink, maybe.

And you were going to, but then the room felt a little too warm. So, naturally, you ventured down another long hallway adorned with paintings and expensive side tables with vases that held fresh flowers that probably cost more than you’d ever see in your lifetime.

Your heels clicked rhythmically against the marble flooring as you made your way to two French double doors that led out to a balcony that was unoccupied.

Perfect.

You opened the doors and sucked in a huge breath of air, admiring the lights gleaming throughout the whole of Los Angeles as far as you could see.

And then you wondered, with every house and apartment and business that was illuminated with a soft yellow light, what each individual occupying these spaces stories were.

People that weren’t famous. People that had regular nine-to-five jobs. People who were desperately trying to make ends meet. People like you, you think.

You loved Tess to death. You’d do anything and everything for her, but Hollywood was secretly a massive headache.

You sighed as you tore your eyes away from the soft lights, opening your clutch to find the joint you brought. Just something to take the edge off and ease the fucking nerves that started coursing through you, unwanted and untimely.

You fished the pre-roll and lighter out of your bag, flicking the lighter on in multiple attempts, but no avail.

You groaned as you kept trying, but the realization that your lighter was done for had swept over you quickly.

“Son of a bitch.” You mutter with a heavy sigh.

“Need a light?” A deep voice asked from behind. A familiar voice. A voice with Southern twang that supposedly charmed every person that was blessed to hear it. A voice you couldn’t fucking stand.

You look over your shoulder to see Joel Miller in the flesh, clad in a crisp white button-down with the top two buttons unbuttoned, exposing his tan chest. The shirt was tucked into some black slacks, accompanied by shiny black shoes.

You hated to admit that he looked good. Real good. But you wouldn’t ever dare to admit that out loud, even with a gun to your head.

“No.” You said, turning back around. His footsteps become closer, and you roll your eyes before you have to restrain yourself from physically shuddering at the proximity between you two.

“Stop bein’ a brat and jus’ take the goddamn light.” Joel rolls his eyes, and you turn to face him. He’s next to you now, leaning against the balcony while holding up a lighter.

You eye him conspicuously, and he looks annoyed as he flicks the lighter on and off. You grit your teeth before slotting the joint between your fingers, bringing it up to your lips.

He easily flicks his lighter on once more, bringing the flame to the end of the joint. The small flame illuminates the space between your bodies, and he looks good with the soft orange glow against his tan skin, you think.

The end of the joint crackles and you inhale deeply, turning your body toward the lights of the city once more.

You blow out the smoke slowly, tilting your head to the side. “Thanks,” You mutter.

“Hm,” He hums, “Would ya look at that. Not that hard to use your manners now, ain’t it?”

“Shut up, Joel. Christ.” You rub your forehead with your thumb, eyebrows pinching together. You came out here for some peace, not to be annoyed and antagonized by the very man you couldn’t stand.

“Hey, I jus’ did ya a favor. No need for that fuckin’ attitude of yours.”

“Jesus fuck, Joel, do you not have anything better to do? Shouldn’t you be fucking one of your whores by now or snorting coke in the bathroom with another beloved A-lister?” You roll your eyes and take another hit.

Joel didn’t like that one bit. He took a step forward, broad body hard to ignore with the heat radiating off of him. Your eyes trail up his chest and to his face, which was contorted with pure anger.

“Who the fuck do you think you are talkin’ to me like that? You’re pissin’ off the wrong person, doll.” Joel’s voice is gruff, full of patience that was smaller than a piece of thread at this point.

“I don’t need to bow down to you just because you’re famous, asshole. You’re the one who’s had the problem with me from the beginning. I only reciprocate the energy I receive, so you can fuck all the way off with the superiority complex you think you have over me.”

“Why the fuck are you here anyway? Hollywood ain’t a place for naïve girls like you.” Joel quirks his harsh brow at you, like he’s challenging you.

Motherfucker.

“And who said I was naïve, cowboy? You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know that you’re annoyin’ and don’t fuckin’ belong here. God knows what Tess sees in you as a friend n’ why she keeps invitin’ you to these things.”

Your blood ran hot as you stared at the man in front of you. His jaw was set in a hard line, clenching his teeth every so often in pure annoyance as he looked at you with utter hatred and disgust.

“I may not belong in Hollywood, Miller, but at least my fucking morals are right and I don’t pull bitch moves like abandoning my friends when they need me the most.”

You were infuriated and quite frankly so fucking sick of this man berating you when he should be the last person on this green fucking Earth to talk. It was a low blow, your last comment to him, but what kind of a friend was he to choose a woman he was so pussywhipped over instead of being there for Tess when she was going through a rough time?

It broke your heart to see her so upset that Joel chose another woman he barely knew over her, icing her out when she’d been nothing but a good friend to him. She forgave him, of course, after he’d apologized to her months later.

She had a kinder heart than you would’ve at the situation. You don’t think you could ever forgive somebody for that.

You already thought Joel was an arrogant asshole before that even happened, but that situation was the last nail in the coffin to confirm that he’s exactly the person you thought he was.

“I apologized to her. We’re good now.” Joel’s harsh stare never wavered, but the annoyance in his tone did. He almost sounded…sad.

“Yeah. Whatever.” You roll your eyes, flicking the ash off of the end of the joint before taking another hit. Your mind was already starting to become hazy, and the proximity between you and Joel was starting to make your head spin.

Your gaze flickered up to his face once more, brown eyes still locked on you. You furrow your brows, but before you can speak, Joel plucks the joint from your fingers. He puts the filter up to his lips and deeply inhales, and you frown.

“Get your own recreational drugs, asshole.” You mutter, arms crossing over your chest. Joel’s eyes trail down to your chest before moving back up to yours. A small smirk evades his lips, and he blows the smoke into your face.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

“Fuck you gonna do? Spank me for not thinking you’re all high and mighty and shit?” The frown is permanent on your face as you assess him, not realizing the impact that your words had on him.

His cock stirred in his slacks at the thought of that.

He stubs out the half-finished joint before handing it back to you. You tuck it away in your purse before looking at him again, carefully studying him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He’s got a knowing look on his face, and you have to force yourself to feign disgust.

Because, goddammit, you probably would. You’d probably be all over him if he wasn’t such a fucking asshole. The rage you’ve targeted toward him has made you see past his rugged looks and charm, the broadness of him and the veins that protrude from his hands to his forearms and—

You’ve wondered briefly what it’d be like to succumb to it. To be like every single other person who melts for him like lava seeping into the deepest cracks of the Earth. Untouchable. Destructive. And yet, a beautiful aftermath.

“Think I’ll take that as a yes.” His laugh rumbles from deep within his sturdy chest. For a moment he looks so carefree, so light and happy while he laughs. It might’ve been at your own expense, but for the slightest second, you saw through the harsh stares and the hateful demeanor.

“Fuck you, Miller.”

His mouth snapped shut and his harsh gaze settled on you again. His nostrils flared as he glared at you, a heat behind his eyes you’ve never seen before. His palm twitches at his side and he opens his mouth to say something argumentative, but closes it after a second.

Before you know it, he wraps his hand around your forearm, dragging you behind him.

You nearly trip over your heels as you try to keep up with him, wriggling in his strong grasp. He wouldn’t let up.

“Let go of me you asshole!” You seethe, but he pushes you into a room—tucked at the back of the mansion—secluded from everyone else. Oh.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You quickly realized you were in for it when he shut the door and locked it. Nerves buzzed in your veins and you inhaled a shaky breath.

He looked like he was some sort of predator stalking its prey with the way his eyes scanned your body as he moved around to the other side of the room.

“Real fuckin’ sick of your attitude.” He starts. You scoff at him and throw your arms up.

“Wouldn’t have to deal with it if you just left me the fuck alone in the first place.” You cross your arms over your chest once more, and Joel takes two large strides toward you before he’s standing so close that you can smell the whiskey and weed on his breath.

“N’ that’s the problem, darlin’, I can’t leave you alone. Been wanting to fuck that attitude right outta you since the first day we met.”

You swear your heart drops into your ass. “Wh-what?” Your eyes are wide as he walks forward, forcing you to move backwards until the backs of your knees hit the king-sized bed.

You didn’t even notice there was a bed in the room because the very man before you was insanely distracting.

“You heard me. You’re a brat, baby, n’ brats deserve to be punished.”

You swallow hard as a fire burns behind his eyes, mischievous and daring.

“Joel—”

“Turn around.”

You don’t even think twice before listening to his demand, turning around so you face the bed.

“Can’t hate me that much if you’re an obedient little thing for me, hm?” The amusement was oozing from his Southern drawl.

Your first instinct was to argue with him, but deep down you knew he was right. Maybe all the hatred you had for him had a little bit of desire sprinkled deep down in the depths of your core, unexplored and completely disregarded.

The thought of his hands on you excited you. You saw the way he touched women in the movies he was in. Regardless if it was just acting or not, you always ended up aroused after Tess would force you to watch any movie of his—especially the ones with erotica. She would tease you about not liking him, unknowing of the true abhorrence that stirred in your body. He was her best friend too, so you had to be cordial to him around her for her sake.

You tried to ignore him altogether, but where it got you now—pressed up against the bed as his large hands landed onto your body to tightly grip your hips—didn’t seem to pan out so well.

“Will you let me touch you?” His voice has a rough edge to it, the teasing long gone as he stares at your figure from behind.

“Yes.” You whisper.

He doesn’t say another word as his calloused hands slide around your thighs and to the front of your body. He presses himself against you, and the warmth he radiates off of his body alone makes you sigh.

He’s so sturdy and strong, just as you imagined him to be. You could feel his cock hardening against the plump of your ass, and you wiggle in the slightest to tease him.

He inhales sharply, one hand sliding underneath the hem of your dress while the other hand splayed out onto your stomach.

The skimpy panties you had on did a terrible job at keeping your arousal strictly within the confines of the lace fabric. The apex of your thighs was smeared with the neediness you refused to address, now completely on display for the man it was all for.

Joel’s hand skimmed your inner thighs, chuckling darkly as he traced the outline of your pussy with his thumb through the fabric.

You tried your hardest to hold back a moan, really. You fucking tried. As soon as the sound bubbled in your throat and glided past your lips, you could feel Joel’s smile in victory. He was always playing chess while you were playing checkers.

Well, check fucking mate for him.

“Didn’t know I got ya this excited, baby.” He grips the hem of your panties, sliding them down your legs. You step out of them and he immediately pockets them.

“You wouldn’t be the first.” You mumble, not wanting to feed into his already huge ego.

“Oh I’m sure I’m not,” He starts, breath hot on your neck. “Doesn’t mean I won’t ruin every other fuckin’ man for you. Bend over.”

You clench around nothing at his words, deciding that staying silent is better than digging yourself deeper into your own fucking grave.

You do as he says and bend over the bed, cheek resting against the soft silk sheets.

“‘M gonna fuckin’ make sure I’m all you think about after this. Fuck yourself with your fingers to flashbacks of tonight. Moanin’ my fuckin’ name all alone in your house, wishing I was there to take care of you instead. Fuckin’ brat.”

His words sound like a simultaneous threat and promise, but you just had to say something. You couldn’t let him completely have this without giving him some kind of shit.

“Oh please, I bet I’ll forget as soon as we walk out of this room. You’ve probably got a small dick anyway.”

And you know that isn’t true. He’s huge, and you know he’ll never let you forget about tonight.

A sharp sting blooms onto one of your asscheeks, the sound of him smacking your flesh reverberating off of the walls of the bedroom. You moan at the delicious pain.

“You n’ I both know that ain’t true, doll. Enough with that fuckin’ mouth of yours. Could put it to better use than talkin’ all that shit.”

His hands knead the flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to get a good look at all of you. You almost feel embarrassed, but decide not to get into your head too much about it because all you want him to do is fucking touch you where you need him the most.

Your core was aching. You were almost ready to put your pride aside and fucking beg him to touch you. Almost.

You were about to give in when you heard him shuffle behind you, and you craned your neck to see Joel drop onto his knees behind you.

His eyes locked with yours as he gave you a smirk before leaning forward to bite your ass. You let out a small yelp, and his hand was quick to soothe the pain.

“Gonna fuckin’ set you right once n’ for all.”

And he brings a hand up to your core, sliding his middle and ring finger through your dripping folds. You whimper softly at the sensation, a small flood of relief coursing through your veins. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Your hips start to rock involuntarily, and Joel tsks at you.

“Greedy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ya? Patience is a virtue, baby.” He chides.

“Goddamnit Joel.” Your voice sounds breathy, even to your own surprise.

Suddenly, Joel slips his two fingers into you, and your hands fly out to grip the sheets beneath you. Your eyebrows furrow together and relish in the feeling of his thick fingers scissoring in and out of your aching cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet already. ‘F I woulda known I did this to ya…” He chuckles, working his fingers in and out of you expertly.

He leans forward and licks up your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit. You can’t help the strangled moan that leaves your mouth, and you can just feel Joel’s cocky ass smirk.

He continues lapping up your arousal, more dripping out around his fingers and down to his wrist. It'd been awhile since anyone touched you like this, so you presume you were extra turned on because of that reason.

You didn’t want to give all the credit to Joel.

His tongue slid up and he removed his fingers from you, replacing them with his tongue as he prodded it into your entrance and fucked you with it.

You were already a moaning mess, like you were on cloud nine with the way he was making you feel. He gripped both of your cheeks and spread them further for his own leisure, tongue dragging upward until it met your asshole.

“Holy fuck, Joel—” You choke out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he swirls his tongue around the tight ring. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your pussy clenches around nothing.

Joel lowly moaned around you, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine.

You don’t know how long he’s doing this for—your mind is still hazy from the high you’ve been riding, pleasure wrapped around every single inch of your body. You lose track of time and immerse yourself in how he’s making you feel.

Joel pulls himself away from you, sliding both of his fingers back into you. This time, though, he teases your other hole with the tip of his pinky.

“You ever let anyone fuck this pretty ass of yours with their fingers?”

“Please.” Was all you could squeak out, because while you didn’t want to admit you never have, you were willing to give it a go. It was obvious he knew what he was doing, and if you didn’t like the way something felt, you’d just tell him.

He spits onto your asshole before grunting, “Relax.”

And you do. He slides his pinky into your puckered hole, and fuck you feel so full with him like this. He works his three fingers in and out of you slowly at first, each move calculated and precise.

He may’ve been an asshole, but he at least wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

He picks up the pace of his fingers after he’s sure you can handle it, and the feeling of pleasure seizes your body as you shake underneath him.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. You can feel your orgasm rapidly building building building, the coil wound so tight that your stomach constricts in plea of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck, Joel I’m gonna—oh fuck!”

And you’re literally gushing around his fingers. He prolongs your orgasm as long as he can. You think he’s saying things like there you go, that’s it, but you can hardly pay attention over the loud ringing in your ears as you try and come down from your Earth-shattering orgasm.

He slips his fingers out of you slowly, watching your body convulse sporadically from the aftermath of it all.

He grabs your body and flips you around so you’re laying at the edge of the bed. The fluorescent lights are blinding as you try and look at his face. You blink rapidly, chest heaving up and down as you try your damndest to find your bearings once more.

He’s unfastening the button on his slacks, and all you can hear is the rustle of the fabric and the thumping music outside of the locked door.

You wondered briefly if anyone—Tess, specifically—was looking for the two of you. You’d be mortified if she found you like this, but Joel was smart enough to lock the doors.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even noticed he was pulling down his underwear, so when you looked back at him you gasped when you saw his stiff, aching length. Your hunch was correct—he was huge. His tip was red, smeared with precome and just begging to be taken care of.

If there was any time in your life to impress Joel Miller, now was your chance. You sit up on your knees and lower your head, looking up at him through your lashes, your mouth inches away from his tip.

The muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, brown eyes watching you meticulously. You gave him a small, cocky smirk before you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his tip, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste. You use one hand to steady yourself onto the bed, and the other to wrap around his length as you start to pump him slowly.

He inhales sharply, holding back a groan as you undoubtedly start to please him.

You set a steady rhythm between your hand and mouth. The wet sounds are obscene and nearly pornographic. A part of you wishes this was being recorded so you’d have something to watch back when you needed to get yourself off.

Greed is a tragedy, and tragic you were in this moment.

Joel’s hand flies to the back of your head, cradling it as you remove your hand and slide your lips as far down his shaft as your mouth would allow. The head of his cock hit the back of your throat, and as much as you were salivating, you swallowed around him.

The tip of your nose barely made contact with the wiry hairs at the base of his cock, and Joel let out the most guttural groan you’d ever heard.

“Filthy fuckin’ mouth, baby. Goddamn. Knew it could be put to better use than you—ngh—spewin’ that fuckin’ attitude.”

You hum around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. His pants were getting more rapid and he was becoming more vocal, grunting fuck and filthy, filthy girl.

“Shit, yeah, just like that doll. Just. Like. That.” Joel’s voice is hoarse behind his clenched teeth. If you didn’t know any better, he’d probably shatter his teeth with how hard he was clenching them.

And you don’t let up. Not even after a string of curses spills past his lips, and definitely not after he groans so loudly that it vibrates through his whole body as ropes of his come spill down your throat.

You’re in overstimulation territory, and he’s falling apart at the seams.

He pulls your head off of his length as he tries to catch his breath, sweat beading at his temples.

“Fuckin’ christ.” He breathes, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you again.

“Didn’t know I would be so good at that now, did you?” You tease, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a snarl.

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, and you laugh. He grabs your hips suddenly, flipping you around once more so you’re on all fours for him again.

“‘M’keepin’ my promise. Gonna fuck that attitude straight outta your goddamn brain.” His tone is serious, and you’re beginning to think he really isn’t fucking around.

You hear him pump himself a few times and you think about the dangerous threshold you’re about to cross with him. Would you regret it after? Would he?

It was like you were both taking a bite of forbidden fruit, specially picked from the Garden of Eden.

Fuck it. There’s worse things you can do.

“You on any birth control?” He asks, and you nod.

“IUD.”

“Good.” He says before sliding the head of his cock through your folds. Your body jerks when it catches your clit, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

Without another word, Joel pushes into you and you stretch around him deliciously. It’s like your body was begging for him to be inside you at this point.

“Fuuuck.” Joel groans, gripping your hips so tightly they’d probably be bruised by tomorrow.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, because he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and the sting won’t go away.

“Move, Joel.” You plead, and he smacks your ass once again, making you flutter around his cock.

“Fuck did I say about patience? Christ, woman.”

You shut your eyes as you feel him become fully erect inside you, and you’re seriously going to cry if he doesn’t move soon.

Almost as if he’d read your mind, he started to thrust his hips slowly. It didn’t take long for him to set a pace, though, and he was brutally pistoning in and out of you.

“Fucking…. hate… you.” You spit pathetically, holding onto the sheets for dear life. He laughs dryly behind you, mumbling a sure before going even harder.

Your moans were getting louder and louder, and you truthfully couldn’t give two fucks who heard you at this point.

Fucking let them hear.

“Better hush up now, whole house could probably hear you with how loud you’re bein’.” He scolded, and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t give a fuck,” You squeaked out, “Let them.”

“Attagirl,” His laugh was mischievous, pounding into you even faster than before. “Little fuckin’ whore loves takin’ this cock, hm?”

One of his hands moved up your body, causing chills down your spine and goosebumps to raise onto your skin.

His hand wrapped around your throat, and you moaned at the idea of getting choked out while he fucked you from behind.

One of your hands flew up to his, and he was half expecting you to yank it away. He was pleasantly surprised when you clamped your fingers down around his, silently urging him to squeeze.

And he did. You felt like you were fucking floating.

Joel didn’t let up, even when you felt the burning hot coil wind up in your core once again.

“Feel so fucking good– s–o so fucking— fuck.” You’re a blubbering mess. He pulls your body up so your back is facing his front, never letting his pace waver.

“Fucking you dumb on my cock, aren’t I? Listen to you, baby. Pathetic.” He laughs at you once again, but you don’t have any willpower to fight back. You just let it happen, because each thrust of his cock into you has your body turning into complete fucking mush.

“Close.” Is what you whisper, and Joel can feel your walls tightening around him. He chokes on a moan at the sensation, fingers tightening around your throat even more.

You can barely breathe, but you fucking love it. You love seeing stars cloud your vision like this. The heightened sensation of your orgasm comes crashing down over you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you silently scream out.

Your body convulses continuously as you try to ride out your orgasm, but Joel’s hand leaves your throat and moves down to your clit to rub at it furiously.

You cry out his name, your hands frantic to find purchase to anything as you try and brace yourself.

It’s no use, though. Your body is limp and your soul fucking escaped from you long ago.

“Where do you want me?” The urgency in his voice is evident, but you’re in such a daze that you barely clock it.

“Inside me.” You manage, and he groans loudly before he lets go, filling you up with everything he has. His body slumps over yours, both of you trying so hard to pull yourselves back to reality.

He slides out of you and you both groan at the loss of being one.

You turn over on your back, once again blinded by the lights. Your eyes flutter close as you assess everything that partook the last—thirty? fourty? you don’t fucking know—minutes of your life.

Your body slowly floats back down to reality, and you peel your eyes open when you hear shuffling. Joel is on his knees again, spreading your legs to look at his handiwork. He looks up at you with that same devilish smirk, licking up his spend from your cunt before hovering over you.

He uses his thumb to coax your jaw open, spitting his spend into your mouth.

“Swallow.” He demands, and you do as he says. You open your mouth to show him you did, and a satisfied look washes over his features.

“Hope you feel me leakin’ out of you all goddamn night, sweetheart.”

You look at him incredulously, reality crashing down with the unwavering truth: you and Joel really fucked.

He was inches away from your face, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it would be like if he kissed you. His lips looked so soft.

But that would make it too complicated. It would turn into a thing you didn’t need it to be, and you knew kissing him would make the probability of hating him into a fucking zero.

Get a grip.

But, you catch him. You catch his eyes flicker down to your lips, the same thing probably reeling in his mind, too.

Maybe one wouldn’t hurt.

No. You wouldn’t allow it for yourself. He can take his Southern charm and shove it up his ass.

You cleared your throat and moved to stand up. Your legs were shaky at first, but you found your grounding as you walked over to the mirror on the other side of the room.

You straightened out your appearance, making sure you didn’t have “I just got fucked” plastered across your forehead. Once you were satisfied, you turned around to see Joel sitting on the bed.

You nod at him once, “Joel,” and you’re unlocking the door to be rejoined by the thumping music and loud laughter, leaving him to stare at you as you walked away.

You made your way into the backyard, needing a breath of fresh air after everything that ensued.

“There you are! I was looking all over for you.” Tess pulls you into her side, giving your arm a playful squeeze as she holds you close.

“Yeah, I uh, went to smoke a J.” Which, yes, was of course partially true—but you’d probably never admit to her that you just got done getting your brains fucked out by Joel Miller.

She probably wouldn’t even believe you if you told her, anyway.

It didn’t need to become a thing, even if it was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Sex you’d probably be having flashbacks about years down the line, just as Joel promised.

You groan inwardly, eyes drifting upward to casually scan the backyard. You caught a familiar pair already staring at you from across the way, and your whole body bloomed with aching heat once more.

Those brown eyes were accompanied with a sickening smirk, and two seconds later, a wink.

You knew no matter how hard you tried, and as much as you fucking despised him, it wouldn’t be easy to get him out of your head.

You were so fucked, you think.

The idea of admitting that you maybe didn’t hate him was unwarranted, but you knew deep down it was your reality. You really didn’t hate him.

And maybe, just maybe, these parties weren’t so bad after all.

tags: @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @punkshort @endlessthxxghts

-

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[bambikisss]

To make an album: K. HongJoong

(Bambi's ver!) Producer bf HJ X Famous singer reader

'To make an album, you need three things: a studio, a mic, and a damn good producer'

📙: You have been on the rise since your debut album almost 4 years ago. Now, your millions of fans are demanding a full album from you and the company is on you about finishing it before the deadline, giving you one big choice: who will produce your album?

⚠ : Unprotected sex (always wrap it up and keep it safe), Mentions of past poor producers, Sex in the studio, Multiple rounds, recording sex, car sex, use of handcuffs (reader), L bomb, use of mirror, Spanking, HJ calls reader names (baby girl, slut, puppy, baby), Slight Dumbification, slight degradation, pussy obsessed HJ, basically smut with barely plot, Producer HJ (whole warning)

🎶: Mushroom Chocolate - Quin ft 6lack, Lil Freak - Usher, Take Me -Miso, Gorilla - Bruno Mars

Bambi's notes: SO what happened was that I got carried away because producer HJ is a version of him I will NEVER get over lol. Smut with semi plot, not really.

TAGLIST: @teez-the-time @yawnzshit @sugarnspice630 @sarah-55213 @certifiedmoa @scarfac3 @woohwababes @doritochoi @wisejudgedragonhairdo @yourfatherlucifer

ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY | REBLOGS + COMMENTS APPRECIATED | buy me a coffee?

'Y/N L/N is set to release her long awaited full album in two months. Fans have been waiting for a full album from her since her debut almost 4 years ago. What kind of sound do you think she'll go for? Please let us know via social media at-'

"Alexa, turn this off." You ran your hands through your hair as you walked through your large apartment, your feet padding against the floor as you entered the kitchen. It was far too early to hear anyone talk about you, even if it was positive.

You raised to the tips of your toes as you grabbed your coffee bag from the cabinet, the dim morning light lighting the kitchen for you as you began to make your morning coffee. You had a long day in the studio ahead of you and knew you couldn't get by without any sort of caffeine.

You were at the top of your career after debuting 4 years ago. You had gained millions of fans and had put out award-winning singles and mini-albums. You even went on a sold-out tour a couple of months back.

However, while you were more than content with your singles and mini-albums, your fans had been getting vocal about wanting a full album from you, just like when you first came onto the music scene. You had put it off for as long as you could, not finding the process of making the full album interesting enough to hold your full attention. Plus, the producer who produced your debut album was an asshole, which made you unwilling to make another one. But, the company was now placing their foots down, not releasing any more of your music until you presented them with a full album.

You jumped lightly as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back to rest against his chest. You relaxed at the feeling of his lips pressed against your cheek, a small hum leaving his lips as you rubbed his arms. You tilted your head back to admire the man who held you close, his dark brown hair still a mess from sleep. His eyes scanned your face as if you were a piece of art, the corners of his lips curling up as you smiled back at him. It felt like such a sweet moment between you and him, forgetting all about your problems.

"Did you make enough coffee for the two of us?" HongJoong's deep, sleep-laced voice made your smile grow as you loved how he sounded when he just woke up. You nodded, leaning forward to check the pot before turning around in his arms to face him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a sweet kiss onto your forehead, his hands resting on your hips as he did so. "Good. How's the last 4 tracks of your album coming along?"

You frowned as he mentioned your album, placing a kiss on his lips as you tried to shut him up about it. It was bad enough that all the fans and the company were constantly asking you about it, you didn't want your boyfriend to ask you about it too, especially before your coffee.

HongJoong only chuckled at your attempt to silence him, pulling back to look down at you with knowing eyes. He knew you'd rather forget about it, but he wanted to help, especially since the company had their eyes on you. "Baby, you can't just kiss me whenever you want to shut me up, you know?" He laughed.

"I wasn't trying to shut you up, but I don't wanna talk about the album right now, baby." You smiled, moving to lean against the counter as HongJoong moved to grab you and him a mug for the coffee. He chuckled again, filling your mug with caffeine before sliding it over to you, a smile on his lips as he said "But we should talk about it, especially with that deadline you have coming up."

You took a sip of your coffee as he returned to stand in front of you, leaning against the opposite counter with a comforting smile. HongJoong knew about your past producer who treated you poorly when you were putting out your debut album. He had met you right afterward, so he understood when you didn't want anything to do with him unless it had to do with music. But, as time went on, you and him grew closer. Now you two had been dating for 2 years.

"Y/N, baby." HongJoong tilted his head to meet your gaze, offering you a comforting smile as he took a sip of his coffee before standing back up straight. Only when he is sure that he has your full attention does he ask "Did you find a producer yet?"

You hadn't. You had been writing and recording demos all by yourself, choosing to put off picking a producer till the very last second. You didn't know any other producers you trusted with a project like this. You shook your head, meeting your boyfriend's eyes over your coffee cup as you said "I'll probably just take whoever the company assigns to me to produce this."

To your surprise, HongJoong's eyes lit up at your words before he said "Well, let me produce it."

You narrowed your eyes over the mug of coffee at your boyfriend, trying to see what he meant by that. At your sharp and questioning gaze, he placed his mug down on the counter before saying "I'll produce your album." You and HongJoong had only worked on two other songs together, those two songs doing well on the charts and even winning awards. However, you wanted to keep your relationship and your music separate, but HongJoong wasn't having that. He placed his hands on your waist, a small pout on his lips as he asked "do you not have faith in me and my skills? I know what it takes to make a good album, you know."

"What do you need, HongJoong?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your boyfriend smirked, his hands moving to your thigh, his fingers playing with the edge of the large t-shirt you slipped on after your many rounds with him last night. His fingers slowly dragged up the sides of your thighs, small goosebumps being left in his wake as it moved underneath your shirt, cupping your ass as he spoke with confidence ''To make an album, you need three things: a studio, a mic, and a damn good producer''

You were no longer paying attention to his words, his lips grazing yours as he placed a small kiss onto the corners of your lips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he pressed his chest against your folded arms. HongJoong lips dragged against your cheek to your ear, his hands moving up the small of your back as he spoke into your ear "plus, think of all the fun things we can do in the studio. I know you like riding me while I produce"

You bit your lip at the memory of you riding him in his studio while he tried to focus on producing: you had been missing him while on tour and was on break for a week when the company asked him to produce a song for Yunho. You had been begging him to just take an hour's break and come home to fuck you, but he was very insistent on finishing the song that night. He responded to your needy texts with a simple "If you want me that badly, you better come and get it."

"You were so wet for me, babe" You shivered as he placed a kiss onto your neck, his hands now moving back down to your ass, his finger dipping underneath the panty fabric to tease you before he whispered again "I remember that I had to cover your mouth while I bent you over my keyboard because you were so goddam loud, moaning and whining like a bitch in heat."

"HongJoong" you whispered, the desire in the air making you forget what the conversation was even about. You closed your eyes as your panties snapped back against you, his hands soon moving to grab the sides, teasing you by pulling them down slightly before snapping the fabric back against you. HongJoong smirked at the sight in front of him, his cock pressing against his thin boxers as he repeated his process a few more times till your hands were gripping the countertops. He had you right where he wanted you.

You closed your eyes as he leaned in close to your lips, hoping he would take mercy on you and just kiss you. You were soon filled with disappointment as his hands left your body, opening your eyes to see his proud orbs. He placed one of his hands underneath your jaw, making sure you kept your eyes on him as he said "just think about it, baby."

You sighed silently as he let go of your chin, grabbing his coffee cup before walking away to begin getting ready for his day. You took a deep breath, hoping to calm down as you looked outside your apartment windows. You pressed your legs together as you felt your wetness pool in your panties, your boyfriend's touch having lingering effects on you.

You thought about ambushing him while he showered, but your phone buzzed with a text from your manager, letting you know that she was on her way to pick you up and take you to the company so you could work on your album. You bit your lip, realizing that you had an hour to go get ready.

Today was going to be a long day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No, he called me a bitch for not wanting too much autotune in my songs"

Your manager ran a hand through her hair as you denied another producer, sitting across from you in the meeting room at your company. She had a whole stack of worthy candidates to produce the album that you had worked with in the past, but you turned them all down. You had bad experiences with all of them that you didn't want to think about when you were working on an anticipated album.

Your manager called for a break so she could find another list of possible producers, sighing as you shot out of your seat and made your way to the doors. She called out to you before you could leave, a motherly look on her face as she said "Y/N, you have to let someone produce this album. You can't keep putting this off."

You nodded, walking out of the room silently. She was right, you couldn't keep putting it off, but you didn't want just anybody touching your tracks.

You ran your hands through your hair as you walked through the long hallway, looking for a practice room for you to record another song you had written. Maybe you could release an album full of demos?

Before you could enter the room, your eyes fell onto your boyfriend's studio down the hall. His door was covered in stickers that his visitors had placed there when they worked with him. The familiar feeling from this morning returned as you made your way to his studio, hoping to just get a glimpse of your boyfriend. You carefully opened his office to see him working on a track, his headphones snug on his head.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend producing, bouncing his head to the beat of the music while his fingers added to it. He was in his element and you found it incredibly sexy. You bit your lip as you closed the door behind you, making your way to him carefully as he continued to produce, not noticing you till you placed your hands onto his shoulders. His eyes glanced over at your manicured nails, smirking when he realized it was you.

He let your hands drag up his shoulders and neck, carefully taking off his headphones as he saved the track, knowing that he wouldn't be getting back to it for a while. He turned his chair around, looking up at you as you moved to his lap, both of you sighing as your warm, clothed pussy pressed against his clothed cock. He watched as you began to grind down against it, craving any sort of friction you could get. He gently grabbed your hips, helping you as he placed kisses along your neck.

"Did you think about what I said this morning?" He hummed against your neck, his tongue peaking out to lick your sweet spot, making you purr out "Hmm, what did you say this morning."

Your words were met with a bite from him, tsking as he pulled back to look at you, his hips meeting yours as you both ground against each other on his chair. "Don't tell me you didn't pay attention to me, baby. Or, were you distracted by something?" He played with you as he looked up at you, chuckling at your already fucked out looking state. He gently patted your cheek, licking his lips as he asked "Were you distracted, baby?"

At your nod, he let out a soft "aww," his voice laced with faux care as he unbuttoned your jeans, leaning down to place a kiss on your stomach as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. "I'm sorry baby, I'll make sure not to touch you when I'm talking to you"

You knew he wasn't really sorry, your hands running through his hair as his hands slid into the back of your jeans, pushing them down as much as he could. HongJoong loved it when you got distracted by his touch, loving the sight of you trying to remember what he was talking about while he picked you up from his lap, smirking at the wet patch that was on his own jeans.

"I was talking to you about me producing your album, baby," he said, unbuttoning his jeans as you took off your jeans and shirt, now standing before him in nothing but a thin thong and bra. You let out a playful "Oh? Were we really?" as you turned around, bending over as you pulled down your panties. You made a show out of it, smirking when you heard your boyfriend's breath hitch. You bit your lip as his hands made contact with your ass, his hands massaging the globes of your ass before he stood behind you, his cock slipping in between your thighs, making you moan softly.

"Yes, we were talking about me producing it. You need to learn to focus, babe." He hummed, pressing a kiss to the bottom of your neck while his hands moved up your sides slowly to your hair, his fingers making a ponytail out of your hair. Once he was satisfied, he kicked your legs apart further, making you lean forward to place your hands onto the couch he had in his studio as he spit down onto his cock, his spit coating the head of his thick cock before slowly pushing into you.

"Oooh, that's it baby" he groaned deeply, closing his eyes as your wet pussy welcomed him back in warmly. HongJoong couldn't get enough of your pussy, always wanting to be balls deep in you whenever he could be, even if you two of you weren't fucking. He swore he felt his brain turn off as he began to fuck you, his eyes shut tightly as fucked you. You gripped the couch as he fucked you, his cock stretching you out perfectly as you moaned into the couch. At the sound of your muffled moans, he pulled on your hair, tugging you so your back was arched, your head no longer on the couch as he drilled his cock into you.

You tried to keep quiet as he praised you through your moans, even lifting one of his legs to the couch so he could drill his cock deeper into you at an angle. He had you seeing stars in no time, panting out his name and moaning as he fucked you.

HongJoong soon pulled out of you, making you whine at the loss of his cock and back your ass up to where you thought he was. You were met with a hard spank to your ass, making you moan as your boyfriend dropped to his knees behind you, kissing your puffy pussy before whispering "hush baby, lemme taste you, then you can ride my cock till I fill you up."

You moaned at the thought, your moans only growing as HongJoong's tongue licked your pussy, flattening his tongue against you before sucking on your lips. You reached behind you to grab his hair, pulling him closer to your pussy as his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, spreading you for him to eat you.

One of the things you loved about him was how loud HongJoong got when he ate you out: you could vividly hear every time he sucked, licked, and spat back into your pussy. You bit your lip as he moaned lewdly into your pussy, his secret desires and your praises being moaned into your wet pussy, the vibrations making you shake. After one long lick, he pulled back, helping you to stand up (more like he held you while you leaned against his body) before leading you to his chair, sitting down on it before he pulled you down onto his lap.

You instantly knew what to do, sinking down on his cock with a pleasure-filled sigh. You began to grind down as his hands returned to your hips, guiding your hips to spell whatever he wanted. "You still haven't answered me, princess, come on." Your eyes snapped to meet his dark ones, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to remember what the hell he was talking about.

HongJoong tsked at your fuzzy memory, shaking his head before saying "I know you're in heat, baby, but you should at least be able to remember what I just said. Don't tell me my cock is stopping you from thinking." He leaned forward, biting your shaking bottom lip as he began to fuck up into you, pulling back as you moaned loudly, tossing your head back as he clicked his tongue. He suddenly stopped, smirking when you began to whine and try to move again, his grip on your hips tightening, warning you. "Look at me, baby, meet my eyes."

You did as you were told, his head falling back against the head of his chair as he opened his legs a little wider to make it more comfortable and to firmly plant his feet against the floor. "Tell me, baby, what were we talking about?"

Your brain once more short-circuited as his thumb began to rub small circles on your clit as your thought, your boyfriend's lips soon wrapping around your nipple as you stumbled out "You producing my album?"

"There we go, baby" HongJoong praised, helping you resume riding him as he fucked up into you. He watched as your face contorted to show pleasure, your head now tossed back as you eagerly rode his cock, making him moan. "That's my smart baby, huh? She may be a slut in heat, but she knows what's important, right?"

"Yes, yes" you moaned, HongJoong lips returning to your nipple with a soft "good girl." You let his words motivate you to move faster, no longer even registering that you were in his studio in the company with an album that was due soon. Nothing else mattered when he fucked you so well.

"Hmm, so what about what I said this morning, baby? Are you going to make the right decision and let me produce your album?" He hummed against your breasts as he moved faster, watching as you bounced faster to match him. He could tell you were about to cum and that he was getting close too, his own moans growing to match yours. It made him glad he soundproofed his studio that morning.

You nodded at his words, desperate to agree to whatever he wanted so you could cum, his lips crashing into yours as you both came. You held him close as you both kissed, your tongues locking in the kiss as you both ground against each other, both of your cum mixing and leaking out of you onto his cock, balls, and even a bit on the chair. Once you both had calmed down, you placed your head onto his shoulder as you took a deep breath, your eyes closed as HongJoong turned the chair around to face his setup, his hands running through your hair as he whispered "Whenever you're ready, baby, we can get started recording the tracks. We got an album to make."

Yes, the two of you did.

______________________________________________________________

"Looks like you found your main producer, huh?"

You smiled as you held your glass of champagne, turning to look at your boyfriend. HongJoong was across the party with his own glass of champagne, his custom-fitted dark purple velvet suit against his body while his freshly bleached hair was styled perfectly. He was talking to someone else, but with the feeling of your eyes on him, he suddenly made eye contact with him.

Throughout the whole album-producing process with him, you both had not been able to keep each other's hands off each other, fucking multiple times all around his studio.

"Yes, I did." Your eyes drank in the way HongJoong leaned against the wall, his eyes doing the same as walked around that night. HongJoong couldn't wait till the two of you got home, excited to rip off your short, dark purple dress that hugged your body perfectly. His eyes moved up your legs and thighs, his body heating up knowing what was between your thighs. He felt like he could pounce on you at any minute, not caring if everyone watched as he fucked you on the table. In fact, that was on his bucket list.

"Baby?" You turned around to see HongJoong now behind you, his lips still puffy from the make-out session you two had in the hallway 30 minutes ago. "I think it's time we go, Y/N. The party is winding down and I have another surprise for you at the apartment." A surprised "Oh really?" left your lips at his words, not expecting him to have a surprise for you waiting at the house. Before you could try and ask for hints, HongJoong's hand interlocked with yours, pulling you from the party. You tried your best to keep up with his fast walk as he walked outside, unlocking the car you and he shared before he opened the back door. You looked at it with confusion, HongJoong's only response being "Get in the backseat, baby. It'll all make sense later."

You sat in the backseat as he climbed in the front seat, the car ride silent as he sped home. You bit your lip as your eyes fell on your boyfriend's hands as they gripped the steering wheel, his veins popping out from how tightly he was holding it. Your eyes moved from his hands up his body, noticing how fast his chest was rising and falling. Your eyes soon looked into the rearview mirror, meeting HongJoong's hard gaze. You hadn't noticed that he was looking at you throughout the car ride, biting your lip as you spread your legs, giving the mirror and your boyfriend a perfect view of your soaked panties.

When HongJoong glanced into the mirror once again and saw your new position, he swore he almost pulled over right then and there. He smirked, glad to see that you were just as horny as he was for you. He reached back to touch your knee as his other hand stayed on the wheel. His eyes never left the road, but his voice let you know that he was still watching you.

"Why don't you run a pretty finger up your panties for me, baby? Tell me how wet you are for me" You did as you were told, dragging your fingers up your clothed pussy, shivering at how your panties stuck to you. "You're so wet, aren't you baby? Just a few more minutes, then we'll be back home. I'll take good care of you, I promise, just keep yourself wet for me."

You nodded, feeling a jolt of excitement rush through you at what was about to happen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Joong, please" You closed your eyes as HongJoong ripped open the door to the car, his knees meeting the floor of the car in an instant at the sound of your voice. HongJoong has made you touch yourself over your panties constantly, not letting you give yourself any relief. He parked in a spot in the parking garage that was hidden from everyone else and from the security camera, making sure that no one could interrupt you two. He closed the doors behind him as he cooed at you, promising to ease your pussy's ache as he placed kisses along your inner thighs, moving closer to you.

He soon hooked his fingers into your ruined panties, tugging down the fabric. He had to pause when he saw a string of your arousal connect with the panties, making him look away to ensure that he didn't cum in his pants. He wanted you to have all of his cum, not wanting to waste a drop.

He finished removing your panties, placing the fabric into his pocket before he took in a shaky breath; it wasn't out of nerves, but to control himself. He spread your legs as wide as they could go, biting his lip at the view of your spread pussy. "Such a wet and naughty pussy. Did you want me as much as I wanted it, baby?" You nodded as he leaned in, licking a long, slow stripe up your pussy. Both of your loud moans mixed in the car as he repeated his motion, slurping up any more wetness that leaked from you with urgency.

HongJoong soon sped up, his licks moving faster as he pushed a finger into you, curling it as his tongue played with your clit. He loved watching how you rode his tongue and fingers when he ate you out, wanting more of him as he drowned in your pussy. He licked up his wrist, catching more juices before his tongue replaced his fingers, making your hands rush into his blonde hair, your back arching against the car seat as you came and squirted. HongJoong moaned loudly, cussing as he cleaned you up. You lay limp against the seat as he finally pulled back from your pussy, moving up the seat to stand in front of you.

"Talk to me, baby. Let me know you're still here with me" he cupped your face as he spoke, his thumbs rubbing along your cheeks as he waited for you to come down. When you finally nodded, he smiled before pressing a small kiss to your forehead. "There you are, baby. You came so much for me."

You smiled at his praise, reaching for his cock that was now pressing against his velvet pants, HongJoong's hand gently grasping your wrist to stop you. "Not right now, baby, not in here. Lemme move the car closer to the elevator and take you up to the apartment." You pouted as he got out of the car to move to the front seat, meeting your eyes in the mirror as he said "trust me, baby."

You trusted him as he moved the car to park in front of one of the elevators before helping you inside. When you both finally made it inside the apartment, you had to pause at the doorway.

The apartment was decorated with tons of flowers and heart balloons, led candles were lit all around the place. It looked so romantic. You turned to HongJoong as he locked the front door and removed his shoes, an obvious smile on his face as he walked past you. "Did you do all of this, Joong?" You followed him into the living room, smiling as he finally faced you with a smile on his face. "Of course I did. My girlfriend put out an album despite not choosing me two weeks before it was due" You rolled your eyes playfully as he pulled you close to him, smiling as he placed a kiss on your cheek. "But, I did this to show how proud of you I am, Y/N. I mean that."

You smiled as he kissed you again, the kiss this time sweet as you cupped the back of his neck as he began to lead you down the hallway, stumbling with you into walls. When you both finally reached the bedroom, the kiss had intensified to the point where your tongues were caressing each other. HongJoong pressed you roughly against the door, his hands moving around your body before he ripped down the front of your dress, shoving his face in between your tits as he picked you up. You moaned his name as he carried you to the bed, laying you down on it with ease before he pulled back, standing up.

For the first time that evening, you saw HongJoong's desire in his eyes fully. He looked at you as he began to unbutton his suit, commanding you to watch when you tried to move closer. His eyes drunk in your sprawled-out body on the bed before he removed his jacket, making his way into the closet that was adjacent to the bed. You kicked your heels off as you watched HongJoong toss the velvet jacket onto the floor carelessly before he roughly separated some hanging clothes. He leaned into the clearing he made before he took out a dark blue box that was covered in stickers and had a ribbon on it.

That dark blue box was your and HongJoong's sex box. HongJoong called it 'Joong's box', a play on Pandora's box. Inside the box contained anything either one of you had bought to use during sex, having decorated the box so if anyone saw it, they wouldn't think anything of it.

When HongJoong turned to exit the closet, the two of you made eye contact for a brief moment, and you felt your body shiver. He looked so far gone, not even recognizing the depth of desire he had for you. He gently removed the ribbon as he approached the bed, his thumb flicking off the top of the box as he stood in front of you. He smirked as he looked through the box, picking what he wanted to use on you tonight before he placed the box down onto the nightstand.

He moved you to your knees, allowing your hands to run up and down the fabric of his pants before you began to unbutton his pants, eager to get a taste of him as he fiddled with the box. As you pushed his pants down his thighs, your eyes zeroed in on his cock as HongJoong soon pulled out something from the box, placing them on the bed before he moved to grab the box top. You took the opportunity while he put the box back to see what he took out, moaning softly at what he picked out.

Sitting on the bed next to you was a black cannon camera and a pair of fuzzy red handcuffs. You bit your lip as he returned, picking up the camera to inspect it. "I think there's enough memory in here for tonight, don't you baby? I mean, we are celebrating."

You watched as he positioned the camera on the nightstand to get the perfect angle of you and him before pressing record, leaning down to give you also a sweet kiss. His lips gently rolled with yours as he kissed you, taking all the air from your lungs as he held the back of your neck, keeping you in the kiss. His hands slowly moved down the back of your dress, dragging the zipper down with him as he did so. "Are you going to be good tonight, Y/N? Say it loud enough for the camera to hear, baby girl."

"I'll be good for you, HongJoong. I'll always be good for you" you moaned as he bit your bottom lip, a proud smirk on his lips as he pulled back. "Of course you'll be good for me, baby. That's all a dumb puppy in heat like you wants, huh? Just my cock pleasing you?" HongJoong watched as you nodded, pushing down his boxers with a proud smile lacing his lips.

"Yeah? Come get your cock then, baby. I know you've been craving it since we got home." You rushed to give his cock a few pumps as your tongue dragged along his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue as he leaned over to grab the camera, holding it in one hand as another hand went into your hair, pushing you down onto his cock. You and HongJoong closed your eyes as you began to bob your head, your hand pumping what you couldn't take as he tossed his head back, offering you praise through his moans. When you couldn't meet his eyes, you looked into the camera, doing whatever it took to hear him curse and moan your name.

HongJoong tossed his forward, forcing himself to watch as you bobbed your head on his cock. He then leaned over to place the camera back on the nightstand before the hand that was in your hair pulled you off his cock, some of your saliva mixed with his precum dropping from your lips as he tilted your head back. He smirked at the sight before leaning beside you, grabbing the handcuffs while you pressed kisses to the side of his face, desperate for him.

"Place your hands behind you, baby." You did as you were told, looking up at him as he handcuffed your hands behind you, stopping you from being able to feel him. You whined softly, about to complain when you felt a sharp sting on your ass, the spank echoing in the room as HongJoong hissed "Shut it."

You nodded as he eased you down on the bed so your head was hanging off the edge while the rest of your body rested on the bed, his hands moving to knee your breasts as he positioned his cock at your mouth. "You shouldn't need your hands to take my cock baby. No, baby girl, you're a pro." He moaned as he pushed into your mouth, gripping your breasts as he began to fuck your throat. You gurgled around his cock as he used your mouth, your hands gripping the sheets as he continued to speak.

"No, my baby is a slut. My baby knows how to take some cock, especially when it's mine. You even made a whole song about sex with me, didn't you?" HongJoong asked, his voice now deeper than usual as he pulled out of your mouth, looking down at you with dark eyes.

Near the end of producing your album, you had chosen to get inspiration from your many nights in the studio with your boyfriend and write a bonus track. When HongJoong heard it, he fucked you all around the studio in one night. To say HongJoong liked it was an understatement.

You nodded as he turned you over onto your stomach, cupping your jaw as he fed his cock into your mouth, resuming his rough pace as he moaned. "Wrote a whole song surrounding getting me cock, didn't you, baby? Fuck, and when everyone hears it, they're going to wonder who you're singing about, not knowing that you were on your producer's cock while you sang about riding it."

You couldn't help but moan louder at his words, grinding down against the bed for comfort. With the sight of you grinding against the bed, your moans, and his own words working him up, HongJoong pulled out to cum all over your lips and chin with a loud moan of your name. You gently licked your lips as HongJoong calmed down, his still hard cock pressing against his stomach as he finally opened his eyes to look at you. He smiled at the sight before his thumb moved along your lips, cleaning you off before he grabbed a towel, wiping off your face fully.

HongJoong uncuffed you before he got on the bed next to you, his hands helping you move to your back as he slowly pushed into you. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist as he leaned down to place his elbows onto either side of your head as he met your eyes. His eyes we not as dark as before, but softer as he slowly moved his hips. His hands soon intertwined with yours as he began to rock his hips to meet yours, placing small kisses around your face. "I know you're tired baby, just one more for me, ok? God, you're so perfect."

"One more" you purred against his lips, making him moan at your true fucked out state. He nodded, moaning against your lips "yeah, one more for me, baby. Fuck, I love you."

You felt your heart swell at his words, whispering that you loved him too as you both got lost in each other. HongJoong pressed his forehead against yours as he moved, pressing small kisses to your nose whenever he could before he moved to stuff his face into your neck. He felt his body heat up as he felt his climax approached, his breath now short as he let out a broken moan of your name as if he was calling out to you.

"Y/N...baby, I'm so close for you, I love you so goddam much" he moaned, moving to see your face as he moved faster, wanting to watch you fall apart. "Say my name, baby. Say my name while you cum for me. Let everyone know who you love"

"HongJoong," Your eyes rolled back as you came, your name leaving HongJoong's lips as he came with you, his hands slipping from yours to hold your face in a deep kiss as he shook. You wrapped your arms around him as you both rolled over onto your sides, the kiss slowing down to simple pecks. You both panted against each other's lips, holding each other as you both slowly came down.

HongJoong was the first one to move, standing up to go grab a towel before returning to you with shaky legs, both of you laughing when he fell onto the bed. He gently cleaned you up, whispering more praises to you and your pussy before he pulled you to his chest, rubbing your sides.

"So, you love me, huh?" Your question made your boyfriend of two years blush before turning away, making your smile grow. You moved to place your hands onto his shoulder, making him face you once more before you said "I love you, HongJoong. I wrote a whole damn album about you, so don't be the one getting embarrassed"

Your words made HongJoong smile and laugh, nodding before pulling your back down into his embrace, smiling at you snuggle into him. "How do you think your album is doing on the charts right now?" He asked, grunting as he stood up with you in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. You hummed against his shoulder, shrugging as he placed you on the toilet before going to turn on the shower.

HongJoong handed you your phone as he went into the bedroom, letting you check while he gathered shower stuff. When he returned, you had a bright smile on your face. "Number one everywhere and trending. Everyone is complimenting me and the producer."

Your words make your boyfriend laugh, placing the towels, lotion, and clothes onto the bathroom sink before he aimed the black camera to face the shower, making you smirk. "Why'd you bring the camera in here, baby?"

HongJoong smirked as he helped you to your feet, walking back into the shower with you as he said "I'm help you get inspiration for your next album. That's what a good producer does, baby. And, you're lucky, because you have one of the best helping you. Now, make sure you're loud enough for the camera baby, this all might be useful for another secret track."

Bambikisss | 2024

[almalvo]

About An Official Spiderverse Artist...

Please do not just scroll past this post; read it.

If you guys follow me on twitter, you probably already know.

But if you dont or still want to read this anyway - here you go:

I aint big, but I got a growing platform that I see as important for me to use as a force for things that matter.

So here I am.

And I got something to say about a certain "artist".

There are so many fucked up people who call themselves artists who are so heavily worshipped by us who both get and or dont get outed in the world for things they do and for their general piss-poor behaviours and persons.

Im here to talk about one in particular (and certainly wont be the last).

There is an artist that basically EVERYONE here has seen art from before, printed in the official Sony artbooks too.

If you have seen this:

Then you have seen this artist before.

His name is Alberto Mielgo. He goes by @/pinkman_himself on twitter.

He is a HUGE part of the art direction and stylisation of the spiderverse movies, if that isnt already obvious. Because he was the former original art director of Into The Spiderverse.

Yes. Former.

Cuz he got "mYsTeRiOuSlY fiReD" from Sony 2 years into pre-production and completely removed from the project.

You may have also seen this character before:

Yes. THAT asian character from Netflix's Love Death + Robots, from the episode "The Witness".

Familiar? Yeah. Because this episode was also made by the same guy, Mielgo.

I aint going to talk about what happens in that episode and hesitate to encourage anyone to watch it - cuz all it basically is is a megalo-misogynistic, assault "glorified for the sake of aRtT", racially fetishised showcase of this crazy makeup/haired bdsm stereotyped asian girl sex worker who essentially gets murdered over and over and over after running for her life completely naked through the city for all of us to see for some fucking reason.

BUt yeah anyways, you can see it in the first pic, but Ill put it here to show more clearly - this here is NOT the character from LDR. But I can understand why you might think so:

Yeah. You read that name in the bottom right corner correctly. This is Peni Parker. His concept art of Peni Parker. A 13 YEAR OLD CHILD. Lookin suspiciously like and dressed as the adult person from LDR with ALSO the crazy hair, make up - WITH AN O-RING CHOKER AND BALL-GAG LIPSTICK (BDSM).

13. year. old. child.

This man only sees east asian women this way.

He likes them crazy, sexy, broken--

and young.

Cuz this man also wrote this on a now-deleted post on his website:

Yeah. He, this whole ass middle-aged white cishet male spaniard thirstin for kids since he was 18 for 12 year old girls.

Cuz 12 year old girls are a fuckin "KNOCK OUT" when they grow up, when they ripen up into adulthood, to this man Alberto Mielgo, aka @/pinkman_himself, this creature.

And if auctioning NFTs isnt bad enough (cuz yes, ofc he does that too - its literally the first option on his website) -

His entire fucking portfolio is of drawing women he had sex with.

His fucking PROFESSIONAL PORTFOLIO is all of painting and drawing women in very compromising, questionable ways of the VERY SAME WOMEN HE HAD SLEPT WITH THROUGH HIS LIFE.

They look as creepy as they are.

But the scariest part?

While I myself had only just found out about this some days ago as of writing this, some of us have known about this man and his antics for years.

And he keeps getting greenlit by the industry, over and over and over; winning awards, getting respected, praised, admired, even by fellow at-home artists like many of you out there if you dont already do so.

And nothing will happen to him cuz he is a white cishet male artist who has money and a following and connections and influence and power.

So yeah.

I just wanted to talk about a certain official Spiderverse artist to just let yall know there are freaks everywhere, and that no matter how small it is, it's people like me and you who need to do what we can to keep up awareness and warn our communities and protect our most vulnerable.

My suggestion is to take heed of what I said, ask questions about everything you will ever see again from anyone around you, no less the industry, THINK for once, and actually give a fuck.

Keep away.

Do not support this man.

But the decision is ultimately yours.

Stay awake, yall.

-------

(His face, publicly available as his imdb profile):

scary.

[bellawoso]

girls

aitana bonmati x fem!reader

desc: kinda implicit smut but not much, still rated 16+ please!! also kinda short - im sorry its exam season and im dying 😭😭

aitana knew from a young age that she was into girls, when her highschool friends spent their free time talking about boys, she could never find it in herself to involve herself in the conversation. not many people knew about her sexuality, only ona and keira had a slight idea of it, after seeing aitana go home with a woman on one of the team night outs. if anyone asked aitana about her sexuality, she wouldnt lie, she would tell them confidentially that she was a lesbian, she wasnt ashamed of who she was after all.

the reason why hardly anyone knew, was that aitana didnt do relationships. most people on the team already knew that, aitana prioritised football over everything especially after 2023 ended, and as the awards kept stacking up, her winning mentality only increased, she put all of her time into making herself better.

that didnt make the spaniard inexperienced in the sexual aspects, and was never one to turn down a woman at the bar, but aitana preferred to skip the flirting, and get out of the club as soon as possible, especially before someone like mapi saw, who aitana knew would tease her all day at training.

however, since you joined the team, aitana didnt care about mapi seeing anymore, and instead focused on trying to not let you see, aitana wasnt sure why she was so against the idea of you knowing she was going home with another woman. but each time the midfielder spotted you sat down, laughing with your fellow lionesses at the table, the midfielder couldnt help but feel guilty as she let the other woman tug her towards the door.

as aitanas hookups increased, so did the pit of betrayal at the bottom of her stomach. but after one night, when thoughts of you plagued her mind as a girl that she didnt even know the name of came undone on her fingers, she knew she had to stop. normally, aitana lasted a few rounds, however this time her skills in the bedroom couldnt change her hookups mind, as aitana did the walk of shame out of this girls house after accidentally moaning your name as she came.

aitana did stop though, nearing around 4 months without a single girl, however the longer the period of time she spent without anyone, the more time she spent daydreaming of you. the main issue was that aitana was hardly even friends with you, sure the two of you had chemistry on the pitch, but off the pitch, the spaniard had no idea about you. aitana could just go on google or youtube to find out some facts about you and watch your interviews (which she had already done) however, anyone could find this out about you, aitana wanted to know things that the internet didnt. and to do that, she needed to try talk to you.

———

aitana liked to think of herself as a confident person, it took a lot of courage to heartlessly tell someone that they are nothing more than a hookup, but aitana hadnt thought about the fact that she had never had to see those women again. if you rejected her, then aitana would still have to see you each day at training, and she didnt think she could live with the embarrassment and awkwardness of that.

so she decided to first ask you to get a coffee with her after training, she knew lucy had brought you to training, so she could give you a lift back as well. aitanas plan was to befriend you first, and then try figure out if you reciprocated her feelings or not.

so when aitana decided she would offer to spot you, she didnt anticipate her body freezing up with nerves as she was about to ask you, which unluckily happened at the same time you failed your rep and actually needed aitanas help.

due to your intense sets, you were breathing unevenly as you tried to get aitanas attention, except gasping out “tana” didnt help the brunette anymore. instead her face blushed crimson, the spaniards pent up neediness for an orgasm from somebody other than herself was getting to her, and her mind couldnt help but think of how good you sounded saying her name.

her short daze was broken by you once again saying her name, as she quickly took the bar off you, repeating “lo siento” as you still gasped for air. when you grabbed onto the brunettes bicep for support, struggling to hold your self up after having your oxygen supply restricted for too long. you couldnt help but notice the muscle flexing unconsciously below your fingertips, which only seemed to make you feel more lightheaded.

“dios mio aitana, are you trying to kill me?” you wheezed out with a raspy chuckle, only to be met with silence from the midfielder and her holding up your water bottle to you. “you know im not mad at you, right tana?” you asked the spaniard, uncomfortable at the thought of her thinking your mad at her. “si, yes i know y/n, are you sure your okay?” she asked, as she gathered the courage to start rubbing comforting circles on your back. only when ona came up to the two of you, asking the both of you what happened accompanied with a knowing glance shot at aitana, did her hand stop rubbing circles on your back. the brunette instead let her hand fall, so it rested dangerously low on your lower back, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

you decided to call off your gym session early, you couldnt keep aitana off your mind, and your back still tingled where her hand had once rested. aitana decided to accompany you and drive you home, claiming she “owed it to you” after almost ending your life. despite the girls actual reason to take you home being she wanted to build her friendship with you, you suspected the midfielder just felt bad. never once did it cross your mind to ask what it was that had aitana so distracted during your workout.

———

your apartment was a 10 minute drive from the training grounds, however aitana had decided to take a detour, claiming that it would be faster due to the bad traffic in barcelona. however, after almost 45 minutes in the car, you were beginning to get tired, you were having a great conversation with the brunette who currently had one hand resting on the steering wheel, expertly navigating round the quieter streets of barcelona. as you looked over at the midfielder, you couldnt help but admire her side profile, and the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember the route.

a quick glance at the street you were currently at, on the map displayed by the screen of her car, had you internally groaning in frustration as you realised you were still half an hour away from your apartment.

“aita, are we almost there? im tired” you asked the midfielder, who now had a look of shock and suprise on her face.

aitana hadnt even realised how long she had been in the car with you for, she only meant to detour and make the route 10 minutes longer, not an hour. even the detour was only so she had enough time to build her courage to ask you out for a coffee.

“oh- yeah almost y/n! uhhh- like, another.. 30 minutes?” she said sheepishly, before quickly rushing out “¿Te gustaría tomar un café conmigo mañana?”

“aita, i dont speak spanish remember? especially not at the speed you just spoke at!” you said with a laugh.

fuck. aitana thought. although she had managed to ask you out, her nervous state had completely forgot to translate it into english so that you would understand. her adrenaline of asking you was wearing off, and she felt her previous nerves almost skyrocket at the thought of having to ask you again, especially now your full attention was on her.

“uhhh- get a coffee with me? i mean- uh, would you like to? to get a coffee with me? its fine if not- uh, it can just be as friends? if we are friends that is! its fine if-“ until aitanas state of rambling was cut off by you who although found her flustered state very amusing, was starting to feel pity for the spaniard who was struggling to even form a sentence at this point.

“i would love to aitana, its a date!”

“it is?” the midfielder said, receiving an encouraging nod from you, “it is!” she said more excited now, making you laugh at her excitement.

———

to other people, it would probably look like aitana had been stood up, but in reality, she had just decided to arrive at the coffee shop an hour early to hopefully have a coffee or two before you came, and prepare herself in hope to not embarrass herself too much in front of you.

the coffee shop she had chosen was one she had been to for years, it was relatively popular amongst locals, and was a small, cozy, family owned business, that aitana had grown to love.

as soon as you walked in the shop aitana requested to meet you at, you were met with aromas of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries, you scanned the shop for the midfielder you had grown to love, and saw her sat at a window seat, with an empty mug infront of her.

“i didnt get the time wrong did i?” you asked her, glancing at her empty cup.

“no, no- i got here early” the brunette reassured, and outstretched her arms for a welcoming hug which you quickly accepted, the midfielder wrapped her arms around you, not wasting the opportunity to have you as close as possible. equally, you werent going to pass up the chance to have aitanas arms wrapped around you, especially as they were what you spent most of your gym time admiring as you did your weights, much to esmees amusement and annoyance, who was your usual gym partner.

as you pulled apart and sat down, aitana decided to go and order the both of you another coffee, coming back with two cinnamon lattes, your eyes widening in surprise as you realise she remembered your favourite drink that you mentioned during your rambling in the car yesterday.

the date went well, and much better than aitana expected, she managed to not embarrass herself at all, and left the date with a smudge of your lipstick on her cheek where you had kissed her goodbye, that she knew she would probably cry about when she had to wipe it off later.

———

yourinstagram

caption: owed me a coffee after almost murdering me in the gym ❤️ tagged: aitanabonmati

liked by: aitanabonmati, alexiaputellas and 23,416 others

comments:

aitanabonmati: are we even yet?

-> youruser: i think i might need a few more coffees…

lucybronze: are we even surprised??

-> youruser: i think i could say the same about you and a certain brunette defender on the team..

user1: guapaaaass

user2: are they together?!!!

user3: princess of england, and the princess of spain ❤️💙

———

[fernandopiastri28]

Oscar is angry about carlos situation and his Miami GP result so y/n helps him relax (maybe a handjob,maybe Smut..you chose)

the city that keeps the roof blazing ~ oscar piastri

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,”  The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

| warning ~ smut, degrading language. MDNI

Y/N’s heart thrums in her chest, an anxious sweat pooling across her back under her corset dress. Oscar’s not doing well, having taken a hit from the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz and losing his front wing as a result. He’d had to pit, finding himself in last, only in front of Logan who’d already DNFed. Her nails are bitten up, rough on the edges. She can hope and pray for at least a points finish, even if it’s just one or two, but at this point, the whole situation is looking rather dire.

If Oscar doesn’t already despise Carlos, he certainly does now. 

In the final few laps, the team instructs Oscar to basically not pull anything stupid and risk Lando getting his first win. It’s honestly offensive of them, as if Oscar has ever done something to sabotage anyone else in any circumstances. In anything, the McLaren team should be focusing on getting a penalty awarded to Carlos for his shitty stunt against Piastri or figuring out why the fuck Donald Trump is in their garage.

When a McLaren passes the chequered flag first, Y/N can’t even feel happy for Lando. She just feels fucked over for her boyfriend who’s being perfectly polite and mature over the radio but is gonna be absolutely destroyed once he’s out of shot from all the cameras and media. 

He’d been leading the race at one point, and now he’s having his first out of points finish of the year in 13th. Stupid Carlos, stupid fucking Carlos. Y/N looks around the rest of the garage at everyone jumping around and cheering for the brit’s win. She keeps her headset on, smiling politely as Oscar would be if he were here. She can’t muster up any excitement, so she’ll fake the bare minimum.

She navigates her way through flocks of commentators and team members as she attempts to find her boyfriend. “Oscar?” She has to crane her neck, searching for a papaya race suit that isn’t the one being showered in praises. As two men who tower over her push past, she bends her arm tighter to keep her bag in the junction of her elbow and close to her. 

“Y/N,” A tired voice calls out, Oscar tugging his balaclava off with one hand. “I’m not crazy right? You say that- that was all Carlos,” He pants, wiping a line of sweat that’s gathered over his top lip. Y/N rubs his cheek, applying pressure to where the outline from his helmet is especially dark. 

She nods, her hand squeezing his bicep through the thick material of his race suit. “Completely baby, you were doing so good.” She’s about to tell him that she was convinced today would be his first race win before her mind reminds her that telling him that isn’t going to make him feel better, in fact he’d probably feel even more shitty that she was expecting a win for him and he ‘let her down’.

He drops his head into his hands, letting out a noise that’s halfway between a sigh and a whine. “What is his problem with me? Because if it’s genuinely got to do with Lando and I being mates,” He groans, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just can’t deal with this right now,”

Before she knows it, Oscar’s being whisked away from her to be weighed and then dragged through endless interviews and media tasks. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to be doing, which is just going to make him more irritated and upset tonight. 

Y/N has to come up with something to cheer him up.

Something certainly. 

At the end of interviews, when they’re finally allowed to head home, Y/N slips her hand into Oscar’s, squeezing each of his individual fingers as she aligns the time of their feet hitting the floor. He just hums plainly, instead of laughing along with each pinch she gives to his digits. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Her tone is soft as they get into the car, Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed as he clicks his seatbelt in.

Oscar doesn’t need to be offered twice as he immediately shoots off into a rant. “He’s just so immature, he’s almost 30 and driving a 23 year old in his second year off the track. Each time I get blamed for it.” He starts the car, his eyes hyper focused on the road ahead as he just aimlessly insults Carlos. “I mean- he’s just an absolute idiot. I meant it when I asked if he was blind because in what reality did I deserve a penalty and he deserved a spot change?” 

Y/N keeps her eyes on him, watching as the muscles of his neck flex and tense, his cheeks getting hot, the veins in his hands becoming infinitely more defined as he grips the steering wheel. She’s ashamed of how turned on it makes her, seeing him like this. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs tonight though.

“And-and, fuck, he’s just soo desperate for another Carlando podium that he’s willing to drive me into a fucking wall just so he can stand on the top step with his precious Lando,” He mocks him, positively seeing red. “I’ve considered Logan my best mate for years longer than those two have known each other yet you don’t see me risking all of Carlos’ races so Logan can get a fucking point,” The swears are just spilling out of his mouth at this point, sounding like a second nature to a degree.

Her hand meets his thigh, rubbing it tenderly as a way to calm him down. “Keep going Osc, just let it all out,” Her voice is thick, warm, and sweet like honey. It’s exactly what he needs right now. He needs her next to him, needs her voice in his ear. 

Needs her hands on him.

“I just think he’s an entitled brat who doesn’t deserve a seat,” It’s harsh, but it’s coming straight from the heart. “I’m glad Ferrari dropped him,” It’s said accompanied with a long, drawn out sigh. He’s relieved, finally able to have gotten that all out.

Yet, there’s still a bugging sense of dissatisfaction deep in his bones that he knows he won’t get from continuously insulting the spaniard. Luckily for Oscar, he’s just about pulling into the hotel valet. 

With a single look at Y/N, he conveys everything he wants when they get to their hotel room, and lucky for him- she wants the exact same.

They maintain a sense of decorum in the elevator ride up, which can’t be said about each time Oscar has a bad race. Example, the 2023 Belgian grand prix. After his DNF, his mouth had been attached to her neck and his hands on her breasts the second the elevator doors shut. 

It had been a very awkward situation to apologise for after a family of four with two very young kids had entered the lift five flights before their hotel room.

But back to now, the second their hotel door clicks shut behind them, Y/N’s taunting him over to the bed with chaste kisses on his cheeks, each one just narrowly avoiding his lips. “You’re a crazy tease, you know that?” He groans, lacing his fingers into her hair and pulling her in for a kiss as they reach the bed. 

She replies with an ignorant shrug and a careless smirk, “It’s fun- getting you all riled up. Makes me feel like Carlos,”

Oscar’s touch sears hot against her skin, his glare even worse. “Don’t fucking mention him in our bedroom,” It’s barely a hiss, but it’s enough of a warning to keep her in line. Instead, she decides to take action on him. Her fingers drag along the hem of his polo, tantalising slowly. She doesn’t need to wonder why that is, it's the same as when he does it along the zippers of her dresses or buttons of her blouses. 

She wants him to beg for it.

“Please,” The heat between her legs is near unbearable from how desperate he sounds, and her thighs chafe from how she’s kept them squeezed together as an attempt to relieve some of the ache of her cunt. “Y/N, I need you,” 

The tips of her fingers jut down to splay across the bulge in his shorts, applying some sort of pressure to the spot. He groans, grabbing her wrist and pushing down harder so she’s fully palming him. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all pretty and desperate just for her as she continues her ‘massaging’. “You’ll get it Osc, I promise,”

His legs are nudged apart by her hands as she sinks down to her knees in front of him. His eyes light up, his lips red and bitten up from how he’s been chewing down to keep in his whiny noises and begs. Her fingers expertly undo his shorts, poking him so he’ll lift his hips so she can pull the pants and his boxers down in one go. 

His cock doesn’t hit up against his stomach when his tight boxers are removed, instead just lays heavy between his muscular thighs. Truly a sight to be seen. “So hard,” Y/N marvels, gently sliding her cupped hand up and down his length. One pump, two pumps. “And needy,” He looks up at him through her lashes to where his bottom lip is tucked under his teeth and his cheeks are flaming red. 

Oscar bucks his hops forward instinctively, chasing the high of how good her hand, or mouth preferably, feels. He’s lucky when she doesn’t make him wait too long before she grants his wish, opening her mouth, flattening her tongue, and taking the majority of his length into her mouth. 

Y/N’s toes curl in an attempt to remove her somewhat of a gag reflex she has. Today, she wants to take him as deep as she can and make him feel as good as possible. It’s deeper than she was expecting, which is definitely a win in her books. Pulling back slightly, she focuses on the head for the time being.

A string of praises spill past his lips, “Fuck, yes, so so good.” His hand snakes into hold her hair, keeping her head in place as he gradually goes deeper. “Taking me so good, sucking me off like an angel,” Her lips stretch around his thickness, her eyes void of any emotion beyond lust as she stares up at him. 

Y/N’s tongue glides back and forth along the underside of his cock, disgustingly loud sucking noises filling up the entire hotel room. He cups her cheek, his thumb dragging along the bulging of her cheek. His hips inch forward, his cock stuffing her mouth full and moving towards doing the same for her throat. 

Y/N feels insanely good, and maybe even too good. Panic fills her head, what if Oscar’s still thinking about pleasuring her over himself. It’s typical Oscar, catering each sexual experience to prioritise her and her pleasure, even if it means he doesn’t cum as quickly as expected. Steadying her hands on his thighs,she pulls back gradually, “Fuck my mouth,” It’s not a question, suggestion, or even request. 

It’s a straight up demand.

“What, why?” His voice is more broken and weak than she’d expected. Hers is too, but that’s to be assumed when someone has a cock prodding the back of their throat. 

“Because I'm giving you head to make you feel good. This isn’t about my pleasure Osc,” Her voice is absolutely ruined and will likely be even worse by the end of this. Y/N cuts him off before he can begin to protest, which once again, she knows he will. “No but-s Oscar, just fuck my face,” He gives into the carnal desire as his hips begin to snap back and forth, burying into her throat. 

Drool spills out over her bottom lip and down her chin, her mind fuzzy without another tangible thought besides giving Oscar the best blowjob possible. Her jaw is aching but it’s ignored as she solely cares about getting him to orgasm. He huffs and groans, continuously sending praises mixed with harsh insults of calling her a slut and a whore as he gets more shallow with his thrusts, clearly very much so on edge.

She takes advantage of his situation, suckling solely on the sensitive tip as he warns her that he’s “So close Y/N, I’m ‘bout to cum,” The fact that she doesn’t budge or show any signs of slowing down tells Oscar enough. With three pumps of her hand on his cock, he’s spilling out into the wet heat of her mouth. As if time and consciousness is slipping further from her, his index and middle fingers tap her cheek to get her to pull off, then again to tell her to swallow.

Her jaw goes lax to show the proof that she did what he told her to as he takes his shirt off, gently wiping a mixture of cum and drool off her chin. Her eyes fight so hard to focus on the glorious sight of his toned abdomen and well filled in muscles as he cleans her up, but she’s so overwhelmed by the pleasure that she not only gave, but genuinely got from that experience. 

Oscar scoops Y/N up onto the bed, arranging her under the sheets so he can cuddle up against her, his chest to her back and his arms slung loosely around her stomach. “That was perfect,” He murmured, pecking at her cheek and ear as a further thank you.

Her throat does indeed ache, but it’s a worthy pain. “You’re not as upset about what happened with Car-” She can’t even finish the spanish ferrari’s name or her question before her boyfriend has his hand squished over her mouth.

“No saying his name,” He shakes his head, tutting disapprovingly. “But yes, I feel much better. Thank you babe,”

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.6K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh, won't you stay, just a little bit longer. Please let me hear, you say that you will, Say you will."

- Stay By Maurice Williams and The Zodiacs

IV. MOUNTAIN LAKE, VIRGINA: 1963

The man in front of you was not part of your vacation plans. He was half naked, sweaty, annoyed and scowling. The man in front of you was a stranger. 

Except he wasn’t. 

Was he?

You knew his name by now, something you’d only learnt on Monday, or perhaps the day before. Steve, Steve Herringbone or Barrington or something. He didn’t like it when you called him Steven and he certainly didn’t like it when you argued back. 

But this was supposed to be a getaway, a small summer break where you could maybe sneak a smoke by the lake when everyone had returned to their cabins and the geriatric morning yoga was done. Except your dad knew the owner of the summer retreat, a huge house settled in the Virginia countryside, the forest greener than it was back home. Bauman’s Mountain House was host to many golf courses, a fencing team, seventeen rowboats, an archery club, the best water aerobics in the state and an award winning dance show. 

The very latter included the man in front of you. 

Tall, broad shouldered and tanned from the summer, Steve Harrington was handsome and painstakingly so. Brown hair that he always tried to tame by pushing his hand through it, brown eyes and too many freckles to count. He wore a gold chain around his throat, black slacks and a leather jacket on his days off, driving around the resort in a BMW that made too much noise, but he didn’t seem to care. 

He cared even less about his bad reputation and loud ways when his partner broke her foot weeks before the final show, a tiny girl called Nancy that you were unreasonably jealous of at first sight. You watched them both on your first night, sat between your mother and father as they took to the stage, dancing flawlessly, fluidly, like they were one whole person. You watched the way she touched him, an easy familiarity that had your stomach feeling unsettled and something inside of you burned when her hand brushed the man’s neck, holding onto him as he dipped her low, her fingers trapping two little moles and hiding them from sight. 

You’d blamed the cheap cocktails and called it a night. 

But then your father found him arguing with Mr Bauman about the show and suddenly you were volunteered against your own volition, your parents talking loudly and proudly about talent shows and dance lessons when you were much younger, boldly exaggerating about how must’ve been a dancer in another life as you shook your head and tried to escape back to the gazebo by the shoreline.

Now you were left spending your evenings with Steve Harrington and his tight trousers in a cabin that was much smaller than your own. There was a leak in the corner, a consistent drip from a missing nail in the roof and rainwater splashed against the wooden floor as if it were counting down the seconds. 

As if it were counting down to— something. 

It had rained every night since you had started seeing Steve, the stifling afternoons giving way to humid evenings that always started to smell like rain by six o’clock, sweet tea and lemonade taken over by the scent of a new downpour. There had been threats of storms, chattering of it during breakfast in the main dining hall, grumbles of it from groundskeepers during bowling on the green. 

But nothing wild, not yet. 

Steve had scowled the entire time he was with you, minutes and hours spent with a frown on his face as he did his best to avoid touching you, mumbling something about getting the timings right, about learning the steps and the footwork before putting it all together. It was tedious now, repetitive and too warm in his small room and even with the bed pushed to the wall, there was barely space to avoid brushing up against him when you moved. 

You were flushed, skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and the same sheen made Steve’s lips look glossy, his hair sticking to his forehead in curls and flicks. You rolled your eyes when he hit rewind on the tape deck, a silent order for you to take it from the top. But you didn’t move as he made quick work on his buttons, undoing them one by one until his short sleeved shirt hung open, showing off far too much skin. Lean muscle and a smattering of hair across his pecs, more skating down the line of his navel and you sucked in a breath, pretending you hadn’t stood on your own foot. 

“It’s too fuckin’ warm,” he complained, circling you as he spoke, watching you for more errors, inspecting your footwork, your posture, the way your held your head up and squared off your shoulders. 

“No shit,” you couldn’t help but bite back. “How’d you think I feel?”

You wore denim shorts to his black slacks, but your cotton T-shirt was sticking to your torso now, the baby pink material too heavy and restricting for the heat inside the cabin. You pressed your lips together and moved, eyes on the wall ahead of you, your right foot moving in front of your left before you twisted your hips half a turn and—

“Take it off, then.”

You blinked, your framework going slack as you dropped both your arms and your jaw. You were hardly prudish, but something about this man had set you on edge since you’d first seen him. An electrical buzz every time you looked at him, fizzing through your bones, an invisible string tied to your insides pulling and pulling and pulling you closer. You’d ignored it until these dance practices, always turning in the other direction, putting the entire resort between you both. 

But now… now?

He was standing all of three feet away, cheeks flushed from the heat and his chest on show, his hands behind his head and his fingers buried in his hair in frustration as he stared at you. Like he was challenging you. The muscles in his arms were flexed, taut cords and lines that showed off how hard he work at his job and you couldn’t help but stare. 

“What?” You demanded it, a bite of an answer. 

“Your shirt,” Steve nodded to the pink material, brows raised like it were obvious. He almost rolled his eyes. “Take it off.”

Above you, the rain outside fell a little harder, a consistent din against the thin roof. 

You didn’t say anything. You just hoped you didn’t lose your cool as you reached for the hem of your t-shirt, untucking it from your shorts. The cotton stuck to you uncomfortably, dragging against your skin as you raised it up and over your head, the brief second where your eyesight was blinded a terrifying prospect. 

Was he looking? At you? Was he watching? Did he care?

By the time you’d balled up the offending fabric and tossed it in the corner, Steve had turned his back to you, pressing some buttons on the tape deck until the song - some kind of mambo - played for the beginning again. You couldn’t see his face but you wondered if he’d caught sight of your bra, as plain as it may have been. White cotton, thin with scalloped edges and a tiny pink bow between the cups. Hardly sexy, nothing near scandalous, but there was certainly a lot more skin showing now. 

Slick, damp skin that you wondered if he’d touch. It was like he wasn’t allowed to, the way he skirted around you all of the time, his hands shoved into his pockets when he wasn’t demonstrating the next step, a fist pressed to his chin as he watched you repeat his instructions, a wide palm always hovering just out of reach of your lower back when he scolded you for slouching, like he’d went to put his hands on you - only to pull catch himself at the last second. 

“You gotta loosen your hips,” Steve’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he turned back around. His eyes were on the floor before he finally dragged them up your legs and over your bare stomach. He sucked in a breath. “You’re too rigid.”

“You told me to hold my shoulders,” you retorted, knowing fine well that he’d bitched about your ‘noodle arms’ for days. 

“Yeah, your upper body needs to be squared off. Hold yourself tight from here up,” Steve gestured to your waist with the side of his hand. He didn’t touch you, but you could feel the heat radiate from him. “But from here?” He tapped at the button on your shorts. 

You froze. 

“From here down, you need to put a bit of swing in the hips, alright?” He spun, putting himself behind you but you could see him in the mirror that leant against the cabin wall, an old looking thing that was too ornate to be here. Once gold, it had carvings of cherubs on the frame, tiny wreaths and rosettes intertwined with ancient style busts. “It’s a mambo, sweetheart, put a little heat into it.”

The tape begun again and Steve leant against a dresser, arms folded across his bare chest, his open shirt plastered to his skin. He watched you, waiting. The intro played and you counted the beats, nodding your head to each note and before you could hit the mark. Thunder rumbled somewhere outside and you were suddenly reminded of a man that looked like Steve, standing and watching you like that in a room much smaller than this, lit by firelight, dressed like a fighter. 

“You missed the count,” Steve sighed, exasperated. 

His hair had been longer, his face bruised and bleeding, but it looked just like him. A familiar scene, like you’d maybe seen it in a movie, but it felt more like a dream you didn’t recall having. You looked down at your feet, chest heaving, lips parted in confusion and you were only more dazed when you saw your bare legs and not the long skirts you expected. Your body didn’t feel like yours, not really. 

Like it was borrowed, or broken. 

You turned, facing Steve as if you expected him to be dressed differently, in leathers and studs and pleats, but he was still the same, just looking at you as if you’d suddenly fallen ill. Maybe you had. 

“Drink some water,” he ordered, and yes, that sounded like a really good idea. “Then we’ll go again.”

You chugged the bottle, the water tepid and hard to swallow but you gulped it down greedily, praying against heat stroke or whatever else it could be that could be plaguing you with such hallucinations. You swiped at your lips and closed your eyes before you turned back to the boy and when you did, he looked the same as he always did. 

Annoyed, tired, pretty. 

“C’mere,” Steve said briskly, crooking a finger at you. You stepped towards him, unsure of what he was asking you, lingering awkwardly with a few feet of space between you. Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, I mean— here.”

He touched you then, his hand reaching out to grasp your own as he pulled you forward, closer than you’d ever been. There was barely space for a prayer between you both. 

You thought that his hand in yours would’ve made you feel something, a spark, a fizz, that buzz that you felt in your bones around him. But something else settled over you instead, a strange familiarity, a longing for a home you didn’t know or didn’t remember, like Steve touching you was hardly anything new. His touch made you think of the sea, of vast gardens, of islands and storms and great wars, ruby wine and promises that seemed impossible to keep. 

From the unsettled look in Steve’s eye as he stared down at you, you thought that maybe he felt the same thing. 

But then he was fussing, moving his feet into the right position and mumbling about your stance. His hand took you with him as he moved, less than an inch separating your bare stomach from his and you let him direct you as he pleased, waiting for the song to reply from the top. The drums began, a cacophony of instruments you’d never be able to name joining in. 

And then Steve was counting, his eyes suddenly fixed on yours as he nodded to the beat. “And five, six, seven—”

Steve’s other hand was on your waist. 

His palm felt huge, big enough to envelop your side and his thumb was pressed into the soft of your belly, just below your ribcage. His fingers were splayed out over your bare back, his skin warm against your own and you’d never felt so completely consumed by just one touch. You were reminded of white sheets and hazy mornings, the taste of fresh bread and an open window that looked out to blue skies and you could hear a fountain spraying water. 

But you were moving before you could consider it, what it meant, what it was, if it was possible to have someone else’s memories trapped in your head. Steve moved and you followed, your feet chasing his step by step as he walked you back and forth, his hips turning into yours on each beat, his shoulders set and his chin held high, ever the professional. 

“Don’t look at your feet,” he murmured, barely heard over the music. “Chin up. Look at me.”

You didn’t know how to tell him it hurt to do so, how looking into his eyes this close felt like giving in, it felt like being stitched back together without any medication. You had never been aware of any wounds in your body, but this man you barely knew seemed to fill the space very well. 

So you did, holding your breath until your chest burned, your eyes meeting Steve’s as you clasped his hand in your own and gripped his shoulder, letting him lead you around the cabin floor. The storm raged on, louder than before, more threatening now, like it was arguing, fighting, scolding. 

The rain poured harder and what little evening light there had been was now dampened, the setting sun hidden behind navy and violet coloured clouds - but the heat was just as oppressive. Steve turned you, a twist of his body that led into yours as you spun on your toes, and when he caught you— when he caught you, his hand moved lower, slipping down your overheated skin until his fingers grazed the denim waistband of your shorts. 

Maybe he saw you falter, maybe he saw your lips part, but Steve sucked in a breath and kept moving, his chest brushing your own as you stepped into his space as he danced into yours, torso meeting, separating, meeting, separating, meeting—

“Keep count,” he reminded you. “Keep counting the beats.” 

You nodded, Steve’s face startlingly closer than before, as if he’d forgotten his boundaries, the box he created with strong arms, the one that kept him professional as a dancer, standing tall and strong. Now his elbows were bent, his hand falling from yours so both of his palms could bracket your hips and it was too much, it was everything you’d ever wanted, it was something you felt like you’d once had. 

You just couldn’t remember who had taken it away from you. 

Lightning lit the cabin, the storm over the resort, the sky black. 

“Remember your hips,” he whispered, and god, god, his forehead was almost touching yours, his nose drawing a line against your own as his eyelids dropped and his lashes fanned his pink cheeks. His hands guided your waist, moving you from side to side, following the rhythm. “Listen to the beat.”  

You were sure he meant the music, but it was impossible to ignore the thud of his heart against your own chest. You could feel yours even more so, a constant drumming that seemed to seep into your bones, making them crack at the edges, something blooming between them, something new and old and familiar and exciting. 

Like driving into your street after a long vacation, like falling into your own bed after too many weeks away, smelling the laundry detergent that clung to everyone else that you loved. It felt hopeful, like the beginning of the morning when the only thing that had entered your thoughts was the way the sun looked in the sky, how pink it was, how the clouds seemed softer than the day before. 

Steve pushed at your hips, holding them as you swayed from side to side, your hands leaving the safety of his shoulders to slip up, holding the sides of his neck, the heat of his skin scalding your palms and he nodded, pupils blown wide and lips parted as he stared down at you in amazement, like he was seeing you for the very first time. 

Like he was seeing you for the first time after a very long time apart. 

“Good,” he told you softly, like he was still teaching you, like this was still professional. Like he hadn’t put his hand on your lower back and obliterated whatever wall someone else had built between you. Something that had once seemed so strong was knocked down so easily, like not even a god could keep it between you. “Good. Like that, just like that—”

He swore when you moved closer, emboldened by his pretty eyes and the way his gaze tracked down your chest, down your bare stomach. His fingers flexed on your hips, blunt nails tattooing your skin and you hoped the marks would stay there, you hoped they’d be there tomorrow so you could remember that this wasn’t a dream. 

His leg found its way between yours, the song finally slowing to the last few drumbeats and you knew this was the time where you were supposed to spin in Steve’s arms and raise your hand in a grand finish. But Steve tucked your hips close to his instead and let his thigh push into the seam of your denim shorts. 

The song that came on next was slower, lazier, languid. 

The singer had a deeper voice, the drums rolling with a dirtier beat and this wasn’t the mambo, this wasn’t a salsa and it certainly wasn’t anything you’d do in a ballroom never mind on stage in front of others. You’d seen this kind of dancing once before, the night after you first arrived at Bauman’s. You hadn’t meant it, but a walk along the lake after the sun had set had led you to a larger cabin at the back of the resort, where the lights were on and the music was loud. 

Music like this. 

A guy at the door with long curls and an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips had appraised you, one eyebrow lifted at your little white summer dress and tennis shoes. 

“You work here?” He’d asked and you had shaken your head, ready to walk back the way you came. “You a snitch?” He asked after a pause. 

Again, you shook your head ‘no’ and listened as the music inside got louder. The man, who you were sure you’d seen on stage during dinner, playing the guitar for the dining  guests, just shrugged. He’d nodded to a stack of beer crates at the side of the building.

“Grab a case and keep your mouth shut, alright?” He’d opened the door for you, the music louder than ever, the smell of smoke and weed and sweat pouring out. You remember how’d he grinned at you as you took in the sight. “Have fun, princess.”

It’s where you’d seen Steve for the second time, in the middle of a makeshift dance floor with the bow tie and dinner jacket he’d worn during his evening performance long gone. Moving with a girl with his shirt buttons open, his hair a mess, grinding and manhandling her in a way you weren’t sure you would even call dancing. Everyone was doing the same, hips gyrating, skirts too short, men’s chests bare, the smiles meeting in an almost kiss.

It was nothing short of scandalous. 

You’d left, dumping the beer on a table beside a watermelon that almost rolled to the ground in your panic, turning from the crowd and walking out the way you’d came. The curly haired man had snorted at the sight of your wide eyes, calling out a goodbye between laughs. 

And here you were, not even two weeks later, doing the same, if not worse. Why worse? You and Steve were alone. 

Thunder cracked again, louder than before. 

It didn’t feel wrong to be doing this. In fact, for as much trouble as you’d be in if your father had had to catch you, everything about it felt right, like you’d done it before, like this man was yours to touch. But something that felt like danger lingered in the air, a threat far more serious than your dad or Mr Bauman. 

But still, you let your body move with Steve’s, a slow grind of your hips into his and when your hand found the nape of his neck and your fingers twisted into his hair, Steve’s palm cupped your ass, pulling you into him, making you feel how affected he was. 

It should’ve scared you. How this man was touching you, this person you barely knew, alone in a cabin and who you were so sure had hated you only a mere ten minutes before. But Steve looked as gone as you felt, eyes filled with longing, a passion that was visible, his brows knitted together as he stared down at you hungrily, lovingly, adoringly. 

It was almost too much to bear. So you let your head fall back, body slack as you kept dancing, trusting the man to keep you upright and against his own chest and you heard Steve let out a breath at the sight of your exposed neck, the long line of it offered to him like a sacrifice. 

“That’s it,” you heard him murmur. “You feel the beat now?” His words fell on your throat, your bare skin, the top of his nose drawing a line from the base of it to your jaw, his mouth following and you were so sure he wasn’t talking about the music anymore. 

But you nodded, clinging to him when he dipped you backwards, his hands holding you like you were precious, like you were made of marble and gold and suddenly you felt like Steve could’ve been. Like someone had taken a piece of the earth and grown this man from it, just for you. Like he had something ancient in his bones, like whatever he was made of you, you were created from the same thing too. 

When he pulled you back up, effortless and graceful, you were closer than before, impossibly so. Chests meeting in the middle as you both panted into each other's parted lips, noses meeting and foreheads touching. Steve’s hands were curled around your waist, fingers splayed across your naked back as if he couldn’t bear not to touch every part of you. Your hand was on his neck, your fingers brushing over two moles on his tanned skin, the ones you’d watched Nancy touch before you. 

But as you pressed your fingertips to them, your lips buzzed and Steve let out a sigh, like you’d unravelled a knot in his spine, like you’d found a magic button that fixed him. Like you’d touched a place that you’d once touched before. 

“You’ve never touched me before,” you whispered, voice cracking on each syllable because it suddenly was too much. 

Steve looked pained, lashes fluttering as his gaze dropped to your lips and he struggled to find the right words to give you. “I— I shouldn’t be doing it now,” he murmured. “I’m not allowed.”

“Why? Because of your boss? My dad?” 

He grinned, a smirk that faltered too quickly and he shook his head, still not moving from you, his nose nudging yours as he struggled to keep himself from shifting closer still. “You’d think that should’ve been enough to keep me away.” Steve licked his lips and you tracked the movement, so sure that he’d taste like summer and salt and the peach tea from the diner. “Not even the threat of losing my damn job and house can keep me away from you.”

His words had an effect on you, breath hitching, chest aching. “Then who said you’re not allowed?”

The song was still going, a lazy beat that was easy to sway to, Steve’s leg still wedged between your thighs and his hands were wandering, sensual and slow, a whole other kind of dance over your skin. Fingers gripped at your waist before one hand trailed down your hip, over your bare thigh, ghosting over the line of your torn off shorts. He brought your thigh to his hip, hitching your leg high, pressing you both together until you could feel him all, until he could feel all of you.

Laid bare enough for you to feel like he could take the very soul of you from your body.

You found that you didn’t mind the idea of it at all.

“You’ll laugh at me,” Steve murmured but he didn’t sound embarrassed at all, like he didn’t actually believe that you would.

You shook your head, nose brushing against the tip of his and if you moved another inch, just one, you could’ve been kissing him, mouth slotting against his. “I won’t,” you promised.

“I started having dreams when you came,” Steve told you. “Dreams where it always rained and the sky was always dark. And there was a man there, a thing, maybe. But he felt ancient, older than the fucking world and he told me to stay away, to keep away from you.”

You didn’t laugh. No. No, in fact, you didn’t say a damn thing.

Steve laughed, breathless and without any humour, and his hand trailed back up your thigh as your leg dropped slowly to the floor. He spun you both, lazy and languid, but the world around you both still blurred. The cabin faded away, a mix of the low lights and the colours of his quilt on the bed. 

You could barely hear the storm, but god, it was the loudest it had been.

“I want to do ungodly things with you,” Steve confessed and he sounded pained, his throat tight with the same kind of emotion you felt, like you were both sharing the same heart. “I want to do ungodly things to you.”

“Steve--”

“I know it sounds crazy, but there’s somethin’-- somethin’ in the sky or in the goddamn cracks of the earth that’s telling me I shouldn’t.” His bottom lip grazed your top one, an almost kiss, a whisper of one, a mere idea of it. Hardly a touch. “That something real bad will happen if we do.”

You couldn’t explain it, just like you couldn’t explain your sudden proximity to the man, the achingly familiar closeness you felt. But you knew, somehow, some way, Steve was right. 

Tears stung your eyes, a fiery nip that you tried to blink away and when the music slowed to a stop and the next song began, Steve kept moving, your body melted to his, no space between either of you to be able to determine where you ended and he began.

Your voice cracked when you spoke. “What should we do?”

Steve took a breath before he answered, one hand coming up to push against your hairline, his palm coasting down your cheek, holding you, cherishing you. His touch was hot with adoration. 

“We can keep dancing.”

[janeyseymour]

Chicken Wings and Beer

Summary: You're a Hooters girl, and a certain group of teachers sits in your section. A certain redheaded teacher catches your eye, and you seem to catch hers.

WC: ~2.1k

Hooters- they were at the one and only Hooters location in Pennsylvania after a trip to the King of Prussia Mall. Melissa Schemmenti would quite literally be anywhere else but here with her coworkers. Why did they let Mr. Johnson choose where they should go to eat? Ava is all grins, Mr. Johnson greets most of the women in the restaurant with a smile, Barbara looks absolutely appalled to be stepping into this establishment, and the rest of the bunch looks mildly embarrassed.

You eye the group as they come in and immediately start to pour a tall Yuengling for your regular customer. With a quick check that your shirt is where you like it and a glance at yourself in one of the mirrors, you smile as you make your way over.

“Hey, Mr. J,” you say easily as you set the beer down for him.

“Y/N!” the older man chuckles. “How’ve you been?”

“Same old, same old,” you tell him with an easy smile. Then you turn towards the rest to the group. “My name is Y/N, and I’ll be taking care of youse today. Did we want to put in any other drink orders? Appetizers for the table?”

A few of them order beers while doing everything they can to not look at your chest or at the insanely short shorts you’re wearing. Your eyes slowly turn to the redhead that is sitting right in front of you, and… wow. She’s really pretty. She’s stunning. And she’s staring right at your chest without seemingly realizing it.

“Anything for you?” you ask her genuinely as you lean over the table, giving her a better view. You see the way her eyes go just slightly wider and a blush creeps into her cheeks.

“Uh,” she stutters out. “I’ll just take a Yuengling… please and thank you.”

You recite back the drink orders before getting the approval and turning to get the other drinks while they look over the menu. Melissa’s eyes are immediately trained on your ass.

“Melissa!” you hear one of the women scold. “Stop your staring!”

And although she’s being reprimanded for ogling you, you can still feel lingering looks from their direction.

When you return, the redhead’s eyes are immediately on your figure again. You place the drinks down and slide hers in front of her. She quickly takes a big gulp.

“Did youse figure out what all you want to eat tonight?” you ask as you lean on the table again, giving the hot redhead a nice view. Her cheeks immediately turn red again, and she quickly reaches for her beer again.

“We’ll do the pickles, fifty of the wings with sauce on the side- both ranch and bleu cheese, and an order of fries,” your regular customer tells you as he orders for the entire table.

You look around the group, and they all nod for the most part- doing everything they can in their power to only look at your face. The only one looking at your figure on display is the woman right in front of you- the one that caught your eye just as much as you seemingly caught hers. 

You personally bring everything you can over for them, and when Melissa drops her knife and fork on the ground, you easily bend over and pick it up for her.

“Think you dropped these, sweetheart,” you tease her as you set them back on the table with a wink. She can only stare. “I’m just messin’ with you. I’ll be back with a new set for you.” You take the utensils away and bring her another set. When you do, you make sure to show off just enough for her to stare at you with a smile.

“Thanks,” she says shortly, eyes only trained on your body.

“Can I get you guys anything else right now?” you ask politely, that award winning smile of yours on display this time.

Mr. Johnson waves you off before digging into his wings.

“You guys think I only come here for the pretty women, but I’m actually here for the wings,” the custodian tells his friends. “And Y/N is good company.”

“What’s she doing working here anyway?” Melissa asks. “She could be a supermodel.”

“Putting herself through nursing school,” Mr. Johnson tells the group.

“Damn!” Ava cuts in through a mouthful. “Hot and smart?”

“Wants to do pediatrics,” the janitor throws in. “She’s a good one. Always telling me about how she can’t wait to get out of here and start working at CHOP.”

“So, she’s hot, smart, and good with kids?” the principal asks incredulously. “There ain’t no way.”

“It’s possible,” Melissa shrugs as she bites into a wing.

“You think she’s hot?” Jacob asks. He knows that the second grade teacher bats for both teams.

“Of course she does!” Ava laughs. “She’s only been making eye contact with the girl’s boobs this whole time!”

“She’s single,” Mr. Johnson tells the group, but it’s mostly pointed at the second grade teacher. “Broke up with her girlfriend a few months ago. Poor girl was devastated.”

“Ooh, girl,” Jacob giggles like a schoolgirl. “You should ask her out!”

“I don’t know if she should do that,” Barbara huffs as she plucks a wing off the plate. “With such a… job choice that she’s making right now.”

“I respect it,” Janine shrugs. “If she’s putting herself through nursing school, good for her.”

“Ask her out!” Mr. Johnson eggs on the redhead. “She’s a good person.”

Melissa just takes another swig of her beer. 

You can hear them all encouraging her to ask you out, and you have to let out a soft chuckle as you chat with some of the other girls. They’re all telling you that you absolutely should ask her out.

“I don’t know,” you sigh as you fiddle with the ring that sits on your middle finger. “She’s pretty, but I doubt that-”

“Girl,” your fellow server rolls her eyes. “She’s been drooling over you since they walked in here. I’m sure Mr. J will help you out. If he’s here with her, you know she has to be good people.”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I’ll think about it.”

A bit later, you bring another beer over for the redhead. You give her a wink and a bright smile before making your way back to the counter.

“She’s still staring at your ass.”

“And she should!” another one of your coworkers smirks. “Respectfully, you got a body on you, babes.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” you roll your eyes.

Only a few minutes later, the patron that you’ve had your eye on heads to the bathroom, and Mr. Johnson waves you over.

“What’s up?” you chuckle.

“What do you think of Melissa? She’s cute, right?” the janitor gets straight to his question.

You laugh nervously. “She’s pretty, yeah.”

“You should ask her out. She’s the best second grade teacher we got.”

You go to respond, but one of the younger teachers begins to protest. “Mr. Johnson! I’m right here!”

“I’m sure she’s a great teacher,” you try to placate. “I’m sure you all are.”

“You been flirting with her since we got here,” the custodian points out.

You bite your lip nervously. “No I haven’t.”

“You ain’t winked at me,” Ava tells you. “You ain’t winked at nobody but Schemmenti. I say go for it.”

“I-” you glance to the other veteran teacher, who is eying you warily.

“Oh, lighten up, Barb!” Mr. Johnson huffs. “Y/N’s a good one, Melissa deserves to have a little fun, and it’s clear these two are-”

He’s cut off by Melissa coming back to the table, and she has to brush past you just a little to sit back down.

Neither of you are expecting to feel that special touch- literally. She accidentally shocks you, and you have no idea how.

You jump just slightly, letting out a small yelp in surprise. Then you give her a sweet smile and tell her not to worry about it, affectionately patting her arm. The woman turns about as red as her hair.

“Can I get you guys anything else right now?” you ask. “Or are we still all good?”

“I think we’re good for right now,” Mr. Johnson tells you. “And hey, think about what I said.”

“What’d you say?” Melissa asks. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling her to think about her future,” the man covers. Then he shoos you off. With a laugh, you turn on your heel and head over to check on your other table. You sway your hips a bit more than probably necessary, but you can guarantee that those green eyes are trained on your ass, and you might as well give her a show. Then you’re back to where the girls are, and they’re all cheering for you.

“Girl, she’s putty in the palm of your hand,” your coworker laughs. “I think you should just slip her your number.”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks to do it,” another tells you.

You can’t believe your friends. “Girls, I’m not going to do it… for the money. I’m gonna do it because I think she’s hot.”

So, when Mr. Johnson asks for the bill, you write the stereotypical ‘thank you’ on it, adorn with a scribbled out heart, before also writing your phone number down. You make it very clear that it’s for Melissa. As you set it on the table, you hope that she’ll grab it, but the custodian does instead. He gives you a knowing smirk.

“Mel, I think you should cover the bill this time,” he hands over the receipt.

The redhead looks over to him in shock. “No way. You wanted to come here. You pay.”

“Melissa,” Jacob nudges her. “Take the bill.”

“What the hell guys?” She doesn’t reach for it, but she does grab her purse and fish out her wallet. She hands you her card. “Just charge it.”

“Melissa!” Ava says pointedly. “You have to know what she’s going to run it for!” Everybody at the table has now seen that your number is very clearly printed on there, with a note that says ‘for the hot redhead, if she wants to go out sometime’. 

“I’ll see what she runs it up as when I get the notif-”

“Good God, woman!” Barbara has had enough and shoves the check in her face so that she sees the ten digits printed on there. “Take the damn bill!”

Emerald green eyes widen and sparkle as they see what you had written, and you almost feel embarrassed that you shot your shot with her. What if she-

“Is this really your number?” she asks as she looks to you, and for the first time she makes eye contact with you. She finds that your face is even more beautiful than the rest of your body… that your eyes sparkle with mischief and kindness, and everything that she wants.

You just smile at her before taking her card to run at the register. The girls instantly flock over to you.

“So she saw it?”

“Don’t act like youse weren’t watching the whole thing,” you roll your own eyes. You print the receipt to hand back to Melissa and head back over to the table.

“Youse all have a good night,” you tell the group, but your eyes are only on the redhead in front of you. In a rather daring move, you lean down so that your body is only highlighted. Melissa’s eyes go right to your body.

“That is my real number, so… if you ever wanted to get dinner sometime, I’m sure I can squeeze you in with my tight schedule.” You pat her arm affectionately before standing back up and walking to Mr. Johnson’s spot. You give the older man a gentle pat on the back and wish him well, telling him you’re sure you’ll see him soon.

The group heads out, you head back to your station with the girls, and as they’re exiting, you hear a few of them congratulating Melissa, asking if she really is going to reach out.

You wonder the same thing, but work calls. You have their table to clear, a few other tables to check in on, and then who knows what else will happen tonight. As you’re clearing their table though, a text from an unknown number comes through.

It’s Melissa, the first text reads. Then another comes through. Let me know when you can get dinner, and where.

You smile to yourself the rest of your shift.

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

love sick! eddie x fem reader

eddie comes to your house in the middle of a rainstorm begging for something you can’t give him

hurt no comfort, reader is kinda a fuck girl in this situation, eddie is sweet, smut 18+ only mdni

Rain pattered loud against the windows, thunder clapped and rumbled in before the lightning rode behind and brightened the midnight sky. His hair was sopping wet, dark waves drenched to silky ropes. You didn’t know how long he was knocking before the repetitive noise had woken you. 

He was soaked.

Soggy Reeboks squished against the doormat as he chattered his teeth unwillingly through the threshold of your front door. 

Water pooled around his feet as you counted the slow drops of rain falling  from his fingertips onto the carpet. A steady rhythm— anything to keep your eyes from seeing the hurt etched into his face. 

A fling was all this was supposed to be. Nothing serious.   No feelings. You kept your side of the bargain but Eddie fell for you before he could stop himself. He thought if he kept his feelings hidden you wouldn’t catch onto them, or maybe he silently hoped you also had feelings for him. 

It wasn’t until he noticed your car parked outside of Steve Harrington’s house, on the way to work one morning. Dew slicking your windows, that he realized you had been there since night, having spent the evening tucked into a king bed with Steve, of all people.  

He ignored his aching heart, shook away the hurt. The smile he put on when you stopped by his work to have a quickie in the bathroom, was practically believable, award winning.

Your car showed up in other driveways, and he wondered if you’d always been there— under his nose, or if this was new for you. 

Eddie wanted you all to himself. But that was not part of what this was. Months went by and he never once turned down your midnight calls. He ignored hickies that weren’t from him, earrings with initials that weren’t his or yours. He wouldn’t dare lose you because he couldn’t handle how he felt. But one night he messed up.

The night was like any other, he was buried inside of you, as you rode him in the tub. Soapy water was splashed all over the floor, his tattoos looked alive beneath the shimmery smears of body wash. As your tits bounced in his face, your fingers were curled tight at the back of his neck, wringing the wet from his curls. 

And it slipped.

You felt so good, your perfect body full in his hands, delicious curves and smooth skin he could never get enough. He’d never forget the tangy lick of cherry on your lips, the way your eyes closed as you came. 

Three words fell like a prayer from his lips, a spewed string of murmurs that stung his eyes from relief, finally letting it out. And as he came you stopped cold. 

And that was it. 

It had been a month. Arguably the worst month of Eddie Munson’s life. 

A month spent drunk and high, only to find out that the demons couldn’t be deceived. The reality of you telling him it was over hit him over and over again. Your face, the tears you wouldn’t allow yourself to fall, blinded his dreams, tortured his sober hours. He was a wreck. 

Arms crossed tight, socked toes working into the carpet you haven’t stopped staring at the water running from his rings. 

“Eddie… what are you doing in the rain?” 

He couldn’t tell you that he walked here from The Hideout. That he just needed to see your face. 

“Are you drunk?” You reach for the keys on the little hook shelf he had put up for you after it sat in a plastic bag on your table for weeks. He teased you about knowing your way around a screw driver, put the wall stud meter on himself and told you it was broken when it didn’t beep.

He didn’t say anything and you sighed clutching the keys in your palm and reaching for a jacket, “c’mon, let me drive you home.” 

He held your arm before it could grip the cotton of your jacket, bringing it down to your side. 

“Please..” he begged, a cold hand moved to your cheek and you finally looked at him. Almost taken aback by the purple circles of agony coloring his under eyes, his skin was sickly ghost-white and pale, “I wanted to see you.” 

You breathed his name as his fingers curled around your jaw, sighing, closing your eyes, “I can’t… I can’t be what you need.” 

Love wasn’t for you. It never had been, and he understood that… until he didn’t, until he told you he loved you, until he swore you felt the same. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. 

He felt insane coming here. The guys tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen.

“I know, I just…” what he wanted was you, wanted to feel your body pressed to his, wanted to taste your lips as you desperately unzipped his pants— giggling in the empty hallway to his bedroom. 

He wanted to hear your pretty sighs as he nipped at your thighs, feel your knees buckle when his fingers pushed past your warm slick lips under your skirt. 

“..didn’t get to— I know you can’t change how you feel but..”

“Eddie…”

“…lie to me.” 

You’re stunned, staring back at him at his wild eyes filled with so much hurt you could feel it in your soul. “I… don’t understand.” 

He wets his lips then, and you can taste the bated breath on them, the intoxicating essence that Eddie always filled you with, and you yearn for more. 

He’s so close to you now, pressing your back firmly against the shut door. his wet hair beading onto the thin strap of your tank top. 

“Please sweetheart,” he whispers, moving the strap down your arm, “.. lie to me, tell me you love me.” 

You hang your head, murmuring out a plea that’s formed with hot staticky lust and pain, “I don’t want to hurt you Eds.” 

A finger hooks under your chin bringing you back up to him and he smiles with tears in his eyes, “you won’t baby, you never could.” 

You say it and his lips find yours in a heated squish of flesh and teeth. The gasping breath echoing along the walls as Eddie hooks his arms beneath your knees and carries you tight against his chest to your room. 

Your arms untangle the leather jacket from his shoulders, and when he sets you down like a dainty flower on your mattress he finishes the hasty job of wrestling his arms out from the destroyed fabric and it slaps to the ground. 

Clothes are everywhere, yours dry and his completely soaked, he shivers in his nakedness, skin bitter cold to the touch. He seethes when your warm hands pull him down to you, your body practically a furnace against his. 

His mouth is hot against the column of your throat, sliding his tongue around the silk of your skin. His hips roll into your body when he smells your shampoo, fuck he’s missed you. 

You’ve missed him. Nobody in Hawkins could compare to the way Eddie made you feel. 

He intertwined your fingers like lover’s would and you let him. Easy to pretend that you were both on the same page of feelings, everything with Eddie came easy. He’s murmuring nonsense into your neck, tongue swirling, teeth biting, marking you up the last time. 

He wanted to be yours. Wanted you to want to be his. But he had to let you go, and tonight he would spend as much time as he could bringing you over the edge of the peaceful shattering of pleasure. 

He moves down your body kissing between the valley of your tits, lapping up your honey sweet nipples like they were made of nectar. Never getting enough. 

Your pitiful moans dance like dandelions around your room and he nearly cums on your blanket when you pant his name as his tongue licks up your cunt. 

He’d missed your taste, the way he’d fuck you stupid and hours later he could still taste you on his lips. You wrap your thighs around his head like he knew you would. 

A peek up your body and your fingers were fisting the comforter, and he smirked into your clit. 

Whoever you were fucking now must not be doing it right because you had come fast on his tongue not once, but twice, and his heart swelled with pride. 

When he climbed back up the bed, your eyes were shut and you looked drunk, ragged breathing making your heart skip beats. 

He lays beside you, kissing your bare shoulder, working a path to your cheek, waiting patiently for your strength to come back, whispering how he’s missed you, how beautiful you are, and you hold back tears. 

-

You said it again when he stretched you open, gasping and crying out from his size, “..fuck, so so so big.” 

He chuckled into your neck, pistoning his hips with a jerk causing you to moan, “don’t want you to forget about me pretty girl.” 

Your reply is snuffed out into his neck, slurred out with moans and murmurs of his name. He fucked you hard then slow, a lazy rhythm with his forehead resting on yours, collecting your lips with his whenever he could, swallowing each others groans.

He’s close, and so are you. You can feel his arms beginning to shake, and his breathing picks up in racing tandem with yours. “where’d you want me?” 

Your eyes are rolled back and you’re arching your back from the bed, babbling a plea of how you don’t care where, and your orgasm snaps. 

Eyes pinched and huffing you both come at the same time, tangled in sweaty sheets and frizzy hair. It’s pure bliss, no matter how ignorant you may both be in the moment.

—

Hours pass. Eddie’s light snores keep you company with the hum from the dryer filled with his clothes. Your fingers slide through his curls, working knots out with your fingernails as he lays heavy on your chest. His lips are red from the night, maybe a bit swollen. 

Pushing back his bangs you get a good look at his features. The bulby nose, the silver scar on his forehead that you never thought to ask where it came from. The thick sweep of black lashes contrasting to his porcelain skin. He was beautiful. 

And you were a liar. 

Saying it a third time tonight, you say the three word lie Eddie begged you to tell him. 

He was fooled, and you’d keep doing it to protect him from you. Because saying you loved Eddie, never was a lie.