#scoop them out with a pencil .

[junk-culture]

beetles threat has been neutralised. return to your positions.

[rafesslxt]

slytherin boy‘s | how they get turned on

headcanon - this is my opinion, you do not have to agree with what i write

contains: mattheo riddle, theodore nott, draco malfoy, enzo bershire

— Mattheo Riddle —

everywhere and any time!! The list is long!

when you two are in class and you start concentrating so you slightly chew on the end of your pencil

when you smile and laugh - he would be so happy when you are carefree

when you wear his favorite color. Underwear or normal clothes, it doesnt matter. It makes you look so good in his eyes that he just wants to rip them off

when you get mad - damn, espacially when you talk in your native language

when you wouldn‘t talk to him so he would try and apologize while slowly kissing up and down your neck and shoulders

when you sat on his lap when no seats would be available. You all sat down in the train to hogwarts and as your friends saw that there was no space for you they started to scoop togethet but you would just let your ass fall down on mattheo‘s lap, smiling innocently at him

when you got turned on somehow while the two of you would stand seperated at a party, talking to your friends and he could see your desperate gaze at him

when you got drunk – he would never do anything with you under the influence but still he would get turned on on your loose tounge and words plus your touchy hands

when you do something sexy but smile innocently. Like you would bend over in class when he sat behind you, picking something up and then look over your shoulder back to him, smiling. Or you would make a ponytail, taking your time with it and again – smiling at him innocently, reminding him of how you got ready before –

when you got jealous. It wasn‘t just the fact that you got mad and that alone already turned him on, but he felt how much he meant to you and that he‘s important to you making him go even more ferral

when you took control – he was alway used to do things on his own, being tense all the time so when you did he felt so under your control it turned him on – especially in the bedroom

when you got into a fight with someone talking shit about him being the son of voldemort so you would come back with a bloody nose knocking on his door – just the tought of you hitting someone for him

— Theodore Nott —

when you talked to him a lot or read to him so he could stare at your soft plump lips moving

when you‘d come back from some sort of training, all sort of sweaty, out of breath and red face - got him going crazy

when you corrected him. The two of you would study together and after already staring at your lips he would raise his eyebrows at you correcting him. "oh so you‘re all smart and all shit now yeah? Let‘s see what you can use your smart mouth else for."

you touching him softly so he would get goosebumps all over his body

when you wear his clothes – especially after waking up and you just wearing his way too big shirts with only underwear under it but also when you would wear his hoodies on the weekends so everyone could see you‘re his

— Draco Malfoy —

when you wear his initials on a necklace he bought you or on your ring so everyone could see you belong to him

when you are confident in your own skin, chin always up. Showing everyone not to mess with you – he would be so proud too

when you would whisper gossip in his ear but not because of the gossip but because of the whispering and your hot breath on his ear

he always felt touch starved even If he‘s not so any kind of touching him would turn him on. Even something like you two laughing and joking and you touching his arm

— Enzo Berkshire —

to me he is the most shy of the group I‘m sorry ya‘ll i know there is a lot discussion about it

when he hears you ask him If you can be on top, riding him. His breathing would get heavier at the tought

generally when you are more dom and he‘s more sub – it would turn him on so much seeing you in control of hin

when you get touchy in front of his friends on a night out, party or just a little gathering – his cheeks would flame up so badly but at the same time it feels like a forbidden fruit to him in front of people

when you massage his scalp – he would get goosebumps all over his body and bite his lip while trying to control himself – failing of course

when you come back from some kind of training too like Theodore but also If he watches you and hears you groan in frustration – voice kink

when you kiss him – yes, so that‘s often. And no matter where you two are also.. in class, with his friends, his or your family

when you do things like grabbing his shirt to pull him in to kiss him, whispering and nibbling his ear, getting him flustered on porpuse with saying dirty things in his ear while friends are around

but also If you let him take completly control of you all tied up giving you to him

thanks for reading 🫶🏻

xoxo sarah <3

[luvjunie]

miles “i got it” morales earth 42 miles 591 words

Between the both of you, Miles is always the first to stand up when the bell rings at the end of class. With all the textbooks you bring to school, he knows your backpack is just one mechanical pencil away from hitting a ton and for that reason he never lets you carry it yourself. In fact, he makes it his mission to pick it up before you do. With his own backpack on one shoulder, he’ll watch for the exact moment you’re done tucking your supplies away just to interrupt you as you’re mid-reach so he can scoop it up into his free hand by the top handle.

“I got it.”

Miles always pays for you guys’ dates. You knew this wasn’t abnormal when it came to relationships, seeing as he’s the guy, you’re the girl, and that’s just the ‘societal norm’ or whatever. It’s how your dad told you a male should treat the girl he’s with, and based off how Miles acts, you assumed his own father had given him the same speech as well before he passed. But even when you two take a stroll to the corner store to pick up some cheap snacks for a study session—the total coming out to as little as $4.37 for some sunchips and sour gummy worms—he still won’t let you pay.

He’s already getting his wallet out before the cashier can read the total off. And when you try and protest, he’s all—

“I got it.”

When your laces have come undone and you hadn’t noticed.

“Ma, your shoe’s untied.”

You’ll stop in your tracks and look down at your loosened laces, prepared to hand your phone off to him so you can bend down to tie them, and like always—

“I got it.”

When the pizza you ordered an hour ago finally shows up at the door and you get the ‘arrived’ notification on your phone—which he’s already seen because he’s always looking over your shoulder as you scroll your time away on tiktok, watching them with you as an excuse to be all up on you—you can bet your life on what his response will be.

“I got it.”

You knew he only wanted to be a gentleman, but at this point, you were convinced ‘I got it’ was his middle name instead of Gonzalo.

For a while now, Miles has felt like he has to take responsibility and do everything even when something isn’t asked of him, and you wanted him to know that same sentiment didn’t have to apply to the two of you. So you started trying to beat him at his own game.

Brushing past him and rushing down the concrete steps of his apartment building to make it to the passenger side door and open it for yourself before he can.

Keeping your backpack on the opposite side of your desk so you can have the chance to pick it up before him, even if it earns you a subtle glare each time. And while some days it really is too heavy for you to carry—heavy enough to make you question exactly what point you’re trying to prove here—you remain determined.

Having cash ready and smacking it down on the peeling countertop of the bodega before your snacks have even been rung up, and regardless of how insane you look and how the clerk squeezes his face at you to confirm that, the triumphant grin you give Miles (who’s struggling to contain a smile of his own) doesn’t falter.

“I got it.”

[urhoneycombwitch]

frozen like an angel

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader holiday edition.

foreword: ohhhh I’ve missed them!!! and you all!!!! happy holidays to those who celebrate, and for those who don’t, have a cozy winter fic <3 here is the masterlist for shy!reader, some references may be made to previous fics in the series but no beforehand reading required here. 

cw: Christmas activities, bittersweet fluff, Elizabeth Munson memories, mentions of Reader’s familial backstory (intentionally a bit vague, hoping to expand in future fics!)

wc: 2.8k

___

You’re not even trying to snoop- the paper flutters to the carpet all on its own, freed from the stack of Eddie’s notebooks you’d lifted to dust under. 

Expecting it to be something D&D related, you scoop it from the carpet with the intent to slip it back between the leaves of a random book- when the title catches your eye. In neat, looping black ink across the top: Christmas Apple Cake. 

There’s a pencil-drawn sketch of an apple in the top corner, faded and yellowed with time like the paper it’s on; your thumb runs over it as you scan the ingredients. 

This’ll be perfect, actually- Wayne is coming over tonight for holiday drinks with you and Eddie, a Munson family tradition that’s included you the last six or so years, and you haven’t sorted dessert yet.

The recipe is simple- a hearty, apple-filled spiced cake base, brown sugar glaze to pool on top. After hunting through the kitchen cupboards (sometimes it’s glaringly apparent you live in a former bachelor pad- the baking soda sourced from under the sink and a layer of dust), you get to work baking.

A pound of apples is peeled and diced, meticulously, to the tune of a Bing Crosby record- Eddie bemoans the cheesier aspects of holiday music, so you get your fill while he’s at work (though you’ve caught him humming along to White Christmas on more than one occasion). 

Not that either of you need the money after the generous nest-egg from various government agency pay-offs, but the part-time mechanic schedule has been good for Eddie. Wayne’s pretty much set to take over when the garage owner retires next year, and Eddie is happy to help- keeps his mind and hands busy, sorely needed after so much recovery downtime. 

And you’ve been busy, too- the apples are set to soak in cold water while you prep the batter, thinking of post-winter break classes already. You passed your first end-of-term exams with flying colors, like Eddie knew you would- never mind that they were all 101s, and that your college plans seem a little directionless- at least you’re moving. Able to do something other than waiting to get better.

Eddie’s proud of you, deeply so. That’s really all that matters for now. 

With the batter mixed, you lift handfuls of apple chunks from the water to dry on the rows of flat kitchen towels. There’s a burst of static from the living room speakers; you flick water from your hands and cross swiftly to flip the record to its B-side.

Let It Snow! rings out cheerily while you stir the apples bit by bit into the batter, Deck the Halls by the time you’re pouring the mixture into a greased baking tin. After twisting the counter timer to tick down for an hour, you clean the kitchen in good spirits.

Eddie will be home, soon- Wayne’s closing up shop, which gives his nephew plenty of time to beat him home and cook you all dinner. There’s a tender strip of beef marinating in the fridge with something Eddie referred to yesterday, ominously, as “Grinch Juice”. (The pale green of the sauce is likely due to the rosemary. You think.)

Eddie’s got the meal covered, regardless. (Plus there are always frozen pizzas to fall back on.)

The air swells with warmth from the oven, taking on a sugared, nutmeg and applesauce smell; the little window over the sink fogs over with sweet steam, making the white-snow world outside look even dreamier. Lights twinkle from the front banister, winking at the strip of sister lights across the path at the Mayfield’s door.

Plucking behind your back to loose your apron strings, you realize- for the first time in years, it feels like Christmas. Last year, you were all still learning how to be human, still nursing wounds (both external and in), stepping cautiously onto the thin ice of what it means to survive and be alive.

This year, though? You’re out in the middle of the frozen pond of life making snow angels. Ice skating over the bumps. Twirling around hand-in-hand with Eddie as you both figure it out, together.

Later, the front door creaks open then slams shut, a rhythmic thump of boots shedding snow onto the hall mat. From your vantage point on the couch- sock feet tucked underneath your body to keep warm, dog-eared Tolkien in your lap- you see Eddie before he sees you.

His back is turned as he toes off his work boots, hunched against the cold still in a hand-me-down winter coat of Wayne’s. Stray curls escape the half-up bun of his dark hair, twisting around his face, which lights up with a smile when he sees you.

“Well, well, well,” Eddie says, adopting a faux-serious, low tone as he hangs up his coat and shakes the snow from his hair. “Looks like we got an escapee from Santa’s Workshop.”

You snort, setting the book aside to roll your eyes fondly- if a red flannel shirt and jeans spells elf, you’re willing to play the part. 

Eddie approaches with menacing intent, grin so wide the corner of his lip meets the line of scarring at his cheek. 

He’s still in his work coveralls, pinstriped and oil-stained; Eddie leans his weight into his hands on either side of your head, close enough to bump noses, couch emitting a squeak of protest. 

You flick at the embroidered patch over Eddie’s heart, the one that currently reads JERRY. “Someone’s been naughty today.”

Eddie clicks his tongue, dark brows pulling together in his best approximation of someone who is very sorry. “Yeah. Guess so. You gonna tell the Big Boss on me?”

”Wouldn’t dream of it,” you sigh, tired of playing, ready to loop your arms around Eddie’s neck and kiss him silly (an action he’s more than willing to give in to).

He tastes like sharp mint, and faintly of the cigarette he probably had on break; Eddie mumbles something between kisses and you pull back just enough to hear him say, “You taste sweet.”

“Mmhm. Had to make sure the batter wasn’t poisoned,” you reply, more concerned with dotting kisses along the line of scar that disappears behind his jaw. 

Against your temple, Eddie’s lashes flutter in surprise- “You baked something?”

Pulling away fully now (with one last parting kiss to his forehead), you narrow your eyes as you shift to hold his shoulders at arm’s length- “Does me baking come as a shock to you?”

“No!” Eddie says, quickly, brows lowering from where they’d shot up just a second ago. “No, of course not. You just don’t usually… I mean, I like being the one in the kitchen.”

”I know you do.” Your hands trail to cup his elbows, briefly, before you disentangle yourself to check on the oven. The timer is just about to shriek its warning chorus- with a twist of your hand, it dings pleasantly instead. “I wanted to make something special for our Christmas dessert tonight. Hopefully it’s not actually poisoned.” 

Based on the delicious smell that wafts from the oven, you’ve got nothing to fear- the tines of your testing fork come out from the middle of the cake clean, a pair of mitts snagged to pull it out and set on the stove.

Clouds of steam rise from the fresh pastry, spiced and golden under the overhead lights- it smells like Christmas in a pan. Eddie approaches to watch over your shoulder, his hand steady on your low back as you explain the glaze that needs to be made next- he takes a lungful of fragrant air, and then his hand stills.

Eddie isn’t in the habit of interrupting you, so it’s strange when he does, voice sounding strained as he stumbles through the start of a few different sentences. “How did you- this is- that’s apple cake. My mom’s apple cake. What…”

It must be the smell, transporting him back, and for a moment, your heart sinks. Eddie hasn’t had a flashback in so long; the last one was months ago over the summer when a car backfired and sent his mind spiraling for hours after. 

You turn in his arms, speaking carefully, ready to soothe- “Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, honestly, the recipe just fell out when I was moving your things, and I-”

Eddie’s eyes are brimming with tears when he interrupts you again- this time, to kiss you; there’s a slip of his tear that tracks down your own cheek as you kiss him back. 

He’s holding you, now, mirroring you from earlier, thumbs squeezing at the inside of your elbows, forehead resting in a slow roll against yours as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t know… I didn’t think any recipes of hers survived the move from Tennessee.”

“It was in one of your old journals,” you murmur, reaching to wipe the wet track of tears from his face even as he moves to do the same for you. “Did your mom used to make this for you?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, wetly, kisses the palm of your hand where it rests against his face. “Every Christmas until I was five or so. Got the recipe from her mom, some Appalachian tradition. Wayne would know better than me.”

Eddie’s looking at the cake again, a familiar hazed-over stare that makes your heart hurt in sympathy, memories flooding back in at an overwhelming degree. You’re quiet for a few moments, pressing your face into the side of Eddie’s coveralls, letting him find his footing before asking, quietly- “Wanna help me make the topping?”

In another life, you and Eddie would run a mean kitchen together- years of learning the distinct ways in which the other moves comes in handy when you need to share cooking duties. 

He ducks under your arm effortlessly to grab vanilla while you whisk the sugars and butter, adds splashes and dashes of things to your bowl periodically until the mulled glaze is formed. 

The top of his (Jerry’s) coveralls were shoved down earlier, your help enlisted to tie the long sleeves around his waist in a makeshift apron; good thing your boy runs hot- means he’s comfortable enough to cook in a white cutoff undershirt that’s thin as a napkin. Underneath, Eddie’s all alabaster, lean muscle, black ink tattoos dancing with the corded ripples of scar tissue as he flits around the kitchen.

Between getting the steak ready to sear, and tasking you with prepping the hill of potatoes, Eddie talks about his mother- holidays of years past floating to the forefront on a wave of recollected smell. 

Along with Tennessee apple cake, Elizabeth Munson would wrap chestnuts in tin foil to roast low and slow in the embers of a Christmas fire. One year, she penny-pinched enough to buy part of the neighbor’s turkey for her and then-five-year-old Eddie.

You soak up all these memories, asking questions periodically, immersed in Eddie’s storytelling. It’s rare to hear Elizabeth’s name, and you wonder, suddenly, if that could be changed.

“You know, I really like hearing about her,” you tell Eddie gently, after a gleeful retelling of the time she crashed his sled into the big stump of maple at the edge of their woods. You give the chopped potatoes on your cutting board a push, and they tumble into Eddie’s proffered bowl. “If there’s something I can do, to help… I dunno, make it easier to bring her up- you’d let me know. Right?” 

Eddie considers this as he gathers jars from the narrow spice cupboard, lining them up in a neat row. “Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart. And it’s not… you’re easy to talk to. It’s just hard, sometimes, to learn how to remember her.”

You nod, thoughtful, watching him layer spices and olive oil into the bowl; he uses a wooden spoon to make sure all the potato sides are coated before saying, “And sometimes, it feels downright braggy. I got six whole years with her- most all of ‘em good ones- it’s not something I take for granted. And your mother-”

Eddie cuts himself off, abruptly, knuckles glistening with oil as they tighten into fists. Something inside you wilts, stretches desperately for its light source; you budge up under Eddie’s arm, place a hand to the middle of his chest where his breaths meet you with a shuddery kickstart.

“I know. But you were a kid too, Eddie. Six is just a kid.”

He does his best to hug you back with one arm as your nose seeks the notch behind his ear, a perfect fit, enveloping your senses as you breathe in the spot that smells most like him. “You can share however much or however little you want, of her, with me. Just ‘cuz my parents sucked doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about your one good one. Let me live vicariously, okay?”

You give Eddie a teasing little shake, a flash of teeth against his neck that has him chuckling, shaking off the anger before either of you can be derailed. The potatoes are moved to a baking sheet while Eddie preps the meat, and you send a river of brown sugar glaze over top the cake so it has time to cool.

If Wayne notes the missing piece from the corner of the dessert, later, he doesn’t mention it- the whiskey he’d brought over pairs perfectly with the rich, spiced cake. 

One bite in and Wayne’s head turns, slow, to his nephew sat beside him. Without looking up from his spoonful of melting ice cream, Eddie nods. “Yup. Mom’s cake. Don’t look at me, though.”

Wayne blinks down at the bowl in front of him, then to you, like someone’s woken him from the middle of a dream. “Tastes just like how she used to make it.”

Were it possible to bottle and live off someone’s praise, you’d like to find a way; instead, you tuck the compliment away for a rainy day and give him a warm smile. “I’m glad. I’ll make it next year, too, if you want.”

After dinner (totally delicious despite Eddie’s best attempt to scare you both off with increasingly weird holiday-themed adjectives), Eddie pulls out his acoustic guitar to try his new capo, a gift from Uncle Wayne that’s immediately put to good use.

This autumn, on the same week you went to college for the first time, Eddie taught himself how to play guitar again. A year on from the attacks, his left hand was still stiff, a deep scar across the bridge of his abductor that made more dexterous movement near-impossible.

But your boy, smart and strong and determined, found a way. Eddie surprised you over Thanksgiving break with a cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Hypnotized, though with multiple false starts since both of you cried most of the way through it.

Less tears, this time around, but no less emotional- you steal glances under the pretense of wiping down the table as Eddie sits wide on the couch, black guitar propped on his knees while he adjusts the capo. 

In a nearby armchair, Wayne takes a sip from his whiskey glass- at the first few notes of Edelweiss, his eyes slip closed, lost in memory.

“This was one of her favorites,” Eddie says to you, grinning while his fingers pluck the pattern smoothly.

You lean a hip against the table, wiping abandoned, taking in the gentle movement of Eddie’s hair, his arms, while he plays. He gets so lost in the music, sometimes- a soft look that usually only shows when he’s sleeping peacefully. 

You wonder if Elizabeth looked the same, all those years ago- bent over her special Christmas cake, sneaking tastes on the back of a spoon to the set of dimpled hands that reached for her apron. 

In your back pocket, the recipe card in her handwriting is tucked safely away. While Eddie plays, your fingers brush the outline of the pencil-etched apple, sending a prayer or a wish of some sort to the snow angel in your head.

He’s doing great. He’s so loved and cared for, with me. I hope you know I’m taking care of him. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the cake. 

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[ghostlyfleur]

𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡.

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the sweet progression of steve and his pretty girl’s relationship.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love, oblivious!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader. pet names (angel, baby, flower girl, pretty girl, princess, sweet girl). 18+ mdni, smut-adjacent. world building.

word count: ~4.5k

pre-relationship—

steve’s girl friend is a soft spoken, remarkably sweet, gentle soul. she’s shy, way too anxious, so inexperienced that she comes off as innocent. her wardrobe consists of flowy skirts and flowery dresses and soft sweaters and cozy knits, puts flowers in her hairdos like interwoven in braids or tucked in a half-up half-down mess, has this ethereal vibe to the makeup she likes to wear (ie. shimmery eyeshadow in soft colors, highlighter, sparkly lipgloss, white waterline pencil, fairy wing eyeliner designs, and slightly blushy cheeks), wears silver wire-framed glasses at home when not using contacts and steve thinks it brings out her gorgeous eyes even more. she always wears pretty dangly earrings with flowers, her nails painted with glitter nail polish or neutral soft colors, and steve thinks she’s an angel.

the rest of the people in town mostly think her to be weird and unapproachable, with the way she stops mid walk to crouch down and whisper softly to a ladybug she sees on the sidewalk, or when she accidentally bumps into a street pole and yells out a panicked ‘sorry!’ as if she would hear a reply back.

when steve first met his girl, he was enchanted.

she was so soft and beautiful and kind, but also very anxious; something he noticed the first time she walked into scoops ahoy, and steve was so excited to finally talk to the pretty girl that started working at the flower shop down the block that he’s been pining for. the pretty girl’s reaction to his flirting however was of shyness, nervousness, and seemingly scared silence… so steve decided to make a fool out of himself just to see her smile. it was worth it. steve felt as if her laughter was the equivalent of the skies opening up to let sunshine peak through dark clouds. they eased their way into each other’s lives after that. his girl started seeking him out, finding comfort and safety in his presence and caregiving personality, though remaining clueless of his feelings and just how much robin teased him for being a smitten fool.

“pretty flower girl” is how steve referred to her at the beginning, all heart eyes and dreamy sighs. working at a flower shop seems to fit her so entirely, like she’s in her own little world while surrounded by flora. she’s able to tell you the meanings, both positive and negative, of any flower imaginable, of different plants too! keeps a log book and a journal to track her flora friends’ growth, pressed flowers and polaroid pictures of different bouquets, photographs each beautiful arrangement she creates in a picture album.

her home is also completely taken over by pots and plants and gardens and hanging vines, secrets whispered to them while she waters her little friends as needed, full conversations kept that seem to make all the plants bloom and flourish even more. lots of natural light comes in from the many windows of her cabin, surrounded by greenery and trees and a small pond that wild animals often visit, knowing her safe haven is also a safe haven for any animals. the place always smells like whatever she’s baking, the decor homey and filled with crystals and incense and hand painted mugs and vases. greens, yellows, oranges, and tan colors. books balanced on any available surface.

she becomes steve’s girl best friend, and he loves her so much. worships her, really. steve makes it his mission to spoil and love his pretty girl, even if he hides it behind silly flirting and the pretense of friendship.

whenever they’re together, steve and his girl are all the other sees. the gang has a little bet on who will break first, steve or his flower girl.

her sit is always his lap.

steve swears off other girls as soon as he meets her.

he is very affectionate towards her, and she loves to kiss his cheeks.

they often have sleepovers just the two of them.

they’re so close they can just exist together and be at peace.

she’s so supportive of him too, always praising him and hyping him up.

steve is overprotective of her.

whenever one goes the other sure follows.

see, steve’s girl is so sweet on him it drives robin crazy. because robin knows the feelings are reciprocated, but she also knows both steve and his girl enough to know she needs to let them figure this out by themselves. it doesn’t mean robin isn’t their number one fan, though.

steve’s pretty girl bakes him sweets often to bring to him at work to “make your day a little easier, stevie”, she brings him flowers from her job that steve learns to preserve in his room, she gives him her favorite ring that he never takes off. but steve also does little things for his sweet girl— takes care of her and buys her chocolate because it makes her so happy and giddy he falls a little more in love each time. he also reminds her to drink water, buys her favorite snacks for movie night or when she’s on her period, takes her to the movies, drives her everywhere (because she’s his pretty passenger princess) to have some extra time with her.

oh! steve’s girl also has a bunch of homemade gifts that she keeps in a small glass trunk in her home because she’s too shy to give them to her stevie— handmade bracelets, handmade wire rings, pretty things she finds at thrift stores that remind her of her pretty boy, handmade necklaces, small gifts with pressed flowers, letters she writes down because she feels so deeply for her sweet boy that she needs to let it out somehow, and a bunch of other small gifts that she hopes one day she can give to her stevie to show him how much she loves him.

she’s so lovely to her stevie without even realizing, though. she’s demiromantic, you see, and after becoming friends with steve she started to slowly fall for him. the thing is, she knew very well what was happening, she’s very in tune to her emotions, and she fell for him willingly! whereas steve fell for her fast and kept falling.

imagine his girl never had her first kiss… she’s so inexperienced and her sweet persona and gentle demeanor make her seem like the softest person ever. steve is so mesmerized by her.

he flirts with her and is sweet to her and devotes his time to her and spoils her rotten and gives her kisses and hugs and cuddles and all the love he has to give— steve quickly decided that even if they’re ‘just friends’ he’ll still treat her like his princess, give her everything he can and shower her in his adoration until she catches up. and even then, even when it’s so obvious that steve is in love with her, that he blushes and stutters and gets flustered only for her, that he shows her every day just how much he loves her, she remains oblivious.

in her pov, she knows she’s in love with her stevie so she’s going to treat him like the most precious person in her world. which he is. the thing is that she gives him all of her love without ever once considering that he might return it, even as he flirts and quite literally says he’s hers and she’s his all the time, it never even crosses her mind to actually believe it. maybe because she’s trying to protect herself from heartbreak. she just decides that her stevie deserves the world so she’s going to give him all she can.

but she’s so soft with him! holds his face between her hands when talking to him sometimes like she’s holding her whole world on her hands, presses kisses to his cheeks all the time, gives him hugs. she always compliments him, isn’t afraid of telling him exactly what’s on her mind…

“you look so pretty, stevie”

“i’m so proud of you.”

“i missed you lots today!”

“i saw this cute puppy and it reminded me of you ‘cause you’re just as cute!”

“i always prefer your company.”

flower girl is the most adorable sight steve has ever seen! she pouts so prettily whenever she doesn’t get the attention she wants from him, all soft lips and furrowed brows and plush cheeks crossed arms, and steve just wants to pepper kisses all over her face.

her love languages:

she bakes him cookies ; buys him things that remind her of her stevie ; plans these cute little “friend” outings that feel more like dates ; she’s never lacking in her affections though she’s very timid and shy when it happens ; will defend him no matter what ; makes sure to always praise him ; she gets all cranky if someone insults him even playfully ; she’s very shy so she often hides her face on his chest or neck and it makes his heart flutter ; she helps him babysit bc the kids love her ; she gave her stevie a special arrangement of flowers that she created just for him plus a little booklet of pictures of the two of them together that also had pressed flowers on it for his birthday ; she checks in with him every day even if they don’t see each other to make sure her stevie is doing okay ; will stay on the phone with him all night especially if he had a nightmare or a fight with his parents.

where steve’s best friend is all cute and pouty and sweet and clingy and loving but only to her stevie!!!!! and she’s a bit ditzy— talks to animals and plants and inanimate objects like they can answer her, her thoughts jump from one thing to another but steve always entertains her, she skips instead of waking a lot, she dresses all cute and coquette and always has glitter on her somewhere, she gives steve handmade gifts all the time with this shy little smile and blushing and sometimes when the gift is specially meaningful she’ll run away as soon as he accepts it 🥺 she trips over her own feet a lot too!!! so steve has to grip her waist to help her find her footing!!! and it makes her break out in goosebumps!!! and steve is so in love with her, with her ramblings and midnight ice cream cravings and true crime rants and the way she talks about murder and psychopath profiling and laughs at horror movies and has crystals and tarot cards and wants to befriend ghosts, how she gives her stevie little glass bottles with protection spells or anti-anxiety spells or how she always needs to hear his voice before bed.

and she’s so pretty and soft and kind and nice and laughs a lot and everyone loves her— but she never notices how so many people flirt with her, and never notices whenever steve scares possible suitors away, because really she only sees steve!!!!!! and it makes him crazy to see how she blatantly ignores anyone and everyone to focus on him!!!!!

but then one day steve’s girl starts feeling sad and heartbroken because she’s convinced herself that steve still loves nancy so she starts pulling away a little and steve doesn’t understand what he did wrong! robin has to spell it out for him that his girl thinks he still wants nancy when that couldn’t be further from the truth; steve now knows he’s never truly been in love before, not like he is with his angel, and that it was his angel that showed him he deserves someone who loves him just as much as he loves them. therefore, steve does his best to find ways to tell his girl that nancy is in the past, that she has nothing to worry about, but he has to do so while him and his angel aren’t together yet so he slowly breached the subject until he can figure out where his girl stands, if he can make a move, if she’s interested in him too, y’know? like those conversations filled with a deeper meaning and both parties trying to drop hints about their feelings but they’re still too hesitant to be more clear in their affections. for now.

imagine steve spoiling her and making her all giddy and happy and shy and giggly :( i want steve to treat his baby like royalty way before they even get together :( i wanna read about their first kiss and how it makes steve’s knees buckle and how she’s so giggly because it’s her first kiss and he tells her he wants to marry her right then and there and she tells him she never ever would consider being with anyone but her stevie :(

after they get together—

their first kiss happens in what steve considers to be the best night of his life to date.

it was halloween, and he was slightly nervous about going to the fair with not only the kids and robin and eddie, but his girl too. the year before, he stayed in with his angel and robin watching movies and eating junk, which was the perfect night ‘cause he got to cuddle his girl, but last halloween he went out to celebrate didn’t end up being very enjoyable for him… what with having your now-ex call you bulshit, bullshit, bullshit.

however, this is his girl he’s talking about. while it wasn’t a date, simply a hangout with their friend group, steve still considers his girl, well… his. and the fact she insisted on meeting them there herself had him slightly on edge.

she was dressed as a fairy.

steve has never seen anyone as pretty, as mesmerizing. and the way she treated this night, treated him, was driving steve crazy.

first, once she meets everyone at the entrance of the amusement park they agreed to go to, she insists on paying for both herself and steve. literally grabs steve’s wallet from his hand and only gives it back after she pays.

he, of course, only really allows it because she gives him her — in steve’s opinion illegal — pouty puppy eyes that she knows steve can’t say no to.

afterwards, once they all enter and the kids disperse to the various entertainment with the agreement of meeting up later to eat, steve’s girl drags him away from robin and eddie, who were both sporting knowing grins, to a shooting booth where she proceeds to win, suspiciously easily might he add, a stuffed frog for him.

and then she grabs his hand. albeit hesitantly, but she does. intertwining their fingers and everything.

the entire night was a dream for steve, and unbeknownst to him, for his girl too. she had a plan, you see. his angel was pulling out all the stops, even if she was shy and blushy the whole time— paying for the tickets for both of them was number one. followed by winning steve a stuffed animal, holding his hand, sharing fried oreos and cotton candy (again, paid by her), and going to the photobooth. the ferris wheel would be last, but it’s what happens inside the photobooth that matters.

once inside, steve made sure she was sat on his lap. she payed again. the pictures go a little something like this:

1st pic steve is laughing and she’s looking at him like he’s her dream come true which he is / 2nd pic she pushes forward not being able to wait any longer and quickly presses her lips to his a bit messily / 3rd pic is her looking all flustered and shy and doe-eyed while steve has this dazed look in his eyes and his jaw is dropped / 4th pic is steve grabbing her cheeks and kissing her fully, brows furrowed and all.

steve steals another kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, it was giggling and smiling more than kissing, though.

on the drive home, angel makes a stop at their self-assigned star gazing spot where she officially asks steve to be her boyfriend, all flustered and timid but oh so hopeful. another kiss, a resounding ���yes” from her sweet boy, and dropping him off with a quick goodnight kiss ends the night, and steve has never been happier.

the fact she planned this whole night, took a chance, romanced the hell out of him, and was so genuine the whole time, looking to make him smile, just because, had steve on a high unlike any other. no one has ever taken the time to spoil him, to do romantic things for him. he’s not used to reciprocity in relationships, but here this angel is professing her love for him and not only saying it but showing him she means it. best night of his life.

and so their relationship begins.

steve harrington just worships his girl, spoils her continuously, and wants to do everything for her. he is overly affectionate and just obsessed with his baby, pictures of her and with her everywhere on his house, his car, his wallet, maybe even a locket he wears with a copy of the picture of their first kiss on it. steve took the photobooth strip and got the second picture, his angel kissing him for the first time, copied and altered to fit into the locket.

everyone in town just knows steve is entirely whipped and he does not care. he is definitely touch starved for his girl, quite a bit jealous, however, but trusts her so much that it just comes out as a sort of possessiveness that isn’t toxic but something both he and, secretly, his angel enjoy. steve always praises her and wants to take care of her because she’s his sweet little angel girl.

steve is also her first everything— first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time… and it drives him insane! something about knowing he’s the only one that’s ever had her and the only one she’s ever wanted just drives him up the wall and gets him so needy. so desperate. so whiney and pouty.

something else about steve as a boyfriend is that he’s his angel’s biggest fan — always praising, always encouraging, always in awe of her. will brag about his baby to anyone. randomly brings her up in conversation because she’s all he thinks about and he’s so proud to be hers.

buying her flowers whenever he can so she’ll give him this wide, square smile of hers that takes over her whole face like she can’t control it and her nose scrunches up a bit and he never wants to look at anything but her.

her stevie is really into pda too, can’t take his hands off of her, but nothing extreme; casual touches and pecks on her nose or temple or lips or cheeks, buries his face in her neck often, hand holding constantly!!!!!!, plays with her hair, is always playing with the delicate ‘s’ pendant on her neck that he gifted her and she never takes off (steve has this proud little smile whenever he messes with it).

then there’s the casual dominance— steve tucks her hair behind her ears, ties her shoelaces for her, adjusts the clasp of her necklace, puts her dainty jewelry on for her, braids her hair because she’s always clumsy with it and she prefers his braids over hers, gives her water so she stays hydrated, remembers her meds for her, adjusts her beanie on her hair when it’s cold and she’s wearing one, wipes chocolate from the corner of her mouth because his baby is a messy eater, pulls on her waist when they’re walking so she doesn’t bump into someone or something because she’s too busy talking and looking at him, spoon feeds her when she’s too tired and sleepy and pouty, brushes her teeth for her too when she’s being his cute little tired baby or is in subspace, brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll, and loves to shower with her so he can do it for her, loves to drive her everywhere too. she’s his pretty passenger princess and they both take that role very seriously.

and whenever his pretty baby gets all glassy eyed and needy and blushy for him? he melts.

steve has a daddy kink. major one. and when he finally finds his baby, his person, he starts noticing things she might be into for the sole reason of wanting to be the absolute best he can be for his baby. the thing is, he knows she’s entirely new to this and still a bit nervous and hesitant and shy, so he starts by filing things away in his brain to make sure once she’s ready and the time comes that he can treat her perfectly, and give her everything and anything she wants.

his baby is probably a sub, she must be, with how pliable and soft she gets. for sure has an oral fixation, always giving him little kisses and little bites randomly and pressing his hand to her lips so she can softly mouth at them (but will shy away and get flustered when she notices she’s doing this) (she just loves his hands and he knows). steve’s girl also gets all flustered and her breath hitches when he jokingly calls himself ‘daddy’, so he takes that as a good sign because there’s nothing steve wants more in this world than to be her daddy. only hers. to spoil and care for and love his baby to the best of his ability.

she also loves when he manhandles her, he’s noticed— it’s just that steve really enjoys carrying his baby around, loves feeling needed and loves holding her and having her body pressed to his and have her hold on to him, but also he just wants to do things for his baby, doesn’t want her to tire herself out, ever!

she doesn’t need to walk around all the time because her stevie’s here and he won’t have his baby do unnecessary work when he’s around. whenever he grabs her waist and places her on top of a counter or something and stands between her legs? she gets all smiley. steve also absolutely loves how clearly his touch affects her; she hums and melts into him and gets a bit breathless and just tries to bury herself into him until they become one. lots of cuddles and hugs from behind and just being entirely wrapped in each other while wearing the coziest sweaters under the cuddliest blanket are common occurrences.

the main thing, though… is how steve’s shy little girlfriend quickly becomes obsessed with his bulge. loves when her stevie hugs her from behind so it presses against her, or when he has her sit between his legs with her back to his chest, or any time where her stevie is holding her close. he doesn’t even need to be hard for her to enjoy it, i mean, he shows through his jeans even when he’s soft! and she just always thinks it looks so…soft? and chubby? and she just wants it smushed against her at all times.

it takes steve a while to figure it out, but when he does? he’s relentless! pressing up against his baby all. the. fucking. time. just to see her blush and stutter and get all shy… but she also fucking sighs and relaxes whenever he does it, like it’s such a comfort for her? to feel all of him? like it’s all she’s waiting for at all times. and it drives steve crazy how his cute, shy, introverted, virgin girlfriend who giggles all the time and is always flustered by him and hiding her hot cheeks with her hands and is so… clumsy and tentative and nervous when it comes to any sort of affection (which she only accepts from her stevie) ((she definitely hates touch except his)) (((and he knows it too! was one of the things that proved to him his pretty best friend had feelings for him too when they were ‘just friends’))) can be so desperate to feel his bulge against her.

angel also loves that her stevie boy has huge hands! absolutely massive. could-wrap-one-hand-around-your-entire-neck massive, beautiful, strong, soft hands.. and yeah, both steve and his girl definitely have huge size kinks. huge. they haven’t said so out loud yet, but it shows through their actions. steve loves how obvious the size difference is when they’re holding hands, or when his hand is on her soft thighs. most of the time his baby holds his fingers instead because it hurts a little bit to intertwine their fingers for too long and steve thinks it’s fucking adorable. she’s shorter too, so 😵‍💫 her sweet boy goes crazy. teasing, best friend steve comes out sometimes too when he uses her head as an armrest to tease her, or when he full on picks her up to take her somewhere if she’s being a brat or is too lazy, too tired to move.

steve’s angel loves their size difference. so much. it shows when she hides herself against his chest when it’s cold, when she compares hand sizes because “stevie, the difference is just insane!”, when steve smushes her into the mattress when they start fucking later on. steve notices his angel blush or sigh or break out in goosebumps whenever his hands are involved— i mean, can you blame her? his hands are so pretty. she’s always holding and touching and tracing her fingertips over his palms and pressing kisses, biting softly, sucking on his fingers when she’s restless, fidgety, or sleepy.

using steve as a weighted blanket is a must; helps angel when she’s anxious or having a bad day.

to be continued…

── harmo’s footnotes:

please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. steve dreams.

ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—”  he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked. 

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

       Secret Admirer,

       I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

       Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

       I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

       Yours,

       Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

       ||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

       1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

       2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

       3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

       4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

       5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

       6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

       7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

       8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

       9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

       Eddie —

       I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

       I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

       I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6

[xoxovanillq]

Paint Me A Picture

Pairing- Luke Castellan x Artist!Reader

Warnings- Showering together (no smut tho), mentions of trauma.

A/N- SEND ME REQUESTS PLEASEEEEE

“C’mon baby, please just try.” Luke practically whined, he had been begging you to sketch him, but you had refused.

“Luke, it’s not gonna turn out well and it’s gonna be disappointing.” You reply, shading a section in with the mechanical pencil in hand. You’d been sketching the scenery as the two of you sat beside the lake, enjoying the warmth of the water. Luke had dragged you down to the lake to hang out, now you were here, his head resting on your stomach, body slotted between your legs.

“I’ve seen your drawing of Annabeth, it’s amazing baby, I know you can do it.” He insist, reminding you of a drawing that you hated.

“God, it was awful, the shading was all wrong and so were the nose proportions.” You groan, setting down the drawing of the scenery you were working on to tangle your hands in his hair. He hums softly, moving a hand to rest on your knee.

“I don’t know why you’re so hard on yourself, babe, you’re so talented.” He reassures, voice drenched with admiration.

“Thank you, I love you and how much you support me.”

“I love you too, baby.” He responds, closing his eyes and enjoying your warmth. Before he could enjoy it for long, you looked at your watch and realized the time.

“Luke, c’mon, you’re supposed to be helping some new kids with sparring.” You take his hand, helping him up and walking him toward the sparring grounds, listening to him grumble about his cuddles being interrupted.

Later that night, Luke and you found yourselves sitting in your usual spot beside the bonfire, his head rested on your shoulder. Your fingers carded through his curls, enjoying the soft texture of them against your rough hands.

“Mmmmm, I need to wash my hair tonight.” He hums, his voice vibrating against your chest. “Maybe you could draw me then.” He persists, and you let out a long sigh.

“Luke, I can’t draw you and help you wash your hair at the same time.” You remind, his face flushing red in embarrassment.

“C’mon, not everyone needs to know we shower together.” He whispers, earning a soft giggle from you.

“I don’t think anyone heard.” You reassure, smoothing a hand over his curls. Before he could reply, more people began to settle in beside the bonfire, causing the both of you to quiet down and pay attention.

You and Luke found yourselves back in the showers after the bonfire, your hands smoothing the conditioner into his hair. He began doing the same for you, pulling your warm, wet body to his once he finished applying conditioner to the ends of your hair.

“Can we use that fancy exfoliation thingy or whatever?” He asks quietly, making you smile a bit at his request.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You say, reaching for the container of sugar scrub behind you.

“Need to look good so you can draw me.” He murmurs, taking the container from you and scooping some of the scrub out. Rather than using it on himself first, he opted to scrub your chest with gentle circles.

“I- fine baby, I’ll draw you, only if you stay in my cabin tonight.” He groans as you speak, you knew he didn’t like staying in your cabin, since the girls tended to tease him.

“Fine.” He grumbles, continuing to wash your body as you did the same to his. You would never get tired of seeing him like this, warm droplets of water dripping down him as he took care of you so gently. You knew how he was one to give more than he could ever receive, his past trauma playing on how he acted in your relationship. You tried your best to show him the love he deserved, the love he never had.

The two of you were now snuggled down in your bed, changed into pajamas, bodies warm from the shower. Luke was in simple grey sweats, tugged down just enough to give a tantalizing view of the tanned, muscular planes of his stomach. Luke rubbed a hand along your hip and thigh, watching over your shoulder as you began the sketch.

“It looks good already, baby.” He murmurs, chin hooked over your shoulder.

“I’ve barely started.” You mumble, focused on capturing the sheer beauty of your sweet boyfriend. He closed his eyes, ready to rest. As he began to fall asleep, the girls from your cabin began to filter in, giggling as they saw Luke in your bed.

“Awww, Y/N’s got her little boyfriend over again, I hope everyone has earplugs tonight!” One of the girls giggles, causing Luke to groan in frustration.

“You can’t be talking when we can hear you and your boyfriend in the showers all the way over here.” You shoot back, causing the girl to flush red, turning her face away and muttering something as she made her way to her bunk.

“Thank you.” Luke hums, pulling you a little closer and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Anytime.” You reply, voice low and soft as you pick up a pen to finalize the outlines.

“That looks amazing.” He murmurs, reaching over to smooth his thumb along the drawing, as if he didn’t believe it was real.

“Thank you.” You hum in response, continuing on the drawing.

Somewhere in the night, Luke eventually fell into a deep sleep, giggling occasionally to yourself when he’d snore or mumble something in his sleep.

“Lukey baby, wake up, I’m finished.” You whisper, shaking his shoulder softly to rouse him.

“You drew me?” He asked quietly, sleep drenching his voice like honey.

“Yeah, look at it baby, I think it’s pretty good.” You hand him your sketchbook, and his eyes widen, mouth dropping open.

“Wow, baby, this is incredible.” He whispers lazily against your skin, his lips tickling your neck. “Is this really what I look like?” He asks, running his thumb across the scar on his cheek in the drawing.

“Is- Is it bad?” You immediately reply, worried that it didn’t look like he wanted.

“No, no, I just didn’t think I was actually this attractive.” He murmurs.

“Oh baby, of course that’s what you look like. you’re like an angel to me baby.” You reassure, carding your finger through his still-damp curls.

“Oh- well, thanks for drawing me baby, I- I really really love it.” He murmurs once more, before tucking you down beside him in bed, quickly falling fast asleep.

[yuyuwritesss]

AFTER DARK +18

Pairing : Simon "Ghost" Riley × Reader.

Summary: you and Simon get acquainted on the subway.

Cw : smut, public sex, reader is pent up.

————————————————————————

Chronically tired, sexually frustrated and working nights. Could it get any worse for you?

Luckily you get off just in time to catch the first subway of the day, saving you some bucks and lessening your burden.

Incidentally that's around the same time Simon, home from deployment but still used to the early hours, finishes his morning training at a boxing gym he frequented as a teenager which he no longer lives close to now and has to commute back from, muscles aching from his training and morning run.

It has become a habit for you and Simon to ride the sub together, sitting away from each other. With him keeping an eye on you while you doze off.

You're usually the only two people on it up until the end of your commute, with you getting off a few stations before he does, his eyes watching you jolt out of your light, restless sleep at the sound of the automated voice announcing your station's name, and you're out of the door in seconds, but not before throwing him a glance.

The masked, hulking stranger who usually makes his way into your dreams, an hour later when you've gone to sleep in your bed, turning them into wet fantasies of being taken by him in the sub, filth whispered into your ear. An orgasm, which has been out of reach for months due to low energy and stress induced mental blocks, finally ripped out of you.

You always feel his gaze on you when he thinks you're sleeping. You wear your prettiest pencil skirts and tights to give him something to look at but you're still too reluctant to actually strike up a conversation.

Which turns out to be unnecessary when one morning, he chooses to sit right next to you, boxing you in between his hard body and the window, no words spoken.

You don't look at him at first but a large, warm hand on your thigh causes you to turn your head toward him, his brown orbs already on you, gauging your reaction.

He lightly squeezes your thigh in silent question, causing you to freeze and your eyes to widen. You slowly face ahead, the realization settling in that you could finally turn your dreams into reality and release some of your painfully pent up frustration.

Just as he began to withdraw his hand, an apology for causing discomfort bubbling up,  your arm hooked around his and you slowly leaned your head against his strong shoulder. Feeling you relax against him, he returns his hand to where it previously was, and slowly starts running it up your thigh, going under your skirt and pulling it up, your legs spreading to allow him access.

When he reaches your crotch, his other hand is brought over to rip a hole in your tights enough to push your underwear aside, soliciting a gasp  at both ruining your tights and the sensation of his fingers sliding over your folds.

"Shh, I'll make it up to you, doll.", his deep voice sends warmth coursing through you, your hold tightening around his arm.

He gently spreads your wet folds before scooping out some of your wetness with his index and middle finger. He then rubs your clit, getting it wet and prepared enough for the stimulation to come. His hand cups your sex, his calloused forefingers squeezing your clit between them, then he begins moving his hand in a circular motion, leaving you gasping in his shoulder as the pleasure slowly builds up.

Your hands claw at his hard bicep, the fabric of his hoodie pulled taut under your hand. You feel his cheek against the top of your head.

"You like that ?"

You barely hear him as you feel your release approaching, with his hand going faster causing your breath to hitch and soft mewls to spill out of your lips.

"You gonna come for me ?" You quickly nod against his shoulder, your hair ruffling and your other hand gripping his arm, hugging it to your chest even tighter to increase the pressure on your clit.

He nudges his nose between your ear and his shoulder and whispers "cum.", wringing it out of you, sharp waves of pleasure pulling you under and nearly suffocating you with how intense it is to feel yourself come undone again after months of denied pleasure.

He slows his movements down as your clit continues its spasms between his fingers.

"That's a good girl." He gives your clit one last pat, startling you.

Then after readjusting your underwear pulls the leg on the other side to him and leans down, softly speaking by the crown of your head.

"We just missed your station. Come home with me?"

And you, made dumb by your orgasm and wanting more, nod against him for what surely wouldn't be the last time that morning.

[burningembers91]

Family Unit - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Loving You From Afar The Shape of You

Synopsis: You and Park Gyeong-Seok decide to take the next step in your relationship

You could feel Na-Yeon’s gaze on you, could hear her quietly giggling as she stood by your side of the bed. You sleepily opened one eye, then the other, smiling as you saw her waiting for you to wake up. The Disney Princess pyjamas you’d bought her were baggy on her thin little frame, but she looked so cute in them. “Good morning,” you whispered, pulling back the duvet so she could crawl into bed next to you. This had become your new morning routine; Na-Yeon would wake you up at the crack of dawn, you’d snuggle in bed, try to get a few more minutes of sleep, and then you’d get up and get ready for the day. On the days you didn’t work, you usually took Na-Yeon into her room to play, to give Gyeong-Seok space to sleep. He was a light sleeper though, and always heard you get up. sometimes he’d pretend to stay asleep though, just to give you and his daughter more time to bond.

You hadn’t left his apartment since the night you discovered the drawings. For six blissful weeks, you’d spent every day and night here, only returning home to fetch a new bagful of clothes or to do a load of laundry. You’d go to work during the day, while he stayed home with Na-Yeon. In the evening, he would head off to teach his night class (which he could now proudly say was a permanent job), and you would look after Na-Yeon. You didn’t get to spend much time together, your catch ups usually consisting of soft, sleep-hazed sex when Gyeong-Seok returned from work, followed by some whispered conversation before you fell asleep. Every moment you had together was precious, and you cherished every second.

You laid in bed with your eyes closed, listening as Na-Yeon chatted away. She never ran out of things to say, laughing and giggling. You weren’t always entirely sure what she was talking about, but it always made you smile.

Gyeong-Seok stirred next to you, yawning loudly as his arm came round to scoop you and his daughter into a hug. He loved his new family; and for the first time in years, he felt lighter than air. Na-Yeon was still sick, but he didn’t have to deal with the burden alone anymore. You’d slotted in so perfectly, treating his daughter like your own. Nothing was too much for you, and Gyeong-Seok didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay you for your kindness. You were still sleeping on the broken sofa bed, the springs digging into your backs each night. If you were uncomfortable, you never complained. His first paycheck from his new job would be arriving soon. Na-Yeon’s treatment would again take up most of the money he earned, but he was desperate to get a more comfortable bed for you to sleep on. He’d thought about asking you to move in permanently, to see if you could get a place together so you could have a proper bedroom, like a proper couple. He hated having to sneak around his own living room like a teenager, having whispered conversations with you so you didn’t take his daughter. He worried it was too soon though; life was so perfect at the moment, and he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too quickly.

The three of you lay there bed together, you and Gyeong-Seok listening to Na-Yeon babble away. His arms pulled you in closer, his lips pressing a tender kiss on your earlobe. He wished he could freeze time, wished he could bottle this moment and keep it forever. But you’d need to get up soon to get ready for work, and his daughter would need her breakfast.

“I need to do some laundry tonight,” you said, after you’d showered and gotten ready for work. “I’ll take Na-Yeon back to mine tonight, maybe get us a pizza as a little treat.” Gyeong-Seok looked at you over the rim of his coffee mug, eyes alight as he took in your silk shirt and burgundy pencil skirt. It still utterly baffled him that you loved him; that a poor, scruffy painter could be lucky enough to find someone like you. “I hate having to constantly go back and forth,” you sighed, taking a seat next to him at the kitchen table. “I’ve been thinking actually…” You smiled slyly, pulling something from your bag. “This place has just come up, in the same building we’re in now. It’s a 2-bed place, and it even has a small balcony. I was thinking, if we put our money together, we could just about afford it.”

You sat waiting for his answer, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously as you watched him look over the apartment. You knew it was hasty, but you’d never been more sure of anything in your life. Your little family unit needed a bigger place to grow. The apartment overlooked the playground, and you already knew you’d be out there with Na-Yeon each day. Money would be tight, but you’d make it work, and once Na-Yeon was better things would be easier. “I really like it,” he smiled, “are you sure you want to do this?” He didn’t want you to feel like you had to move in with him, like you had to somehow make life easier for him. “Of course I want to,” you smiled, leaning forward for a kiss. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Later that day, Gyeong-Seok arranged a viewing, and two weeks later you had the keys. The first thing he did was throw away the old sofa bed, before proudly placing the bed from your apartment in your new room together. You finally had your own space, somewhere where you could be a proper couple. As the three of you sat down for dinner that night, surrounded by moving boxes and bubble wrap, Gyeong-Seok was sure he’d never been happier.

[whatislovevavy]

Oh, What Bliss

Jake and Caledonia go as Morticia and Gomez for their first Halloween living together.

AN: lol this two days after Halloween but it's been on my mind for a long time, and it's better late than never :)

WC: 2.3 k

Warnings: Fluff, smut (18+), unprotected sex, oral male receiving, Jake has a breeding kink

You puckered your lips, capping the tube of onyx lip stick in your hands, admiring the raven hue painting the plush flesh. Turning in the mirror, you watched the velvet material of your form fitting gown cling to you. You smirked, proud of the investment, running your freshly manicured inky black nails through your now midnight colored wavy hair.

The soft trills from Chanel on your shared bed made your smile reach your eyes. She looked absolutely adorable in her Wednesday costume. Frankly, you were surprised that she seemed to enjoy being in it.

“Come on down, Cal, trick or treaters will be here any second.”

You yelled down to Jake that you would be down in a minute before slipping your heels on, and scooping up Chanel in your arms, meows morphing into purrs as you gently stroked under her chin.

–

Jake ran his dexterous fingers through his hair, making sure the gel held. His forefingers smoothing over the hairs of his grown-in pencil mustache. He didn’t think there would be a day where he would willingly grow out a mustache, but here he was. Your excitement for halloween and your shared couples costume made the harassment he got from Phoenix and Rooster over his facial hair worth it. Especially during its early growing-in phase.

He adjusted his suit in the mirror you had picked out. Jake still hadn’t seen you in your costume yet, and he was eager to see how you would do the character of Morticia Addams justice.

The creaks of the stairs under your weight, brought his attention to you.

His mouth dried up at the sight of you. His heart skipping a beat as his eyes met the soft fabric that clung to your curves and exposed an appreciative amount of cleavage. His cock stirred in his slacks at the sight of your sinfully painted lips and lush, sable hair that you’d straightened a bit. Your dark lashes brought out your eyes. And the talons you sported made his stomach giddy with excitement. He couldn’t wait till he could feel them dig into his shoulders as he made you into a whimpering, moaning mess. Or to see a ring of black around his cock. He almost didn’t register Chanel in your arms. Your wide grin and bright eyes made him smile.

“Do you like it?”

He nodded, striding towards you, snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him with a small gasp. Your lips parted as he brought the back of your hand to his lips with mirthful evergreen eyes. “Morticia, you’ve never looked more ravenous.” You giggled at his drawl ridden impression of Gomez. Chanel purred and trilled in your arms, nestled against your and Jake’s chest.

“Chanel, you make the perfect Wednesday.” he cooed, bringing a hand up to stroke at her chin and behind her ears. She closed her eyes, purrs vibrating from her soft throat.

You couldn’t help but admire his slicked back dirty blonde hair, cute mustache that worked well on him, and form fitting suit that hugged his broad shoulders dangerously.

The ring of the doorbell, broke you both from your shared moment. Jake quickly grabbed the candy bowl and strided to the door. You followed closely behind with Chanel in your arms.

The choruses of “trick or treat” were cut off by gasps of excitement at the sight of Chanel in your arms. The three disney princesses at your doorstep asking to pet her, and complementing both yours and Chanel’s costume. The little girls giggled as Jake snuck them each a second piece of candy, winking at them before closing the door as they ran to the next house.

The next few hours were filled with answering the door for basketball players, power rangers, princesses, and superheroes. Young kids and parents alike complimented your decorated yard, and you and Jake’s costumes.

Halloween had always made you happy, and the sight of the little kids and parents trailing behind excited little ones made you yearn for something more in the future with Jake.

Perhaps next year you’d have something else to dress up for Halloween besides Chanel, who showed no sign of exasperation with the attention she’d been receiving.

You stirred the candy bowl in your hand. Almost empty, you thought. Being careful to avoid Chanel playing with her catnip pumpkin on the carpet, you strided towards the kitchen for the extra bag of Halloween candy.

Jake had been resting on the couch, taking turns getting up to answer the door while you snuggled in watching reruns of classic horror movies on the TV.

His eyes followed that sinful, curve fitting dress till it disappeared behind the doorway to the kitchen. He checked the time, it’d been a few hours since starting and the trick or treaters were starting to thin out. He got up from the couch, giving Chanel a quick scratch behind her ears as he snuck towards the door to turn off the porch light.

I’m sure there were times Morticia and Gomez turned off the front porch light prematurely for some time in the sack, he thought. You’d both done your Halloween civic duty, and Jake needed some time with his sweet Lass.

You poured the rest of the candy into the bowl, a gasp leaving your lips as a pair of hands settled at and caressed your waist. A gentle smirk tugging at your lips, turning your head to meet his almost electric green ones. His lips centimeters from yours.

You hummed, eyes tracing from his lips to his eyes. “I refilled the candy bowl.”

“I can see that,” he purred, bringing his lips to your neck.

Your giggles and clutching at his hands made him chuckle. His open mouthed kisses making you mewl.

“Baby, there's still more trick or treaters,” he smiled as you jutted out your lower lip slightly into a pout. He brought his lips to yours.

“Sweets, the couch is calling our name, and there's other houses on our street they can get to.” He purred against your lips, hands guiding your thick hips out of the kitchen and into the living room, ensuring you didn't trip over your heels on the way.

Chanel was nowhere to be found. She often took her toys underneath you and Jake's bed when she was getting sleepy.

Jake quickly went up the stairs to close your bedroom door before rushing back down to your embrace and soft lips, much to the giggles that died on your lips and his met yours.

You moaned as he nipped and sucked at your throat. He hands clutching at your waist and squeezing your breasts that spilled out of your dress and into his awaiting hands and lips.

You ran your fingers through his hair, simpering at the texture of his mustache on your soft breasts. His hands sneaked behind you to undo the zipper of your dress, the realization hitting him that you didn't bother to wear a bra with this gorgeous number.

Your thighs twitched against his hips, your need coming to a boil like a witches brew. You could feel how much he needed you, you gently caressed and scratched at his thick cock bulging in his dress pants. He always loved the look in your eyes when you touched him. Like he was entirely yours.

“God, I want to suck you off so fucking bad. Look so handsome in your suit and your hair slicked back and your mustache I wanna feel on my pussy.” You purred in a tone that was sweeter and more sinful than a poisoned candy apple, and had his bulge pulsing against your hand with a groan.

You came to your knees in front of him, gently pushing him down to sit on the couch. You quickly unbuckled his pants, bringing the fly down to pull out his thick, throbbing cock with your silken grasp. His deep grunts and dilated eyes spurred you on as you pumped him, bringing your lips to his leaking, angry red tip. His head tipped back, fingers weaving tightly into your soft, onyx locks.

He choked on his breath as your raven colored lips encased his length, leaving a trail of midnight sky along his saliva soaked dick.

“Fuck, baby, look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted with that graveled tone that made your knees weak and core clench.

You took as much of him as you could fit, bringing your hand up to stroke and squeeze at his balls. He looked too good like this. You kept your mouth on his cock as you gently undid the buttons to his jacket and shirt, scratching your nails against his abs and Adonis belt.

At a particularly harsh suck, he whimpered under you.

“Fuck, Cali, I'm gonna cum.” His strained voice made your eyes flutter shut, your mouth coming off his dick with a lustful pop.

You rose up much to his lust-ridden confusion and disappointment. “Sweetheart,” he groaned out. You leaned down and whispered in his ear,

“Shh, I want you to cum inside me.”

Those whispered words snapped him back into focus. His torso rising up, his broad hands digging into your hips. Giggles and moans flowing from your lips. He pinned you down on the couch, his hands reaching for the back zipper of your dress. His eyes meeting yours, asking in silent permission. You nodded. His hands brought the zipper down, his thick fingers helping to pull the fabric down your body. He let his eyes flutter shut, shaking his head with a chuckle. He couldn't believe this; you weren't wearing anything under that dress. Not even a pair of panties. And you were passing out candy looking like absolute sin and being the sweetest woman in the neighborhood, all without anything underneath.

You bit your lip, eyes playful as you were laid back against the couch.

“Jesus, Lass, I can't believe I was with you for hours and didn't know you weren't wearing anything underneath this.” He growled as he pulled the rest of your dress down and flung it towards the stairs.

He separated your thighs around his hips. He needed you too damn bad. Eating you out would have to wait. You definitely didn't need the preparation, you were completely soaked and he saw how flushed your pretty clit was.

He hitched the tip of his cock to your weeping entrance, gently pushing in with a hiss and broken moan.

He never got tired of your silken walls clutching his dick. Everytime felt like the first time.

His hips nestled against yours as he completely filled you, your back arching off the bed as his tip rubbed against that special spot that made your toes curl.

His pace picked up in tempo, the sound of skin slapping skin filled the lower floor of your home. Your broken moans and grasps spurred him on.

“God, Cali, want to cum inside you, want to fill you up so good, have you leaking me for fucking days.”

Your cunt clenched impossibly harder around his cock at his words making you squirm.

“Does that sound nice pretty girl? Shooting my load into your pretty pussy?” He smirked that lupine grin you loved as you nodded feverishly, eyes glassy.

“Fuck, Jake, yes! M’love it when you cum inside me.”

“Yeah? Want me to put a baby in you sweetheart? Want me to fuck you like this everyday till it takes?” He groaned out, unsure of where this was coming from. But he loved it. Loved you.

You feverishly nodded, eyes clenched shut as he pounded your throbbing pussy.

“Yes, Jake, yes! Fill me up!”

“God, Cali, want to fill you up and plug you up so it all stays right,” he placed his hand above your womb,” here.”

You felt your toes tingle in the familiar sensation of your impending orgasm. Your eyes clenching shut, mouth parting as your high overtook you like a bullet train. Your body wracked by tremors, body tethered to him by his throbbing dick still thrusting into you like a hot knife in butter.

You clutched at him as his release overtook him. His grunts and growls making you whimper as his release painted your walls.

His body stalled above yours, his chest coming to rest on yours. Your shared breaths ebbing and flowing together in the new found silence of your home.

You lifted your eyes to his still closed ones, sweat beaded at his forehead, breaths coming out in pants.

You gently scratched at the back of his head, bringing your lips up to his.

“Do you really want to have a baby with me?”

His head leaned up, bright, dilated eyes meeting yours. He nodded, “I don't know something about seeing you tonight with all of the kids…makes me want that with you.

Your cheeks blushed. You'd been together for what felt like forever. And you knew you wanted to be with him for as long as you could.

“I could go off my birth control, on one condition.” You bit into your lip.

“You put a ring on my finger.” You teased, but also trying to swallow any insecurities about bringing this up now.

His grin widened, “who says I haven't picked one out already?”

Your grin matched his, tears budding in your eyes as you brought his lips to yours, gently nibbling on his lip. Simpering at the ticklish feeling his hair above his lip brought you.

“Oh, what bliss to love a woman like you.” he said, pulling away from the kiss, completely out of breath, his smile reaching his eyes in that boyish grin you loved. His hand still on your tummy, thumb gently rubbing over the skin above your womb.

--

Thanks so much for reading ❤️ there's still more coming with Jake and Caledonia in Learning from the Best :)

People who may be interested:

@entertainmentgirl80 @sebsxphia @goldenseresinretriever @withahappyrefrain @teacupsandtopgun @yuckosworld @djs8891 @whoeverineedtobe @sugarcoated-lame @hangmans-wingman

[strangersteddierthings]

Gut Instinct: Chapter 1 - Friday

[Art] [Ao3] [Prologue] [Chapter One]

The words are there, on the tip of his tongue (“What, to hang out with you and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?”) when a wave of nausea rolls through him so fast- Green, yellow, and red pinned against a wall. A grandfather clock. Sneakers floating at eye level in a graveyard. A cassette tape. Something wrapped around his neck and he can’t breath. A man. A monster. Dustin sobbing. -he has to spin around for fear he’s actually going to throw up on the counter, holding the phone away from his face in case he does. He retches once, twice, before swallowing it down. He can hear Dustin yelling his name through the phone repeatedly, asking if he’s throwing up.

“No, not throwing up,” Steve mutters defeatedly, the nausea ending quicker than it began now that he accepts he has to show up to Dustin’s stupid nerd game. “I’ll be there.”

“You will!?”

Steve jerks the phone away from his ear and once the shrieking stops, he pulls it back to his face in tandem with the sound of the door opening, “I said yeah. I gotta go, customers.”

Steve slams the phone down with a curse. “Fuck.”

Some lady who has been browsing the movies for twenty minutes now shoots him a dirty look. Steve shoots her an apologetic smile and mouths ‘sorry’. This placates her enough to drop the stink eye.

A quick glance at the clock lets him know he’s got three hours until school is out which sucks because he needs Robin. He’s never had a nightmare like that while awake before and he doesn’t really have the time to freak out about it right now because he is the only one on shift and he will get fired if he leaves now, and he’s not allowed to get fired until Robin goes to college, under penalty of death (says Robin).

That’s fine. He just has to last until his shift is over. At which point, he’ll be sullenly playing Dweebs and Daggers or whatever, and Robin will be getting ready for band because they’re going to playing at the basketball game tonight. So, talking to Robin before the game is off the table. That’ll have to be an after the basketball game thing.

It’s going to be a long day.

-

Despite the fact Steve had told him he would be here, Dustin still looks shocked when he sees Steve leaning against his car in the parking lot, Family Video vest discarded in the backseat. “Steve! You’re here!”

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing off his car to meet Dustin halfway. “I said I’d be here.”

Dustin doesn’t even look a little sheepish as he says, “I wasn’t sure if you were just lying to get off the phone or not. So, we asked Erica, too. But I’m sure it’ll be fine if we bring two replacements.”

“I’m wounded,” Steve monotones, before rolling his eyes. “So, guess I gotta get a crash course on your nerd game?”

“Yes!”

Dustin leads him through the school, and Steve recognizes the path to the auditorium. “You play this game on the stage?”

“What, no. We play it in the green room,” Dustin says, like Steve should have known that. “Old props make for great ambiance.”

Steve mouths the word ‘ambiance’ to himself as he follows Dustin to the green room. There’s a table set up with seating. At the head of it is a throne and Steve doesn’t even try to stifle his scoff and eyeroll. “Does the game runner dude sit there?”

“Dungeon Master, and yes,” Dustin says as he starts scooping things up and depositing them into Steve’s arms. A book, a couple of notebooks, loose leaf papers, and pencils. He looks like he is about to chuck some of the dice atop the pile before thinking better of it and stuffs those into his pocket instead. “To the library, Steve!”

“Library?” Steve turns to watch Dustin walk away, then looks down to the pile of things he’s holding, and back to Dustin who has stopped at the doorway. “But everything’s already here!”

“Yeah, and we need to leave it for Eddie. He might come back here to do some more planning, or additional prep, and honestly, I don’t want him to catch sight of you until we actually start playing,” Dustin says, like Steve is somehow the embarrassing nerd and not the other way around. Dustin has always treated him like he’s the strange outcast for not being a nerd, though, so that’s not surprising.

“Can we at least sit in the cafeteria, then? Not really in the mood to get shushed by the school librarian when I don’t even go here.”

Dustin looks deep in thought, as if it’s a tough decision between the library and the cafeteria. “Yeah, we can be in the cafeteria. If we sit in the far corner so no one passing by will see.”

Steve, who has taken two steps towards Dustin, stops and narrows his eyes. “Are you seriously embarrassed to be seen with me right now?”

“What? No!” Dustin shouts, eyes wide, “No! I just don’t want the rest of Hellfire to see you until we start playing! It’s- well, come on. We’ll chat while you roll stats.”

“Stats?” Steve repeats but knows he’s not getting an answer because Dustin has already started to walk away again.

Steve plops himself down in the first seat he gets to in the cafeteria, despite Dustin’s protests. “No. Sit. We are on a time crunch, right?”

Dustin sighs and Steve knows he’s won. “Yeah. So, I was thinking you’d be a pretty awesome paladin, but I think for your first game the easier thing will be to just be a human fighter. Then you don’t have to worry about picking spells, or-“

“Whoa. Stop,” Steve holds up his hands, “first you’re gonna tell me why you don’t want to be caught with me by the other members of your nerd club.”

“Oh, that’s- It’s not that I don’t want to get caught, why’d you word it like that? No, don’t answer. Jeff, Gareth, Frankie, and Eddie just seem to have a vendetta against you. Or something,” Dustin says, pulling the book he’d brought towards himself, seeming to flip open to a random page. “I talk about you. A lot, apparently. They seem determined to think you’re an asshole.”

“I kinda am, dude,” Steve shrugs, because he knows it. Being a different person than he was in high school is a process he is actively working on, sure, but Steve also knows he’s not exactly aiming to be the sweetest boy on the block.

“Not when it matters!” Dustin barks back at him and Steve is surprised by the ferocity behind his words. With how quickly he jumps to Steve’s defense, even against Steve himself. “Not to me, not to any of us. You’re an asshole when you’re defensive, which isn’t like, who you are as a person. Anyway, I don’t want them to like, refuse to let you play or something because of what they think they know about you.”

Steve is deeply touched if he’s being honest. “Alright, you win. I’ll play whatever you want me to play.”

This gives Dustin pause, looking between the book and Steve. Then he seems to make a decision because he reaches over and grabs the stack of loose leaf papers and starts looking through them. “I have already made you a character. Tiefling Paladin, Oath of the Crown subclass, my character’s half-brother. If you don’t care that I picked literally everything already, we can just go over how to play the game?”

“That would be great,” Steve says, “the less decision making on my part, the better.”

Dustin doesn’t say anything in response to that, but the look on his face says a lot. It’s a pretty positive look. “Okay. Here, this is the sheet. Level 15, like me, ‘cause I’ve been leveling the character when I level mine.”

And then Dustin doesn’t stop talking. He’s explaining spells, and attack actions, and how spells are an action but not an attack action, even if you’re using a spell to attack something. Talking about armor class and weapon damage, and spell slots, and the list seems to never end. It’s a lot all at once and he just knows he’s going to look stupid tonight but he’s going to give it his best. For Dustin. (And a little bit for the nausea from earlier.)

“Oh, we gotta get to the green room!” Dustin gasps suddenly and Steve looks at his watch. It’s about eight until five. Which is surprising, because Lucas’ basketball game is at six, and Steve knows that Dungeons and Dragons can take hours when they play in the Wheelers’ basement. Are the games shorter because it’s a school club? Can the school impose time limits like that?

They make quick work of grabbing everything from the table before Steve follows Dustin back through the school. As they approach Steve starts to hear voices. The closer he gets, the more he makes out, and soon enough they enter the room to hear the end of a conversation between Erica and Eddie Munson, as she beats him into submission about her character.

Steve hopes Eddie’s not going to give him the same treatment. He’s not sure he could make a good enough argument for his own involvement as Erica just did.

“Holy shit,” one of the older members says, “you actual do know King Steve?”

“I told you he’s awesome,” Dustin says in the tone that usually annoys Steve, the one where the unsaid parts sound like duh, you idiot and Steve finds that it’s less annoying when it’s used in his defense. “Come on Steve, sit beside me. I’ll help you with the rules.”

“Hold up,” Munson says, rounding to Steve. He hasn't seen Munson in person since he graduated, but it was even longer than that that he's been under the scrutiny of Munson's gaze. With him burning his bridge to Tommy H and Carol and the rise of Billy, Steve was left more or less alone his senior year. Munson still ranted and raved about conformity and high school hierarchy, but Steve was left out of those rants, or at least, was no longer the target. All that to say that having Munson's full attention is almost overwhelming, now. No Tommy H or Carol to snicker with him or distract Munson here, like they used to do.

Steve's always thought Munson was charismatic in a cult leader kind of way. Whether his presence brought you discomfort or ease, he had a way of making you feel like the only other person in a room with him when his focus was on you. Steve's never felt truly at ease in this presence before, but he certainly doesn't feel discomfort anymore. Munson's got big dark eyes and a pretty mouth for a man who only ever frowns or sneers in Steve's vicinity, but overall Munson's a good-looking dude, and he's not sure what to do with this revelation. This is not the time or place for unpacking that, especially since Munson looks like he cares very little for Steve’s presence here, but he also isn't immediately telling him to get out, so that’s gotta count for something. “Your character is?”

“Oh, uh, tiefling paladin, oath of the crown,” Steve recites, trying to subtly catch Dustin’s eye to make sure he didn’t mess that up.

Munson glares at him and Steve really should not be finding his potential hatred of him hot. “Right. And why’d you agree to sub?”

Because my gut instinct gave me the worst case of nausea I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve learned that bad things happen when I don’t listen to my gut, so I’m here seems like the wrong thing to say, but so does have you always been this hot? I'd like permission to stick around so I stare some more and figure out this strange, (not really) sudden attraction so instead Steve says, “Dustin asked.”

The glare doesn’t lessen but there is something on Munson's face that might have been surprise but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. “Fine.”

When the tension leaves his body is when Steve realizes he was truly worried Munson was going to kick him out. Dustin steers him to a chair next to one of the other members of Hellfire this isn't one of the Party, and then sits down next to him.

Since they all still seem to be gathering things, and Munson hasn’t sat in the throne yet, Steve turns to the guy beside him. “Hi. I’m Steve.”

“I know.”

“Right. And you are…?”

The guy eyes him, and Steve’ not sure what he’s looking for. “Gareth.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“We’ve met. Like four times,” Gareth says before turning away, to chat with Mike on the other side of him.

Steve is a little embarrassed to not remember that but only a little. He was a dick in high school who wouldn't have bothered to try and remember if they'd met before, but he's also had 3 concussions in just as many years and he understands his memory can be wonky. Looking around, he sees that, vaguely, everyone here is familiar. Steve knows their faces, at the least, but besides Munson, Steve couldn’t tell you anyone’s name. Well, except Gareth now.

Wait. Steve does a double take of the room before looking to Dustin. “Isn’t Lucas in this club, too?”

For the first time ever that Steve’s been witness to, Dustin looks sheepish. “Well, yeah, that’s why you’re here. To fill in for him. ‘Cause he’s in the basketball game.”

Steve’s feeling a little sick. Oh no. “And he’s okay with missing this game?”

An even more sheepish look. Steve’s stomach feels awfully bubbly as Dustin says, “well, uh, he doesn’t exactly know he’s missing it?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve must have misheard.

“He asked us to get Eddie to postpone the game, but Eddie said no. Besides, Mike’s leaving the state tomorrow morning and we’d have to wait two weeks to play again otherwise,” Dustin explains, “and, uh, we haven't seen him since he asked us after the assemble to tell him that the game would not be postponed.”

“That’s bullshit, Henderson,” Steve’s voice is loud but he’s not yelling. Not yet.

“Watch it, Harrington,” Munson snaps, matching Steve’s angry energy. “You don’t get to bully people around here.”

“That’s not- right, sorry. Just, can we postpone for like ten more minutes?” Steve asks.

“Why the Hell would we do that?” Munson looks bewildered.

“So, I can go tell Lucas this game wasn’t postponed, like he thinks it is,” that bit hissed in Dustin’s direction, “and he might only be going to the basketball game because he thinks this one isn’t happening.”

“Oh,” Munson seems to lose his steam, a small frown on his face as he says, “Fine. Ten minutes. We’re starting without you or Sinclair if it takes longer than that.”

“Thanks!” Steve smiles at Munson, which earns him look from Munson that’s kind of pinched in the face, but he’s not sticking around to ask about it. The rolling in his stomach is settling a little. This must be why his gut wants him here. To clear up the misunderstanding.

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: the last nine parts has gotten so much love :o and i want to kiss all you guys’ foreheads 💜 thank you so much! <<prev >>next

It was so hot. Blinking the tiredness away, you pull back your smushed face and lips from his bare chest. Legs are somehow entangled with his arms around you under your arms.

Sliding down, you move some covers out of the way and go use the bathroom. Sam and Emily are whispering to each other in the kitchen so you take small calculated steps into the bathroom.

Spitting out the toothpaste, you thought about everything that happened the night before. For some reason, you just wanted to do nothing more than to take your feelings out on making something.

You throw on comfortable clothing, nothing too much since the weather was pleasant, you take a small sketch book of yours with a pencil and you took your time walking towards the beach. Your steps were lazy, letting your eyes be distracted by what was happening in your surroundings.

Instead of immediately sitting down, you decide to walk along the beach. With the lazy steps, you had some sort of peace. In your mind at least. Life still happened in front of you, but it was just different people who were spending time with the people that they came with. Chirps of faint laughter and chatters of conversation, flowed through the atmosphere.

You sat on a rock. Peering over the water. You pull out and just sketch without direction. No rush, just wanting to see where your hand will guide you to. The world around you was tuned out, watching the dark streaks mark the semi thick paper.

For some reason, your mind went to Paul. You shook your head, trying not to have any feelings. You didn't know if you were ready to have that conversation with him. Afraid that you'll find out something that you didn't want to know.

You feel a nudge on your foot and tear your eyes away from your task and look down. You see a ball and a guy is jogging but stops and holds his hand out, wanting you to throw it back to him. You put the pencil between the crack of the book, scooping the ball with your free hand and you try to throw it as hard as you can but it was a bad throw. It barely went to him. He smiles and continues to jog over.

You stand and he chuckles as he scoops the ball and takes a look at you. "Sorry." you say sheepishly to him. He shakes his head, a grin still present on his face, "It's alright." He then flickers his eyes down to the book you're holding and he raises his eyebrows, "Drawing over there."

You nod. He nods as well. "Wanna join us?" he takes his thumb, pointing behind him where a couple of people were chatting among themselves in a carefree manner. You take your lip into your mouth, trying to make a decision, you don't want to seem rude. "I don't think you would want me on your team, I'll make you lose." you say.

He grins some more and looks down and fiddles with the ball, "If you're on my team, you'll win because I'm the best player. I'll take you under my wing."

You follow him, he asks for your name, you tell him and then he tells you his. His friends didn't mind that you joined, even telling you to put your book down safely with their things. Time went past as you spent your time with them. The guy who put you on his team, didn't lie. He did win. You laugh as the others playfully groan and his team boasting all about.

Your eyes stray over and you see Paul. Your heart jumps, totally not expecting to see him there. Or at all. You separate yourself and pick your item up and slowly walk over to him. He just patiently watches you as you move in closer.

With possession, he pulls you by your waist, your arms immediately around his neck. His mouth rests on your neck as your swayed with him. He lifts up after some time and looks over. "Who are they?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

"I don't know." you say and look down and chuckle. You then look over and see the guy who you were playing with, had a sad expression as he saw that you were with someone. He looks down from your eyes, turns his head and joins his friends and you look down.

Paul tugs you and you're walking with him. His arm around your waist, making sure that you're close. You don't say anything. You don't actually know what to say. You just focus on your breathing, the count of your steps, and the path in front of you.

You don't say anything. You didn't know what to say. You choose to let your eyes wander and listen to the sound of life around. Paul couldn't take the silence. He was expecting you to say something, so he waited. He couldn't anymore.

"How come you left this morning?" he asks to fill the air with spoken words.

You look at him, to see what his face looked like, he was staring back at you, wanting you to answer at the drop of a dime. It made you trip over your words.

"I..I just wanted to take a stroll." you say quietly and step away and cross your arms.

He's still looking at you but the look of his face showed he didn't like the answer. You didn't know why.

"What?" you ask while still keeping your eyes on him.

"When are we going to talk about last night?" he asks, almost frustrated that you weren't on the same page.

"Paul," you say as you step back and sigh and look away as you shake your head.

"You never want to talk to me." He says and raises his arms up, and sighs.

"I don't want to butt heads." you tell him with no energy.

"How?" he asks, his voice rising a bit.

"I don't want to talk about it here." you say, matching his frustrations.

"Well, when are we going to talk about it? Huh? You want to talk later, or "not right now". When, Y/N, when?" he says, putting a touch of bass in his voice.

You shake your head, scowling a bit, "I don't have time for this." you tell him and walk away.

"Walk away, like you do best." He throws at you, making you turn around, not sorry at all for the statement. Challenging you with a look, eyes looking up and down and up again with dominance.

You throw him a mean look, "I walk away, but at least I don't lie." you say and continue to walk.

He calls your name. You don't answer. He calls it much louder, not failing to put an authoritative stain on it.

You look at him.

"What did I lie about?" he says with such grit, getting close to you, too fast.

You move your head to the side, chuckle with no humor, "Not right now. I'm not going there."

"Well, I'm already there. So..what? Tell me. What did I lie about?" his eyes filled to the brim with intensiveness, his body having a faint blur of shakes.

Your mix of feelings are threatening to spill over, but you didn't want to show it in public. Your fury eyes are seeking elsewhere when he's trying to find your eyes.

You suck in some air and shake your head. You're not showing out, not right now, you just simply refused to. He was making it hard, not even trying to be patient. He wasn't shutting up without an answer. He just simply refused to.

"Paul." you hear Sam's voice. Paul looks up, not changing his facial expression of belligerence. You turn your head around to see Sam having a panicked look on his face.

"What." Paul says with malice.

"Y/N, you should step back. Emily wants to see you." Sam says to you. Willing to not have to deal any more than what was in your way, you go to make your steps in the direction of the house, but your arm is stagnant by Paul.

"Don't think that this is the end of this." he tells you.

You snatch your arm back and make your way to the house hearing Paul's voice faintly say, "Fuck off, I'm not going to shift with her right there."

You push the front door open and find Emily with her arms folded, holding her elbows, she gives you a smile but it's not cheerful.

"Hey, Emily." you say carefully, not knowing the vibe of the situation just yet.

"Hey." she says quietly. You're a bit worried and concerned. "Is everything alright?" you ask her, moving in close.

"I don't know," she says in a surprisingly sad voice, you place a hand on her arm, "I feel like this is all my fault." she says and looks down.

"Your fault? What do you mean?"

She shakes her head, "Kim told me that she saw some sketches in his room but I didn't say anything."

Your stomach drops and you ask quietly, "Wait, why was she in his room?"

"I folded his clean clothes and asked her to put them in his top drawer."

Of course, she snooped.

You rub the hand that's on her arm. "It's not your fault. You were just in the middle of a messed up situation." you tell her.

"I don't want you two to fall apart because of this. I'm sure something can be worked out." she says.

You nod with her in agreement.

You sit in the small rolling chair that's in Paul's chair. He didn't come back with Sam. Sam took over the consoling, telling you that Paul went to calm down. You sat and thought about how to not break into another argument.

The door swinging open scared you, making you jump in the chair. Paul closes the door hard, not slam, but still hard and sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes aren't as furious as earlier but they are still overruled with ferocity.

"Let me see the book." you form on your lips. You sat and challenged him.

His hard eyes lock on yours for some time, before getting up, going to the same spot where it fell from, and he hands it to you. You slowly pull it out of his hands, your hands are now producing sweat.

You open the first pages. You remember what they looked like, but it still surprised you. You took a breath as you turned more pages. You didn't know if you were, but you stared at the new illustrations of a figure that looked a lot like yourself, in passionate fornicating acts. You take the last bit of piles of the book between your fingers and flip through the rest of the pages quickly. The others weren't bad, just recaps of the days that you spent with him.

With the book closed, you set it in your laps, staring at the cover.

"Why did you hide this from me?" you ask, barely hearing yourself.

"Privacy." he just says.

"Are they of me?" you ask to make sure. You were 99% sure of the answer.

"Yes."

You nod and look down. He slides it off of your lap and puts it back.

"We've been around each other. At school, around the neighborhood, for years. Why the sudden interest now?" you ask. He sighs to himself and leans forward on his knees.

"It wasn't just a sudden interest. You just seemed stand offish." he says.

You touch the fingers on both hands together as you think. You just didn't want to be in the way of something that didn't fit in line with what you had going on.

The thought makes you chuckle softly, you lift your eyes to meet his, he still never took them off of you. "I always thought..." you trail off.

"You thought what?" he asks.

"That you were a bit out of my league." you confess to him. It was true. You weren't blind, the way that he carried himself, the way people kissed up to him, you didn't think you were a part of that. He ran in a different crowd. You were okay with that.

He stands up and he's in front of you. He pulls you up to him and you're very close to him. "Why would you think that? Do you even hear yourself?" the questions are brushed along your ear with his lips.

You shrug as your body shivers lightly against him. He searches your face to see if he can find his answer there.

"Stop letting this lead you." he says, poking the side of your head, the way he does it is effortlessly affectionate.

He leans down and places his lips on an area where your heart lies in your chest, he places an open mouth kiss on it. Your breath hitches. He lifts his head up and looks into your eyes some more. He leans forward as kisses an open mouth kiss on the part that meets your jaw, this simple movement makes you jolt a bit. He's closely watching your movements, remembering that your lips are there. It was sweet at first, leaning back, continuously placing his lips to yours.

He glued his lips to you once more, moving back and sitting on the bed, you on him, not even disconnecting. Your knees are beside him, deeply exploring each other's mouths. A familiar ache below starts to pound and caress your tongue with his that makes him feel you with his hand. His hand was greedy, touching your wet underwear, then digging in them to feel the bareness of you. You hear a grunt, before you could respond or process, Paul is in front of you yanking your underwear off. Before you could stop him, you're connected to his mouth like a puzzle. Feeling you with his tongue, you're arching your body to him, bodily waves movements against his mouth are made, your grip is blindly on his hair and strong arms, and his hands bringing you closer to him. It made you cover one hand over your mouth. Sounds got leaked out through the overwhelmed stimulation, but by your heavy breathing, it was all worth it.

"Are you sure you can't sneak off to come with?" you whisper to him, your arms tight around his neck.

"You know if I could, I would." he whispers back.

"Come, on she can't miss her flight." Sam says.

Paul held onto you like you were his security blanket. You pull back and take your bag. Paul cups your face and continue to gift you his lips on yours. After some time, Sam says, "She's not going off to war. It's only 2 days."

"Too long." Paul says and gives him a stare of nothing but attitude.

Promises to call and keep in touch with him was of course made. You both didn't want to let each other go, waiting until the last minute until it was time to go inside the airport to leave. To leave Paul. He didn't know what he was going to do for the time that you were gone. To him, when things seem to get better between you two, something makes you both veer away from each other for whatever circumstance.

While you were gone, Paul barely got sleep. He patrolled more often, especially with news of “animal attacks.” The thing he looked forward to was you being there when got back. The first night of coming back, he forgot that you weren’t there. He didn’t even want to lay down in bed. He moped but he still fulfilled his duties. You made him forget the realities of having to devote his life to shift shaping.

Sleep was absent for you as well. Mostly due to nerves but your mind was still stuck on Paul. The praise you have gotten for your work was the shine of the trip. They actually wanted you to stay. But you had to get back. You kept them as contacts for in the future. Someone asked you for a commission for a good, big price. You traveled back home feeling good.

The day that you came back, was the night of Jared’s party. Jared begged you. Called you, himself to beg you to go. Hearing him rack all of the reasons why, he finally agreed. You told him you would meet everybody there, you wanted to go back to your own house.

It took a lot of persuasion from Sam to let him throw a get together. A lot of claims of being able to handle his phasing. You at least got to be around humans.

Hugging the wall, you observe as people move about and socialize. You couldn’t help but think about how you used to be like them. Totally oblivious to what lurks in the shadows of reality. Carefree with only natural problems to think about.

You decide to move out onto Jared’s backyard patio, finding Paul sitting at one of the chairs, livening up the conversation. He immediately catches sight of you and you’re propped comfortably on his lap and his arm around your waist. He doesn’t stop kissing you for a good minute. The public display of affection was every displayed. Everybody by that time knew you were his. You tried your best to hear and engage in conversation.

Piercing eyes that were covered with covetousness took you by surprise. The girl displaying such emotion didn’t try to hide it or make discreet. She wanted it to be known. With her completely staring you down, you decide to wave. She doesn’t wave back. You shrug and lean back on Paul. You tried to be friendly either way.

Offering to get him a drink, you held two plastic cups in your hands. Someone caught your attention and you give into the conversation for a bit. You see Paul and the girl come in from outside and as she’s walking past your eyesight, she’s smirking and tries to be discreet with touching her lips with her fingers. She was trying to get under your skin.

Paul goes in the direction of the bathroom so you move into the direction of the patio, taking your steps carefully. You feel a push. You stumble forward, catch your fall, but the drinks slosh out of the cups and onto the floor. You turn around to see the same set of eyes you seen out on the patio.

“What’s your problem?” you ask her sharply.

“You. Stay away from him.” she answers just as sharp as she takes a step forward.

You rumble a chuckle in your chest, not taking what she’s saying seriously. “And if I don’t?” you contest.

She pushed you again and you take the cup that has a last bit of liquid and throw it on her. Looking down at her ruined top, she looks at you with rage. She goes to swing but you step back, causing her to miss.

“Just like the others, he will get bored of you and beg to be back in my bed.” she snarled out with a grin that contained no type of kind nature.

With her guard down, you mush her face hard, causing her to stumble back. She lunges for you but Jared grabs her and steer her away. She’s insisting to let her go but he refused. Taming her like a wild animal.

“You’re not fighting in here. If you mess up my shit, you’re paying for every penny.” he tells her.

You turn to walk back out the patio, Paul coming out asking what happened.

“I didn’t know you had so many fans.” you say sarcastically and gesture towards the girl Jared is now telling to leave.

You tell him all what happened and he sits and groaned to himself and shake his head.

“She’s nothing.”

You look away.

“Do you want to leave?” he asks.

“You can stay. I’ll take myself home.” You say and squeeze his arm as you walk past but he catches a grip on yours.

“I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to be in that shitty situation.” He says to you and you can tell that he means it.

“Come on.” he says and steers you back into the house from the patio and you two walk side by side.

“I don’t want to keep getting attacked.” you tell him, he makes sure you hear him, “She was just jealous, Y/N. What we have is stronger than to let junk separate us.”

You peel away from him to use the bathroom, finding Kim in the hallway, you groan to yourself.

You turn back around and you hear her voice, “You went out of town and didn’t tell me.”

You ignore her, continuing to walk down the hall to find the stairs. That doesn’t stop her from following you, “You’re letting every thing get to your head.”

“You’re so weird! I want nothing to do with you.”

“Picking a guy over your friend?”

“You’re not my friend! Friends don’t lie, or manipulate situations or sneak and snoop around other people’s belongings and lie for their own benefit!” you say and she moves closer and you step back warning her, “Kim.”

“I tried to be there for you. You couldn’t even see that! I’m sure if it wasn’t for me saying anything you wouldn’t have went!”

You roll your eyes and walk away. You forgot that since you’re apart of the pack as an imprint, you still had to face that she would be around. You wish she would fly away in a bubble.

Seeing you near the front door, Jared stops both you and Paul.

“Now, don’t tell me you both are leaving to go bang each other’s brains out.” he says.

This makes you crack out a laugh, “I’m just tired, Jared.” You go and hug him.

“I appreciate you coming. Sorry about what happened earlier.”

“It’s okay.” you tell him reassuringly.

As you both are walking back home, Paul couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Guess what?” he asks you in a jolly tone as you’re near Emily and Sam’s house.

“What?” you say with the same enthusiasm.

“Guess.” he says and you sigh playfully, “Um..I don’t know. Just tell me.”

“Okay.” he says and takes forever to say the news and this makes you get up and playfully tap his arm, “Come on spit it out.” you say with a smile.

“I finally have my own place.” he says and you wrap your body on him as he holds you. “I’m so happy for you. Do you feel good?” you say.

“Hell yes.” he says he says into your neck that makes you jolt a bit.

Paul couldn’t wait to show you each room with his arms wide as he circles his new home. He woke you up bright and early, ignoring your fussing about finally getting some sleep. There wasn’t much that was furnished but you both were happy regardless. You spent the day with him to help set his things up and you were happy that he was happy.

He hands you a key and you look down at the metal in your hand, “When are you getting your things?” he asked.

You clutch the key and inspect it, the future of your life really starting, “Oh..I haven’t really thought about that.”

“Well, I have. I can help you tomorrow.” he says as he takes in his home with his eyes once again.

You did the same. You wondered how things would be like when you both share the same roof. Something in your bones told you, you were going to be very happy. Paul’s eyes told you that you were going to be very happy.

[thebearer]

thinking of teddy being like 2 and she’s just so excited about anything and everything, so you do a countdown for anchivys birthday and she is like “happy for chovy dada?” every time she changes the number that’s closer to his birthday

i haven't done a blurb in so long <3 let's do one.

"Chovy?" Teddy chirps, bright eyes shining up at you, hands thrown out exaggeratedly in question- a trait Carmen swore came from you. "T'day? Chovy, t'day?"

"Not today, Teddy Bear." You cooed, sweeping the remnants of her snack into the trash.

At two years old, the world was exciting. Full of so many fun things, at the top of them, birthdays. Carmen's birthday was the first time Teddy really understood what was going on, the first time she really wanted one of her own.

Since then, she was convinced everyday was a birthday, babbling "bir'day, bir'day" around the house until you and Carmen were sure you were going to rip your hair out. Anchovy's birthday was close, the next closest, so you started a countdown for her. Thinking it would curb the constant asking- it did not.

"No?" Teddy's eyes rounded, dropping into an achingly sad look that had your own heart breaking. "No Chovy?"

"No, not today." You hummed, shaking your head. "But close." You chirped, grinning, hoping it would stop the tears you could feel coming from her.

Teddy perked, brows still furrowed in a sullen expression that was all Berzatto, entirely inherited from Carmen. "No bir'day?" Teddy sighed, demeanor switched.

"No, not today, baby." You sighed, scooping her up on your hip. "But, let's go see Daddy how many days we have left?"

A trip to the craft store, spending the entirety of Teddy's nap time one day, you'd made a make shift sort of advent calendar that counted down to the big day. A printed picture of Anchovy from his last birthday, sitting in front of a cake awkwardly.

Carmen had insisted it go in his office, heart swelling when he saw it first. Teddy babbling away excitedly about it, bouncing on her toes. It was positively adorable. Made Carmen's insides burn with a feeling he hadn't known before you. You were a good mom.

"Daddy," You called playfully, swallowing down a grin. He didn't fluster the way he had when you started with Anchovy.

"Yeah?" Carmen muttered, turning in his chair, eyes lighting when he saw both of you. "Oh? Is it my two favorite girls?" He grinned, putting the pencil down in front of him.

"We wanted to ask you something." You put a squirming Teddy on the ground, stifling a laugh when she bolted towards Carmen.

"Yeah? What's up?" Carmen groaned dramatically, lifting Teddy into his lap.

"Chovy bir'day?" Teddy threw her hands out again, turning them up in question to Carmen. You watched him melt right in front of you, a wide smile that still had your heart burning.

"How many more days until Anchovy's birthday?" You nodded.

"How many more days? Hm, let's see." Carmen turned towards the bright poster board pinned behind him. He'd hung it up on his own, proudly.

"You wanna count with me? Let's see how many days. Alright, we're right here, so..." Carmen hugged Teddy close. "One... Two..." He counted slowly, her little chirp of a voice echoing his.

You leaned forward, watching him adoringly. You were definitely bringing up the possibility of baby number two tonight after Teddy went to bed.

"Eight." Carmen nodded, looking down at Teddy. "So how many more days?"

She turned towards him, brows furrowed in thought. "No?"

"No," Carmen laughed. "You're tryna trick me? Hm, are you tryna trick me?" He grinned playfully, tickling her sides so she screeched in laughter.

"No! I no twick!" Teddy giggled loudly.

"So how many more days?" Carmen asked, pressing a kiss into her cheek. "Hm? How many did we count?"

"Eight."

"That's right." You nodded, clapping softly for her. "You're so smart. Such a good counter."

Teddy beamed, hugging Carmen tightly, pressing her face into his neck. "But tonight, you can mark it off and you'll only have seven." He told her, a hand running over her curls gently.

Anchovy slinked in, sliding between your legs as if on cue. You leaned down to pet him gently, scratching behind his ears. Teddy squealed in delight, squirming to get off of Carmen's lap to chase after him.

You watched Anchovy skitter, jump onto Carmen's desk and dash away while Teddy tried to chase him. "Did you tell Marcus to make the cake?" You sighed, sinking into Carmen's lap.

His head pressed to your shoulder, leaving a kiss on the skin there. "Yeah, he's got it. Just need to go to the store. I'll get some of those, the, uh, the streamer things? Think she'll like if we hang those up."

"Anchovy will too," You snorted lightly. "Claw them down like he did my birthday that one time." A memory from years before, another life time it felt like. Before you were married, before you had Teddy, when you and Carmen were still a little careless, care free.

"Yeah, maybe not then?" Carmen hummed.

"No, I think it'll be cute." You grin. "Teddy will love it."

[chrrywavs]

Pink Mascara

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: your studying with your boyfriend Eddie, when his curious eyes land on something hidden deep inside your closet.

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 18+ MINORS DNI! some spit play, anal play kinda but not really, degrading, edging, overstimulation, mentions of a corruption kink, oral sex fem receiving.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: naive/inexperienced fem reader x Eddie Munson.

╔══ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══╗

“Okay let’s test each other.” You crawled across from him.

Eddie groaned. “No” He threw himself backwards onto your bed.

“C’mon Eddie!” You whined climbing over and straddling him.

“No princess,” he sighed covering his face with his hands. “I’m tired and bored, let’s do something else.” He mumbled into his hands.

You giggled moving his hands from his face and gently pinning them over his head. “Like what?” You smiled down at him.

“Literally anything else.” He sighed. Staring back up into your soft round eyes. “We could make out?”

You hummed, pretending to think before quickly lowering yourself and leaving a small quick peck on his lips. “Maybe later, I need to keep studying.”

Eddie groaned at the lack of touch. “(Y/n) your killing me!” He threw his hands into the air. You laughed crawling off him and picking up where you left off.

Eddie stared at your ceiling fan watching as it went round and round making him dizzy, And then he saw it, something bright and pink out the corner of his eye hidden beneath a pile of clothes. He turned his head towards it, the color peeking his interest. “What’s that?” He asked slowly rising from your bed.

“What’s what?” You mumbled through the pencil in your mouth as you continued to read your notes, paying no mind to him whatsoever.

“That, pink thing…” he said bending down to retrieve it.

You scrunched your face, looking up from the notebook you had your nose buried in for the last couple of hours. “EDDIE-“ you gasped with wide eyes watching him play with the object in his hand. Your face flushed a bright red full of embarrassment. If you could crawl into the deepest darkest hole and die, you would.

Eddie laughed throwing his head back. “(Y/n), this is amazing!” He bent over clutching his stomach in a fit of laughter.

“I-I- I don’t even-“ you struggled to form words. You couldn’t even come up with a lie on the spot, to mortified with the thought that your boyfriend of six months whom you’ve only just kiss found your pink dildo.

“God (y/n), I knew you were a freak but I didn’t know you were this freaky.” He teased shaking the rubber and watching it recoil against the movement.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you fought the urge to cry. Eddie took notice quickly lowering the object and walking towards you. “No, no, I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” He scooped you up into his arms, stroking your hair. “I was just joking.” He sighed mentally slapping himself. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about…I-I do it too.” He mumbled the last bit.

You looked up at him blinking away the tears. “You…do?” You asked with a small sniffle.

Eddie nodded his head. “Yeah…not with that though.” He chuckled, a small smile formed at your lips. “Just with these.” He held his hand up with an open palm.

You smiled taking his hand into yours and tangling your fingers with his. you nuzzled your head deep into his chest, taking in a deep breath with his usual aroma of cigarettes and cologne filling your nose, before sighing with relief. You were happy that he hadn’t judged you like you thought he would’ve, how idiotic of you to have thought.

Your mind wandered and the image of Eddie gripping his cock in his hand crept into your mind. You squirmed on his lap, Eddie took notice, rubbing his hand up and down the small of your back. “You okay?” He murmured, kissing your hair.

You played with his fingers. “What do you…” you stopped to think, feeling a bit awkward with the phrasing of your question. “what do you think about?” Your voice was meek, as you drew small circle on his hand.

It caught Eddie off guard. He hadn’t expected such a question from you. “Uhh..” he stopped to think. “I think about…I think about you, princess.” He sighed.

You smiled, happy with his response. “Yeah but…what am I doing…for you?” You whispered looking up at him with your soft doe eyes. He smirked to himself, his cock twitching in his pants at the improper thoughts you had hidden behind your innocent gaze.

“I think about you on your knees…with your pretty pink tongue sticking out waiting for me cum all over it.” He cooed playing with your hair. “I think about you jumping on my cock, so desperate to get yourself off while your tits bounce over my face.” Your face flushed as You clenched your thighs easing the fuzzy feeling between your legs.

Eddie felt you shift on his lap, your ass moving against his cock. He looked down at you cupping your jaw and tilting your head to meet his gaze. “I think about stretching out your tight virgin pussy and fucking you till your all dumb.” You felt your heart rate quicken. the embarrassment you’d felt just moments ago was replaced with the familiar feeling of arousal.

Eddie slowly trailed his hand down from your jaw past your neck. “Do you wanna tell me what you think about?” His whisper was raspy and you shivered as his warm breath rolled down your bare neck. His hand lowered past your stomach laying flat against the pudge, you frowned hoping he’d go lower.

You nodded with a small sigh. “Then tell me.” He said bunching up the fabric of your white skirt. You rolled your head back against his hard chest, expecting him to finally touch you. “Better yet…” he thought. “I think my princess wants to show me, isn’t that right?”

You bit your lip, to shy to admit to the truth, but Eddie could tell, he always knew exactly what you wanted. “C’mon princess, then show me.”

༺✯༻

You sat at the far edge of your bed, back pressed against the cold headboard with your legs spread as far as they could. Eddie sat in front of you admiring your bare glistening cunt as he rubbed himself through his pants easing the burning feeling.

“Ready?” He asked through a heavy breath. You nodded your head, adjusting your hips so that they’d be a bit farther out then the rest of you.

You squirmed feeling extremely exposed compared to Eddie. He still had his jeans and Mötley Crüe shirt on, fully dressed right in front of you staring you down like a madman thirsty for blood. The only thing that kept some of your dignity was the thin white shirt you had, but even that still left you a little exposed as the thin cotton outlined your breast.

Eddie inched closer towards you, rubbing his warm hand up and down over your inner thigh. “I’m gonna work up to it okay, princess? Don’t wanna hurt you now do we?” You nodded with a small gulp as his hand inched closer, down to your aching cunt painfully slow. He cupped his hand over the small mound, kissing along the inside your thigh. He left wet kisses in a trail, going back to nibble at them till he was content, all the while his fingers teased up and down your slit, never pushing through.

You whined, jerking your hips towards him, hoping to gain any kind of friction. “Stop it (y/n).” He tsk. “we’ll get there just be patient, Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and sit patiently while I play with you and get you all nice a wet?” You nodded with a small whine.

Eddie continued with his small little kisses this time moving to your other thigh. He bit and sucked on the skin, letting out small groans, absolutely loving the way he marked you up. Eddie was always so possessive over you, especially more when you two started going out. He’ll always have a hand wrapped around your waist so that everyone would know your his, and anytime he’d catch someone staring for too long he’d pull you into a deep kiss, slipping his tongue deep into your mouth. You didn’t mind it, in fact you loved how protective he is, and obviously Eddie would jump at any opportunity to mark you up as much as he could, still respecting your wishes to keep it hidden from your parents.

Eddie leaned back admiring his work, “you should be happy your dating an artist babe.” He snickered looking up at you. “I’m like fucking Picasso or whatever the hell his name is.” He smirked as he inched back forward his mouth hovering just a couple inches above your heat. He parted your sticky folds, spitting down onto your pussy. The warm liquid dribbled down your cunt making you let out a small shaky sigh. He smiled a devilish smirk, before taking the tip of his middle finger and dipping down to collect the spit that puddled, smearing it even more over your little cunt. You lolled your head back against your headboard, a small moan coming from your mouth at his warm touch. But still it wasn’t enough.

His eyes were shamelessly glued to the spot between your legs, teasingly sliding his fingers up and down your wet fold playing with the mixture of his spit and your juices. The lewd sounds coming from your dripping cunt only made you crave him more. “Do you hear that baby? You hear how wet you are for me?” You nodded watching him with heavy breaths while biting your lip.

You let out a small whine, flinching each time he’d lightly swipe his finger over your desperate clit. He’d lower his fingers, just barely dipping into your hole, threatening to break through the tension with his fingers, only to bring it back up and flick the little nub again. He did that over and over giving you just enough friction to work you up but not enough to help you finish.

“So pretty (y/n),” he cooed, reaching his free hand to cup your cheek. You leaned into the warmth of his hand looking up at him with your big round eyes making him absolutely insane for you. “Bet you’d taste as sweet as you are, princess.” He murmured.

You smiled up at him batting your thick lashes. “Why don’t you find out.” You purred with a strange wave of confidence. You Trailed your hand into his shirt, feeling his soft skin clenched under your touch.

“Yeah? Is that what my princess wants? For me to taste her deliciously sweet cunt?” He cooed dipping his thumb past your lips. You nodded your head, swirling and sucking your tongue against his salty skin. “Look at you sucking my thumb so good, bet you’d like my cock stuffed in your mouth wouldn’t you baby?”

You nodded you head frantically, the thought of Eddie using your mouth for his own pleasure made you dizzy. Eddie chuckled “another time princess, tonight’s all about you.” He pulled his thumb out from your mouth and you released it with a pop and small whine following after.

Eddie lowered himself till he was leveled with your weeping cunt. You watched with curious eyes and he took a long lick pressing his tongue flat against your pussy. You moaned embarrassingly loud. “Shh (y/n), we don’t want to alert your parents now do we?” He teased his warm breath hitting your wet cunt. “You know how much your dad loves me.” He said sarcastically.

“S-sorry.” You whispered. Eddie looked up at you through his bangs with a sly smirk before latching his tounge onto your Clit. You gasped slapping a hand over your mouth to conceal the moans that threatened to escape. Eddie groaned at your taste, lapping his tongue against the small nub. “Oh my god, Eddie god-” you gasped tangling your fingers into his messy hair, the stinging of his scalp only egged him on more.

He slid two fingers into you, pumping them in and out to match his pace. “Eddie!” You cried as you felt his fingers rubbing along the spongey spot that made you feel woozy. You threw your head back, skull cracking against your headboard as you gave in, hips rolling against his face at the best of your ability, using his hair to keep you stable. Eddie chuckled against you adding one more finger into the hole as he felt you clench down against him, all while he was sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit.

You were close and he knew, but he wasn’t gonna let you finish, not yet, not until you were begging him with red cheeks, teary eyes, and slurred words. You were his toy, you were his prize and he was gonna make it worthwhile. Eddie shook his head against you sucking your folds into his mouth as his tongue lathered all over them, you whined arching your back towards him pulling him in closer.

“Eddie…Eddie…I’m gonna cum -oh my- I’m gonna cum!” You screamed not caring if your parents would hear. Your walls fluttered around his thick fingers, and Just before you could melt into full bliss Eddie pulled away. “No, Eddie please!” You whined with a pout grabbing his hand and pulling it back towards your aching cunt.

Eddie pulled his hand away and gathered both of yours pinning them over your head in one smooth motion. “Be. Patient.” He warned his dark eyes piercing through your soul. He took his glistening fingers and shoved them into your mouth to suck on, and you gladly did moaning at your taste. “Look at you, so needy, so perfect, and all for me.” You nodded your head small whimpers escaping you as you swirled your tongue all over Eddie’s fingers. He slowly pulled them out a line of spit connecting towards your lip.

He brought his fingers back down to your cunt sliding them up and down between your folds. “Im gonna have to tie your hands up, can’t have you acting like a brat without any punishment now can we?” He taunted.

“No Eddie please-” You whimpered sounding so pathetic but you didn’t care. “I’ll be good I promise, give me one more chance.” You begged tears brimming your eyes.

“Look at you, being so greedy.” He tsk looking down at your hips still jerking against his fingers for more friction. Your cheeks burned a bright red, embarrassed that you hadn’t even realized you were doing it. “Wait, no please-“ you cried.

“My dirty girl wants it so bad, so bad she’s misbehaving.” He growled pulling his shirt from over his head. “Let me show you what misbehaving little girls get.” He gathering your hands tying them together against the headboard of your bed. as he reached for the pink dildo on your night stand. “Spit on it.” He demanded. You did before taking the rubber into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down against it to the best of your ability. You gagged as Eddie shoved it deeper into your mouth. Spit dribbling down your chin as the tip of the makeshift dick hit the back of your throat.

Eddie smiled pleased with the tears spilling from your eyes. You moaned against the rubber imagining that it were Eddie’s dick you were chocking on. His finger drew tight circles on your clit the sensation sending shivers down your spine. “Look at you, what a filthy girl you are princess.” He growled looking at the pool beneath you that stained your pink floral covers. You whimpered nodding your head. His filthy words only making your skin hotter. “And here I thought you were just so naive and innocent, but your just a naughty girl hiding behind that facade aren’t you? A greedy little slut waiting to be freed hm?” He growled.

You nodded your head to the best of its ability moaning as your throat contracted around the pink dick. Eddie pushed two fingers back inside of you, pumping in and out matching the same pace as the dildo that slammed into your mouth. You cried arching your back towards him. He chuckled pulling the dick out from your mouth as you gasped for air. Your mascara running down your cheeks, swollen pink lips and spit trickling down your neck. You were filthy, you felt filthy, and you absolutely loved it. Being used by Eddie was something you’d always imagined as you touched yourself late at night. And now it’s become your reality.

Your cheeks flushed as you fought against the ties Eddie had around your wrist. You wanted to reach out towards him, grip his hair and let your fingers roam around his bare torso. You wanted to reach out and trace delicate circle all over his ink, down to his pelvis, then down to his bulging cock, which you could clearly see even through the black jeans he wore. “Eddie please.” You whined lolling your head to its side. You could barely keep your eyes open, everything was just to much.

Eddie tsk, “my princess needs to cum doesn’t she?” He cooed, his fingers repeatedly slamming into your g-spot. You cried spreading your legs farther apart. “Yes! -Oh my god- yes Eddie please!” Tears rolled down your cheeks as you rolled your hips against his fingers. Your pussy clenched around him being so close to melting into full bliss. Eddie pulled his fingers out, a loud squelch echoed in the room. “ Eddie n-OH!“ you yelped as he shoved the pink dildo inside of your hole, not missing a beat and keeping the same pace as before.

“Oh my god Eddie! Yes! Feels so good!” You cried. Eddie palmed himself with his free hand as he watched the dildo spilt you open. Your eyes rolled back as he slammed the dildo into you, the pink tip rubbing against the spongey spot inside of you repeatedly.

He trailed his free hand up your soft stomach into your thin shirt and took hold of your bouncing tit, squeezing the mound into his hand as he fingers tugged on your nipple. You bit your lip staring into his dark eyes, finding salvation in them. “So-good.” You breathed out feeling your stomach clench.

“Gonna- oh Ed’s…need to cum.” every word you said came out in small little breaths with each thrust of rubber dick.

“Not yet princess.” He growled over the wet sound of your pussy and small whimpers escaping your gaped mouth. “Your okay princess, just breath for me baby.” He cooed his hand moving down to your clit. You threw your head back, crashing it against your headboard as He rubbed fast circles onto the small nub. “Please Eddie please!” You cried. Everything feeling to much to handle.

Eddie smiled to himself, feeling exceptionally generous all due to your small pleads and the little noises that escaped your throat. “Go ahead, cum for me princess.” He cooed. the knot in your stomach unraveled as everything went blank and was replaced with ecstasy. Your body shuddered, hips stuttering as your orgasm washed over you.

“Shit princess.” Eddie gasped watching as your pussy gushed all over his pants. Tears rolled down your cheeks, a mixture of pleasure and relief with a little bit of pain as you came down from your high.

You squirmed away from Eddie’s touch and he tuts, sliding the pink cock between your folds and teasing at your asshole as he was still vigorously rubbing his fingers on your sensitive clit. “Eddie i-“ you gasped jerking your hips. Eddie still not having slowed down, smiled at your feeble attempts to squirm away. “You looked so beautiful when you came.” He cooed. “So goddamn beautiful princess.” Your legs trembled as slowed his pace coming to a stop. He kissed your trembling knee before standing from the bed and unzipping his jeans. “Think you can give me another? but this time while your under me?” He dropped his pants, jeans and boxers pooling at his ankles. his hard cock sprung out from its shackles all angry and red.

╚══ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══╝

[strawberryforks]

the cole walter effect // cole walter x reader

summary: you fall victim to the cole walter effect, then he, falls for you.

warnings: swearing

word count: 1850

a/n: requests/asks open and encouraged! <3

one look and you were a goner. two, and you were a blushing mess, sitting beside erin, your best friend. desks pushed up against each other, wondering what business letters had in maths class and what business cole walter had being so… so him, you toyed with the mechanical pencil in your hand, pushing the led in and out.

even acting like a jackass, cole had a sweet smile and was the king of gestures—grand or otherwise. hanging around him could light up you day (or darken it substantially depending on his mood) but mostly, cole walter made you feel special for however long you managed to keep his attention.

since he’d hurt his leg and lost his spot on the football team he’d been treating everyone awfully. you, erin, the dozens of other girls he led on, his parents, siblings, himself. it wasn’t like cole but it didn’t seem like there was much anyone could do…

you made a point to cherish the good moments even more.

when someone bumped into you in the hallways he scooped up your books and handed them to you. “sorry about that, y/n, some people don’t pay enough attention to their surroundings,” he watched the perpetrator retreat, glaring at their back all while helping you up.

when you two skipped school together and he brought you to his favourite spot. the sun beat down on the lake and reflected on your faces. “happiness looks good on you, sunshine,” he’d been trying out stupid nicknames all day and none of them stuck, not until then, you scrunched your nose and shook your head, laughing at him and he smiled back. you’d listen to that stupid nickname every day for the rest of your life if that was your reward.

and that time you got stuck walking in the rain. it was storming and you were supposed to be on your way to his house—to hangout with danny, but still. when you were late he cared enough to call your mom and when she said you’d left on foot fifteen minutes ago he was out the door in no time at all. he pulled up alongside you and let you climb into his truck even soaking wet. “sunshine, you’re shaking,” you were, you were drenched and chilled to the bone. “here.” he shrugged off his jacket, gave it to you, and cranked the heat. your teeth chattered while you thanked him and he brushed it off, said: “no worries; it’s nothing.” what he didn’t know is that it was everything.

you felt bad for cole walters and his devilish grin but you felt other things too. in that ooey gooey crush phase where a wink could turn you bright red and you treasured each and every conversation—dissected each word and then talked about it with your best friend.

“he’s pretty, i’ll give him that.” she said, giving you the sense that wasn’t all. “but?” you encouraged.

“but he’s kind of an ass and he stopped treating me right a long time ago. casual hookups are all he can offer, y/n.”

you’d be fine with that and you love erin but you don’t really believe her. no, it’s not that you don’t believe in her it’s just… you believe in cole. believe he can do better, be better, and be more.

still, her tone worries you. you know something’s up so you push a bit. you’ve known her since you were in diapers and cole was her off-and-on-again boyfriend for quite awhile. you have a crush on him but who doesn’t? falling prey to what dozens of your peers have dubbed the cole effect is almost easier than breathing in this tiny town. “are you sure you’re okay with—“ you gesture between you and then point out the window to where the eldest walter boy stands talking to his twin, danny. there’s no other way to explain it, really. there is no you and cole, you’re just hoping that one day there could be. erin looks out the window, “to clarify you’re talking about cole, right?”

you nod quick and when she seems relieved your mouth tumbles open. you gasp and erin’s hand flies to the back of her neck, cheeks turning red, “yeah,” she admits. “i’m suddenly only okay with you going after one of the walter boys.”

“you like danny!” you whisper-shout. “that’s fantastic, that’s just so great! i’ve known him for ages i can totally set you up. would it be okay if i gave him your number?” erin nods, grateful, and you can’t wipe the grin off of your face all day.

you see danny and rush over to him. you pluck his phone out of his hand and he messes up your hair with his hand, “i’m just putting erin’s number in!” you defend, “she’s interested in acting” and you, you omit, “and since you’re the best actor i know, i figured you could help her out!”

danny smiles and stuffs his hands into his pockets and shakes his head. he’s your other best friend, the one you tell all of your walter free drama. to spare his sanity, not once have you mentioned your massive crush or burdened him with your boy-problems. boy-problem, you corrected, seeing as there was only one. “you coming over after school?”

“only if you’ve got room!”

“we do. always. and see if your friend erin wants to come with.”

your excitement is palpable as you nod quickly. Then, you skip off to find erin, plans already forming in your mind.

You’re the first one to the car–you call shotgun and slide into the passenger seat, looking at cole. earlier, you’d slipped issac, lee, and nathan $10 bills to manoeuvre themselves so erin and danny would have to sit next to each other. To add insult to injury, or the cherry to your sundae of a master plan, you slip issac an extra $5. he sits with his legs spread and rests his elbows on his thighs hunched over. he sits his backpack beside him and when erin figured out where she had to sit–having only half a seat’s worth of space, you swear, she had a mini-aneurysm or something. you almost felt bad. erin glared but you played dumb you did feel bad. a little. until cole hit a bump and looking in the mirror you saw them holding hands. a victory, a smile, now it was your turn.

being cole walter’s friend was surprisingly easy. turns out, he just needed someone to really hear him. To really listen. Sure, to get to that point you had to push a little (but two shouting matches later and) “it’s just–there was all this pressure on me to make a comeback. I love footbal, i do, but it doesn’t change the fact that my foot is fucked. mom and dad spent all this money on my rehab and it’s still useless.” you hugged him tight, “but you’re not. Not useless.” he sighed, holding onto you, like the lifeline you allowed yourself to be. he didn’t believe you when you told him he was worthy, that he was good at things other than football, but maybe one day.

winning over cole took more attention to detail and care. care was the big thing–thoughtfulness, kindness, creativeness. cole walter does things for people and he doesn’t have to be asked or begged. you’re certain his love language is acts of service and yours is a combination of several. you like physical touch as much as the next person, gift giving, and quality time. when you combine all three? it’s his turn to blush.

you find field and pick a handful of flowers–all as close to his favourite colour you could find. you arrange them in a tinted and curved glass vase you found at the thrift and you write him a letter. when you deliver your gift, passing it over, your hands touch. “who’s this for?” he asks, confusion present on his face. He’s thinking maybe it’s for his mom, maybe parker?, when you tap your index finger against the envelope and he reads his own name. he’s caught off guard. he takes the gift, thanks you somewhat awkwardly and then walks off. (you think you failed until he returned the sentiment the next day and you found flowers in your locker)

the next thing that you do isn’t even intentional. you don’t do it to make cole like you more, it just happens that way. “Hey!” you shout, walking up to the new quarterback. “taking his number and flaunting it around like that–well that’s a real shit thing to do.” lake houses with colourful chairs aren’t made for confrontations like these. nor are you usually, not in front of your peers at least. but after a cup full of liquid confidence, well, you’re in the middle of a truth or dare game and things are about to get messy. you’re to his left and if he leans in the only kiss he’ll receive is from your knuckles. “i dare you,” he rolls his eyes, “i pick truth.” you scoff and when some of his friends laugh too, one crowing “what are you, scared?” he doesn’t budge. “truth, then. do you think you’re better than cole?” he gulps, “even with an injured leg he’s a better person and player than you could ever dream of being.” cole watches from the sidelines, ready to intervene if necessary but also… he’s thinking. thinking hard and wondering where the hell you came from.

he taught you how to ride horses, you taught him how to paint–painted him, actually, which his mom just thought was the best thing in the entire world. “she’s so sweet, george.” katherine told her husband, “she’s so good to him. just what he needed.”

you take the liberty of walking him to a few of his classes and he pays you back by driving you places–your home, his, issac jokingly called you cole’s passenger princess and the second eldest walter boy didn’t correct him. being cole’s anything gave you butterflies.

but still. the one step you wouldn’t take was the one that took him the longest–it was the label that stopped him, that scared him. the exclusivity (he hadn’t so much as flirted with anyone else since you two started hanging out more) and the fear of error, of messing up. a month later was when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. the two of you went on a picnic (he cooked all of the food but didn’t tell you in case there was something there that you didn’t like) and brought you flowers and a letter. “who’s this for?” you asked, grinning. it was a full circle–one with a curved line and two dots inside of it. you were beaming and when you finished reading the letter you threw yourself into his arms. your hands found both sides of his face and you pressed your lips against his.

the cole walter effect got you, but you weren’t mad about it.

[crackedpumpkin]

ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴏɴᴇ ||

[ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“If there is a god out there, please make sure my order isn’t missing any pickles this time.”

“Here ya go, extra pickles on the side,” Mr. Perez, the store owner, grunts as he all but flings a wrapped sub into your hands from behind the counter. You grab it with relative ease, undeterred by how oddly soggy the parchment paper is. It’s a slow day in the sub shop, with many of its usual customers absent. 

“How much?” 

“Five bucks.”

“How’s Didi?” You ask, fishing out a crumpled five-dollar bill in your pocket and handing it to him. You drop another into the tip jar when his back is turned, humming innocently when he faces you with a bag of small cookies.

“The usual. Slightly less of the devil incarnate lately, though. I think it’s because you’re coming over to babysit more often.” You take the cookies gratefully, a small note written in the ten-year-old’s messy scrawl glued to the side. You stash it away in your backpack, ensuring it doesn’t get crushed behind your sketchbook and pencil case.

“Is that y/n?” You hear the clatter of plates being shoved aside, Didi peeking out from behind the blinds that separate the storefront from the stairs that lead upstairs to their house. You smile but realize she won’t be able to see it through your cloth mask.

“In the flesh,” You grin, scooping Didi into a tight hug. You prop her on your hip, transferring the sub to your free hand as she giggles. “Have you made any new friends in school?”

Her lips purse into a pout, fiddling with your hair with sulky eyes. “No…They’re all stinky. Except for Maribelle, because she likes pickles.”

“Does no one else like pickles, then?” You ask curiously, Didi shaking her head. 

“Tommy and Jam like them, but they’re boys,” She informs you in complete and utter seriousness. You’re so tempted to comment, but you know that if you did, she’d sulk for at least half an hour.

“Jam?”

“Yeah, Jam.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then,” You shrug, turning your head to the side so she can’t see the amused glint in your eyes. 

“Are you headed to the bank?” Mr. Perez asks offhandedly, cleaning one of his bread knives with a damp cloth.

“Gotta cash in the moolah,” You rub your fingers together in reference to the cheque that’s buried somewhere in the bottom of the heavy bag on your shoulders. You had recently finished a commission, and your client had tipped you generously, paying you an extra fifty bucks on top of the two hundred she was already paying. 

“Can I come? I wanna come. I’m going,” Didi demands as she braids a few strands of your hair. You look back at Mr. Perez for permission, the gruff man nodding in response. 

“Okay, but make sure you always stay with me, yeah?” Didi nods eagerly, kicking your side slightly as she points to the door. You leave the store with her in your arms, making your way to the bank. 

“Can we buy Legos?” You hum in thought, trying to decide how to reject Didi’s request without being too harsh. She tugs the beanie on your head, and it slides down to just above your eyes. You chuckle, using the back of your preoccupied sub-carrying hand to shift it back up slightly.

“Do you have enough money to buy some?”

“I got money!” Didi’s small hands search her pockets, patting down until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a ten-dollar bill with a triumphant smile, eyes shining with anticipation as she looks at you. 

“Then we’ll buy some on the way back, yeah?” You offer, already seeing the money leave your wallet when you pay for the leftover cost of the Lego set.

“Hmm…Okay!” Didi agrees after a moment of thought, clapping her hands together and urging you to walk faster. You break into a slight jog just to tease her, soon reaching the doors of the large bank. 

You push past the huge glass doors with your shoulder, the sub still in your hands. You couldn’t put it in your bag, fearing it’d ruin your cherished sketchbook and, even worse, the crumpled cheque buried somewhere near it. 

You eye the long lines for each counter, groaning at the thought of a prolonged wait. You scan the hall, trying to find the shortest queue. 

There. You quickly join the line of people waiting, breathing a sigh of relief when you see a few more people join your queue right after you do. The bank is mostly quiet; the only sounds are fingers clacking away on keyboards and hushed conversations of bank account details. 

A trio of men wearing black cloth masks stand in a corner, furtively glancing around and having a hushed conversation amongst themselves. Two large bags are on the floor next to the shortest one, all three nodding at each other before the other two pick up the bags and head towards the door while the shortest approaches the information counter with another bag slung on his hip.

Huh. Maybe they have social anxiety. 

You watch them converse with the clerk, half your attention on Didi, who’s tugging on your hair while braiding it out of boredom. You spot the clerk smiling nervously in your peripheral, brushing it off as the usual horrible customer service interaction.

You focus on Didi instead, jostling her slightly in your arms. She yelps, lips pursing into a scowl when she’s disturbed from her concentrated braiding. You giggle, entertained by her reaction. You lean in, bumping your head against hers in a gentle tease.

The doors slam shut.

You flinch at the sudden sound, turning to see the two men from earlier at the entrance. Each stands in front of the doors, arms crossed with two large rifles in their hand as they quickly adorn ski masks. The man at the information counter now has a gun in their hands, pointing it up at the ceiling and firing a single shot.

The loud bang startles Didi, who instantly covers her ears, pushing her head against your shoulder with a small squeak. You protectively hold her close to you, ready to shield her body with your own in case anything happens. 

“Everyone drop everything, get down on the ground, and lift your hands now!”

You slowly sink to the ground, eyes never leaving the guns in their hands. This situation is the opposite of ideal. Being held hostage isn’t exactly part of your five-year plan for graduation. The doors are guarded by the guards, dark silhouettes blocking the sunlight.

“Hey! I said to drop everything and lift up your hands,” One of the robbers guarding the doors earlier points a gun straight at you with a glare. You look from the weapon to the sub in your hands, reluctant to let go. 

“I said, drop it!” 

You gingerly set it down with a defeated sigh. “You happy now?” You ask him with a scowl. He steps towards you, still aiming his gun at you as he picks up your sub and throws it to the side. It lands with a plop onto the dirty ground, now a ruined mess.

“Wha- My sub!” You complain with an offended gasp, now glaring at the man who just destroyed your dinner. You see the arch of his brow beneath his thin ski mask, exchanging a confused look with his accomplice.

“You do know this is loaded, right?” He questions with a wave of his gun.

“You just threw away a perfectly fine sub! It even had extra pickles!” You argue, still mourning the loss of your dinner. Setting down your sub you could deal with. But flinging it against the wall? That was absolutely uncalled for. “You’re a maniac,” You seethe, your jaw clenched as you shoot him the coldest glare you can muster.

You hear tiny sniffles and a loud hiccup from beside you, looking down to see Didi’s scrunched nose with snot dripping down it and tears streaming down her red cheeks. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but you know she’s about to start wailing.

“Hey, hey, Didi,” You call out to her gently, ignoring the robber that watches you intently. “Let’s play a game of patty cake, okay?” You offer, holding out your hands. She places her small ones in yours, and you curl your fingers to cover her own. 

“I’m scared,” She hiccups, her sniffles growing louder by the minute. You shush her with a reassuring smile, thinking of a way to soothe her. 

“Oi! You sure have a death wish, lil’ missy.” You hear the cock of a gun behind you, turning to see it being pointed straight at you. “I already said: hands up where I can see ‘em.” 

“Look, do you want to handle a wailing child that’s bound to attract attention? Or do you want me to calm her down so none of us get a headache?” 

After a moment of deliberation, he moves his gun down to his side. “I’m watching you,” He warns.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I’d forget.” You huff with a roll of your eyes, crossing your legs and sitting down with Didi in your lap. “Now, where were we?”

You continue playing patty cake with the trembling girl after coaxing her into removing her hands from her ears. The shortest robber, who seems to be the ringleader of the three, is preoccupied with getting the clerk to empty the enormous vault at the back, stuffing bundles of cash into the large duffel bags they had carried with them earlier.

It’s tense.

Everyone chooses to stay silent, their shaky hands and terrified eyes a pleasure to the thugs. You risk a quick glance around, wondering when the hell Spiderman would show up. Isn’t this in his job description? Was he even getting paid? 

Someone knocks on the door.

The two crooks guarding the doors turn instantly, pointing their guns at a familiar figure with their hands raised in surrender.

“Yo! I came here to negotiate, not to fight.”

They look to their ringleader for a response, the latter giving them a nod and gesturing to their guns warily. They nod at each other, hoisting their weapons closer to their chest and opening one of the doors. 

Before they can react, Spiderman drops to the floor, immediately kicking their guns out of their hands. They land on the floor with a clatter. “You should really think twice before opening the door for strangers,” He chides, nimbly avoiding a harsh blow from the two thugs surrounding him.

That’s a nice suit.

Your eyes automatically follow him as he swings, dodges, and takes out the robbers in mere minutes. He’s nimble, avoiding each blow and disarming the vicious crooks that threaten to fire. 

“One step closer, and she’s dead meat!” 

Didi’s body is grabbed from your arms, and you look up in horror as the robber that threatened you earlier holds his gun close to the small child. Tears are dribbling down her cheeks uncontrollably, choking on her stifled sniffles. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” The masked vigilante halts in his steps, hands raised up, “Threatening a kid? That’s not gonna look good on your record, man.”

“Then put your hands up, walk to the wall, and give up!” 

“Wait!” You scramble to your feet, freezing as soon as you do. The robber presses the gun barrel closer to Didi’s shoulder, an ice-cold grip of fear crawling down your spine at the sight. 

You can’t let her get hurt. You rack your brains, trying to figure out a good distraction for Spiderman to take action. “I-I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die, but I just have to say something.”

“Get down on the floor!” The robber shouts harshly, fed up with the kids that keep bothering his easy getaway. You slowly kneel back down, never breaking eye contact with Didi, whose cheeks turn redder by the second. You spot Spiderman’s finger slowly moving to press his web shooter, eyes darting between him and Didi. An idea takes form in your mind, but it’s risky.

You pause, swallowing nervously. “Didi… I’m the one that broke BunBun.”

She screams. 

The ear-splitting sound makes the robber wince, dropping her to cover his ears. Spiderman seizes the opportunity, using his web fluid to grab his gun and toss it away in the far corner of the bank. He immediately gets to work through Didi’s screaming, effortlessly capturing the last robber and throwing him aside in a cocoon fashioned out of his web fluid. 

You grab Didi, scuttling back into your corner of safety and trying to placate her. You gently rock her in your arms, letting her cry into your shirt. The collar is now soaked with her tears, and you’re beginning to regret confessing to the crime of having accidentally broken one of her favourite plates. You’d blamed it on the passing wind, and she bought it.

“Hey guys, y’all are safe now.” You look back up at Spiderman, who leans against the wall near you, scanning the crowd of relieved people who cheer for his bravery. He chuckles, casually shrugging as he tries to brush off the praise. He double-checks if anyone is hurt, his gaze lingering on you for a split second.

He gives you a brief nod and a friendly two-fingered salute, and you tiredly reciprocate the gesture with a still-crying Didi in your arms. His head moves back slightly in a wince (well, you’re pretty sure it’s a wince. You can’t really tell with his mask and everything.), and for a moment, you feel as though he’s sympathizing with you. 

He takes his leave through the glass doors, Spiderman-style, with his web-slinging skills and whatnot. You’re left with the aftermath of the police finally showing up, the crying child deterring them from asking you any further questions besides a short testimony.

“Didi, it’s over now. We’re safe.” You try to soothe her by gently patting her head and hugging her tightly briefly. You’re sure your shirt is soaked by now. It baffles you how a child has so much water in their system that they still sob even after half an hour.

It took an apology, three Lego sets, and a future promise for another at Christmas to get her to stop crying.

— — — — — 

The bed creaks noisily when you collapse on it with an exhausted groan, the sound a subtle sign of the old bed frame threatening to break any day now. The glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto your ceiling shines softly, the chilly breeze of Brooklyn gusting through your open window. You’d dropped off Didi on your way home, reassuring Mr. Perez that she was unharmed.

You shiver, getting up to close the window before hanging your beanie on the clothing hooks behind your door. You turn on the switch to the lamp on your desk, the warm yellow light coating your room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your stomach growls, a reminder of your delicious dinner having been a victim in the whole hostage situation from earlier. You sigh. Whatever. You’d grab a bigger breakfast tomorrow instead. For now, though, a simple protein bar from your snack drawer would have to do. 

You unwrap it and bite down, munching hungrily while grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and laying it flat on your desk. You flip the pages, eyeing the empty pages with distaste. Page after page of drawings that didn’t meet your standards make your heart sink. 

You finally land on an empty page and grab a pencil with your free hand. You tap the end onto the blank paper impatiently, trying to think of more inspiration for your next work. You’d been in a slump lately, and while commissions did give you some extra pocket money to go cafe hopping, it didn’t help much with your lack of artistic creativity.

Your hands itch to sketch out an idea. Anything would do. The only problem is that your brain can’t provide even a smidgen of inspiration. You huff, leaning back in your chair.

You sit up straight and scooch closer to the paper, hoping that maybe that’d trigger some form of idea.

Nope. Nothing. Nothing hits you. 

Maybe it’s the happenings of today as well, what with a gun being pointed at you and helping your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman take down those thugs. You grin, recalling how Didi’s scream had impacted the poor goon, lips tugging down slightly at the reminder of your now empty wallet.

You’d have to find another commission soon. 

Maybe Spiderman would want one?

You begin to doodle absentmindedly, the scratching of lead against paper a soothing sound that practically lulls you into a trance. You recall the red spray paint of a jagged spider against the black suit, the design of it so simplistic and yet representing his personality so well. 

You remember his quick nod to you and silly salute, a chuckle slipping past your lips. How did he look like again? His elbow was bent, and two fingers were placed on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He’s relatively lean, you recall, and probably taller than you too. It’s difficult to gauge since you were in a rather sticky situation that called for hunched shoulders and hesitant movements.

Your hand moves as if it’s got a mind of its own, recalling the webbed pattern on his suit. You draw and draw, adding shading after a basic outline is done. Your mind is foggy, no other thoughts remain except to transfer your memory onto paper. 

Wow.

You stare down at what you’ve just drawn, taking in the overall sketch with a shaky exhale. It’s the best you’ve done in a long while, with all the details contributing to the final product. 

It’s exactly as you remember, having drawn Spiderman giving you that silly salute while leaning against the tiled walls. You’d even shaded his suit perfectly.

You’re breathless. Is this really your work? From your own two hands, no less? It’s probably a one-off thing, but boy, does it feel good. Maybe thinking about Spiderman is the main reason why.

You giggle at the entertaining thought, shaking your head. 

It’s probably just the adrenaline.