#steak and strap saturday

[kentonanamisupremacy]

We're slowly collecting JJK day of the week posts!!!

lmk if y'all know any for the other days

-Higuruma Monday: link 1 link 2

- Misandrist Gojo Monday: link 1

-Toji Tuesday: link 1

- Shoko "it's only wednesday" wednesday: link 1

-Obaachan Tengen Thursday link 1

-No Bitches Yuta Friday: link 1 link 2 link 3 link 4

-Steak and Strap Saturday: link 1

- Suguru Sunday: link 1

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [14K] PART ONE OF TWO old money steve, an infatuated waitress, no labels, a disaster waiting to happen. some smut, some jealousy and too many mentions of monaco. 18+

And, baby, for you I would fall from grace

He came into the dining room of the club one Saturday afternoon. Sunkissed, tall, broad, stubble on his jaw and a gold chain glinting from the collar of his white shirt. He had a navy sweater draped over his shoulders, expensive sunglasses in his shirt's front pocket, an unassuming looking leather strapped watch on his wrist - but you’d learned well before then how to tell the difference between new money and old money.   

And Steve Harrington was old, old money. 

The watch cost more than your car and a year's rent on your apartment. Fuck, it cost more than you’d probably ever make working behind the bar of Hawkins’ country club. It cost more than the short black dress you were made to wear, the one that cinched you in at the waist and flared out over your thighs. It shone more than the gold plated name badge that was pinned on your chest, making your plunging neckline even more obvious. It cost more than the black heels that were part of your uniform, more than the five dollar balm that made your lips glossy and peach coloured. 

But still, Steve Harrington and his old, old money noticed you. 

—————

The restaurant was full, the bar even busier, the smoking lounge that sat through the double doors stuffed with leather chairs, studded couches, velvet footstools and table lined with cigars in wooden boxes. The full place smelled like bourbon and smoke, expensive cologne, perfume that cost even more. 

The Lake House country club was Hawkins’ finest institute, an old Manor House that was built on the shore of Lovers Lake, across the water from where teens liked to lurk in their cars and between tree trunks. The Lake House was where the town's elite came to dine, to drink, to lounge and talk. There were brunches with champagne and whisky, afternoon tea with ladies who wore diamonds and pearls, dinners with wine from 1802 and business meetings on the golfing green. Money poured from the club and filled the cracks in the old bricks, men with their daddy’s money bringing in their daughters, their sons, their wives. And when the family drove home in their Bentley, girlfriend’s arrived in red bottomed shoes, perching on laps in the smoking lounge like it was their jobs. 

Maybe it was. You weren’t supposed to ask. 

Your job was to stay behind the bar, a huge mahogany thing that took up most of the back wall. Everything was dark wood and lined with green velvet, the bar stools suede and gold studded, the bottles of alcohol on the glass shelves nothing less than a month's paycheck each. Martini glasses glittered, whisky was in the air like car fumes and the lime you were cutting into wheels was making the cut on your finger pulse.  

He walked in then, into the busy room like he owned it. The Harringtons were certainly wealthy enough to do so, but Michael Harrington and his wife simply liked to dine at the club on Sundays, take up on the tennis courts midweek and finish the day at the spa with a massage each. 

Six hundred dollars a session to hire out the court, four hundred dollar scotch, three hundred dollar steaks (eighty dollars more for the potato dauphinoise), five hundred dollars for a couples massage. Oh, and a one hundred dollar tip for the fucker unfortunate enough to have to deal with them. 

In cash, of course. 

But their son? Steve Harrington moved out of Hawkins long before anyone could work out if he’d grow up to be as cold as his father. Away from small towns, rumour had it he went to New York, an apartment in Manhattan, a job on Wall Street where he started at the bottom and worked his way up on luck, expensive vodka and daddy’s money. But then again, others said he spent his summers in Europe, talks of Italian villas, vineyards in Tuscany, selling yachts to the elite in Cannes, spending his time trading money through casinos, long months in Monaco during the spring. 

Seeing him back in Hawkins was unusual, uncommon, a goddamn rarity - but there he was, letting himself drop into the barstool in front of you like a Greek god etched from marble so expensive that you could barely afford to look at it. He sat with a friend, another twenty something that looked more man than boy because of their tailored trousers, crisp shirts, linen and cashmere and gold on their wrists, round their necks, family rings on their hands. 

Steve Harrington didn’t click his fingers at you like other members of the club did when they demanded to be served, but he did rap two knuckles against the bar top, a gold band on his middle finger hitting the wood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, careful and cuffed just below his elbows, the top three buttons undone to show off tanned skin and a smattering of chest hair. More gold, a thin chain settling in the dip of his throat, stubble along his jaw that looked like it was there deliberately, not because he’d forgotten to shave. 

You held your breath when you approached. You’d never served the youngest Harrington before - fuck, you’d never seen him here - but you knew who he was and the reputation dripped from him. 

Old money, older estates, acres of land, shares in companies that were so ridiculously rich you didn’t know what they were for. Fast cars, scandals in Europe, yachts with his name on it.  

Stomach in knots, you straightened up, smoothed down then front of your dress and put on the same smile you used for all the club members. “Gentlemen,” you greeted, “what can I get you both?”

Steve looked at you but his friend didn’t, his back to you as he surveyed the room, mumbling comments about the lack of skirt that showed up this early in the afternoon. You recognised him, a regular in the later evenings, Jonathan Byers, a fiend for a good cigar, an even bigger fan of the girls that held the poker events on weekends. 

“Two Macallans,” Steve told you, already fishing out a money clip from his trouser pocket. The clip was gold, engraved with his initials: SMH. “Twenty year reserve, no ice.”

He really looked at you then, thumbing through one hundred dollar bills, eyes raking up and down your frame as you stood and listened diligently. Even when you turned to pull the bottle of scotch off the top shelf, you could feel him watching, one eyebrow quirked, full lips parted just a little, the top of his tongue peeking from between. Steve looked interested, intrigued. Maybe just a little less bored than before. 

You kept your head down, polishing the tumblers before you poured, a three finger amount of the dark amber liquid and the smell of fire and smoke filled your nose. You’d watched enough men sit around the bar and swirl their drinks under the nostrils, waffling about notes of chocolate and spice before they sipped. It all smelled the same, no matter what price was on the label, like car fuel and burning. Steve downed the drink in one when you handed it to him, like he wasn’t swallowing liquid fire that cost him more than you’d make in a week. 

You watched as his throat bobbed, his lips coming away from the rim of the glass a little glossy, how he licked over his bottom one to catch any alcohol that lingered. Then he grinned, all perfect teeth and charm before he passed you six hundred dollars in notes. 

You nodded your thanks and went to the cash register, smiling what you hoped was politely as you tried to hand him back his change. Ninety dollars, pressed neatly in a pile of twenties and tens. The boy waved you off, still paying a lot of attention to the bare skin along your neckline, gaze running up the column of your throat. His eyes found yours when he finally spoke and god, they were the same colour as the scotch he just shotted.  

“Keep the change, honey.” Steve smiled again, a smug thing that made you aware of how warm your cheeks were. Then he slid on a pair of sunglasses he took from his shirt pocket and pushed his hair back with a hand, nudging his friend to drink up before they both slid off the stools. “Just make sure it goes in your own pocket, okay?”

You gaped at him. The Lake House’s policy when it came to tips - no matter how generous - was for them to be placed in a jar in the back office, ready to be split between staff, however hard individuals had worked, or not worked, that shift. 

The money burnt your fingers. “Um, that’s very generous but I can’t—”

Steve lifted a navy sweater he’d draped on the back of his chair, crushing the soft fabric with one hand. He used the other to reach out, plucking the bills from your fingers so he could fold them all together. His gaze met yours when he leaned back over the bar, unblinking, knuckles grazing the bare skin above your chest when he tucked the money into the neckline of your dress. It stayed there, hidden and you had to snap your jaw shut when Steve grinned at you before he pulled away. 

He raised a finger to his lips, like you were sharing a secret and not a sackable offence and his friend snorted, like he’d seen it all before. Maybe he had. 

“See you next time, honey,” Steve drawled, fishing keys out of his pocket. The silver logo of BMW glinted in the low lighting. “Thanks for the drinks.”

That was the first time you met Steve Harrington. 

Just to touch your face

The next time, he was with a group of people in the smoking lounge, all of them loud, most of them dirty rich and he had a girl on his lap. A waifish thing, pretty and delicate with a ruby pendant that settled in the dip of her chest. She held a martini glass aloft, one that you had to refill and you cursed The Lake House and its rules as your heels taptaptapped across the marble tiles. The hem of your dress swished across your thighs, your hand held a gold tray and the fresh martini swirled in its glass atop it, a well practised movement that made sure none of it spilled. The olive inside tumbled around gin and vermouth. 

Inside of the lounge, smoke billowed. Cigars and cigarettes poised between fingertips, hanging from lips that couldn’t help but spill secrets about their dirty businesses, the people they slept with before, the people they’d bed tonight. Nobody moved out of your way as you squeezed past tables and between the low sofas, leather and velvet brushing the backs of your thighs until you were able to present Steve Harrington’s lap warmer with her new drink. 

She took it from your tray, replaced it with her empty glass and said nothing. It was her hand on Steve’s chest that caused him to look away from the men he was talking with, a hushed sounding discussion about money in Monaco, about the company and its takings for that summer. He frowned at the girl and her pawing until he caught sight of you, his lips lifting in a smile that seemed more dangerous than welcoming. 

You smiled back, polite to a fault, throat going dry when you watched Steve’s gaze drop to that bare expanse of skin above your neckline. It wasn’t obscene, it wasn’t even suggestive. In fact, there was barely any amount of cleavage on show at all per the clubs rules but Steve was fixated on a freckle below your collarbone and the feel of his eyes on you made you fidget. 

You tucked the tray under one arm and tried not to shuffle on the spot. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

There was something in Steve’s reaction to your question. Maybe it was the ‘sir,’ the way you tipped your head towards him when you said it, soft and gentle and pretty. He knew you had to call all the members of the club such niceties but Steve’s eyes flashed and his lips parted, the hand he had on the arm of the sofa curling around the leather a little tighter. 

“A Macallan,” he asked, just like the first time. “No—”

“No ice,” you finished for him, nodding. “I’ll bring that right over.”

You blew out a breath when you turned, heels clicking on the marble as you made your way back to the bar. The lights were dimmed throughout the club in the evening, wall sconces letting out a warm glow, the huge fireplace in the main lounge roaring, popping and cracking with wooden logs. The whole place smelled like pine, like cedar and smoke and expensive leather. Women laughed softly, hanging off their husbands arms, dripping in pearls, in jewels, in false pretences. You smiled nicely at passing club members as you poured Steve’s drink, hands a little shaky from you out down to missing your lunch break, not excitement.

Definitely not nerves. 

You placed the chilled glass back on the tray, amber liquid shining inside the crystal, and made your way to the smoking lounge. Steve was alone when you returned, his lap empty, the girl gone. Not just from his lap, but from the room entirely. You scanned the lounge, expecting to see her on her way back, maybe with a complaint about the drink you made her, just to make you feel small but no - she’d been removed. Your heart skipped, an awful stuttering feeling that you didn’t want to feel. Lowering the tray, you offered Steve his drink, gaze cast down as you felt his on you the entire time. Steve leaned up, too close, taking his drink and smiling at you. 

You were just about to leave when:

“Why don’t you join me?”

The rest of the room was as loud as it was before, music under voices, laughter mixed with a saxophone record, conversations in the smoke. But Steve’s voice rang out almost too clearly from amongst it all. Still, you blinked at him, lips parting in surprise. “Sorry?”

Steve nodded at the seat next to him as he sank back into the couch, an arm thrown over the back of it as he took a sip of his scotch. The watch on his wrist caught the low light as he ripped the glass against his lips, cheeks flushed from the log burner. 

He was dressed in what you assumed he’d deem a little more casual than the last time you saw him. A black silk shirt, short sleeved and with the top few buttons undone again. No visible label, no ostentatious brand name on the chest but you knew well enough by then to know that just meant it was even more expensive. Black trousers, tailored for him and a pair of black boots with a sharp toe. His hair was less styled, maybe from the way his lost friend had been running her fingers through it earlier. Strands of it fell into his eyes and you swallowed hard when you realised you were staring. 

“Take a seat,” Steve asked again, lips curling up in amusement at your flustered expression. 

You blinked at him before you remembered to stand back up straight, tucking the tray back under your arm and hoping that none of the club's managerial staff were lingering nearby. You’d already spent too long away from the bar. “I, um, I can’t. I’m sorry,” you pressed your lips together and tried not to look too regretful. “I'm working.”

Steve snorted, a sound that should’ve been more unattractive than it was but it only made you want to hear what he had to say. He took another pull of his drink, barely wincing when the burn of it trickled down his throat. You did the maths in your head, wondering how it felt to be swallowing seventy dollar sips. He raised his brows and shrugged, looking around theatrically.

“And?” The boy smiled, equal parts pretty and smug. 

You were a little flustered, both at how nice he looked when he smiled and how bold he was being. You opened and closed your lips before parting them again, another polite smile there. “I need to get back to the bar,” you explained. “I’ll get into tr—”

“Trouble?” Steve finished. He shook his head and grinned, a megawatt thing that made you understand that, yes, all the rumours were true. That the famed Harrington Charm was very much a thing. But fuck, his father didn’t smile at you like that. In fact, he didn’t smile at all. “Oh, honey. No one gets in trouble unless I say so. Worried Frederick is gonna fire you?”

Steve dropped the name of your manager like they were friends. They probably were. He looked at you expectantly over the rim of his glass as he took another sip, licking the liquid from his lips. You wondered if he tasted as expensive as his liquor choices. 

You nodded, shrugging, grasping for a reason to say no to this boy - this man. The line at the bar was growing, annoyed looking men clicking their fingers at a flustered looking new girl who was trying to pour champagne into a wine glass. Guilt gnawed at your stomach. 

“He won’t fire you,” Steve assured. He patted the leather next to him, gold ring glinting in the warm light. “C’mon. Sit. I want to talk to you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. 

“Do you always get what you want?” You said it quietly, watching Steve’s lips curl into a grin when he heard. 

Another smile, mega watt, just for you. He tipped his head back and laughed, a pretty sounding thing that made the muscles down his neck stand out, chin tilted up to the gold leafed ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he told you, eyes dancing, cheeks flushed from the fire, the lights, the scotch. “I do.” 

You shouldn’t have done it. You weren’t allowed. There were strict rules about staff mingling with club members - fuck, it was written in red ink on your contract. You were too used to some of the clientele pushing the limits, trying to soften your boundaries with wads of cash, talks of a private plane to some European city where their wife didn’t like to visit. Older men, rich men, business men, family men. All looking for someone young and easily led and agreeable to have fun with between meetings and luncheons, someone to light their cigar and top up their drink for them. They liked to look at you like something to eat up, to chew up, to spit out when they were done and Frederick inevitably hired someone new and younger and prettier. 

You’d seen it happen before. Girls sucked into the lifestyle they could never have, coming into work with new shoes, red bottomed heels with their uniform dress, a Chanel lipstick in their purse, a Porsche waiting outside for them after their shift finished and in the end, a scorned wife in the dining room ready to throw a drink over them. 

You’d seen it all.  

But Steve Harrington was looking at you with so much intrigue. A pretty smile behind his tiny glass of three hundred dollar scotch, messy hair, bright eyes, that black silk shirt that looked easy to slip your fingers into. He was younger, more subtle with it all but the easy confidence in which he spoke to you had you squeezing your thighs together and wondering if your chest would stop feeling as tight. 

It didn’t. 

You sat down. 

Steve grinned, victorious and he moved against the leather sofa so he was sitting back against the arm, turned to face you fully. He brought one foot up to rest on his other knee, hand curling around his leg, and from there you could see the tiny brand on his loafers, a little gold insignia. Yves Saint Laurent. You wanted to laugh. His shoes cost more than you made in three months. 

“What’s your name?” Steve asked. 

You wore the same gold plated pin that every other staff member wore. The Lake House engraved on it along with the logo, a stupidly elaborate key. Underneath, your name was printed in bold letters, but Steve wasn’t looking at it. He was watching your face, brows raised expectantly. He wanted to hear you speak. 

Pressing the tray to your lap, you lingered on the edge of the couch, eyes darting around for your boss, or worse, the girl this man was last seen with. Was it his girlfriend? Did he have a wife? You weren’t sure how old Steve was, but you didn’t see a ring on his wedding finger, not that that meant much in a place like The Lake House. Wedding bands frequented coat pockets more than fingers here. 

You swallowed and told him your name, your voice cracking with nerves that you tried to laugh at but that came out wobbly too. Your shyness made Steve grin a little wider, his wide hands curling around his ankle as he lounged back against the cushions and appraised you with a look that shouldn’t have been proper for public. 

He repeated your name back to you and it sounded so much sweeter on his lips. He said it slowly, a low murmur that made your tummy clench, like he was tasting it out, tasting it on his tongue. “That’s a pretty name,” he said. “I’m Steve Harr—”

You laughed, sharp and surprised. “I know who you are, Mr Harrington.”

If Steve was shocked by his news, he didn’t show it. It was your job to know the members, after all. Their names, their families, the work they were in. Their favourite table, their favourite drink, the time they liked to dine, their preferred slot for playing a round of golf. So instead he smiled and nodded before holding out a hand. 

You took it and he squeezed gently, shaking it politely as he said, “well then, please call me Steve.”

You nodded, wondering if that was allowed. None of this was allowed. Fuck, you glanced around again, eyes a little wide, wondering if Frederick was in his office, god forbid, watching you through the cameras. Steve must’ve noticed this, because he swallowed down the last of his scotch and set the empty glass on the table. You’d have to move it soon. 

“Relax.” His arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, tanned and corded with lithe muscles. His fingers tapped a beat on the leather, close to your shoulder. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

You laughed, a shaky, ironic sounding thing. You forgot who you were talking to, just for a second, your heart pumping. “That’s easy for you to say.” You swore then, a pained noise, because Frederick was marching out of his office, three piece suit right across his shoulders and his pocket watch swinging.

He was coming over. 

You made a noise similar to a squeak, drinks tray clutched to your chest and you made to jump up but Steve’s hand stopped you. Warm and wide, it took up most of your knee and you blinked at it in surprise. He didn’t move it when you stared at him and he still didn’t move it when Frederick approached, red faced and nostrils flaring. 

“Mr Harrington, sir, it’s so good to see you back at The Lake House,” your manager began, his voice a well practised purr. There was a slight British tinge to his voice, one you knew was fake. “Please take my sincerest apologies for you being bothered. I’ll be asking my staff to join me in the office for a much required conversation about professional boundaries. Please excu—”

“Fred,” Steve greeted warmly, his smile much more forced than the one he’d been giving you. Frederick twitched. “Nice to see you.” Steve’s hand still covered your lower thigh and squeezed slightly, in what you thought was supposed to be reassuring but his thumb on the inside of your knee made you too warm. “No need for anything like that, actually.” Steve said your name, wrapped it around his tongue and licked over his lip like he was savouring it before he continued. “—was invited to sit with me.”

The clubhouse manager hardened, a flash of annoyance going over his features and his neck grew more red in anger. He smiled through it, a tight lipped thing that Steve grinned at and you had to duck your head, panic ripping through your body. You couldn’t lose this job. 

“How nice,” Frederick finally ground out. He clasped his hands in front of him and glared at you from the sides of his eyes before he smiled at Steve again. “I hope my staff is doing her utmost to keep you pleased, Mr Harrington. Do not hesitate to ask for anything.”

You hated the way he said it, like any club member could get anything they wanted from you, just because they had enough money to be here. It made you square off your shoulders and lift your head, emboldened. Steve was watching you, that look of intrigue on his face once more. He nodded at Frederick and then gestured to his empty glass. 

“Actually, Freddie, could you be a pal and fetch me another?” His tone was too polite, bordering on patronising. Frederick’s tight smile grew tighter, a thin line that stretched across his ruddy face until you feared it might split. “A Macallan, no ice. Anything for the lady?” Steve turned to you and winked, a subtle thing that let you know everything was under control. 

But you knew better than to rock the boat, better than that, you knew not to drink on the job. Especially from the club’s bar. The only thing you could afford from behind the mahogany counter was the one thing Steve always refused. Ice. 

“No, thank you,” you murmured. 

Your manager had no choice but to walk away, his back rigid, proverbial steam coming out from his ears. You watched him snap Steve’s order at a poor, unsuspecting barman who then brought it back over on another shiny tray. He raised his brows at you when Steve thanked him for it and you shrugged, not knowing what was going on either. 

When he left, Steve turned back to you, leaning back into the sofa. He looked more tanned that the last time you’d seen him. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the warm glow from the sconces along the walls, the amber coloured shade on the lamp beside him. Maybe he’d just been back to Italy. 

Monaco. France. Spain. 

He took a sip, eyes dancing over you and when he brought the drink back down to rest on his knee, he spoke. “Have you worked here long?”

It took you a second to realise he was speaking to you again, his voice lower and softer than it had been with your boss. You noticed Steve has a habit of direct eye contact, always looking right into your own eyes as he spoke. It was a little jarring, the confidence, that bold type of charm that must come with always getting what you want. 

“Uh, yeah,” you scrunched your nose, trying to remember months and years. “Three years now, or close enough.”

“I should’ve come back sooner,” Steve quipped back, his smile easy, his eyes roaming over you. His ring tapped against his glass of scotch and you didn’t know what to do. Was he flirting with you? “Do you live in town?”

“Couple miles out, smaller place near Sugar Creek.” You weren’t sure why you were telling him this. 

“Yeah, I know it,” Steve replied. “Makes sense, why I hadn’t seen you around before. Did you go to school ‘round here?”

You felt like you were being interviewed. A handsome, rich man asking the questions, sitting easy in his throne and you had an awful, awful urge to please him with your answers. To do good. To be praised. 

“I went to St. Mary’s High in Green Bay,” you swallowed, your tongue feeling too big for you mouth. Nerves bubbled in your stomach. “Then I was supposed to move to California— Berkeley.” You winced, remembering. 

Steve looked surprised, eyebrows raised, nodding. “What was your major?”

“Social law.”

Steve hummed. “Smart girl.” There it was. That praise. You tingled with it. “What happened?”

You heard the words he didn’t say, the unasked question. ‘Why aren’t you there? Why are you here? Wearing that silly little dress and heels that hurt your feet and that fake, fake smile that makes your cheeks hurt so much you want to scream into your pillow when you get home every night?’

You pondered over what to say. How truthful to be. How blunt, how ugly and honest. Shit, you could’ve said. Family, parents, money, bad luck, worse circumstances. Housing, a broken down car, an apartment that fell through at the last minute, a scholarship that didn’t happen, an aunt that got sick, a mom who didn’t like to let go. 

Instead you smiled politely and said: “life.” 

Steve gave you a wry smile in return, one that told you he could see through it all and he knew exactly what you wanted to say. Like he knew you weren’t allowed to and you were playing by the rules. Frederick was at the bar, staring at your back until you felt your bones crunch with the weight of it. 

Steve finished his drink, slid his glass onto the table and ran a hand through his hair. “It was nice to talk to you,” he said simply. He took your hand, not to shake it like last time, no. Instead he held it for a beat or two, and when he took his away, neatly folded bills were left between your fingers. They burned. 

“For the table service,” he said as a way of explaining. You didn’t know if he meant the drink or you. “I’ll see you next time, honey.”

And then he left. You watched him saunter through the bar, nodding and smiling at people who greeted him, taking his jacket from someone at the door and then he was gone. 

That was the second time you met Steve Harrington. 

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

A week later you were clocking into work with the intention of heading to the staff locker rooms, ready to wrestle yourself into that black dress the club called a uniform. It was early afternoon on a Wednesday and The Lake House was quiet, a few greying women you knew to be part of the book club were sat having tea by a window, a group of men leaving the gym, sweat barely there, but the towels over their shoulders had designer logos stitched in the corners. 

Frederick found you with your heels in your hand, a look of disgust on your face as you kicked off your sneakers. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the girls locker room, but he shook his head at you and took the stilettos from your hand. 

“No,” he looked irritated, as if you should’ve known better. “You’re on the green today.”

You screwed up your nose at him. You were never on the green and you told him as such. “The schedule has me in the bar all day.”

Frederick huffed as if such questions were an inconvenience to him. He ducked, rooting around in your locker as his shoulder bumped your knee and he came back with the uniform you hardly had to wear. A white tennis skirt, bordering on too short with pleats that made the men tip well, even as their wives glared. A forest green sweater to match, the same colour as the club logo, white sneakers that were brand new from never being used. 

“Special request,” your boss told you in lieu of a real explanation. “Get dressed, they’re waiting. Hurry.”

You gaped at him as he bundled the clothes into your arms. “Who’s waiting?” You called after him. “What hole?”

“Any of them,” Frederick yelled back as he walked out of the locker room and down the hall. His voice echoed back to you, a daunting thing. “He booked out the whole course.”

Driving the beer cart over the green was always a nerve wracking experience. The drinks rattled noisily and the breeze kept catching at your skirt, threatening to flip it up over your thighs as you tried to manoeuvre the buggy around the man made dunes and valleys. You weren’t sure where you were driving to, or who you were going to meet, but you kept an eye out at each hole for someone, anyone. 

It could only really be one of two people, you guessed. Mr Donaldson was harmless enough, but he had a decade or three on your own age. Divorced and the owner of a film company in Atlanta, the man liked to frequent the clubhouse during the summers he spent back in Hawkins, pretending he was visiting his young daughter when he really preferred to lounge at the bar during your shift, trying to convince you that you just needed to see his condo in Georgia. 

The only other person you could think of that would request you and you alone, was someone you haven't seen since the week before. You’d looked for him, watched the cars coming into the lot to be dropped off for the valet’s to park but you hadn’t seen any BMW’s. Steve didn’t visit the bar, didn’t spend any afternoons in the smoking lounge - you didn’t even see him with Jonathan Byers at the poker night on Tuesday. 

You thought he might’ve left town again. Back to whatever European city he’d decided on for the week, for the month. Maybe he’d gone back to New York, maybe he had meetings. Maybe he had a girlfriend, one for each country. 

Mr Donaldson was the harmless option. Annoying, sure. But bearable. Safe. Mr Harrington… he wasn’t harmless at all. You knew which one you wanted to see. 

Sure enough, you turned the corner to hole eight to see a group of young men talking and laughing around their own golf cart. You saw some familiar faces, all known for being young, handsome and rich. 

Billy Hargrove of Hargrove’s Vintage Motors. Crude, sharp witted, too flirtatious, he was the next in line to take over his father’s company and fortune, selling refurbished vehicles for prices that made your eyes water. 

Jonathan Byers was there too, a young mogul who was up and coming in the art world. Once a critic, his photography had shot to fame after some black and white nudes of his then girlfriend were ‘leaked’ to the paper he once worked for. His family paid it all off as some sort of art nouveau exhibition, a look into scandal and sex in 30mm film. He lost his girlfriend but landed a gallery in the downtown neighbourhood of San Francisco. 

Eddie Munson, someone you actually knew from high school. A decent guy, there because he worked for it, illegally, sure - but didn’t they all? One way or another? Selling weed and who knows what else to the majority of the population of Hawkins made for a popular man, but Eddie brought in bank when he started selling to the elite, the rich kids of Hawkins High who preferred powder at their parties. He got into The Lake House with cold, hard cash instead of his family name and he stayed in the background of it, usually.

A few other men lingered, clutching at clubs and practising their swings, Wall Street leeches that were stuck at the bottom of the totem pole but still decided they had enough money in their daddies bank to be able to click their fingers at you and smack your ass as their Rolex’s jingled.  

Amongst them all, in black slacks and a white polo, was Steve Harrington. Sunglasses over his eyes, leather golfing gloves on his hands, he was smirking at something Eddie said before his head snapped to you. In fact, everyone was staring at you. 

You tried to keep your head high and your expression neutral, turning off the engine to the golf cart and doing your best to swing your legs out without flashing anything you weren’t supposed to. You kept your hands on your skirt, smoothing it down, hoping that you could get through this shift without any embar—

A long whistle, salacious and eager, coming from Billy Hargrove. A few of the boy’s laughed and Billy grinned, sharklike, letting his eyes crawl from your toes to your tits. “Damn, Harrington. You paid for one of the good ones, huh? C’mere, Sugar, daddy needs a drink—”

You were frozen, standing awkwardly by the back of the buggy where the drinks were kept in a cooler, a thousand dollar pick ‘n’ mix of whisky, scotch and gin for the men to choose from. There wasn’t any Bud Light at The Lake House, not even on the green. 

But Billy didn’t get much further into his catcalls, stopped by a hand on his elbow that tugged him away from you and the other men. The snickering stopped, a heavy silence falling over the group as Steve took Billy aside with nothing more than a touch to his arm. You watched as Steve slid his sunglasses off, his hard gaze on the other boy as he whispered something too low for you to hear. But Billy listened, albeit with a glare in his eyes, but he nodded, sharp and just once. His jaw flexed. 

You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know what to do. You found Eddie’s gaze, saw his soft smile, knowing. He winked at you, twirling a club in his hand as he waited for the game to continue. And it did, once Steve seemingly dismissed Hargrove. The other men started talking again, easy and light like nothing had happened, requesting different drinks from you that you pulled out of the cooler, ice making your hands wet and numb. 

And all the while Steve lingered at the back of them, sitting in the driver's side of the other golf cart, waiting with his eyes on you. He didn’t approach once Jonathan left with his glass of Glenfiddich, in fact, he didn’t make out like he wanted a drink at all. So you stood by the cart like you were supposed to and watched the men take turns at swinging a stick at a ball, yelling profanities when they missed, yelling more profanities when they didn’t. 

You couldn’t help let your gaze wander to Steve, the picture of luxury as he leaned back in the leather seat, one leg out of the cart and stretched across neatly clipped grass. He was lighting a cigarette, held between his lips as he lowered his gaze to his cupped hands, gold zippo flickering with an amber flame. He looked up as he blew out the smoke, eyes finding yours, grinning when you startled. 

Steve took another drag and asked, “you not comin’ to say hi?”

Three years of ingrained obedience made your feet move forward, doing as you were told at the words of another rich man. You felt unsure, walking across the green empty handed, but Steve hadn’t asked for a drink, so you stopped just shy of where his leg was stretched out of the cart. If you moved any closer, you would’ve been between his spread knees. You clasped your hands in front of you, pressed against your little, white skirt. It lifted a little with the breeze, a sharper wind than the day before that told the town fall was coming. 

Steve watched the hem catch and fall back against your thighs, brown eyes tracking the movement to see what little new skin he could watch but apart from that, he didn’t make any of the lewd comments his friend had. 

“Mr Harrington,” you said as a greeting. “Good afternoon, can I get you anything to drink?” You were polite to a fault, well trained, good mannered, an expert in making yourself small and only seen when spoken to. 

Steve ignored your question. He inhaled his cigarette again, cheeks hollowing out, lips pursing, jaw sharpening. He smiled at you as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth, the wind taking it away from your face. “I told you to call me Steve,” he said and his voice was quiet, a low thing that made your face heat up. You tried to apologise, but he kept talking. “How are you?”

You blinked, surprised at his question. You didn’t think you’d ever been asked that while at work. “Uh, I’m fine, thank you. How’re you?”

Steve nodded and flicked ash onto the grass, letting it sink into the course. “I’m great, thank you. Better now you’re here.” He grinned when you fidgeted, lips parting, hands unsure what to do. You twisted your fingers together a little tighter. “You okay being out here?” Steve let the cigarette balance between his lips and you watched it move as he spoke around it. “I can let you go back inside, if you’d like.”

Normally such words would be used as a trick, a trap, a warning. A subtle threat from an unhappy customer that would ensure you did as they wanted, even if it meant staying later than you were being paid for, adding extra time to their spa passes, even if it risked your own employment. But Steve looked and sounded genuine, his eyes watching you as you worked up the courage to tell him the truth.  

“It’s okay,” you finally said, voice betraying how shy you felt. You sounded confident, in control. You felt nothing of the sort, especially when the boy grinned again, wider this time and god, he looked like he owned the world and everything in it. 

“Excellent.” Steve flicked the stub of his cigarette away and pushed his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head at the empty seat beside him and said: “jump in.”

You stuttered over an excuse, an explanation, eyes a little wide as you looked back over to the rest of the group, the drinks cart you were supposed to man all day. “I— I can’t? I’ve to stay with the cart all day, if I leave it I’ll get into—”

Steve cut you off with a tsk and a shake of his head. His voice turned to liquid gold as he spoke, rich and sweet and awfully condescending. It made you drip. “What did I tell you last time, huh, honey? No one’s gonna tell you off unless it’s me. Now c’mon, you don’t wanna spend some time with me?”

You could’ve stayed. You were sure Steve wouldn’t have been mad. You should’ve stayed. You were breaking rules. All of them. But Steve was grinning at you from the front seat of the golf cart, tanned arms flexed as his leather gloves gripped the wheel and all of his friends played pretend, like they couldn’t hear what was going on behind them as they took another swing. 

You should’ve stayed. Maybe went back into the clubhouse, took off your sweater and skirt and played nice behind the bar in your usual attire, serving clients old enough to be your grandfather as they slipped fifty dollar bills into your hand just so you’d lean over for them again. 

You got in the cart. 

Steve positively beamed, a hot smirk that stretched across his pretty face and you barely heard the whistles and yowls of his friends as he sped away as fast as the buggy would allow. He went off course, cruising alongside the green and heading towards the path between the woods that took you to lovers lake. 

“Feeling bad today, Berkeley?” The nickname caused your heart to jump, confirmation that he’d been listening the last time you both spoke, that he’d remembered. 

But still guilt and worry gnawed at your chest and you looked around at the empty course, half expecting to see Frederick chasing after you both in the drinks cart you’d abandoned so carelessly. What did it matter, really? The price of everything in the cart was included in whatever it had cost for Steve to book out the entire fucking course for the day. A stolen scotch or two didn’t matter. Not really. 

You didn’t know how to reply, so you didn’t say anything at all, just sitting by Steve’s side like a baby deer caught in headlights, like a good little girl that wanted to know if it really was true, if Steve really could keep you out of the trouble he was leading you into. The boy must’ve seen your bleak expression ‘cause he laughed, pushing back the hair that the wind blew across his forehead. 

“Honey, it’s fine,” Steve glanced over at you as he turned down the dirt path to the lake. You could see his eyes shining at you through his shades, amusement making them glitter. “I promise.”

So you nodded and tried to smile, doing your best to relax into the seat and when the cart bumped over a fallen branch that Steve didn’t bother to avoid, the jostle of it made your thigh bump into his. He grasped at your knee as an apology of sort, murmuring something you couldn’t hear over the wind, but his palm engulfed your bare knee once more and fuck, fuck, you couldn’t think of anything else. His gold ring looked pretty against your skin, his tanned hand complimenting the dough of your thigh nicely and you tried to remember how to talk. 

“Is there something you needed my help with at the lake, Mr Harrington?” You didn’t think Steve needed any help on how to work speed boats or jet skis, but still, you weren’t sure what else to say. 

Steve laughed again, a pretty sound that made your toes curl and he slowed the cart to a stop at a shaded area along the shore, far enough away from the sandy embankment that the men on the lake in their fishing boats wouldn’t be able to see you. “C’mon now, I thought you were a smart thing,” Steve pouted at you as he turned off the cart's engine. His hand left your leg and you mourned the loss of it, heart jumping again when his hand curled around the back of your seat instead. “What did I tell you to call me?”

Your chest warmed like you were back in middle school, getting scolded by a teacher who you didn’t want to disappoint. It bloomed across your neck and face, only getting hotter as the entire sensation of it made you squeeze your clasped hands between your thighs. Steve’s gaze dropped to your lap, a quick glance down that made the corners of his lips curve up. 

“Steve,” you said quietly, sounding shy, reserved. Your body was giving away too much, you couldn’t let your voice join in. 

Steve nodded and the hand that was resting against your seat moved a little, brushing against your sweater until he could rub a thumb against your shoulder blade. “See, she’s a smart girl after all, isn’t she?”

You could only nod. What the fuck was going on? Hidden by the trees, on the edge of the water that was across from where you usually spent weekday afternoons. You could see The Lake House from here, could practically feel Frederick’s gaze out of the bay windows, boring a hole into the middle of your forehead as you sat with one of the most affluent clients on the rolodex. Steve Harrington had his arm around your back, his eyes on your bare thighs, his other hand ghosting along the hem of your skirt. He pulled at it, bringing it down the mere centimetre it had ridden up, knuckles skimming your too hot skin. 

He didn’t look away from it when he asked you: “And if you are a clever, little thing, d’you know why I brought you here?”

If it had been dark, if it had been closer to night, if the grounds had been empty and the lake was still, maybe you would’ve felt more scared than you were. If it had been anyone else, maybe you would have been sitting there in the shadow of the trees and cursing yourself out for being so stupid. Going with this boy - this man - letting him take you off alone and away from prying eyes, letting him touch your leg and get too close. It was stupid, wasn’t it? Despite what Steve said, this wasn’t smart, was it?

But you found that you didn’t care. You really didn’t fucking care. Not one bit. 

You shrugged, cheeks warm, too wary to say anything out of turn, too cautious to say anything too bold for fear of losing your job. Or worse, being rejected. 

Steve pouted. “No?” He tutted and sighed, a dramatic sounding thing and he let his hand fell back onto your leg, higher this time. You held your breath as he skimmed his palm upupup until his fingertips disappeared under the hem of your skirt that he’d just pulled down for you. “Well, I wanted to personally invite you the poker game with me tomorrow night. You know the one, don’t you? It’s in the lounge, nine o’clock.”

You tried to steady your breathing, exhaling sharply from your nose as Steve’s fingers wandered, never going higher, going slow and soft enough that you could slap his hand away if you wanted to. You didn’t. “I’m working that shift,” you whispered. 

His eyes met yours, his grin blinding. “Good, you’ll be there then.”

“Working,” you reminded him, the last syllable of the word hitching in your mouth as his fingers passed over your leg once more. You felt the cool metal of his gold band on the inside of your thigh. “I’ll be there to work.”

Steve nodded, like he understood, like he wasn’t planning to monopolise every minute of your shift, wondering how long he could keep you by his side at the poker table before you got too worried and scrambled back to the bar. “Of course.” He pulled back a little, his nose too close to brushing yours as you couldn’t help but lean in too, head tilted up to his like you did it all the time. “And then after that,” he took his hand from your thigh and you tried not to cry about it, ‘cause he used the back of his hand to push your hair away from your face instead. “You could come back to mine?”

 Oh, fuck. You couldn’t help the smile that fluttered across your face, the giddy, shy laugh that followed. You were flustered and it showed, and as much as it made Steve smile back, it made him hard as a fucking rock. 

“Shit, uh, god, sorry,” you shook your head, as if to clear it. You felt fuzzy, hazy, under Steve’s spell as he kept smiling at you, clearly entertained by your flushed face, your dazed expression. “I’m really not supposed to do that.”

You didn’t say no, Steve noted. You didn’t say that you didn’t want to. In fact, from the way your eyes dropped to his lips over and over again, Steve was pretty sure he could seal this deal with you faster than his last visit meeting with that winery in Sorrento. 

That wasn’t to say you were easy, no. Just real fucking cute. He had a forty percent share in that vineyard and soon enough, he’d have you too. 

“What?” He played dumb, all syrupy sweet smiles and his voice all soft. He traced a circle around your knee. “You can’t see me out of work? Surely Fredrick isn’t that much of a tyrant, honey.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the one that made you feel like he was undressing you. You were too warm and his innocent fingertips on your knee were making you wanna drag his hand back up your thigh and underneath the hem of your skirt. “We’re not supposed to involve ourselves with club members.” Your words felt dull in your mouth, heavy and cotton like. 

Pointless. 

Steve pouted, lips pursing like he was trying to get you to kiss him. He tutted; his warm, wide palm curling around your thigh again. He squeezed gently and your mouth fell open, panting, an invitation. “What if I want to be involved with you, hm? What then, honey?”

You let your head fall back a little, lips wet and parted, eyes closing briefly, because Steve let his fingers slide up a little further, the tips of his middle and pointer finger brushing, just fucking barely, across the cotton of your underwear. You knew you were wet and you knew that he did too. How could he not? The damp fabric dragged across his digits and you saw the realisation in his eyes, that flash of heat, that curl of his lips that made his smile a smirk. 

“Remember what I told you?” He let his lips fall into ‘o’ at your small noise, an almost whine that sounded blissed out. God, he could have fun with you. “Do you? C’mon smart girl, what do I always get?”

You blinked at him, sucking in a breath as you fought the urge to grind down on his hand. Steve took his fingers away, the damp tips of them trailing back down the inside of your thigh as he waited for an answer. 

“You told me,” you took another breath, looking around quickly, burning at the sight of the boats on the lake, the blurry people across the water by the clubhouse, sitting outside for afternoon tea. “You told me you always get what you want.” 

That was the third time you met Steve Harrington. 

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

The night after, you’d spent too long getting ready for your shift. Too long in the shower, letting the steam fill the tiny room, honey and peach scented body wash running in rivers down your bare skin, your razor chasing after it as you did your best to make every crevice of your body silky smooth. 

You told yourself you weren’t going home with Steve Harrington. You told yourself you couldn’t, that you weren’t allowed to. 

But you took the time to layer mascara on your lashes, fixing any smudges before finishing your makeup with a layer of gloss on your lips, tinted a rosy pink and drawing more attention to them than you’d usually want. Black dress, clubhouse mandated stockings and heels, freshly polished. You left for work with your heart in the back of your throat. 

The Lake House was quieter than usual on poker nights, mostly because each guest had to buy their way in. All players had to place a ten thousand dollar deal in with the croupier, pockets emptied and jackets checked at the door. It made the smoking lounge feel bigger, men seated around a large poker table, the dealer in the middle, chips stacked high and cigar smoke lingering in the air. It smelled like tobacco, leather, expensive cologne and money, and god, the tips were good. 

There were familiar faces around the table, Billy, Jonathan, Mr Donaldson, a few other men from the club that liked to order expensive drinks and call you things like ‘sweet cheeks’ and ‘sugar.’ The room was dimly lit, a soft amber glow that was kept in the room with closed drapes, velvet lined chairs, and bar staff that were trained not to speak unless spoken to. Everything was hushed and whispered, men talking money over glasses of liquor, cigars in one hand, their dealt hand in the other. 

Then there was Steve, coming into the room a little late with another suit on, sharp and with a matching black shirt underneath, looking like he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t look at you as he took his seat, smirking at something Jonathan said and sliding a wad of stacked bills towards the dealer. He got his chips, he got his cards and the game began. 

It took a whole twenty minutes before he raised his hand, a two finger salute that let you know he wanted a drink. You beat the other waitress to it, slipping in front of the new start - Vickie something - and your heels clicked as you made your way over to Steve. You already had a drink on your tray, poured the minute you saw his hand go up, his eyes still on his hand. 

A Macallan, no ice. 

You placed the tumbler on the table in front of him, knees bending slightly to make sure it didn’t spill. Without warning, Steve’s hand snuck along the back of your thigh as you placed your tray under your arm, ready to walk away. Fingertips traced over the crease of your knee, ghosting over your stocking. You watched his gaze flicker to the drink he didn’t have to ask for, a slight curve to the corners of his lips as he smiled his approval. He leaned back, head tipped up to you so you had to bend down slightly to meet him. His hand was slipping up the back of your thigh the whole time, hidden from the rest of the room, from the other players, your boss in the corner. 

You bent at the waist, feeling your skirt rise up, feeling Steve’s hand do the same. His thumb ran along the crease below your ass, over the sliver of bare skin between your underwear and stockings. 

“Smart girl,” he whispered in the shell of your ear, making you burn. His voice was low and a little rough from hardly talking, only communicating with nods to the croupier, dead face glances at his opponents. His chips were stacked high for his efforts. “You look pretty. How ‘bout you just stay beside me, yeah?”

You weren’t supposed to. But you did. You watched as your boss frowned, as Vickie looked surprised. Beside Steve, Jonathan snickered quietly and across the table, Billy narrowed his eyes. 

“Breakin’ some rules?” He mouthed to Steve. 

Steve ignored him.

The night came to an end close to one o’clock, once the bar was almost dry and Steve had most of the money. He accepted the passive remarks about his poker face, his ability to lie through his damn teeth, how he didn’t need all that money anyways. Then there were the handshakes and slaps on the back, good natured talks and invites to lunches, chats about business opportunities and stocks. And all the while you tidied, putting away empty bottles of thousand dollar whisky, pouring hundred dollar glasses of Malbec down the drain. Cigar ash on the table, white powder tipped dollar notes that everyone pretended to not notice. Heavy tips on the table top, damp from spilled drinks, pushed into your apron pocket while the men around you tried to get a peek up your skirt. 

And then Steve was leaning over the bar top and still ignoring Billy. He was watching you clean, eyes tracking the way your hands slid the cloth over the mahogany, and while your cheeks warmed at his attention, you let him. You were off the clock, your shift over. Bar closed. 

Home time. Maybe. 

“—you even listenin’ to me, Harrington?” Billy sounded annoyed, words twisting on his tongue, whisky making them come out a little slower than he wanted them to. 

“No.” Steve’s reply was short and bored sounding. 

“I said, you fucker, that I need a ride. S’posed to be on a goddamn flight at five o’clock and this fuckin’ tequila is makin’ me piss like a fuckin’ racehor—”

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of you as he took his wallet from inside of his suit jacket pocket. Using two fingers, he offered Billy a fifty, holding the bill in front of the other man’s face. “Take a cab.”

Billy looked offended at the suggestion. Disgusted, actually. “A cab? What do I look like to you, huh? Huh? A fuckin’ peasant?”

Steve just shrugged and slapped the bill on the counter anyway. “I’m having company,” he told him. Then he drained the rest of the one drink he’d ordered from you all night and met your gaze straight on. “You ready?”

Not, ‘would you like to join me?’ Not, ‘would you like to come back to mine?’ No. Just a simple question. ‘Are you ready to go?’

You nodded. Yes, you were ready. 

Billy laughed, a sharp and mean thing as he looked between you and Steve. Then his gaze turned salacious, drunk and lazy as he took in your short dress, your shiny lips. He nudged Steve and nodded towards you. “You not sharing this time, Harrington?” He tutted. “What a shame.”

You didn’t know what to say. If you’d been at a bar in town, standing on either side of it, you’d have listened to the twitch in your hand and lifted it, letting your palm meet Billy Hargrove’s right cheek, regardless of how much money was in his wallet. But Frederick was by the door talking to Mr Donaldson about summers in the Bahamas and you couldn’t do shit. 

So you turned your back, polished another wine glass and slid it back onto its shelf. 

“You know,” you heard Steve murmur. His voice was low, controlled. Dangerous sounding. “You keep letting your mouth run like that, and I’ll make sure you don’t have a reason to get that five am flight. One call and there won’t be no fucking meeting in L.A, do you understand?”

You didn’t hear Billy’s reply. In fact, you weren’t sure there was one. Instead, Steve walked to the side of the bar and brushed some invisible lint off of his jacket as he waited for you to untie your apron. You hesitated, watching as Fredrick disappeared into his office and then, and only then, did you step out from behind the bar to join Steve, letting him place his hand on the small of your back and guide you out of the clubhouse. 

He made it too easy to break the biggest rule in the book. 

—————

Steve drove you to a townhouse on the edge of town, the opposite direction from your own home. He took you there in his BMW, a shiny maroon car that looked brand new, with leather seats and shiny detailing on the dash. He didn’t touch you in the car, he just opened the door for you to get in and get out, only offering a hand that you took as you stood on his driveway. 

His house was lit up by lights on either side of the huge garage, another by the double doors. Three floors, a water feature in the front yard, a security system at the entrance. Steve pressed some buttons before something buzzed and clicked, and he opened the door with no grand flourish, extending an arm for you to enter first. 

Everything was sleek and polished, not quite the bachelor pad you expected, but luxurious all the same. Wooden floors and a large fireplace in the living room, the leather and suede of the clubhouse swapped out for a huge sectional, covered in cushions and throws. There was art on the walls, scenes of Greek tragedies, half naked women with dreamy looks on their faces, full curves and thick thighs. A shiny kitchen that looked barely used, bottles of scotch and whisky and gin on a golden bar cart in the corner, a full wall of books surrounding the biggest television you’d seen. The house smelled like Steve, like his cologne, like new leather and oak. 

His footsteps echoed across the room as he strolled into the kitchen, an open plan thing that let you watch him from where you stood by the front door. Steve held up a bottle of wine. Red, a label you recognised from work, something that Frederick charged far too much money for. In your opinion. 

“Drink?” Steve asked. 

You nodded, stepping into the room a little more. There were a few lamps on, a warm flow from each that cast shadows over the floor, up the walls. The curtains were closed, heavy drapes that kept out the night, kept in the secrets. Like you. 

Steve appeared at your side, passing you a glass filled with a little ruby coloured wine. He grinned at your quiet thanks and offered his own for a toast. The glasses clinked and you took a sip, dark cherries and bitter chocolate swirling your senses, or at least, you were sure they would’ve if you hadn’t decided to gulp it down. Steve laughed softly and took your empty glass, setting it on the coffee table with his own. There was a stack of big books in the middle of it, something about American architecture and cars of the sixties, a candle that had never been lit and a cigar box with his initials engraved on the lid. 

“Here, sit,” Steve suggested and you sank into the sofa with him. The boy immediately lounged back into the cushions, arms stretched out over the back of it as he appraised you, head tilted to his side. “You don’t do this often, huh?”

You turned to him, puzzled, your hands sliding nervously up and down your bare legs. Your dress suddenly felt shorter than ever and with the way Steve was looking at you - hungry, predatory, bold - you weren’t sure if you wanted to tug the hem down to your knees or take the full thing off and drop it at his feet. 

“Do what?”

Steve gestured to himself, to the huge living room you felt a little bit lost in. He smirked, “go home with guys you barely know.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if it would seem rude if you reached out and stole the rest of his wine. If you’d feel braver and bolder if you were to gulp down more Malbec, if the price tag on the bottle would feel better on your tongue. “Not usually,” you said. You left out the part about how you’d be fired on the spot if your boss found out who you were going home with. 

Steve smiled, eyes shining at you like he thought you were cute. He patted the space on the couch beside him. It felt like a million miles away from you. “Come over here,” he said softly. You noticed how he didn’t ask, or suggest. It was an order, as gentle as it was. “I won’t bite.”

You scoffed a little, enjoying the irony of his words despite how he’d looked at you all night, like he wanted to sink his teeth into you, like he wanted to just eat you up. “You won’t?” You asked him, doubtful, even as you slid closer, your thigh brushing his. 

Steve dropped his hand to your knee, fingertips barely brushing your skin as she skimmed up and down, up and down. Each pass got him closer to the hem of your dress and you thought back to yesterday, in that stupid golf cart by the edge of the lake. How easy you made it for him, head thrown back, chest heaving, legs spread. You wanted that again, the feeling of his teasing fingers brushing up against the front of your underwear, lace this time, and already damp. 

Steve flashed a grin, all teeth, more bite than a smile and you resisted the urge to clamp your thighs together, trapping his hand between. You’d never been this hot for a guy, never been this easy to fold. You felt delicate with Steve, ready to crumple, ready to fold. 

“Not on the first date, no,” he assured you. 

Your brows rose into your hairline. “This is a date?”

Steve flattened his palm against your thigh and squeezed, leaning into you, nose brushing your cheek until you ripped your head for him and it skimmed the line of your jaw. Your breathing changed too quickly, stuttering to a hitch until it picked up, your eyes closing as you felt Steve’s lips brush against you in the briefest of touches. It wasn’t even a kiss. 

“What did you think it was?” Steve whispered, his words hot against your neck. You could smell his cologne, rich and peppery, could feel the slight stubble on his jaw scrape against your throat and you were desperate now, you needed him to kiss you. “What did you think I invited you here for, honey?”

His hand was higher now, fingers under the hem of your dress and you wanted to fall into him, you wanted to crawl into his lap and spread your legs, get properly dirty for him and pull your dress up around your hips and show him how you liked to be touched. Although, you had a feeling he wouldn’t need much help. “I, I don’t know—” you interrupted yourself with a gasp, Steve’s fingertips running along the lace edge of your underwear, teasing the crease of your thigh. “A one night stand, maybe.”

The boy laughed, a soft noise that was buried in the crook of your neck and he finally, finally, put his mouth on you. He kissed sweetly at the spot under your ear, grinned against it when you squirmed at the feel of him and then dragged his parted lips down the column of your neck. You felt the tip of his tongue, a tiny touch, teasing, warm and wet. 

“Just one night?” Steve tutted, letting his fingers slip underneath the edge  of your underwear. You were an elastic band now, pulled too right, fraught with unspent energy, ready to snap at the tension. “What if I wanted to keep you, hm?” His fingers ghosted over your folds, already slick and wet for him. If he was affected by it, he didn’t show it. He pulled at you gently, spreading you for him, a single digit touching your needy clit as he kept you open. It was filthy. “You’re too pretty for one night, aren’t you?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway. You were sure you already looked wrecked, head slack and leaning against Steve’s shoulder, his lips now dotting over your hairline. Legs open, underwear pushed up and to the side by Steve’s hand, his one finger sliding up and down the seam of your cunt. The rubber band was getting tighter. 

Steve hummed, a deep, warm noise that rumbled in his chest. “Look at me, honey,” he ordered and you did as were told, eyes heavy and haze unfocused as you turned your head to face him. He was so close, the only evidence he was as turned on as you were, were his blown out pupils, his heavy eyelids. “There she is, oh sweetheart, you’re gone, huh?” he cooed. 

You thought he might kiss you then, you thought he might kiss you, finally. But he nuzzled his nose against yours - a surprisingly sweet thing - before he murmured, “take your clothes off for me.”

It was embarrassing, the way your lips parted and your cheeks went hot. You wondered if Steve felt it, the warmth that exploded from your skin at his words, the way your empty cunt clenched around nothing at his words. He gave you clit one more passing nudge before he moved his hands from you completely and sank back into the couch. One arm over the back of it, legs crossed, the other hand brought to his mouth so he could rub the finger he’d dipped along your pussy against his bottom lip. 

It was obscene. 

He nodded to the space between the sofa and the coffee table and licked his lips. “C’mon, honey, strip.”

You should’ve pulled down your dress and thrown what was left of his wine in his face before you slammed the door on your way out. This man, this rich boy with his big house and shiny car, was ordering you around like you were still at the clubhouse. Like he could flash his members only card and get what he wanted. He hadn’t even kissed you. He didn’t know your last name, and shit, the only reason you knew his, was because him and his family were at the top of the client list at the place you worked. 

You could lose your job over this. Worse, you could get your heart broken. 

Steve must’ve sensed your hesitation because he reached back over to brush your hair from your eyes, where it had fallen in a mess when you hid your face in the dip of his shoulder as he tapped at your clit again and again and again. He pouted, tsked in a way that sounded sympathetic. “Oh honey, are you shy?” Condescension dripped from him, words liquid gold, sticky sweet and trapping you. He ran the back of his knuckles down your cheek, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. It was as close to a kiss as you would get. “It’s okay, hm? Am I not playing nice? Am I being rude?”

You didn’t know what to say. You were being sucked in by this man’s charm, his caramel coated words, the way his brown eyes turned soft as he took your hand and led you to stand up in the middle of his living room. “I’m sorry, honey,” Steve whispered. “How awful of me. Lemme try again, huh?” He kissed your cheek, a soft, lingering thing before he left you standing, sitting back in front of you once more. 

Steve pushed back his hair and let his eyes appraise you before he rolled his shirt sleeves up and leant back into the cushions. A king on his throne. And the entertainment for tonight? 

You. 

“Take your clothes off for me, honey,” he tried again, his voice softer this time, lower, dirtier. And then he smiled at you and added: “please.”

With shaking hands and a held breath that made your chest burn, you pulled the material down your shoulders, reaching around your back to tug at the zip. And when it fell open, exposing your skin to the warm air, it was too easy to let the entire dress fall down over your hips. It pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it, heels still on, legs covered in the sheer black stockings that the clubhouse made mandatory for poker nights. 

Steve’s lips made a little ‘o’ shape, an appreciative thing that made you pulse with need. You saw then how his dress trousers were tented at the front, an impressive bulge that twitched when you smoothed your hands over your upper thighs, a nervous reaction to being so exposed. 

“Oh,” Steve exhaled as he let his eyes rake over you. Soft skin between black lace, thigh highs pulled taught against your curves, tits pressed up in a bra you’d chosen as you thought him. You hoped he wouldn’t embarrass you, you hoped he wouldn’t ask you to do something like spin for him, show off for him. Because you would’ve. “Aren’t you a pretty fucking picture.”

He didn’t need to talk after that. He just lifted his chin towards your chest and you were pulling off your bra for him. You hated how the control of it all made you wetter, the space between your legs fucking throbbing as you waited for your next instruction. “Unless you want those ripped,” Steve was gazing at your underwear, eyes seeking out every dip and line he could make our in the wet lace. “I’d take them off too.” He didn’t let them hit the floor with the rest of your clothes, instead, extending one hand and crooking his fingers. 

A silent, ‘give them to me.’ 

And you did, watching as he slipped them into his trouser pockets, keeping his eyes on you, trailing them over your thighs that were slick with how wet he’d got you. He’d hardly touched you, you scolded yourself, not even a kiss. It was embarrassing, mortifying. It was the hottest thing that had happened to you. 

“Keep those on,” Steve murmured, talking about your heels and stockings. “And come sit back down for me, honey, yeah?” 

The fabric of the couch felt soft under your bare skin and you hesitated before you let yourself relax into it. There surely would be a wet spot underneath you, evidence of how turned on you were, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. 

“That’s it,” he encouraged softly. “Get comfy, hm? Such an agreeable, little thing aren’t you?” Steve was sliding off the couch as he spoke, one palm pressed to his crotch as if to stave off some of his own need. He knelt in front of you, mouth parting in a sigh as he dropped to eye level with your cunt. “Think you can spread those legs for me? Let me see you, honey, there’s a girl—”

He cut himself off with a low groan as you brought your feet up, heels on the edge of the couch as you spread your knees, sticky thighs parting. He could see all of you, fuck, he could probably smell you. The low light made every part of you glisten, the heavy rise and fall of your chest cast in an amber glow.  

“Oh she’s real fuckin’ pretty, isn’t she?” Steve asked you, eyes tearing away from your pussy to look up at you. “Spread ‘em wider for me, baby, can you do that?” Another moan from the boy as you let your knees fall apart, almost touching the couch. Steve smoothed his hands up your tights, bracketing your cunt before he did the same as before and pulled your folds even further apart. “Look at that,” he whispered. 

You couldn’t. You let your head fall back onto the cushion, eyes squeezed shut as you let your own hands fall onto your knees. You dug in your nails, crescent moon marks on your skin as your tried to keep a grip on reality. You were almost certain you’d come with just one touch. 

“Want my mouth?” Steve asked you and his voice was back to that sugar sweet drip, it was thick with an affection, like he was being so nice for taking care of you. You already wanted to thank him. “Want my tongue?”

His thumbs rubbed up and down your folds, keeping them spread apart, a dirty massage that made your clit pulse with each tiny movement. You nodded, letting out a uneven breath and Steve tutted. 

“You gotta look at me then, c’mon, Berkeley.” He nipped at your thigh, teeth biting at the skin and it made you cry out. “Look at me and tell me you want me to eat you out.”

Dirty, filthy, obscene, sinful. 

You were under no illusion that giving Steve an order made you the one in charge. He played you like a puppet, a boneless girl that wanted nothing more than to come all over this rich strangers sofa. You had a one track mind, no shame left, not when Steve was pressing his mouth over you folds, not licking into you, not yet. Just kissing. You wanted to cry. 

“Eat me out,” you begged, eyes glassy as you tried to lift your hips but Steve pulled away. He grinned at you, waiting. “Eat me out, please, Steve. Fuck, want your mouth yeah, please?”

“Where?” He asked, dragging it out. His voice was unholy. “Where do you want my mouth?” His thumbs were still moving, up and down and up and down. “Tell me.”

“My pussy, Jesus Christ,” you whined. You couldn’t ever remember being this pent up. “Please.”

“Oh,” Steve cooed, “she’s so polite.” And then he gave you no other warning, dipping his head so he could lick a stripe through your folds, the hot, wet contact of his tongue making you cry out. 

You were unraveling too fast. His thumbs had you taught for him, every part of you feeling his tongue, his lips. Steve groaned into you, a happy, pleased hum that told you whatever game this was, he’d won. He kept his tongue flat, slow, broad strokes of it going from your entrance to your clit until you were curling over him and clutching his hair, doing your best to not suffocate him. But Steve moaned louder and moved his hands to your hips, sliding down until they cupped under your ass and he encouraged you to grind against his face. Tongue still out, kept flat for you to rock yourself on. It was pornographic.  

Then Steve was mumbling into you, voice a rasp. “Good girl, honey, that’s it. Keep going, make yourself come on my tongue, yeah?”

So you did, obedient as ever, letting out a gasping cry as your legs shook, cunt still clenching around nothing ‘cause Steve had broken you with just his mouth. It was dirty hot, the way he dragged himself from your sensitive slit, tongue running over your folds even as you whined, licking over the crease of your thighs to get everything you’d spilled for him. You watched as he appeared between your knees, hair tousled, lips and chin shining in the low light, his cheeks flushed. It was ironic, how he looked more boyish after he made you come, expensive black shirt creased from where your legs had pressed against him, his own gaze a little fucked out. 

Logic would suggest that perhaps you’d get a kiss then, something soft and sweet to soothe you down before he fucked you senseless, before you got to wrap your own fingers or lips around him. Steve looked big, if the solid press of him against his trousers was anything to go by. Thick and still rock hard, an easy eight inches trapped taught against his thigh, just as impressive as his wealth and status. Your mouth watered. 

He kissed the inside of your knee instead, his heavy lidded gaze on yours before he offered you his hands to help you sit up and then said, “I better get you home.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Home,” Steve repeated. He passed you back your bra, your dress. Not your underwear though, no. They were still in his pocket. “I gotta be at the airport in—” he checked his watch, the picture of blasé. “—an hour.”

You pulled on your dress, a little speechless. This boy had just made you come harder than you’d ever managed yourself and now he was busying himself with lighting a cigarette he pulled from the packet in his pocket. Your eyes wandered, he was still hard. 

“What about,” you licked your lips, suddenly shy. You nodded towards his crotch, the absolute monster he packed in his slacks. “What about you?”

Steve grinned, bending down to peck your cheek as you wriggled into your uniform, trying to pull yourself back together. “I’ll live,” he told you, blowing out smoke as he spoke. “We’ll call it an IOU, huh? But my plane leaves soon, honey. I’ll cash that favour when I’m back.”

“When?” You blurted out. It sounded like something a girlfriend would demand to know and you cringed, but Steve kept smirking. He helped you slip on your heels, cigarette hanging from his lips that definitely tasted like you. 

“Unsure,” he told you casually, “there’s things I need to wrap up in Monaco before I can go to Tuscany for a few weeks. There’s problems at the vineyard and there’s a new plot I want to look at in Alassio too.”

All you heard was money money money. So you nodded and gave him a small smile, legs still a little wobbly from his touch, his mouth, his tongue. And when Steve dropped you off at the door of your too small apartment, he took your chin between his finger and thumb and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw, just below your ear. 

The kiss goodnight to your lips didn’t come. You felt confused, a little stilted. But you got out the BMW and waved goodbye, wondering what you were supposed to do at three in the morning after Steve Harrington had tumbled your world upside down. 

PART TWO

[go-for-it-kacchan]

After the joint training exercise, Hitoshi is desperate to catch up to the rest of the Hero course students in time for his transfer. He's having trouble finding people willing to let him use his Quirk on him, which is completely understandable, but it means he's not making the progress he needs. Both Togata and Monoma are willing to help him out, and he's so, so grateful, but when he unwittingly makes Monoma reveal what he really thinks of him, he fucks up so bad he doesn't think he can face him ever again.

[My first time writing fluff, and I still had to throw some angst in there lol. When I was watching season 7 and Shinsou showed back up, I was thinking about who he'd be training his Quirk on and the people who came to mind were Togata (bc he's so chill) and Monoma (bc he likes Shinsou so much). And Eri's there too because she's adorable.

This is set in the period between the Joint Training Arc and the Final War Arc.]

“Are you busy again today, Aizawa-sensei?”

His teacher was strapping on his boots at the door, so the answer was obviously yes. Aizawa looked up at Hitoshi, absently checking his watch. “Yeah, unfortunately. Don’t know when I’ll be back. You’re still trying to find people to train your Quirk on, aren’t you?”

Hitoshi nodded. He’d asked a couple of his classmates in Gen Ed, and while they’d gotten more friendly with him since the Sports Festival, they were, understandably, wary of being used for Brainwashing practice. He’d gotten one of them to agree but even a twenty-minute session had been too much for her and she’d had to quit. Hitoshi was grateful for even that, but it meant he’d gotten basically no practice in the couple weeks since the joint training exercise, especially since Aizawa had been busy with some sort of project at the hospital.

“If I’m going to be transferring to the Hero course next year, I really need to step up my abilities. But it’s been kind of hard to find anybody.”

Aizawa stood up, adjusting his binding cloth and considering for a moment. “Have you tried asking Togata and his friends? They’re around a lot to take care of Eri.”

Hitoshi rubbed his face. He’d interacted with Eri quite a bit since he’d been training with Aizawa, and since Togata was spending pretty much all of his time with her, he’d spoken with him, too. But he wasn’t exactly friendly with the third years and asking them to allow him to Brainwash them seemed like a huge ask. He didn’t have time to express this, though, as Aizawa was already halfway out the door.

“Well, you’ll figure it out. Make sure Eri eats— you can use my card if you order something.” And then the door shut and Hitoshi had no choice but to figure it out.

“Is Aizawa-sensei gone again?” Eri came to the door, clutching a chapter book to her chest.

“Yeah. Is that a book you’re reading?”

“Uh huh. I just finished it and I only needed Lemillion’s help three times! I wanted to show Aizawa-sensei but he’s already gone…”

“That’s okay! You can show him when he gets back.” Togata appeared behind Eri with a stack of books in his arms. “Did you want to start another one, or take a break? You want lunch?”

Eri thought for a moment before nodding.

“Sure thing! What do you wanna eat?”

“Hmm… hamburger steak!”

Hitoshi followed Eri and Togata into the kitchen. It was a Saturday, so Amajiki and Hadou were there, too. If he was going to ask, this was probably his chance.

“Um… I was wondering…”

Togata was bent over as he dug through the fridge, but instead of turning around, he bent further to look at Hitoshi through his legs. “Shinsou! What’s up?”

“Uh…” Maybe this was a bad idea. But he’d already started talking, so he had no choice but to continue. “I was wondering if the three of you might be willing to…help me with Quirk training.”

“Oh!” Togata straightened and whipped around, leaving Amajiki and Hadou to actually find the ingredients to cook with. “Your Quirk is Brainwashing, right? Sounds like fun!”

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I must refuse,” Amajiki said shakily, clutching an onion and a bell pepper to his chest. “The idea of not being in control of my own body… I think that’s too much for me.”

“Brainwashing? How does it work? What’s it like? What would you need us to do?” Hadou leaned over the kitchen island at Hitoshi with such enthusiasm he had to lean back.

“Well, if someone responds to me verbally while I have my Quirk active, I can control them until I turn it off or they get hit by some sort of impact.” Hitoshi wasn’t used to having people pay this much attention to him. He forced himself to keep his arms down so he didn’t cover his face. “I still can’t make people talk or…do things that require them to think. And that’s what I want to work on.”

“I see! Sure, use me for whatever you need!” Togata was chopping the onion somewhat unevenly. “After lunch?”

“Interesting! I’ll try it, too!” Hadou beamed at him and the force of it was so strong that Hitoshi had to look away. Were all Hero course students this energetic?

Hitoshi nodded. “Yeah. Um, thanks.”

The hamburger steak and accompanying sauce was made with minimal disaster and only a moderate amount of mess to clean up. Hadou volunteered to go first, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Alright… Do you cook much?”

“Not really!” Her face went blank as Hitoshi’s Quirk took hold.

Hitoshi looked at her, unsure of where to start. They’d moved to the couches and Togata was watching with interest as Eri chewed on an apple slice. Amajiki was staring at his friend with some consternation and waving a hand in front of her face.

“Can she see me?” he asked.

Hitoshi nodded. “Yeah, pretty much, but I’m not sure how much she’ll retain afterward.” Another thing to work on. Everyone in the joint training exercise had developed their Quirks so much… Hitoshi felt the gulf between himself and the Hero course students like a soreness. Now that he had a willing test subject in front of him, though, he couldn’t figure out what to have her say.

“Tell us a joke!” Togata said, peeling another apple without looking.

“Sure, tell us a joke,” Hitoshi repeated.

She was silent, staring at the space in front of her with a blank expression that was familiar enough that it didn’t really weird Hitoshi out anymore. Amajiki and Togata were watching with varied amounts of fascination. Togata cut his finger in his distraction, prompting Amajiki to take the apple and knife from him and take over apple-cutting duty.

“Maybe coming up with something’s too much to start with,” Togata said. “You could have try having her repeat something?”

“Okay… Say, ‘I’m a third year Hero course student at U.A.,’” he tried. He could feel the pull of his Quirk on her, trying to work the parts of her brain that would move her mouth and throat so she could talk. It felt sluggish and clumsy and all he managed was getting her to open her mouth and make a little vocalized ah.

“That was something!” Togata exclaimed.

“Not much, though,” Amajiki said quietly. Eri took an apple slice from him and munched it thoughtfully.

“You could try her name?”

“Good idea, Eri-chan.” It was only a few syllables and something Hadou would be used to saying. “Senpai, what’s your name?”

“Hadou…Neji…re…,” came the slow response. It was slurred and zombie-like but clearly discernible.

Hitoshi released his Quirk, happy for the progress but only now realizing how many steps there were between where he was at and where he was trying to get to.

“Whoa, that was weird!” Hadou said as soon as she had control over her own body. “It’s like I could see stuff but I couldn’t move but I didn’t know what I was doing but I don’t really remember anything! So how’d it go?”

“I was able to get you to say your name, but anything more than that didn’t really go anywhere,” Hitoshi said, rubbing his cheek. “And having you saying something you had to make up yourself didn’t work at all.”

“Hmm!” Hadou leaned back against the couch cushions, plucking an apple slice from Amajiki’s hands. “That’s so interesting! Are you gonna do Togata next?”

Togata sprang up from the couch and struck a pose. “Sure! Whaddya need?”

“I guess just, respond to what I say?”

“Okay!” Togata froze as the Brainwashing took hold. His face went blank, but he didn’t otherwise move, creating a bit of a weird effect with his arms in the air for whatever pose he was doing.

“Maybe…just stand normally to start with.”

Togata lowered his arms and straightened his legs so he was standing with his arms at his side. Less weird, but still a little bit weird, just because Hitoshi wasn’t used to the third year not moving animatedly with a wide smile on his face. Eri tilted her head and stared at him with a little furrow in her brow.

“Senpai, what’s your name?” Hitoshi decided to start with something he knew could work.

“Togata Mirio!” Togata answered, voice smooth and only slightly stiff. Hitoshi blinked. There seemed to be a little less resistance with Togata for some reason. Maybe it was the third year’s easygoing attitude. His optimism and cheer was sometimes a little off-putting sometimes, but in this case Hitoshi was just glad it made things easier.

“Who’s your homeroom teacher?”

After a pause, Togata said the name of a teacher Hitoshi didn’t recognize. It seemed to be correct, going off the looks on Amajiki’s and Hadou’s faces.

“Making progress already!” Hadou exclaimed. “Can you, like, feel his mouth moving when you make him talk?”

Hitoshi scratched his cheek. “Not really. There’s not much feedback besides how hard they’re resisting the Brainwashing.”

“I bet he’s not resisting very hard,” Amajiki said. Hitoshi smiled a little and shook his head, at which Amajiki shrunk back into the couch, muttering something about self-preservation instinct and mental fortitude.

“Can you make him move around?” Eri asked.

“Yeah, that’s easier. Anything you wanna see?”

“Make him do that All Might dance from that commercial!”

“That might be harder since he’d have to remember the dance.” Hitoshi wasn’t feeling particularly confident but seeing the eager glint in Eri’s eyes, he had to cave. “We can try it, though.”

Eri nodded eagerly, head bouncing like a bobblehead. Hitoshi suppressed a snort and turned back to Togata before she could snap her neck with the force of her enthusiasm.

Hitoshi didn’t quite remember the dance Eri had been referring to, but that shouldn’t matter as long as Togata knew the moves. He had to try really hard not to feel really stupid as he said, “Senpai, do the All Might dance.”

Togata raised his arms robotically and slowly, silently held them to his head to mimic All Might’s hair tufts. Eri giggled as Togata did the dance, jerky and awkward and completely off rhythm but recognizable. Hitoshi was just about to let himself feel hopeful about his progress when the front door burst open.

“Shinsou-kun! You get lunch yet…?” Monoma froze halfway through the door, plastic 7-11 bag in one hand and mouth dropping open in shock. Togata continued to do the All Might dance, on loop since Hitoshi hadn’t told him to stop, and Monoma dropped the bag and backed out the door, shutting it with a slam.

Eri’s laughter only grew louder as she rolled on the couch. Amajiki coughed and suggested that maybe Togata should stop now. Hitoshi released his Quirk while he ran a mental calculation on whether he should chase after Monoma to explain or go hole up in his dorm room and never come out.

Having been coaxed back inside and bribed with a reheated hamburger steak, Monoma sat at the table in the common area of the faculty dorm and looked around at the gathered third years. “Why didn’t you ask me, Shinsou-kun? I thought we were friends.” He was chewing on his fork as he turned his gaze to Hitoshi with a raised brow.

Hitoshi cleared his throat and hoped the warmth in his cheeks wasn’t visible. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask Monoma— he was a Hero course student and so one of the rivals he was trying to catch up to. And were they friends? Monoma had practically demanded Hitoshi’s number after the joint training exercise and they had been texting a little and had hung out a couple times but it wasn’t like they’d been speaking for that long. At this point he realized he was taking a little too long to answer so he groped for something to say. “Are you saying you’re okay with helping me?”

“I’d love to help you!” Monoma burst out, gesticulating wildly with his fork. Eri was watching its trajectory with wonderment. “We’re kindred spirits, you and I, and now that we’ve fought together we’ll always be comrades-in-arms! How better to stick it to those class A kids than to help you train so you’re better than any of them!”

Hitoshi wasn’t sure what to say to that and decided against mentioning that there was an even chance he’d end up in class A next year. “Oh. Um, thanks.”

“Think nothing of it! In fact, think of it as doing me a favor! This could be the beginning of a historic partnership! With your Brainwashing and my Copy, we’d take the world by storm!”

Hitoshi let himself zone out a little as Monoma continued to rant between bites of food, detailing their epic rise to the top of the Hero charts. He was just glad he’d been able to find people— multiple!— willing to help him train his Brainwashing. Monoma even seemed eager, and as he tuned back in to his speech, Hitoshi couldn’t help but feel a little warm.

* * *

Eri let out a shrill giggle as Monoma crashed into the coffee table. It was enough of an impact to knock him out of the Brainwashing and he dropped to the ground, rubbing his shin. They’d developed a bit of a routine over the last few weeks, Monoma coming by after class or on weekends when he didn’t have his work-study to help Hitoshi train with Togata. Hitoshi was finally starting to make real progress with his Brainwashing and he was able to make people answer simple questions. Things requiring more brainpower than that were still a struggle, and he still needed to really concentrate or he’d slip up and the person he was controlling would veer off and do something he hadn’t been going for.

“Ow, that’s gonna bruise! I didn’t agree to this so you could bodily injure me!”

“Sorry,” Hitoshi said, biting back his own laughter. “Maybe that was trying too many things at once.”

“I, for one, greatly appreciate your sacrifice,” Togata called from the couch. Eri had buried her face in his side, giggles exploding into guffaws at Monoma’s outraged expression. “No one can make Eri-chan laugh like you!”

“Why don’t you try something that doesn’t require me to move around?” Monoma stood up again and crossed his arms, shooting an exaggeratedly prim expression at Hitoshi. “Just have me talk, so I don’t have to risk life and limb for your Quirk training.”

“Er, yeah, okay.” Hitoshi rubbed his neck, in fact feeling a little guilty. He’d had Monoma walk around the room while describing things he saw. Simple, but maybe still a bit ambitious for where he was at. “Hey, Monoma.”

“Yeah?”

Hitoshi felt his Quirk take hold, the vague sensation of something catching on the edges of someone’s consciousness. He pulled at it a little as he spoke. “What’s two plus two?”

“Four,” Monoma answered, voice flat. It was still strange to hear him speak without his usual exaggerated affect.

Eri giggled again. “Even I know that!”

“Yes, you’re very good at math,” Togata agreed.

Hitoshi ignored the peanut gallery. “What’s the capital of France?”

“Paris.”

“Is general trivia really making him think?” Togata asked.

“Hmm, good point,” Hitoshi said. “Who wrote the Arsene Lupin stories?” Monoma had described this character to him once, one of the inspirations for his hero name. Hitoshi didn’t remember the answer himself, but he was trying to see if Monoma could recall it.

“Maurice Leblanc,” Monoma said, rolling the r with an impressive French flourish.

“What’s the plot of one of the novels?”

Monoma was silent. Damn. Was that level of information recall still too much?

“Close your eyes.”

He did so.

“Who else is in the room right now?”

“Shinsou-kun. Eri-chan. Togata-senpai.” The words came out slow, but they were correct.

“Who’s your favorite out of us?” Eri called from the couch.

Hitoshi looked back at her, raising a brow. Eri stared back at him, wide-eyed, nodding eagerly. “Fine. Monoma, who’s your favorite out of the people in this room?”

“Shinsou-kun,” Monoma answered quickly.

Eri burst out into more giggles and Hitoshi felt his face warm a little. “I guess since we were on the same team during the joint training exercise.”

“Aw, that’s really sweet,” Togata said. “I’m glad you two are such good friends!”

Hitoshi cleared his throat, trying to find something else to ask Monoma. “God, this is stupid… What are you thinking about right now?” By this point, he was able to keep the person under his Quirk somewhat conscious, but they’d still often forget what they’d been doing while under the Brainwashing. Maybe with more practice, he could control how much they remembered, but that was probably pretty far off.

“I want you to kiss me,” Monoma said.

Hitoshi released the Brainwashing without meaning to. Behind him, he heard Eri gasp and then protest as she was picked up by Togata.

“Uuh, Eri-chan, why don’t we go for a walk? I’ll buy you a candy apple!”

“Hmm… okay!”

The door closed before Hitoshi finally worked up the courage to say something.

“Sorry about that.”

“About what?” Monoma looked around the room. “Where’d Togata-senpai and Eri-chan go?”

“They left because, um…” Two sides of Hitoshi’s brain warred over what to say. Lie or tell the truth? Brainwash Monoma to forget he’d ever met him? Probably not within the scope of his abilities, not to mention morally objectionable. “They had to go.” Neither side won.

Monoma was making a face at him and Hitoshi sorely wished, not for the first time in his life but for the first time in a while, that he had any Quirk except the one he had, preferably one that could dig him a nice hole to hide in. “Did you make me do something stupid?”

“N-no.” It’d been Hitoshi who’d asked something stupid. “It was nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Shinsou-kun.” Monoma closed the distance between them and grabbed Hitoshi by the wrist as if worried he was going to run away. Hitoshi had been considering it, but only vaguely, and now it was too late to act on the impulse. “What was it?” His voice was gentle but probing.

Now that Monoma had touched him, there was a chance he’d Copied Hitoshi’s Brainwashing and could use it to force Hitoshi to tell him, or do something embarrassing until he did. They’d tried that a few times, and thanks to that Hitoshi knew how it felt to be under his Quirk and had even been able to use that to speed up his progress. He didn’t think Monoma would Copy and use his Quirk without asking but the threat of it was enough to make him still, though he continued to look anywhere but at him. “Eri-chan wanted to know who you liked the most out of the three of us,” Hitoshi said. His wrist felt hot where Monoma’s hand was clasped around it. He was probably sweating. “And you said me.”

Monoma snorted. “Well, sure, I talk to you the most. Why would that make them leave?”

“Then I asked what you were thinking about and you said…” Hitoshi glanced at Monoma’s face. He’d stepped even closer and Hitoshi’s vision was filled with the blue-gray of his eyes. Hitoshi couldn’t stop his gaze from flickering down to Monoma’s lips and he felt his face burn as he forced the words out. “You said you wanted me to kiss you.”

Monoma’s eyes went wide and Hitoshi saw a twinge of recollection in his face. “Shinsou-kun—”

“Sorry, I think I should go.” Hitoshi shook himself free and rushed to the door, ducking his head to avoid eye contact.

“Hey, wait!”

“Don’t follow me!” Hitoshi couldn’t suppress a flinch as his Quirk took hold of Monoma. He hadn’t meant to do that, but it gave him the opportunity to get out of there, so he took it. For the first time, he felt Monoma struggling against the Brainwashing. Hitoshi picked up his pace and felt the connection fall away about halfway across the lawn in front of the faculty dorm. He saw Togata and Eri returning down the sidewalk, Eri happily munching on her promised candy apple, and ran in the direction of the Gen Ed dorms, hoping they hadn’t seen him. He didn’t stop until he’d locked the door of his dorm room behind him and then sat down against the door.

That had gone incredibly shittily, for a number of reasons. He’d used his Quirk against his friend, someone who’d been trying to help him get into the Hero course, against his will. Monoma had made himself open to what were essentially psychic attacks and Hitoshi had not only violated that trust but also forced Monoma to divulge something private and probably really embarrassing. Some hero student Hitoshi was turning out to be.

Monoma definitely wouldn’t want Hitoshi to kiss him now, if he even wanted to see him again. Hitoshi couldn’t blame him if he didn’t. He felt the bile rise up in his throat, familiar and sour after years of reckless, defiant resolve to prove everyone wrong. Indulging an impulse he hadn’t since middle school, he put his forehead against his knees and let the self-loathing wash over him.

Maybe ten seconds later his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket to see Monoma had texted him an ominous ‘Shinshou-kun.’ Hitoshi stared at it for a few minutes, too scared to open it and send a read receipt. Monoma sent one more ‘Heyyy!!!’ After several minutes there were no more messages. Hitoshi let out the breath he’d been holding and put a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure if the tightness in his chest was disappointment or relief.

* * *

Hitoshi hadn’t gone back to the faculty dorm in a week. Aizawa-sensei wasn’t around much these days but he was able to train with his binding cloths by himself on school grounds, though he was pretty much just going through the motions at this point. He’d hoped doing some familiar drills would keep his mind off things, help him focus, but swinging around the trees before class and trying to remember to keep his wrists loose did little to occupy his thoughts. If anything, it was only making him feel worse.

Hitoshi landed softly on the grass (falling had been the first thing Aizawa had drilled into him) and looked down at the new callouses forming on his hands. Was there even a point to this? He’d spent weeks, months at this point carving out space for himself, training and sweating and getting his ass kicked by Aizawa-sensei so he could finally have his dream within his grasp. But if last week was anything to go by, he’d only proved that everyone had been right all along, and all his powers were good for was villainy.

Hitoshi checked the time before coiling up the binding cloth. The carbon fibers glinted a little in the light. He flexed his fingers against the fabric, feeling the scratchy texture of the weave. He hadn’t texted Monoma, or even really seen him. Monoma hadn’t texted him since the incident, either, which confirmed the theory that he didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. In the normal course of the school year Hitoshi didn’t really get opportunities to interact with the Hero course kids, so he might not see him again for the rest of the semester. That was probably for the best.

Hitoshi frowned. Staring at his hands wasn’t going to help him get a handle on his feelings, it’d only make him late so he tucked the cloth into his bag and headed to class.

He was antsy the whole morning, barely able to pay attention to the lectures. There was a pop quiz in math he’d definitely bombed. Working to get into the Hero course hadn’t distracted him so much before; he’d only stubbornly thrown himself into his training while keeping his grades up with sheer force of will and sleep deprivation. Hitoshi heaved a sigh as the bell rang for lunch. He saw a couple of his classmates staring at him, but mercifully they didn’t try to ask him about it. He’d been using lunch periods to train more, so they went ahead without him.

He wasn’t feeling up to training right then, though, so he pushed himself up from his desk and followed the rest of the class to the cafeteria. In the hallway, he saw a familiar swoop of blond hair and Togata was upon him before he could formulate an escape plan.

“Shinsou, it’s been a minute! How you been?”

“Alright,” Hitoshi said, avoiding eye contact. He hoped the terse response would get Togata to leave, but he wasn’t so lucky.

“Eri-chan’s been a little sad not to see you. Is something going on?” Togata’s voice was cheerful and airy as always, but Hitoshi still had the feeling of being cross-examined.

“You know, exams and stuff,” Hitoshi said to the floor. He kept his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t be tempted to fidget and give him away. “Can’t let my grades slip or they might pull my transfer.”

“Oh, I thought your grades were really good,” Togata said, voice filled with thoughtful surprise. “Did you still need someone to train your Quirk with? I’m always happy to help. Heck, I can tutor you if you’re worried about your grades.”

Togata was being weirdly, characteristically nice, which was just making Hitoshi uncomfortable. Hitoshi cleared his throat. “No, I think I’m good. Thanks.”

“Hmm,” was Togata’s response. He eyed Hitoshi for a moment and opened his mouth to say something. As Hitoshi steeled himself, he seemed to think better of it and grinned at him. “Well, let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Hitoshi just nodded mutely. Another third year turned the corner and took Togata’s attention, so he was spared from having to verbalize a reply. Togata hadn’t said anything about Monoma, but Hitoshi found himself unable to push the thought of him from his mind as he reached the cafeteria. Togata and Eri had gotten back to the faculty dorm right after Hitoshi had made his exit. They would have found Monoma there, after Hitoshi had done something terrible and then run away on top of that. What had Monoma said to them? Whatever it’d been, it’d probably been nicer than he deserved.

The cafeteria was already crowded as Hitoshi entered. He started to make his way to the back of the line, looking at the clock over the door and trying to calculate if he’d even get his food in time to eat. He was feeling a little nauseous, probably from the lack of sleep, so maybe it’d be better to just grab a seat and try to take a nap at a table.

All the introspection meant he wasn’t looking where he was going, and he bumped into another student. Damn, he had to get his shit together. “Sorry,” he muttered, registering who he’d bumped into too late.

“Shinsou-kun!”

Hitoshi froze as he looked up and locked eyes with Monoma. “Fuck.” He found himself unable to escape as Monoma grabbed his wrist and got up in his face. He looked everywhere except at Monoma.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Monoma hissed, lacking his usual drama and exuberance.

“Can we not…do this here?” Hitoshi continued to stare at the floor, trying to get his brain to start going again. Here they were, the consequences of his actions. Monoma definitely hated him and was going to let him have it.

“What, are you gonna Brainwash me and run away again?”

Hitoshi couldn’t suppress a flinch. He felt the absurd urge to laugh, like a toddler caught doing something wrong, and that made him feel like even more of a piece of shit. He tamped it down. “…No.”

Monoma huffed a sigh, but his grip on Hitoshi’s arm didn’t loosen. “You know what, just, come here.” He started to drag Hitoshi toward the doors. For someone smaller than him and not particularly muscular, Monoma was surprisingly strong. Hitoshi didn’t fight him, only glancing over his shoulder on the way out to see the orange-haired girl from 1-B staring at them from over her noodles.

Monoma pulled them into an unused classroom and pushed Hitoshi further inside until they were out of view from the door. He blocked in Hitoshi between the desks, cutting off an easy exit. He was also entirely too close and Hitoshi found his gaze going to Monoma’s mouth again.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“It’s not like we get a lot of chances to see each other, since we’re in different courses.”

“Then you’ve stopped going out of your way to see me.”

“I guess, yeah.” Hitoshi ducked his head. It took two seconds of fighting with his mouth to finally blurt out, “I’m really sorry! You trusted me enough to let me use my Quirk on you, and I Brainwashed you without your permission. And I made you say something private in front of people… If you never want to see me again, I understand. I know I should’ve… apologized sooner.” He forced himself to look at Monoma, afraid of his disgust but also needing to know what kind of face he was making.

Monoma was scowling, looking just to the right of Hitoshi’s jaw. After several seconds, he finally said, “Yeah, that wasn’t very nice of you to just run off.”

Hitoshi’s insides were cold mush. He could see Monoma trying to disguise his hurt with his usual blithe smile, but it was unsteady. Hitoshi let out a shaky breath. “Maybe I am just a villain,” he muttered.

“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”

It’d been directed at himself, but since Hitoshi had said it out loud, of course Monoma had heard. Hitoshi once more wished for a hole to hide in, not that one was likely to open in up the floor of the classroom, but he deserved to take his lumps, even if it was making him feel like he was being skinned alive. “Cause I… I violated your trust. And after you called me your friend… I was terrible.”

Monoma’s scowl morphed into a frown, but not the kind Hitoshi had been expecting. “What are you, stupid?”

“What?”

“We were training! Yeah, your Quirk lets you dig around in my head a little, but that’s a risk I willingly took on when I agreed to train with you. I mean, you know how many concussions I’ve gotten from my classmates in training exercises?”

“But—”

“Look, you’re not a bad person, okay? Your Quirk isn’t evil and you’re not a villain! It’s not like you made me hurt someone! You didn’t hurt me.”

“Doesn’t me Brainwashing you at all hurt you?” Hitoshi could feel himself losing a logical battle he hadn’t been prepared for.

“No! And even if it did, I agreed to it! At some point you have to respect the fact that I make my own choices.”

Hitoshi didn’t have a response for that. Monoma was the sort of person who could talk circles around anyone, but Hitoshi couldn’t help but still feel deeply guilty.

“Also… if you were that bothered about me wanting to kiss you, you could’ve just… said that. You didn’t have to avoid me over it…”

Hitoshi’s cheeks heated and his head whipped up to look at Monoma, who’d bowed his head and was avoiding eye contact. “What? No, that didn’t bother me.”

“Isn’t that why you ran off and stopped talking to me? I mean, I get it, if you don’t…like me, just, tell me you’re not interested, okay?”

The shape of Hitoshi’s fuckup suddenly became very clear. He shook his head emphatically, a hand coming up to cover his face. “N-no, that wasn’t it at all! I was just… I was surprised, okay? I didn’t know what to do!” He stumbled backwards a step and felt the back of his thigh hit a desk. “I’d just never… thought about it before…”

“So you didn’t hate the idea?” Monoma’s voice was quiet as Hitoshi lowered his hand.

“I just figured… you wouldn’t want to anymore… since you probably hated me…”

Monoma snorted. “I don’t lose interest in someone so easily.” His gaze was on the floor and Hitoshi’s hand hovered awkwardly in the air between them, torn between going back to his side or reaching out and…

Their eyes met and Monoma reached up to tangle his fingers in Hitoshi’s hair. Hitoshi let out a yelp as he was pulled forward and then Monoma’s lips were on his and his eyes went wide in shock. Monoma’s eyes were closed, blond lashes ticking Hitoshi’s face. Hitoshi realized he should probably close his eyes too, and maybe kiss him back and then his only thoughts were that Monoma’s lips were soft and he’d been stupid for not talking to him sooner. His hands traveled up to the sides of Monoma’s face to pull him closer, pushing himself forward. He breathed out a sigh and pushed his tongue into Monoma’s mouth because all he wanted was to taste him.

Monoma broke off the kiss, grinning a little as Hitoshi dumbly tried to chase his mouth. “So? I didn’t… ruin everything?”

“No! Of course not!” Hitoshi cleared his throat. “I hope… I didn’t ruin things, either.”

“No.” Monoma chuckled. “For the sort of guy who says ‘I’m not here to make friends’, you really get bothered by this kind of thing.” He started fiddling with Hitoshi’s collar. “We’re still friends. I still like you. I’ll keep training with you, if you still want that.”

“If I still want— Do you? Isn’t getting Brainwashed kind of awful?”

“It’s not awful! I kind of… like it.” His voice trailed off at the end until Hitoshi could barely hear it.

Hitoshi coughed. “I can’t believe you’d say something like that.” He couldn’t believe anyone would say something like that. His face was hot and he wanted to hide again, just because he was so overwhelmed. “Is that… something you’re into?”

“You little!” Monoma smacked Hitoshi’s arm, taking Hitoshi’s genuine question as teasing. “Don’t make me Copy your Quirk! Maybe I’ll give you a taste of your own medicine!”

Hitoshi bit back a laugh. The weight that’d been in his chest for the past week was suddenly gone, replaced with blooming warmth. “Yeah? What kind of horrendous things would you make me do?”

“Shut up, for one thing!”

“I really want to kiss you again.” Hitoshi’s voice was hoarse and his face burned as he said it.

Monoma held up his arms defensively and looked away, cheeks hot pink. “Jeez! I told you to shut it, not say something embarrassing!”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Not entirely true, but seeing Monoma flustered for once was rare enough he wasn’t going to squander it. “Are you?” He reached out and put his hand around Monoma’s arm. His skin was soft and warm under his fingers.

“No! Why would I be?” Monoma didn’t pull away, but stared at Hitoshi’s hand like he couldn’t figure out its geometry on his arm.

“You’re, like, bright red.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “So, can I?”

“Do whatever you want.”

Hitoshi leaned forward, suddenly, absurdly, nervous as he pressed his lips against Monoma’s again. He laughed a little and pulled back to try again. An ecstatic little rush went through him as he felt Monoma sigh against his mouth and melt into him. Hitoshi heard a click as the door opened. He opened one eye to peek over Monoma’s shoulder and saw his friend from before standing in the doorway in open-mouthed shock. After a good eight seconds of silence, she saluted before shutting the door gently.

Monoma laughed into Hitoshi’s mouth and pulled back just far enough to say, “Oh no, did we get caught?” His lips ghosting against Hitoshi’s felt like heaven.

Hitoshi nodded. He pulled Monoma back to him and let his eyes fall shut again. “I guess you have some explaining to do to your friend.” He smiled against Monoma’s groan. “But in a few minutes.”

[hellowhisperingstars]

Chapter Four: The Terrible Date

Summary: The night of your date with Peter is here and you are reminded of why you hate him so much. But Eddie's there to make the night better.

Pairing: Rockstar/Bar Owner!Eddie Munson x Baker!Reader

Words: 6.5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, cussing, overuse of pet names, Y/N used, alcohol, chauvinism, Peter being Peter, Eddie being a sweetie, fluff? Please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Not me updating this at 11 pm on a Sunday! Anyway! Here is chapter four, I'm sorry it takes me 12 years to update this. Please enjoy it and let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! <3

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Previous - Masterlist - Forward

Saturday night rolled around all too quickly for your liking and by the time you pulled up to the restaurant you were ready to turn back around and go literally anywhere else. At least he chose a nice steak restaurant. Checking your hair and makeup in the rearview mirror one last time you grabbed your purse and exited your car throwing the strap over your shoulder as you started walking. You could already see Peter standing outside bundled up in his tan trench coat with a deep royal blue scarf around his neck. Pulling your long black peacoat closer around you, you made your way through the parking lot towards him, your red heels clicking on the snowy asphalt as you walked.

He must have heard you cause he looked in your direction and a smile pulled on his features, straight bright white teeth shone in the decorative lights of the restaurant. “Y/N,” He said as you stopped by him, his eyes looking you up and down. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” You said with a forced small smile, gesturing with your hand as you nodded towards the restaurant. “Shall we go in?”

“Of course,” Peter said as he walked ahead of you to open the door. “We are just in time for our reservation.”

“Great,” You nod as you follow him to the door and walk ahead of him into the building. 

The inside was pretty, exactly what you imagined it would look like when Peter called you with the details for this evening. The lights were dimmed so that the small tea candles on the tables were bright enough to see your menu and the person you were with. Tables and booths crowded the dining room as you looked around. It was busy tonight and you were only half listening to Peter as he spoke to the hostess much more interested in the art deco decor of the place. Once you’ve had your fill you turn your head and look over at him.

“Hi, I have a reservation for two at seven under Malloy.” He said as he leaned against the hostess stand, a charming smile thrown at her. 

The hostess smiled as she fluttered her lashes at him. With a sultry voice she eyed him up and down appreciatively. “Let me check.” 

'Lady, if you want him so bad, you can have him.' You thought as you rolled your eyes a little. 

“There it is. This way Mr. Malloy.” The hostess said as she grabbed two menus and gestured into the dining room waiting for them to follow her. 

Peter turned and offered you his arm which you took begrudgingly and together you walked into the room after the hostess, leading you to a table that sat in the center of the room. Of course, the one table where everyone would see you out with Peter Malloy. You smiled at the hostess as she put your menus on the table and pulled a chair out for you, muttering a quiet thank you, placing your purse on your chair and took your coat off revealing your pretty red dress with the small white flower pattern that went down to just above your knees, the quarter length sleeves covering most of your arms, it was the nicest dress you had in your closet that you didn’t have to go to your fathers house for. Hanging the coat over the back of your chair you stepped around it tucking the back of your skirt under your legs as you sat, Peter tucked your chair in for you. 

“Your waiter Andreas will be right with you,” The hostess said her eyes on Peter the whole time as he took off his coat and scarf and sat down. “Please let us know if we can do anything for you. Enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you,” He smiled as she walked away before he looked over at you. “This place has the best steak.”

“Oh?” You asked as you picked up the menu giving it a once over before Andreas made his way over not too long later looking pleasant as he smiled down at you both. 

“Good evening folks, how are we doing tonight?,” He said, his brown eyes gleaming in the candle light, reminding you of Eddies just not as baby cow-like. He set two glasses of water down on your table as he spoke. “My name is Andreas and I will be your server tonight. Can I get you guys started on some drinks and maybe an appetizer?”

“Very well, thank you,” Peter said as he didn’t even really acknowledge Andreas as he scoped out the wine menu. 

Sending a small look at Peter for his rudeness you turned and smiled up at the man. “How are you doing tonight?”

Andreas smiled down at you. “Doing well, shift just started so, so far so good!”

Peter interrupted you then to ask about the wine, so you took the time to look at the menu some more. The chicken looked good... But so did the steak…

“We will have that wine,” Peter said as he passed Andreas the menu in his hand, “I will have the steak, medium rare, with a side of mashed potatoes and seasonal veggies. The lady will have the caesar salad.”

Your head snapped up at that. Did he seriously just order for you? “Oh, I was goin-”

“My mother says the salads are just as good as the steak here. Plus, wouldn’t want to ruin that gorgeous waist line now do we?” 

‘Play nice with Peter.’ Your hand gripped the menu for a moment as frustration bloomed in your chest before you handed it off to Andreas with a little smile. It was just a salad. If you were still hungry later you could make something at home, there was no point in making a scene. Looking up at Andreas you nodded. “The salad is fine.”

Andreas looked between the two of you for a moment almost like he wanted to say something but he just nodded, took the menus and his little notepad filled with your order, and headed back to the kitchen.

Grabbing your water from the table you took a sip before setting it back down. If you had to sit here with him you might as well make conversation. “So... How was your day?”

“It was good,” Peter said as he sat back in his chair, his pointer finger tracing his bottom lip mindlessly. “Played golf with some friends, lunch at the club, some business with my father, and now we are here. How was yours?”

“Good!” You nodded as you set your arms on the table. “Made a cake for a wedding tomorrow, baked all kinds of things for the front of the shop, ran payroll. Pretty boring really, the wedding cake was fun.”

You both chatted idly, mostly about him you noticed, but you were trying to get to know each other at least a little until your wine and dinner showed then you spent the next few minutes picking at your salad taking small bites as he just devoured his steak. You peeked up when he cleared his throat. Wiping your mouth on your napkin you placed it back in your lap. “Yes?”

“Have you thought about your future? Maybe settling down? Have a family?”

“Eventually, yes.” You nod playing with your fork, poking at the leaves on your plate. “But I’m still young, I have time to find someone I wanna spend my life with.”

“I just don’t see how a woman could feel accomplished without a husband and a family.” He muttered as he looked at you. “You know a woman isn’t truly fulfilled in life until she has a child. You’re not getting any younger Y/N. If we were to be together you’d have to sell the bakery of course, be a stay at home mother just like my mother was, women belong in the home. She can’t wait to have grandchildren.”

“Well I hope you find someone that will give them to her.” You forced a smile, your mood instantly souring, yeah you really hated this man. Trying to get to know him and play nice wasn't going to work for you anymore. You don’t know why you bothered in the first place. “I won’t be selling the bakery and settling down anytime soon.”

“If you were my wife you wouldn't have a choice.” He said, taking a drink of his wine. 

“If I was your wife we'd be divorced already.” You said taking a drink of your own. 

You two stared at each other for a moment before he just started to laugh. That smug bastard thought you were joking. “We'll get along just fine. Trust me, one day you'll see it my way.”

You blinked at him. He wasn't serious? Did he really think you would give up your entire world for him? 

The rest of dinner went by agonizingly slow, your appetite was completely gone so your salad was left basically untouched, and by the time the idea of dessert was thrown around you declined it. The need to get out of there was the only thing on your mind. This has probably been the worst date you’ve ever been on and that included the guy that ate off your plate that one time. Peter was rude, chauvinistic, and just overall unpleasant to be around. The fact that he was ballsy enough to tell you that you'd have to sell your bakery, pump out babies, and be a stay at home mother to be fulfilled in life just rubbed you in all the wrong ways. You offered to pay for your half of dinner but he waved you away and all you could do was sit and watch as he paid and put a sad tip on the table. You sighed as he started to walk away after collecting his scarf and trench coat expecting you to follow, you guessed the part of the evening where he was a gentleman was over, going into your purse you picked out a couple more bills and added them to the table. Andreas was a lovely person and deserved a good tip. Smiling at him as you grabbed your jacket and purse, said a quiet goodnight, and headed towards the front of the restaurant carefully slipping your peacoat up your arms as you went so you wouldn’t drop your purse.

Peter was waiting for you at the front door, his trench thrown over his nice suit as he looked at you curiously. “What took you?”

“I needed to find something in my purse.” You muttered as he opened the door for you to exit the place, the hostess calling out a goodnight to Peter as you went. Digging in your bag for your keys you turned to look at him not expecting him to be in your space. “Well, than-”

His lips crashed onto yours fiercely, making you gasp and he took that as an invitation as he slipped his tongue past your lips, his hands coming up to hold your jaw. Eyes wide you pushed him back a little as you took a few steps away from him. He just kissed you. You stared at him in complete shock like he had grown three heads. “What the fuck Peter?”

“I’m sorry,” He laughed, leaning into your space again. He was trying to be flirty. ‘Trying to’ being the main words here. “I’ve been thinking about that all night.”

“You could have asked me.” You snarled at him. “You can’t just go around kissing people cause you want to. Thank you for dinner. Have a good night.” Turning on your heel you didn’t even wait for him to say anything and you ignored him as he called your name when you all but stomped back to your car. The absolute audacity of that fucking man. Who just kisses someone like that?! 

Opening the door to your car you threw your purse into the cab not caring as it hit the glove box making it swing open harshly, jostling a few things out and into the footwell of the passenger seat while you took your place behind the wheel. Shoving your keys in the ignition, you put the car in reverse, then quickly into drive, and just booked it out of the parking lot. You had an hour to drive home so you could just sit and stew in your frustration over the entire evening. You’d tried you really had. You played nice up until that stupid asshole made those comments about your life and then that fucking kiss. Your father could be mad at you all he wanted. Your job was done as far as you were concerned, he was lucky you didn’t slap him in his smug little face.

You were about twenty or thirty minutes out of Hawkins when a glowing neon sign on a building to your right shone like a beacon on the empty street, coloring the inside of your car red as you drove past it. Hellfire. You could use a drink, plus Steve might be working and you could vent at him. Maybe Eddie would be there too. Nodding to yourself, you hit the blinker and made the right turn into the parking lot finding the first available spot to park in before turning it off completely. Turning to grab your purse you saw the mess you had made in your anger. “Shit.” 

Sighing you took your seatbelt off and leaned down to clean it up while you grabbed your purse. Carelessly you shoved the fallen items back into the glove box, registration, insurance, owners manual, Corroded Coffin cassette case, and… wait. Glancing down at the plastic case in your hand you noticed the small photo of the band staring back at you in all their long hair, wild style, metal glory. Lifting it up so you could see better using the outside lights of the bar one face made your heart hammer in your chest. There, smirking at you was Eddie. No. No way in hell. Looking up towards the bar you see the man in question standing on the covered patio leaning against one of the poles supporting the awning, smoking a cigarette. He was so handsome even at this distance, his long curly hair free to blow in the cold breeze, a band t-shirt under an old worn down flannel showing off the tattoos on his muscular forearms and hands, ripped jeans that allowed the pale skin on his knees to peek out. 

The Eddie you kissed and had sex with on New Years Eve was THE Eddie Munson. The lead singer and guitarist for Corroded Coffin, your favorite band. How had you completely missed that?! Sure he looked familiar but...Fuck… He was Eddie Munson! “Holy shit.”

Closing your glove box you dropped the case on your passenger seat and grabbed your purse with shaky hands. Pushing open your car door you stepped out and closed it again leaning against it and took a deep breath as you closed your eyes. How were you going to look at him? You had fucked and dashed a rockstar. Sighing, you steeled your nerves and swung your purse over your shoulder, your hands shoved into the pockets of your peacoat as you walked towards the building.

Eddie looked up curiously as he heard a car door close and the sound of heels crunching on the snow covered parking lot. He blinked at you for a moment before a smile cracked through. At least he looked so happy to see you. He took one last puff on his finished cigarette before he flicked it into snow by the stairs. “You came back. I was beginning to think you were my Snuffleupagus.” 

“I came back." You nodded, as you moved closer to the porch almost a foot away from him now still standing on the asphalt looking up at him. You weren’t sure what to say to him. 

“I’m glad.” Eddie said with a sly smirk on his lips, gesturing to the door behind him. “Come in, it’s warmer inside.” He moved so he could hold it open for you. When he didn’t hear you move he cocked his head and glanced at you letting the door fall closed again. Walking back slowly he stopped at the top of the steps looking down at you a frown on his handsome features. “You okay?” 

You looked him over, he still looked like that same guy that made you laugh and stole your breath with one kiss, but he was also an award winning musician. He was the same, but different. “You're not just a bar owner… Are you?”

He took a breath and shook his head as he let it out. This was it. He knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. He had been surprised when Steve said he hadn’t told you. But he was also glad, cause in all honesty, he was hoping he had a little more time with you to just be himself before it came out into the light and you started to treat him differently. Almost everyone did, they all wanted something from him in the end. “No, I'm not just a bar owner.”

“You're Eddie Munson. A rockstar.” 

“I’m Eddie Munson.” He nodded, his arms crossing over his chest as he bit the inside of his cheek. 

“Why didn't you say anything that night? Not once did you ever mention that you were some famous musician.” 

“Honestly?” He said as he scratched the back of his neck. “I liked that you didn't fawn all over me like other girls when you saw me. You flirted with me and let me kiss you and take you to bed and who I am didn’t matter. You didn't seem to know or care so I could myself. Just plain old Eddie.” 

“Wanna know something funny?” You ask as you finally start up the steps to the porch stopping at the one right below him. “When I met you that night I knew your name sounded familiar and you looked familiar but I couldn't place where I had seen you… I found a Corroded Coffin cassette case in my car tonight and it turns out... you're the lead singer and guitarist of my favorite band. I listened to your Loot the Body album for months when I was in college.”

Eddie smiled as he leaned into your space, his hands clasped behind his back, his closeness wasn’t at all unwelcomed like Peters was. “Your favorite band huh? Am I your favorite member of the band?”

You shrug and look away letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know... The drummer is pretty cute.”

Eddie sucked in a breath as he shook his head and leaned back trying to act nonchalant. “I’m sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but Gareth just got married. Him and the missus are off on their honeymoon.”

“Well damn,” You sigh and turn to look at the parking lot before turning back to him. “Anyone else in this band available?’

“Unfortunately no,” Eddie shrugged with a shake of his head, “Jeff’s got a girl and Brandon doesn’t really seem to be interested in anyone, plus he’s not even here, he’s at some kind of family reunion. So it seems you're stuck with me.”

“A terrible fate really.” You snark, making him chuckle a bit. You start to giggle giving into the shiver that runs up your spine in the cold. You were about to be an icicle out here and he wasn’t even wearing a sweater. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I run hot,” He said, holding his hand out for you, his head nodding towards the door of the bar. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death.”

Nodding a little you take his hand and move up the last step before you allow him to lead you into the bar. He never let your hand go as he opened the door for you and as you walked by you stage whispered to him. “Just so you know.. You’re my favorite.”

“I knew it!” He said, giving your hand a little squeeze before he followed you in as you laughed. Robin was back behind the bar and she smiled at you while passing a beer off to another customer, as you and Eddie got closer. He helped you take your coat off, as it was much warmer in the bar, and walked behind the counter to put it and your purse away for you before he leaned his hands on the counter. “What would you like?”

“Please tell me you guys have food?”

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie nodded as he looked around the back of the bar for the small menu they had. Worry making his brows cinch together. “Did you not eat today?”

“Uh, no, I ate. I just need something a little more.” You sighed as you took a seat on an open stool looking at the menu he slid in front of you. It wasn’t very busy in the bar at the moment. Just a few people around your age and older sitting at the miss matched tables chatting amongst themselves, enjoying their drinks, none of them really paid you any mind. So you didn’t feel too bad about asking for food. “I had a date and the dude ordered me a salad.”

“Did you even want a salad?” He asked as he crossed his arms over his chest. Jealousy bloomed in his chest a little bit and he tried his best to ignore it. It was just a date… one date didn’t mean anything. ‘One night together didn’t mean anything either.’

“No!” You shook your head with an exasperated look. “He just did it, claiming his mother loved them and that a salad wouldn’t ruin my girlish figure.”

“Seriously!?” Robin asked as she looked over at you. “Gross!”

“Right?! Wanna know the worst part? I didn’t want to go on that stupid date in the first place!”

“Then why go?” Robin asked as she crossed her arms to lean on the counter. “Seems dumb to go on a date if you aren’t interested in the person.”

“He’s the son of my fathers new business partner.” You sigh as you poked a crumb of something on the surface of the bar. “I was told to play nice with him. So I did and I would rather be hit by a truck then do that again.”

“That bad?”

“He’s awful.” You mutter as you look up at her and then to Eddie trying to get an idea of his feelings. “He’s rude, chauvinistic, and weirdly obsessed with what his mother likes.”

“Okay, well now you can forget about that guy. Let's get something more substantial into you and then you can have a drink.” Eddie sighed as he watched you for a moment. Pointing down at the menu in front of you he smiled. “The sliders are pretty good, if I can brag a bit.”

You bit your lip as you looked at the menu reading the description for the little burgers. Glancing up at Eddie through your lashes you smiled. “Four is a bit much considering I did have a salad. Split them with me?” 

Robin smirked as she looked between you both and then away as a regular customer came up to the bar she nodded at him as she walked towards him. “Hey Keith. Want your usual?”

Eddie smiled at you and nodded as he slid the menu back towards him to examine it, like he had no idea what the sliders came with. “I could eat. Be right back with your order Miss.”

You giggled a bit as he put the menu on the counter behind him and moved around the bar grabbing a glass and filling it with ice and water. Glancing up at him you smiled as he set it before you. “Water?”

“Humor me. Drink that, okay?” He smiled as he turned around and headed to the kitchen whistling as he went.  

You sipped your water chatting with Robin in between customers as Eddie took his time in the kitchen. After about a half an hour he was marching back out of the kitchen with a plate in his hands. “Sliders for the pretty lady.”

“Thanks Eddie.” You grinned as you looked down at the plate he slid in front of you. They looked amazing. Glancing up at Eddie you took a slider in hand and bit into it, a moan leaving your lips as you chewed. With a mouth full of food you nodded at Eddie who chuckled at you.

“That good huh?” He smiled, taking one for himself. 

“So good.” You mumble around the bite before you swallow and go for another. Together you and Eddie finished the sliders and as he came back from the kitchen you looked at him curiously. “Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think a woman isn't fulfilled in life unless she has kids?” You asked, propping your chin up on your palm. You weren’t even sure why you asked him. Maybe you were scared he would be like Peter. You didn’t want Eddie to be anything like Peter.

“Uhhhhh,” He looked at you knowing he was wandering into dangerous territory and blinked as he tapped his fingers on the bar top nervously. “I think a woman has the right to choose what she does with her own life. If that means kids, cool. If not also cool. Why?”

“It's something Peter said.” You mumbled, picking at the skin around your fingers, “He seems to think that I need to give up my job, get married, and start popping out kids or I'll just be miserable for the rest of my life.” 

“Is that something you want? Marriage, kids, all that?”

You shook your head. “No. Not right now anyway. I'm still young, I have time plus I love my job and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.” 

He leaned on the counter close to you with a smile on his face. “Then I think you shouldn’t worry about what that fucker has to say. It's your life, only you get to choose what you want to do with it. Now, change of topic. I promised you a drink. What kind of drink would you like? We can make the fancy kind or maybe a beer?”

“A beer sounds great right now actually.” 

“What kind? We have a lot.” 

You thought for a moment before you shrugged. “Dealer's choice.” 

“You sure you want me to pick it for you?”

You nodded. “This is different. I asked you to pick one. He took the choice from me. I’m willingly giving it to you.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you playfully before he nodded and turned making his way over to the small beer fridge they had under the counter. That’s where they stored the bottles when there wasn’t a party and the buckets weren’t needed. Crouching down he looked back over his shoulder at you, while you just smiled at him waiting to see what he chose, he looked back at the fridge and grabbed two bottles of Corona by the neck between his fingers and closed the door. Grabbing the bottle opener he swiftly opened the two and moved back to you grabbing two lime slices out of the bowls behind the counter and shoved them into the bottles before holding one out to you. 

Gently you take the bottle, your fingers brushing his as you grab the neck, the two of you staring at one another for a few seconds before a cough breaks your silence and you look over to see Steve standing there with his hands on his hips. Placing the bottle on the bar top you smiled at him. “Oh, hey Chippy.”

The nickname made Eddie laugh, which was terrible timing since he was in the middle of a drink, now he was wiping at his face to try and get the beer out of his nose while he coughed. 

You look over startled. “Are you okay?!”

“Yeah,” He coughed as he looked away from you. “Yeah, yeah, good. I’m good.”

“Great,” Steve said, throwing his arms out in frustration. “Now that’s all he’s going to call me. I need to clock in and then you are going to tell me about what happened with Malloy.”

“Fiiiine,” You groaned watching as your cousin went into the kitchen. Looking back over at Eddie leaned forward on the counter. “You sure you’re okay?”

Sniffing Eddie nodded his head, getting himself back under control. “I’m fine sweetheart. I forgot his nickname was Chippy and I ended up breathing beer through my nose.”

“I’m so sorry.” You chuckled as you fiddled with the label on your bottle. 

“Don’t worry about it." Eddie smiled as he wiped his face one more time. 

Steve came back out of the kitchen and joined you, nodding his head at a few of the regulars with a greeting. He stopped a moment when someone got his attention and smiled at them before he got to work on preparing their drinks. He looked over to you expectantly. “Well? How’d it go?”

“Probably like you thought it would.” You mumbled as you pushed the lime farther into the bottle and took a drink of your beer. 

“The guy was a dick and he ordered her food for her.” Eddie said, watching as Steven shook the martini shaker in his hand.

“Really?” He asked as he poured the drink into a glass and handed it and a bottle of beer off to the person who ordered it, smiling as he took the guy's card to start an open tab. 

“Worst date I’ve ever had, he tipped like shit, basically told me I should give up my job and pop out babies, and when it was over and we were outside,” You shivered in distaste. “He kissed me. Didn’t even ask. Just bam! Lips and tongue.”

“What?!” Eddie and Steve snapped at the same time looking at you and then each other in shock for the others outburst.

“Gross!” Robin yelled as she turned quickly to stare at you before looking back over at a customer in front of her who had just given her their order. “Not you, I promise. Her date sucked.”

You nodded as you took another drink of your beer. “He’s a terrible kisser.”

By the time the end of the night rolled around and the bar was closing down the boys and Robin knew every gritty detail of the date. Eddie’s chest heated with jealousy knowing that another man had kissed you but he tried to shrug it off. You weren’t his so there was no reason to be this upset about it, no matter how much he liked you. One night didn’t mean forever, but maybe deep down he was hoping for more. He watched as you brought the bottle to your lips and finished off your second beer of the night, he bit his bottom lip knowing exactly how those lips felt wrapped around him. A door opened on the second floor, bringing him out of his thoughts as he looked up watching as two people left the room.

“Sounded like you had a good time up there.” He said smirking at them, knowing no one had even heard a peep from upstairs, you look up at them as well. The couple slowly came out onto the walkway, the man wearing a pair of pajama pants and an old muscle shirt. He was holding the hand of a girl around his age. She was also in comfy clothes looking a little glowy and dazed.

“Shut up man,” Jeff countered with a laugh, rubbing the girls back as she buried her face into his chest before gesturing towards the stairs. Together they walked around the landing and down the stairs until they hit the bottom floor heading towards the bar greeting you all as they moved closer. The place was empty save the six of you. No customers lingered in the bar this late, it was almost two or three in the morning you couldn't tell. The closer they got the more you recognized the man. He was also in the band with Eddie.

“Since you're up you guys want a drink?” Eddie asked as he threw the rag he was cleaning the bar top with over his shoulder to take a drink of his third beer of the night.

“Yeah I'll just have a Corona and the little miss will have water. She's still in trouble from the last time she got wasted here.” He glared at Eddie knowing it was partially his fault but he couldn’t blame him for the whole thing, Lizzy was supposed to be on her best behavior.

Eddie chuckled as he placed his drink down and grabbed a bottle of Corona from the fridge popping the cap off, handing it to Jeff who sat on the stool one over from you, you watched as his arm went around the dazed girl's waist to pull her closer. Winking at her, Eddie set the glass of water in front of her. “Here you go Lizzy.” 

“Thank you Eddie.” She mumbled taking a sip of it before putting it back on the counter top.

“They heard you all the way outside,” He laughed poking fun at her, as Jeff smirked into his beer bottle. Making Lizzy all flustered was a favorite pastime of Eddie's. Her cheeks flushed a pretty color making her look more innocent then he knew she really was.

Lizzy glared at Eddie as she moved around Jeff to sit on the stool between you two. “Shut up Eddie Bear.” She muttered before looking over at you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “I’m Lizzy and this is my boyfriend Jeff.” 

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” You said, grasping her hand with your own. Smiling at Lizzy you noticed how beautiful she was right away, her skin a glowing light brown, dark curly hair pulled up into a thick half ponytail, the collar around her neck had a lock on the front that glittered in the light as she moved, you looked at Eddie, who quirked his brow up at you with a smirk, before looking back over at Lizzy and Jeff. It reminded you of the cuffs that hung off the metal bar of Eddie’s bed that night. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“This is my cousin.” Steve said as he hauled the tub full of dirty cups and bottles past you guys to take it back into the kitchen. He had been wandering around the room with the tub collecting glass cups and beer bottles while Robin wiped down the tables and put the chairs on top so they could mop the floor.

“Oh… so this is Y/N!” Lizzy said as she looked over at Eddie with a smirk. He just looked at her with his large brown eyes quietly telling her to shut up. You look between the two of them with a curious look.

“Another?” Eddie asked quickly, pointing at your second empty beer bottle. Trying to change the subject he looked over at Jeff with a smug smile. “She’s a fan of the band and I’m her favorite.”

“Oh my God, Eddie!” Shaking your head, putting your face in your hands in embarrassment while he laughed, before you pushed your hair out of your face and popped your elbow on the bar top leaning your chin on your hand. “No thank you, just some water please. I still need to drive home."

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” Eddie said as he quickly got the glass of water and placed it in front of you hoping you would take the suggestion. Even though he really wanted to offer his room, he didn’t. “We have two rooms for drunks to crash in.” 

“I don’t want to be a bother,” You said as you shook your head grabbing the water to take a drink. 

“It’s no bother.” Jeff said as he looked between you and Eddie, his dark brown eyes seeing more than he’s letting on. He smiled at you teasingly. “Even if you are a fan of the wrong band member.”

“Hey!” Eddie said, throwing the rag that was on his shoulder at Jeff. “Don’t be jealous!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the boys as they bickered about who was the best one in the band. They tried to drag everyone else in it but you all just shook your heads trying to stay out of their fight. While they fought you and Lizzy chatted and somehow she convinced you that shots were a great idea. You had tried to decline telling her that you had a three drink limit but she was able to blow your excuse away saying it was now technically a new day thus your limit is rolled back to at least two. She pouted at Jeff until she got her way after he told her no and shots were dealt out to everyone including Steve and Robin.

Many shots later you giggled as Eddie escorted you up the stairs into one of the guest rooms. There was no way he was going to let you anywhere near your car after the amount of shots you had. Unlocking the door with the key he had in his hand, the one that wasn’t currently around your waist to stabilize you, he guided you inside, flipped on the light switch, and took you to the bed. 

“Wait right here.” He said gently, running his hand over your hair with a soft chuckle as you flopped backward onto the bed before he left the room, returning a few minutes later with the shirt you wore to bed on New Years Eve and a pair of his sweatpants. “Why don’t you change, sweetheart.”

Nodding slightly you start to pull your dress over your head not caring if he saw you since he’s already seen you in less. Shaking his head he chuckled again as he went into the bathroom getting you a glass of water and some of the pills from the medicine cabinet. By the time he walked back into the main room you had his sweats on and you were just pulling his shirt over your naked chest leaving your bra and dress at the bottom of the bed as he placed the cup and pills on the nightstand. 

“Drink all of that baby.” Eddie smiled as you nodded. “Bathrooms right there if you need it. I’m right next door and Steves the first door by the stairs if you need us. Get some sleep. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“Thank you Eddie,” You slurred around the glass as you sat on the bed.

Grabbing your dress and bra he folded them nicely before placing them on the dresser next to the door along with the key to the room and he took the time to lock the door from the inside so you could be safe. “Anytime. Goodnight sweetheart.”

Drinking as much water as you could you set the cup on the nightstand and got into bed smiling at him as he shut off the light and closed the door behind him. Sleep took you quickly and you dreamed of him.

Tag List:

@eddiesprincess86 @haylaansmi

[mangomango87]

Got my early birthday/Christmas present to myself today ^_^. I honestly wasn’t expecting the Choso figure to be in until December.

Yes I had to put him next to steak and strap Saturday Nanami. 

[howdytherepardner]

Saluki Confederate

January 5, 2024.

He is perfectly content to sit in the wooden rocking chair he keeps on his porch. The late fall when he brings it back in the house is typically much cooler than the mid-spring when he finally commits to dragging it out.

He is happy to sip short and long from the same 24 pack from the same brand, but always slowly, to ensure that not a single taste bud goes unafflicted. It is the bubbly cool burn as it slides down his throat, not the flavor, that keeps him reliably coming back.

He tilts his head side-to-side, absentmindedly except for seeing the sun flicker between the branches of the oaks across the street, eyes safe behind the filter of the sports sunglasses that his daughter snagged from a kiosk in Newark, having lost her old pair on the former side of the security line. It is the fourth-to-last gift that she will give him.

He gives a quick wave to his neighbor, who planted 3 out of 4 of those trees, who is closing the backdoor of his sedan after grabbing an old messenger bag that she uses for work. Pulling the strap over her shoulder, her face is immobile as she cedes a quick nod in reply, before stepping into house where her husband is just finishing up dinner this evening.

He feels a slight chill as a breeze washing its way along the grasses (kept short in some yards, not kept at all in other plots) of North Selden Road starts to take the flag off the porch's railing. This is not the first time it has come loose since he decided to string it up three-ish years ago, but never has it seemed as agreeable to the wind.

He recovers quickly after stepping up and off the knee-length ledge, having moved like one clasping for a steak knife unwittingly swatted off the dining room table. The right flip flop just barely misses its stomp, and the foot succeeds readily, as the wind loses interest in the cloth as quickly as it found it.

Just enough dirt sticks on after trying to brush and shake it off, a faded but clear impression of his sole, that he decides to bring it inside for a wash later. For the moment, though, it will remain crumpled at the side of his chair, as he sits back down to fish for the last drops in the can.

The sun will vanish for the night, and he will not notice the windows across the street go bright. When they go dark again, he will realize how late it's become. He will not sleep long, tossing and turning three hours before his alarm goes.

What little sleep he gets, though, will still be calm, secure in his house on his slice of a share of a state carved by rivers and the blood of the land.

His back will be sore as he reaches to pull the flag from the bottom of the washer (which he gets to next Saturday, when he has a free morning). Not quite like the back of his great great grandfather who ate salted beef, killed men, and may or may not have believed in the nobility of his era's cause, after sleeping on the wrong side of a rock, though.

He will tie up the flag again before driving over to the first game of Carbondale's football season, curious to see the performance some promising recruits this hear. No one points out the irony in this action, because no one close enough to him would bring it up, and no one who would bring it up is close enough anymore.

[revelinwritin]

Soothe 2 [18+]

summary: part two of soothe.. this time y/n soothes natasha

warnings: smut (18+), strap-on use, slight cursing, oral sex (r giving), anything else?

word count: 2k

Summer meant no school, which meant Y/N didn't have to get up at the gruesome hour of six in the morning to attend classes, taught by professors who could care less if their students passed or failed. It also meant no stressful homework or papers to write and lastly no having to spend hours on end in the library.

But it did mean that she would be alone in her shared apartment. She had forgotten how much her girlfriend, Natasha, was never at their apartment because of her tentative schedule as an Avenger. It was different when school was in session; they'd both be gone during the day so there were no feelings of being alone. Natasha would be with her fellow heroes and Y/N was on campus with classmates.

Regardless, most nights the couple would end up in the same bed, unless Natasha decided to stay at the compound in order to spare precious sleep time. It wasn't often when it happened, but when it did Y/N knew that their missions must have really worn the Russian out.

"Hey, baby." Natasha sighed through the phone.

Y/N's eyebrows quirked up at her girlfriend's tone. "Hey, babe. How was the mission?"

"Dreadful. I think I'm gonna stay in the compound again tonight." Natasha said, causing Y/N to frown slightly. "I'll be home tomorrow afternoon though, I promise. I have Saturday off, so I'll be spending all my time with you."

Her last sentence caused a smile to appear on Y/N's face. "Okay. Maybe we could just chill in the apartment Saturday since I know you've been working hard this week."

Natasha hummed in agreement. "I would love that. I miss you, baby."

"I miss you too. Only a few more hours and then you'll be with me again." Y/N smiled. Natasha yawned loudly causing her to laugh a little. "Get some sleep baby. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you." The redhead said tiredly.

"I love you too. Sleep well."

As Y/N turned in for another night alone, she thought about the time Natasha "soothed" her stress from school and began to think of ways to soothe the Russian herself. Seeing as her girlfriend had Saturday off, maybe helping her Friday night and Natasha sleeping all day Saturday would be ideal.

Y/N sighed before turning off the bedroom light and crawling into the bed. This would be another long night.

——

[ Natty 💜 ] Good morning, honey! 💛💛 I'll be home around 4:30 pm tonight. Maybe we can order dinner and watch movies? I'll call you later during one of the debriefing meetings. I love you! [7:30 am]

Y/N smiled at the text when she woke up a few hours later. After some deep thought about ways to help soothe Natasha’s stress from work, she decided that she'd make her girlfriend a nice, light dinner before fucking her into the mattress until Natasha couldn't walk the next day.

She decided on going out and buying the ingredients to make steak and vegetables for dinner with some red wine seeing as it would go with the rose petals that would be spread out across the floor and bed in their shared bedroom.

The steak was cooked in a skillet on the stove while Y/N began to wash and chop the vegetables when she heard the door of the penthouse open.

"Y/N?" Natasha called out while she took off her shoes and threw her bag off to the side. "Baby, what's all this?" She asked once she reached the kitchen.

Y/N smiled before turning the sink off and drying her hands. "I wanted to treat you for the night. To soothe, I should say." Y/N said, slightly teasing her girlfriend.

Natasha smirked and walked over to wrap her arms around Y/N's neck. "To soothe? Is that our thing now?"

The girl nodded before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Natasha’s lips making the older woman let out a pleased moan.

"I missed you. And I'm sorry for spending a few nights at the compound. I know you can get fussy in your sleep when I'm not there." It was Natasha’s turn to tease her girlfriend once she pulled away.

Y/N scoffed playfully. "I do not get fussy." The Russian rolled her eyes playfully and let Y/N go to grab a plate from the cabinet. "I just don't like sleeping alone especially after having slept next to someone for so long."

After putting food on their plates and sitting at the table, they began to eat and talk. Natasha talked mainly about an upcoming mission she was preparing for and how difficult it would be if she wasn’t really good at her job. She explained how after countless hours of preparation with Steve, all she wanted to do was shower and sleep before having to do it all over again. Y/N understood completely after having to deal with Natasha’s hectic schedule for the two and a half years they've been together.

Once they were finished with their food, the redhead stood up and cleared the table before moving to straddle Y/N's lap in the kitchen chair.

"So what else do you have planned for me?" She asked while caressing her girlfriend's face.

Y/N smirked and leaned forward to press a kiss on the older woman’s lips who was eager to reciprocate. Natasha couldn't help, but deepen the kiss as she began to grind her hips against Y/N's causing her to pull back when she felt something thick pressing back into her core.

"Is that.. are you wearing the strap?" The redhead asked, looking at her girlfriend in confusion.

The younger woman nodded as her hands made their way down to cup her girlfriend’s plump ass. She then leaned forward to press light kisses on her girlfriend's neck up to her ear. "I decided there was no other way to help soothe you besides fucking you into oblivion and then having you sleep most of your day off." She whispered between gentle nibbles on the Russian’s earlobe while light moans spilled from between her lips.

Natasha climbed off the woman’s lap and grabbed her hands to tug her out of her seat and out of the kitchen towards their bedroom. "Then let's not wait any longer. I don't want to be able to feel my legs within the next hour."

The two made their way to the bedroom before Natasha threw herself onto her girlfriend, kissing her quickly wanting to speed up their process. This caused the younger woman to laugh slightly as she lifted Natasha’s shirt and pulled it over her head. Natasha took it upon herself to reach back and unhook her bra.

"You're so hot, baby." The redhead husked as she watched her girlfriend strip from her own shirt. Y/N pressed a swift kiss to her girlfriend's lips and sank to her knees in front of her.

Hands reached up and tugged Natasha’s skirt down along with her panties. Y/N watched the slick from Natasha’s wet cunt cling to her panties as she pulled them down and tossed them to the side. Pale legs widened to accommodate the body of her girlfriend, who was ready to devour her any second.

Y/N pulled Natasha closer to the edge of the bed by her hips before licking a long stripe across her girlfriend's glistening slit, dipping the tip in slightly, feeling her lover’s walls clench down on the pink muscle. The actions pulled a sigh from Natasha’s mouth.

With her tongue working to bring her girlfriend pleasure, one of her hands left its position on the older woman’s hip to reach for her hand and place it on top of her head, urging Natasha to guide her or tug on it if she wanted to. The hand instantly tightened around a few strands as Y/N took the liberty of suckling Natasha’s clit between her lips.

Her hips bucked into the younger woman’s face as her moans began to become louder under her girlfriend's ministrations. "M-more Y/N, please."

Hands reached to caress Y/N's neck as she dipped her head to flick her tongue up and down Natasha’s slit before diving deep inside feeling her girlfriend's walls flutter around the muscle. The stimulation of Y/N's tongue deep in her cunt and her nose continuing to bump against her clit brought the Russian over the edge quicker than both women anticipated.

Natasha’s legs shook and her toes curled as her orgasm took her by surprise. Her grip on Y/N's hair tightened until she fell slack against the sheets.

Kisses were placed against the redhead’s skin as her girlfriend crawled up to straddle her pale legs. "That's the first of many orgasms you'll be having tonight," Y/N said as she pressed a quick kiss to Natasha’s lips and used her hands to turn her girlfriend over onto her stomach.

Y/N used her hands to prop Natasha’s hips up before reaching down to grip the fake phallus and sliding it back and forth against her girlfriend's slit, teasing her. The Russian whined, pushing up on her hands to guide her hips back trying to catch the tip of the dildo.

"Y-Y/N please." A hand reached back to claw at Y/N's thigh pulling her closer. The younger woman finally gave in and slowly sunk the first few inches of the fake phallus inside of her girlfriend's wet cunt.

Natasha gasped before the upper half of her body melted into the sheets underneath her. The feeling of being stretched to accommodate the much-appreciated intrusion made her let out a loud moan as her girlfriend slowly began to roll her hips back and forth.

Y/N could visibly see the muscles in her girlfriend's back begin to relax as her body was given the pleasure she craved. Her hands trailed up Natasha’s sides and around her front to her pink nipples, pinching and tugging at them. A shallow gasp left the redhead’s throat at the feeling of her neglected nipples being played with.

"You look so good like this baby. So good taking my cock." Y/N hummed while she leaned down to place open-mouthed kisses against Natasha’s smooth back.

"D-do I?" She moaned out in response as she felt her walls begin to flutter against the fake phallus when her girlfriend mumbled more praises against her skin.

The younger woman hummed in agreement. “Mhmm. My pretty baby was all worked up and needed me to help her relax didn’t she?” Y/N wrapped her free hand around Natasha’s torso, reaching to flick the neglected bud lightly

It all became too much for Natasha, her body began to tense up due to her pending release. "Fuck, Y/N. I'm gonna cum."

A loud squeal was let out from Natasha’s mouth as her legs shook and her back arched further, pressing her chest into the mattress, but this didn't stop Y/N from pleasuring her girlfriend.

Instead of stopping completely to let her girlfriend recover, she began to roll her hips in long, slow strokes, reaching deep within Natasha springing her into another orgasm while her fingers still pinched pink nipples.

"O-okay," Natasha whimpered, reaching a hand underneath her body to grab at Y/N’s hand. Y/N let her hand fall from her girlfriend's blissed-out body and leaned back and watched the faux cock slip free from the Russian.

Natasha rolled over onto her back with a huff as Y/N sat back on her haunches. "Did I tire you out already," she asked, watching her girlfriend's chest as she sucked in deep breaths.

The redhead smiled before shaking her head. "No. I just need water and then you can have your way with me again."

Y/N smirked before leaning up and pressing a kiss to her lips. "I'll go get your water, but be prepared to be up all night afterward." She said as she hopped off the bed and headed towards the bedroom door.

"I'm looking forward to it," Natasha called out after the younger woman.

She knew Y/N could become insatiable in times like this and she loved every single second of it.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 19}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: Well, we promised a chapter today, so we decided to follow through on that. Even if we did post a surprise chapter last night. Oh, well. Enjoy! 🙃✨

Cassian sighed as he opened his eyes.

Another year older, another year wiser.

Well.

Another year older, anyway.

He blinked as he looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 7:58. Two minutes before his alarm would have gone off.

He hated when that happened, when his mind woke him up just before his alarm went off. There was no time to go back to sleep, it was perfect sleeping time wasted.

It was bullshit.

With a yawn, Cassian swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. He stumbled to his dresser and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, just in time for his alarm to go off.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, quickly turning it off before flinging open his bedroom door.

It smelled delicious.

He meandered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Nesta was icing a giant cake.

Her eyes darted to his.

He blinked.

“Get out!” she ordered.

“What the hell are you-.”

“Out!” she ordered, yet again.

Nyx babbled something at the top of his lungs that closely resembled, YEAH!

He did as he was told, blearily blinking as he stumbled back into the living room. He dragged a hand down his face. “Can I at least have some coffee?”

“In a minute!” She called and he heard quick footsteps, followed by the back door opening and closing. It opened again and she said, breathlessly, “Okay. You can come in now.”

Tentatively, Cassian rounded the corner and he found Nesta placing a platter of cinnamon rolls on the counter in place of the—

“Where did the cake go?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Nesta was lifting a cinnamon roll onto each of the plates in front of her, cutting the one for Nyx into tiny bites for him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He blinked again, half-wondering if he’d imagined the decorated monstrosity he’d seen on the counter, but he sniffed, smelling the air again.

It mostly smelled like the sweet and spicy scent of cinnamon, but—

No, that was definitely cake he smelled.

“Right…” he said, pulling forks out of the silverware drawer and setting one next to each plate. “You’re up early.”

“Had a lot to do before renovations start this morning. I’m meeting Helion and the contractor at the restaurant at nine.” She sipped her own coffee, not looking at him. Mixing truth and lies, it seemed, since he knew she was meeting the contractor this morning. As for a lot to do, he knew everything at the restaurant was already taken care of. She cleared her throat. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early either.”

Cutting into the gooey cinnamon roll, he said, “I gotta be at the bar in an hour. I’m talking with Kallias this morning before my shift starts.”

She set her coffee down and finally looked at him. “You have to work today?”

“Yeah,” he replied, popping the bite of pastry into his mouth. He resisted the urge to moan. “It’s Tuesday. I always work on Tuesdays.”

She hesitated, deciding whether she should speak or not. “But it’s your birthday.”

He couldn’t stop his smirk. He knew there had been a cake.

“And who told you that?” He asked, leaning over to wipe Nyx’s face off. The poor kid had icing all over his face, all the way up into his hair.

“That’s not important,” she said.

“Elain, then,” Cassian went on with a grin.

Nesta pretended like she hadn’t heard him and took a giant bite of her cinnamon roll.

“I’ll take Nyx with me to the bar,” Cassian said. “Viviane texted. She has the stomach flu.”

Nesta cringed. “That sucks. I...wait - you’re taking a baby to a bar?”

Cassian shrugged. “He’ll be fine. I only have to stay until two or so.”

“A baby,” she repeated, blinking. “To a bar.”

“You prefer to take him into a construction zone?” Cassian asked. “One that you’re in charge of? That sounds stressful.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “I can ask Elain to watch-.”

“I’m taking him with me and he’ll be fine,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “I promise.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. And he held up both hands. “I promise,” he repeated.

“Fine. But call me if you need to and I’ll come get him,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I’ll be in my office most of the day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around in a construction zone.”

“And I’ll take the carrier and physically wear him all day, so it’s not like he’ll be running around the actual bar.”

Nesta groaned. “Fine. Fine. But take the pack-n-play, his monitor and toys. He can entertain himself well enough.”

“Okay,” Cassian nodded, finishing off his cinnamon roll. He pulled Nyx out of his high chair, who was now playing with and wearing most of his food, rather than eating it, and said, “I’ll give him a bath while you get ready.”

“Okay.” He was nearly in the living room when he heard, “Cass?” He turned and looked back at her, still not completely used to the familiar nickname from her. She was blushing slightly. “Happy birthday.”

Smiling, he said, “Thanks,” and turned to head up the stairs.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

*

“Any birthday plans?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Kallias chuckled as he observed Cassian, a wiggly baby strapped to his chest, counting the liquor bottles that lined the wall.

“How old are you anyway?” he continued, wiping down the bartop. “Thirty? Thirty-one?”

“You wound me,” Cassian muttered, scribbling a number down on his clipboard, not bothering to tell Kallias just how close to thirty he was getting to.

“I would say we should do shots to celebrate your big day,” Kallias began, taking Nyx’s outstretched hand. “But, I think your little housewife would disapprove.”

Cassian snorted. “If Nesta Archeron ever heard you call her such a thing, you’d lose a very important body part.”

“Not interested in that, thank you very much,” he muttered. “She ever gonna stop in, so I can see this terrifying woman you’ve told me about?”

“About that…” Cassian pulled Nyx out of the carrier and carried him into the back office, setting him down in the play pen. Grabbing the baby monitor, he made his way back into the front room.

Kallias looked up from where he was cutting limes at the bar. “About what?”

He leaned a hip on the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nesta is going to be expanding the restaurant, adding a bar. That’s actually where she is right now, why I’ve got the kiddo with me. Didn’t really want him in a construction site.”

“Hot nanny couldn’t keep him?” Kallias asked, grinning.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “No, she’s sick. But, uh-.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna be leaving and going over there, managing for her.”

Kallias eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah. And I’d like you to come over there with me. Be my assistant manager at the new place.”

Kallias stopped cutting, mid-lime. “You do realize we are two out of five people that work here, right?”

Cassian nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I do. And I also know we can hire more people here.”

Kallias looked back down at his half-cut lime. “Assistant manager, huh?”

“It’s in a great part of town, we’d get amazing tips on top of already being paid more,” Cassian said. “It’s an amazing opportunity.”

“So I’d be stupid to say no, then?” Kallias asked, continuing to cut his limes.

“Incredibly stupid,” Cassian agreed.

Nyx’s happy babbling came through on the baby monitor.

“I’ll think about it,” Kallias said, at last.

“Think about it, then tell me yes, because I’m not going there without you,” Cassian said.

Kallias snorted. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re going, whether I go or not.”

“And why wouldn’t you come with me?” Cassian asked, facing his friend. He and Kallias had worked together for years, since Kallias came in at twenty-one, during his senior year of college. “You want to be stuck in this dive bar forever? I know you. You’re a creature of habit. If I leave you here, you’ll be here for the next twenty years.”

Kallias didn’t bother telling him it wasn’t true. He just shook his head. “I guess we better start interviewing people, then.”

*

The day did not go as planned. Cassian had to stay and help out until nearly five-thirty, and by the time Cassian walked in the front door, Nyx was knocked out cold in his car seat. He gently set it down and unbuckled him, carrying him into the kitchen. It smelled divine, like roasting herbs and cooked veggies, even if he couldn’t see anything radiating the delicious smells.

Nesta was also nowhere in sight, so he took Nyx up to his nursery and laid him down, setting the baby monitor back up where it usually sat. He slipped the screen in his back pocket and made his way back downstairs, hurrying out to his truck to get Nyx’s diaper bag and the folded up playpen.

As he was setting it back up in the living room, he heard the sliding glass door open and close and made sure he was making enough noise to alert Nesta of his presence.

“You’re home,” she said, leaning on the doorway. “Nyx asleep?”

“Out like a light,” he said, tossing the few toys he’d brought with him back into the pen. “He had fun though.”

“Good. Dinner is almost done,” she smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” he sighed and took another deep breath in. “It smells amazing.”

Turning, Nesta walked back into the kitchen. “Steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted carrots and green beans, and homemade rolls.”

He watched as she took the carrots and green beans out of the oven and placed them next to a plate of steak she must have just brought in from the grill.

Cassian’s mouth was damn near watering.

He looked at the spread as she spooned the mashed potatoes onto his plate. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Nesta tensed, then something like nervous laughter sputtered out of her mouth. “Well, I had to cook red meat for you on your birthday.”

“Does that mean you’ll be having yourself a steak, Archeron?” he asked, taking the full plate from her outstretched hands.

She gave him an amused look. “Hell no. You get both. I have a chicken kabob on the grill.”

Cassian licked his lips as he took his plate to the table. “Consider me a lucky man. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said, clearing her throat. She piled her plate high with potatoes and veggies before going onto the deck and coming back with a grilled chicken kabob on her plate. She sat across from him. Cassian’s mouth was already full.

“How is it?” Nesta asked, cutting up a carrot before popping it into her mouth.

“Delicious,” Cassian said, mouth full. “So good.”

“If you don’t slow down, you won’t be able to enjoy the flavor,” Nesta said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t listen. Cassian practically inhaled everything on his plate within minutes.

He moaned, stretching back in his chair before running a hand through his hair. “I must say, Nes, you really outdid yourself.”

“Well, it was the least I could do after you worked and were on baby duty all day,” she said, popping a few green beans in her mouth.

They talked about their days as she finished eating. He told her about Kallias’ agreement to move to the restaurant, she told him about the beginning of construction.

They’d kept half the restaurant open, putting up a temporary wall to keep as much noise and dust out as they could, but the sooner the build was done the better. They both agreed on that.

“So, despite your switch with the cinnamon rolls this morning,” Cassian said from where he sat as she rinsed off their plates, “I’m fairly sure I saw a cake when I came downstairs.”

“Really now,” she said, and he saw the small smile on her face.

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “And, you know, I like cake.”

“And why, exactly, would I make you a cake?” She crooned, that little smile remaining.

“Because I’m the world's best roommate and uncle, obviously,” he said.

Nesta laughed as she stood. “Yeah, whatever.”

After exiting through the back door, she returned a moment later with a big, homemade cake.

It was exquisite.

Perfectly decorated and topped with vanilla and buttercream frosting, it read Happy birthday, Cassian!

As Nesta placed it on the countertop, Cassian asked, “Nesta, when the hell did you find time to make this?”

She shrugged. “Stayed up later and got up early. Didn’t have to be too early since you decided to sleep in today, but…” Her words trailed off. “I figured it was the least I could do.”

His mouth tightened, emotion he wasn’t expecting hitting him and he cleared his throat. “You gonna sing to me?” He asked, cracking a joke to break the tension that was slowly growing.

Nesta threw her head back and laughed. “Absolutely not.”

Cassian bit back his retort and the monitor in his back pocket went off, crying coming from upstairs.

“I’ll get him,” she said, standing up. “I’m sure he’s hungry. Will you cut up green beans and carrots for him?”

He nodded, the cake forgotten as he did what he was told, and Nesta returned with a bleary-eyed Nyx a few minutes later.

“Hi buddy,” Cassian said, chuckling at Nyx’s hazy expression. He was already sitting at the table with a plate of cut up food.

The second Nyx saw the display, he was whining and reaching for it.

“Slow down, you need to be buckled into your seat first,” Nesta said, shaking her head.

“I can’t blame him,” Cassian said, as Nyx was strapped into his high chair. “I’m starving when I wake up, too.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Men.”

The second Nyx’s diapered butt hit the seat, he was stuffing his mouth.

“I guess we should wait for him to eat the cake,” Cassian said, looking longingly at the cake.

Nesta chuckled. “No patience?”

“When it comes to homemade baked goods?” Cassian scoffed. “No.”

She snorted, which had Cassian raising an eyebrow. She looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “That was just…cute.”

Nesta didn’t reply, but he swore she could see her cheeks heating as she turned to put the leftovers from dinner away.

Once Nyx’s plate was cleared, Nesta cut three slices of cake. One was barely a sliver, one was mostly icing and one was damn near a quarter of the cake. She took the one with extra frosting for herself, placing the small one in front of Nyx and the larger one in front of Cassian.

Again, Nyx wasted no time scarfing it down. Cassian didn’t either, helping himself to another, much smaller piece afterwards, but not touching it yet.

“You sure you don’t want to sing to me?” He asked, taking a bite of the cake. “It would complete my day.”

Nyx, an impending sugar crash, was already dozing again. Apparently, his day with Uncle Cassian had well and truly worn him out.

She rolled her eyes and wiped the excess cake off of Nyx’s face. Pulling him out of his high chair, she said, “No, I think I’m good.”

“I’m just saying,” Cassian pushed. “If you wanted to really wish me a happy birthday, a song would do.”

Nesta snorted, taking Nyx in her arms and swaying, back and forth. “You’ve never heard me sing.”

“If your singing is as good as your cooking, it must be amazing,” Cassian promised.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Have I told you that you’re full of shit?”

Cassian pretended to debate it. “Maybe once or twice.”

Nesta chuckled, and said no more about it. “Finish your cake, Nazari. This little monster is ready for bed. I’ll put him down. It’s your birthday.”

It wasn’t that putting Nyx to bed was exhausting. Although sometimes it could be a chore, Cassian nodded and took another bite of his cake as Nesta and Nyx disappeared.

In their absence, Cassian cleared his plate.

The cake was delicious.

He knew Nesta was an amazing cook, but didn’t know that her baking skills were just as good. It was the best cake he had ever eaten. He was even considering getting himself a third piece, but decided against it as she rounded the corner back into the kitchen.

She sighed, falling into her chair. “That may have been record time to get him down. He was practically asleep before I’d even pulled the curtains shut.”

“He had a big day,” Cassian said, eyeing the piece of cake on her plate that she hadn’t even touched. “Taught him how to make a mojito. He’s a pro. Maybe we should hire him on at the bar.”

Shaking her head, Nesta cut into her cake and took a bite. She chuckled. “I’m sure that doesn’t violate any labor laws.”

“Nah, we’re his guardians,” Cassian said, waving a hand. “We can certainly get some free labor out of him.”

She rolled her eyes. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” She took another bite of cake, and Cassian’s eyes dipped to her mouth. He was quiet for long enough that she asked, “What?”

He hesitated but said, “You’ve got a little—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead he leaned forward across the small space between them and swiped the frosting that was on the corner of her lips away with his thumb.

Nesta didn’t move.

She didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop touching her, either.

Cassian’s thumb lingered against her lips, and when she looked up, he was already watching her, quietly.

She opened her mouth to say something.

What? She wasn’t sure.

But, when her lips moved, Cassian’s did, too.

He kissed her, softly, slowly, and Nesta melted right into it.

[english8muffin]

Cozy winter

Summary: going to the market, being cheeky in the parking lot and a warm cuddly morning sprinkled with some funny-business

Warning: Cute banter, smut (NSFW), fluff

Word count: Around 5300 words!

I want to open this with one of my favorite quotes ever, so if you allow me ;)

“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”  -Kurt Vonnegut 

“We need muffins.”

“We don’t NEED muffins, what we need are some fresh fruit and vegetables, ” Henry butts in. You frown and look up at him, “Oh whatever, Hen. You eat your greens, beans, potatoes and tomatoes, while I get fat by munching on some sweet, sweet, delicious chocolate muffins.”

 He sends you a smirk from across the aisle. It was always fun to do mundane things, like going to get coffee together or grocery shopping, when he was home from filming. The last year you went to university it was very hard to be away from him for such a long time, especially when you still lived in Europe. You would fly over to England once in a blue moon, when Henry was in London and your schedule would allow it. Other times your relationship existed out of phone and video calls. It was a rough period, if you have to be honest. But It made the two of you closer and your bond stronger. It’s true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder. 

You let Henry know you were going to get the ingredients for the muffins and start pushing the shopping cart in the direction of the baking supplies. As you walk back to the fresh produce section, you get distracted. So many colorful packaging was just screaming your name…

“What the- lovey! I thought you were going to get your muffin ingredients,” Henry cackles and almost doubles over seeing the now full shopping cart.

It took you a second to answer, a bit too focused on his beautiful face and the smile lines that appeared when he laughed. You quickly try to defend yourself, so he doesn’t think you have no self-control, even though, you know your eyes were bigger than your stomach.

“No! I did get them, they’re just underneath the other bags,” you trail off, eyes drifting to the floor. You sigh, “I just saw this aisle with all the snacks. These magnificent snacks. And, Hen, I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life! And, Hen-Henry! Henry, listen! Stop laughing at me! It was a moment of weakness! You can’t judge me! You don’t even know how they taste, I promise you, you will understand once you take a bite of everything!”

Henry wipes away a small tear at the corner of his eye and kisses the top of your head. You stroll around the aisles, trying to work through the rest of your grocery list, but suddenly you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hen,” you say, trying to get his attention. He gives you a hum in return, letting you know he heard you, “why on god’s green earth does my grocery list say ‘sex’?” You tilt your head up to his face, seeing a bashful grin. 

You shake your head, clicking your tongue disapprovingly, “it isn’t even on top of the list! You put your oatmeal protein shake before sex, fuck, you even put curry before sex, you really need to get your priorities straight!”

After getting some more stuff, like pak choi, steak, tofu and the ingredients for Henry’s beloved curry you always make him, you walk to the register. 

The petite Asian lady gives you a smile and takes a little peak at Henry, who was too busy looking at the various Chinese cough drops that are displayed in front of the counter. Her brows rise behind her thick glasses, “哇，大帅哥。你很幸运啊。” (Wow, big handsome man. You are very lucky, ah.) She says, turning back to you and winking. You can’t help but chuckle. Grinning you send her an ‘I know’-look.

Hearing your laugh, Henry looks over his shoulder with a questioning look. But you just smile and shake your head.

You two quickly get everything in the reusable shopping bags you brought with you. It was getting late and more people were getting off of work and wanted to do some last-minute grocery shopping. Henry takes both of the flower printed bags and the two of you walk to the car. It was getting colder, your breath turning into puffs of smoke. You look up at the sky glooming over you. They promised snow tonight. 

Seeing Henry load the bags in the trunk, his ass proudly sticking out in the air, you give it a pinch. You just couldn’t resist. It was just there, so you better make use of the situation. 

Feeling your hand touch his behind, Henry turns around, an unamused look on his face.

“Excuse me, miss. But that is mine,” he says, really playing up his posh accent.  “I sure hope you disinfected those filthy little paws of yours.” He cutely scrunches his nose, doing a once over and trying so hard to keep himself from smiling, but failing miserably. He turns back around and arranges the bags in the booth so they won’t tip over.

There is a moment of silence, just the noise from cars driving up and off the parking. From the corner his eye Henry sees the stare you give him but ignores it with a small smirk.

“You know,” you begin with a cheeky undertone, making him curious, “I bet I could kick your ass,” you grin, looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction. 

“What was that, doll?”

“You heard me, big lad!”

“Oh really?” He asks and looks at you, towering over you like a brick wall. His eyes glimmering with mischief. Yeah, no, this was NOT a good idea. 

You squirm a little and a small nervous giggle leaves your lips.

“Yes, I can. Watch m-AHHHH! HENRY!” You squeal as he lifts you and throws you over his shoulder, fully forgetting you are in public. “Let me down, you caveman!” You laugh, slapping his left ass cheek. But he ignores your plea and just slaps your ass in return. 

Wiggling a little, you challenge him, “Beat me up! Come on, do it!” 

He turns his head and playfully bites the exposed skin by your hip, making you shriek like a little kid. 

Henry lets out a loud belly laugh and puts you back on your feet. As soon as the tips of your Dr. Martens touch the pavement, you get pushed against the car. Trapping you between the icy cold black metal and his warm body. His arm goes around your waist and pulls you closer to his front.

“I love you.” The words are hushed but you hear them loud and clear, making a shiver go down your spine. The both of you look at each other, completely enamored and grinning like idiots. Noses and the apples of your cheeks rosy, bitten from the cold.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. His hand glides inside your coat and underneath the thick knitted jumper you finished to other day. He just needed to feel you. You lean up a little and gently push your lips to his, adoring the familiar warmth that fell over you whenever you’d kiss. Before you can come in for a second smooch, he frowns at you. 

“Thought you were going to beat my ass?” He mocks, trying to imitate your accent. 

Lightly tapping your finger against your chin, you pretend to be in thought. 

“Well, this is much more fun.”

“Hmm, agreed,” he grins, already eyeing your red swollen lips and tilting his head towards yours. 

You hear heavy footsteps coming closer, the wooden floorboards slightly creaking under the weight. It was getting dark outside, the overhead lights in the kitchen casting a homey hue down on the oak countertops. Your ‘cooking playlist’ was filling the room with some gentle tunes. You also had a ‘dancing in the kitchen playlist’ but that one was mostly used in the mornings. You hum along to the melody when stirring in the stew you were preparing for the evening, rocking your hips side to side. The stew was softly bubbling away, spreading an amazing aroma around the house. 

The footsteps stop behind you. A moment later two big, sweater wrapped arms envelop around you, delicately caressing you. Henry lovingly pulls your loose braid to the side and places his head onto your shoulder, trying to get a peak at what was in front of you on the stove. 

“What smells so good in here?” Just then Henry’s stomach makes a loud grumbling noise from the mouthwatering smell going on in the kitchen, you chuckle. 

He had been gaming before this, you could hear the tiredness in his voice, it was a bit lower and more hoarse than normal. Whenever he was tired like this, he’d just turn into your big cuddly bear, you loved it. 

Dinner was almost done. You made one of the dishes your grandma used to make for you when you were younger. You won’t lie, it was pretty difficult at first to decipher the little recipe she send you in the post, but now you knew it by heart. 

“Cantonese style braised beef stew with white radish, bean curd sheets and a side of rice,” you inform him and brush your hand over his, that was placed on your stomach. Hearing that, he has to make sure he’s not drooling.

“And for dessert…” You nod your head toward the piping hot apple crumble pie currently cooling on the kitchen island. “We still have some vanilla ice cream if you want to have that with your pie. I know you want to be healthy, but I just really wanted to make a pie and this one does have filling,” you ramble, joking on the last part about the filling. He probably thought you were pestering him with his diet that most likely didn’t allow him to eat it. 

You wince a bit, feeling him tense against you. “You don’t have to eat it, my love, promise!”

“No petal, you’re just… you’re just so perfect,” Henry admits, pressing a kiss just below the strap of the pistachio green apron you were wearing, nuzzling his nose in your tousled hair.

It was a gloomy Saturday morning in London. If your alarm hadn’t gone off, you wouldn’t have known it was morning already.

Yesterday after dinner, the two of you cuddled up on the sofa, under a warm blanket with Kal snuggled up on your lap. His head resting in your lap, while his tail occasionally slapped Henry in the face, making you burst out laughing and Henry almost choke on the fur. The akita would fondly press his snout deeper against you, really loving the head scratches he was receiving. Both you and Henry were fully satisfied with the tasty dinner you had paired with a glass of wine and were now cheekily flirting with each other while watching a detective movie, of which you missed the plot because you were, well, differently occupied…

Now the bedroom held a calm, soft aura, a dim light streaming in through the linen curtains. You let out a little whimper, not wanting to leave the bubble you are in and stretch out your limbs. A bit sore from sleeping in a weird angle, amongst other things. Behind you, you hear a small sound of protest and before you know it, you are engulfed by a strong arm. Henry hides his face in the side of your neck, keeping his eyes closed, groaning, clearly displeased with the fact it was morning already. 

You smile, this was your favorite kind of morning. Warm and cozy in bed, cuddling with your boyfriend. You turn around, careful to not let any cold air under the duvet, your arm going around the large form beside you and curling your fingers in the mess of curly hair. Henry moaned, burying his face lower, between your breasts. Now fully content and still a bit dazed by sleep, he lets out the most awful snore. Even though he sounded like a drowning goat when he snored, you couldn’t do anything other than coo and gently scratch your fingers on his scalp, lovingly gazing at the man beside you. 

“Are we going to be lazy couch potatoes today?” You chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead, wild curls tickling your nose as you do so. Your voice was still a little raspy, but Kal apparently still heard you, and pushed open the door to come snuggle in bed with his favorite humans. 

“What time is it?” Henry groans. 

“Around 8.”

“We can be busy bees if you want,” Henry whispered against the swell of your breast, peppering delicate kisses on the bare skin. “Or better yet, busy bunnies.”

Kal was now situated on the end of the bed, head on his paws while the serenity of the room made him doze off. His dad on the other hand was now slowly waking up, as his hand crept lower and lower over your body. You giggled and pushed his hand away.

“There is a child present ,” you motion towards a sleeping Kal, who lays stretched out on the feathery duvet, already heading off to dreamland looking content as ever. Henry lifts his head, peering at his buddy and snorts, “he’s seen much worse, haven’t you bear?” But he doesn’t get acknowledged. 

Laying his head back, he reaches up to push your hair out of your face before grabbing your cheek and pulling you down for a kiss. He places three kisses on your swollen lips, lightly sucking on the bottom one.

“May-,” you try to say something, but he just pushes his mouth harder against yours. Quickly taking the opportunity to stop you from making excuses. A hoarse chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop talking, woman, and kiss me back.” You let out a small moan and grip the curls you were playing with moments ago. He deepens the kiss slightly, tongue invading your mouth, surprising you. A subdued hum escapes your mouth, resulting in him grabbing the back of your neck, as the other rests on your hip. The kiss gets deeper and more passionate as the minutes go by. Getting a bit overwhelmed you pull back slowly, softy panting. 

“Hmm, so sweet, darling,” he says smugly, earning a little smack to the chest as a bright blush covers your cheeks. Like it wasn’t already hard enough to resist him and stay in the warm bed all morning, he does this. Henry rolls your naked body over so you’re straddling him, a large hand wraps itself around your hair. He tugs, not too hard though, so he has more access to shower open mouthed kisses on your neck and chest. Leaving you a breathless mess on top of him. His hands trail from the top of your back to your rear, squeezing your cheeks before giving them a fast slap, making you take in a breath. 

From all the shuffling, little snickers and kissing noises, Kal woke up and groaned, irritated that his humans couldn’t just hanky-panky somewhere else. With a last disapproving look, he jumps off the bed, landing with a thump. From the sound of paws hitting the wooden floor and toddling down the stairs, you look over your shoulder, duvet falling down so you sat there fully naked, much to Henry’s delight. 

Then you felt it. It was normal for Henry to get hard in the morning. To be honest, he would be a bit worried if his cock wasn’t hard first thing when waking up.

Involuntarily you grind down, drawing a heavy moan from deep in his chest. Holding intense eye contact with him, you start humping over his bare front, mewling like a kitten in heat. It was embarrassing how he had you wrapped around his finger. A cheeky smile formed on his face, “look who came around.” Your body was practically begging for sex. 

Pouting, you keep on moving your hips in a tantalizing slow rhythm, scratching at his hairy chest. Making sure you kept your eyes on his, he licked his three middle fingers and a second later you feel him reaching between your thighs, wiping his fingers down your slit. Tensing up a little, you try to hold back a grunt at the sensation. 

“Oh darling,” he started, his voice going an octave lower, “what a mess you’ve made.”

He pulls back and observes your reaction when he pops his finger in his mouth.

“Wet and sweet, like always.”

“You are so nasty,” you whisper in total awe at what he manages to do to your body. He snickers and you quickly grab his hand, pushing it back between your thighs, “I didn’t tell you to stop, though.”

Your jaw goes slack, the moment you feel his thick fingers moving in and out of you. He was hitting just the right spot, making you groan and throw your head back. He felt like he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly flips you over so he’s on top of you, fully trapping you underneath his body and smashes his mouth on yours. Everything was happening so fast that you couldn’t pay attention to every incredible thing he was making you feel. Taking his cock in hand, he rubs his shaft against you, up and down, pressing it so you could feel the length. You look up at him, veins bulging in his neck, eyes dark, face already becoming flushed. God, he was so sexy. Grabbing your legs, he pushes your knees back so you were completely spread open and at his mercy. 

He curses under his breath and lines himself up with you sticky center. Stifling your moans and pants, by pressing his lips to yours, when he slowly sinks his thick cock inside. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, feeling him stretching your walls apart, pushing himself deeper and deeper. 

“Y’feel so warm and tight, my love. M’so hard it hurts.” Henry whines against your lips, lacing his fingers in between yours. He trails kisses in your neck and under your ear, trying to get as close to you as possible. He loved feeling your body against his. Your walls were so plushy and wet for his cock, he wanted to stay buried in you forever. 

“M’gonna make you feel so good, darling,” he whispers in your ear. You whine softly, getting worked up, “please.”

He smirked, obviously liking your plea. 

Instead of giving you a nice, hard pounding, Henry wanted to go slow. It was still very early in the morning, the both of you still barely awake and he wanted to savor this moment with you.

“Oh, Hen-,” you pant softly, loving every bit of it. As he pushes deeper into you, you can feel his entire weight pressing down against you. The weight comforted you in a sense, like others would with a weighted blanket. He prolonged his strokes, making sure that when he slid out you could feel every centimeter of him, but then slid back in quickly. 

“Fuck.” He grumbles into your neck, “feels so good, love,” he praises, nibbling on the skin under your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair pulling it back. You move you hands from his grasp and push them up his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“So good,” you moan out to him, feeling his cock nudge at the extremely sensitive spot deep inside your core. He lifts his head to look at you, seeing your mouth formed into the letter ‘o’, head tilted back into the cloud-like pillow and eyes screwed shut. A string of desperate moans falls from your lips. 

This was what he loved, seeing his love, his girl react to the way he was pleasuring her. Just looking at you in this state made his orgasm coil up in the pit of his tummy. He never would have dreamed that another person could give him this feeling, the feeling of utter bliss when you were together. The unconditional love he felt for you was indescribable. 

Henry continues to thrust into you and attaches his lips to yours, feeling you squeeze around him. You manage to spread your legs even wider and wrap them securely around his slim waist, digging your heels just above the globes of his perfectly sculpted ass. 

He was aiming his stokes into the deepest part of you and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release. 

“Fuck,” you whimper out to him, digging your nails into the skin of his back. He knew you were about to cum. You let out another loud moan. 

“Come on, petal. Cum f’me,” he pants, trying to coax you. Hearing the almost desperate tone in his voice, combined with the sound of him slapping his hips to yours and the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you was becoming overwhelming. 

“Oh my god!” A loud moan ripples through you, the feeling of your release coming near. 

“Almost, my love,” he moans, speeding up the pace of his thrust. He inhales sharply, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulls you up, quickly pounding into you. Completely losing control, trying to get deeper as if that was possible and lets his forehead rest against yours. With one last push of his hips, you get to your breaking point and cum, screaming. Henry feels your walls clamp around him and let’s go, fully satisfied. The noise he made was an orgasm on its own. He keeps himself against you when he lets go inside of you. You could feel Henry’s cum filling you as you slowly come down from your high. You feel his cum dripping out of you, almost proud of what you made him do. 

He is about to roll off of you to cuddle up beside you, but you stop him by tightening your legs around him. “Please stay like this,” you whisper, your brain still a bit muddled by the amazing orgasm you just had seconds ago. He smiles down at you.

“Don’t be a silly goose,” he kisses your nose, “I would crush you,” Henry says endeared with a cheeky grin and pulls you into his side. You feel warm and safe. You yawn, blinking away when your eyes become watery.

“I can’t move,” biting your bottom lip, you snuggle closer to him, “and my throat hurts like hell.”

Henry lowers his hand to your ass and gives it a firm squeeze, “I’m not surprised. Oh doll, the sounds you were making,” he bites his bottom lip, closing his eyes. 

You laugh and roll your eyes. Henry nipped at your neck, making you erupt into a fit giggles. He chuckles, leaving a kiss on the spot he had just bitten. 

Henry trails his hands up and down your back. You closed your eyes and tangle your leg in between his, really liking the feeling. His chest was heavenly and just being in his arms felt amazing. He almost lulled you back to sleep the moment he began to run his fingers through your hair. 

“That good, huh? Almost fucked you back to sleep,” he chuckles. 

“It was alright, I guess,” you tease him. He raises his eyebrows, eyes twinkling with joy. 

“How would you rate the experience?” 

Tilting your head to look up at him, “Hmm, ten I guess.”

He looked very pleased with that.

“Out of twenty,” you finish. 

“OUT OF TWENTY?” He sobered up, staring at your face with a shocked expression. 

You snicker, climbing into his lap, “No, honey, I was just joking, I’m sorry.” A big pout forming on your face, making you look oh so innocent. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to put you up on all fours and take you like that, don’t tempt me,” he says, shaking his head. Wiggling your brows you grin and kiss the dimple on his chin. 

“As much as I would enjoy that, I think Kal has to go potty and we have to eat.”

After some hushed pillow talk and hoarse giggles between the silky sheets, you two decide to move downstairs and start making some fresh coffee. When you lift your body out of the bed, a light throbbing shoots between your legs. You almost fall back into the mattress, making Henry roar with laughter. You end up getting a piggy back ride down the stairs, only wearing a v-neck shirt from Henry that fell just below the curve of your ass and showed plenty of cleavage. Your lilac panties were fully on display and your almost black hair looked like a lion’s main on top of your head, but you didn’t care. 

The both of you were still in that bubbly, fulfilled state of mind, looking like two drugged out kids, wearing blissful smiles. When you got to the kitchen, Kal bounded around the corner, coming from the sitting area, his tail wildly sweeping through the air. Eyes sparkling with happiness when he saw his parents finally had left the bed. 

“早上，宝宝” (morning, baby) You greet him, still on Henry’s back. Kal gives you a high “woof” as to say good morning back. After living with Henry and Kal for around eight months now, the akita started to pick up on a few Chinese phrases. He even decided the pet name ‘宝宝’ (bao bao), which means baby or darling, was only to be applied on him and nobody else. 

Every time you would video call with your Chinese speaking friends, and they talked about or to their children, Kal would cheerfully patter over, thinking they were cooing at him instead of the small infant in the background. But you thought it was the sweetest thing ever, he was your little fur baby after all. 

“I’m going to make us some omelets, is that alright with you, darling,” Henry asked, already opening the fridge and looking for the carton of eggs.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you call out to him. You give Kal his breakfast and receive many, wet kisses in return. Shuffling back over to your boyfriend, you lean against the dark green counter with its wooden countertops, and look at him carefully chopping up some bell peppers and onion, only wearing his joggers and a tank top. You were a lucky girl, and you knew it. Henry sends you a grin and winks before turning back to cutting the vegetables.

You begin to brew some fresh coffee for Henry, and put on the kettle for your morning tea. While he was finishing up breakfast, you start to read the newspaper to him. He absolutely adored it when you’d read to him, due to your accent becoming more noticeable. Kal came over to you, stuffing his wet nose against the hand you held out to him. “You’re such a good boy, Kal. Yes, you are,” you tell him in a baby voice, “you’re my little angel aren’t you? 我的小天使” 

You clean the table, after eating your breakfast and get ready for the day. Henry was already out to go on a walk with Kal. It did indeed snow last night and everything outside was hidden underneath a thin sheet of white snow, so you made sure Henry was wrapped up in a thick scarf you made him and a black beanie. After giving you a kiss as if he was off to fight in a war, he and Kal happily walked through the front door, into the freezing cold. Him whistling and Kal buzzing with excitement. 

Brushing your teeth and doing your makeup, you dance through the bathroom, in a good mood. You grab your phone that was propped up against the mirror, planning to put on the podcast you had been enjoying lately. You freeze seeing all the notifications, not having heard your phone due to it being on ‘quiet’. You swallow.

Oh shit.

There you were, plastered on the internet for everyone to see and laugh at. You and Henry making out on the parking lot of the Chinese supermarket. Was he going to be angry with you? It was your fault for teasing him after all. Oh no no no…

‘Henry Cavill and girlfriend were spotted having a steamy make out session outside local grocery store’

The headline read, making your face as red as a tomato. Trying to fight against it, you couldn’t hold yourself from reading the next paragraph. 

Being in the middle of winter, doesn’t stop these two lovebirds from having a heated make out session in a parking lot!

Yesterday early in the evening, Witcher-superstar Henry Cavill was spotted with (to some) much younger girlfriend, designer, Y/N Y/L/N. The two have  recently confirmed their relationship with an Instagram post from Cavill, showing a candid of Y/N, with the short caption ‘My sunshine enjoying the sun shine’. Last month Vogue came out with a video featuring Y/L/N in which Cavill and his dog Kal made an appearance, making fans go wild. It seems like the two really are living the life and we are excited to see more of them together!

Want to know more about the stars? Subscribe to STAR NEWS! 

This was it. You could already hear your sweet grandma, praying to the ancestors to forgive you for your sins, lighting all the incense she could find. You were a disgrace to the family now. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or felt bad about doing it, hell, everybody in the position would gladly sit on Henry’s shoulders and stick their tongue down his throat. You were just disappointed you got caught.

From downstairs you hear the door close with a loud thump and the pitter-patter from Kal’s nails on the hardwood floor, letting you know your two boys were back home. You nervously descend the flight of stairs, holding your head low and tightly clutching your phone in hand. 

“Hey, lovey! you really missed something, Kal and I could practically ice skate over the walking trails, it was so much fun!” Henry says enthusiastically as he hears you wander into the living room. You ignore him and plop down on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes. 

A frown makes its way onto his face. 

“What are you sorry for, sweet girl?” His eyes hold a concerned look, not understanding what you were talking about. You huff out a breath and hand him your phone so he could see the article. 

A roaring laugh sounds through the open space, making your head shoot up. “Yeah, I saw it this morning when I went and checked my Instagram,” he chuckles, face still rosy from going outside. 

“We really gave the paparazzi a field day, didn’t we?” He continues.

“Your ass looks great in this pic, though. Look,” pointing to the one were he had you lifted over his shoulder, but softens his voice when he sees how tense you were. 

“Aw, doll, loosen up, I’m not mad or anything, if that’s what you think. I’m rather pleased now that everybody can see how happy we are and how much joy you bring me,” he lets you know nonchalantly, pressing a smooch to your forehead and starts to march towards the kitchen.

“You want another cuppa, lovey?”

And just like that, you were back in your good mood, perplexed at how well he took all of this. 

Don’t be a silent reader! Show some love by reblogging and commenting, did it make you laugh, scream, smile? Let me know, it would make my day!

Much love, Nahmi xxx

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[dontstalkhaleywrites]

Kento Nanami if he got married:

“What do you mean I have to work overtime? It’s steak and strap Saturday. “

[kentonanamisupremacy]

Steak n Strap Saturday 😏

[doubleleoenergy]

iii. Cola, Lolita Series

My pussy tastes like Pepsi cola. My eyes are wide like cherry pies. I gots a taste for men who are older. It's always been so it's no surprise

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, drinking, age gap (22 vs early 40s), oral (male receiving)

Words: 2419

Summary: Y/N calls Andy from the club and gives him a new lease on life.

Andy Barber is enjoying the most mundane adult evening of his life. It’s a Saturday night, the boys had all decided to go on a camping trip, guys only of course. Y/N was nowhere to be found when he got home from the gym, and he honestly enjoyed the thought of having a quiet night to himself.

He had taken a shower and afterwards had cooked himself a meal for one: steak, baked potato, and a salad. He washed it all down with a glass of wine, one of the aged bottles he had kept when Laurie was moving her stuff out. Andy had sat down on the couch, comfortably sprawled out watching some new action film that Jacob had recommended.

Not a thought ran through his mind as he sat and watched the first half of the movie, and honestly it was nice. He was tempted to turn off the movie and call it an early night, his plans interrupted immediately when he felt his phone buzzing in the pocket of his sweats.

He pulled the phone out and stared at the screen, his heart racing in his chest as he looked at the name displayed. “Hello?” He answered on the third ring, holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hi boss-man Andyyyyy.” Y/N sing-songed on the other line, Kendrick Lamar’s ‘Humble’ blaring loudly through the speakers behind her.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Andy questioned; concern laced in his voice.

“M’not.” She giggled, holding her phone out to yell at some dude that was trying to ask her to dance. “I went to the club downtown with a friend tonight and she left. What a bitch, right? Anyhow, can you pick me up pleaassseeee Andy. An Uber would be like sooooo expensive.” She moved the phone from her ear to shout out some of the lyrics to the song before coming back to the screen.

“Uh, yeah. Send me the address and I’ll come get you. Are you drunk, y/n?” He stands up, walking to his bedroom and shimmying out of his sweats to put on a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Not drunk, just a bit tipsy, ya know? I’ll be waiting for you on the dance floor!” She screams, and before Andy can protest, she’s hung up the phone, a loud sigh leaving his lips. So much for his mundane adult night at home.

It didn’t take Andy more than fifteen minutes with Google Maps on to get to the club, having a valet at the door park his Audi for him before waiting at the door for the bouncer to let him in. The minute Andy walked inside he was met by flashing lights and a DJ spinning a popular Dua Lipa song. He pushed his way past the crowd of people, eyes scanning for any sign of y/n.

She had mentioned she would be on the dance floor, and the closer he got the harder he looked for her. Finally, after a few moments and mistakenly touching the shoulder of someone with the same hair color and length as her, it was as if the sea of people had parted as his blue hues locked on her. She was obviously gorgeous, every outfit looking stunning on her, but this was something else. It was like the breath was knocked out of his lungs, the two-piece black bodycon skirt and cropped spaghetti-strapped top revealing every curve of her body. Where the seams would normally be sewn on each side of the thin fabric there lay open strips of rhinestones. The rhinestone strips left the sides of her top open to reveal a healthy amount of sideboob, the skirt revealing the curve of her ass, no panties or bra underneath.

Andy couldn’t help but watch her sway to the music. She looked so carefree, minus the occasional guy that she shooed off with a flick of her wrist. After the second guy had approached and left defeated, Andy walked up, tapping her on the shoulder. As soon as she saw him a huge smile spread across her luscious lips.

“Andyyyy.” Her eyes traveled up and down his body, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. She was devouring him with her eyes. 

“Hey, y/n, let’s go.” Andy nodded towards the door and y/n let out a huff, grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards her.

“C’mon, dance with me.” She purred, trying to tug him further into the crowd with her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, y/n, besides you’ve had one too many drinks.” He contested, y/n’s eyes rolling back into her head.

“M’not messed up, I’m fully aware of my actions. I even drank some water before you came. Now.” Her tone is filled with lust, motioning him towards her with her finger. “Are you gonna dance with me or what?”

Andy’s head is screaming logically to not do this, she’s Jacob’s friend from school and he was also older than her, and her boss. But before he can protest his feet have a mind of their own and follow her deeper into the crowd on the floor.

He’s not sure what to do, standing there awkwardly as he watches her body shimmying in front of him. The song quickly changes, the new hit by Lil Nas X ‘Montero (Call Me By Your Name)’ blaring out of the speakers.

“C’mere.” The chorus of the song comes and y/n grabs Andy’s hand, tugging him closer to her until she turns so her back is flush against his chest. She moves the hand she’s holding to her waist, tugging the other down to the opposite side before grinding her body back against him.

Holy shit. This is really happening. Andy’s heart is pounding in his chest, rocking his hips forward into her, his hands gripping firmly against her waist now. He can hear her screaming out the lyrics to the song as they dance, tugging at the nape of his neck, craning her own so that she can meet his gaze finally.

Their eyes stay locked as the song ends and another starts, and Andy can feel his painfully hard cock in his jeans. Her eyes move to glance down at his lips and then back up again to his face.

“Come with me.” She whispers, grabbing his hand again and tugging him out of the crowd of people towards the back of the club. Andy is blindly following her, his cock still pressing against the front of his jeans. God, this was so embarrassing.

She snakes her way around the throngs of people until they reach the back wall, the bathroom sign hanging above their heads. The line for the women’s restroom is long, the men’s restroom door a few feet down a separate hallway with not a single soul in sight.

Glancing back at Andy she tugs him towards the door of the men’s restroom, looking inside and under the stalls to ensure that it was completely empty. She pushes open the door fully, motioning him to come in with her.

The heavy door closes behind them, y/n immediately pushing Andy until his back gently hits the wall beside the door.

“I see the way you’ve been looking at me. It’s hard not to notice.” Andy’s expression is a mix of both shock and excitement, his eyes trailing down to meet hers.

“We can’t…” Andy trails off, y/n shushing him with one of her fingers.

“We’re both adults here, and I can make my own decisions. And this is my decision.” Before Andy can protest again, y/n stands up on her tippy toes in her high heels, crashing her lips against his fervently.

He’s confused at first but quickly gives into the kiss, her lips tasting like rum and Pepsi-Cola. His lips melt into hers, moaning into her mouth as she parts her lips, his tongue exploring further. Her hands are roaming first through his hair, tugging lightly as they continue their kiss before roaming them down the taut muscles of his arms.

Finally, she presses her body against his, feeling how hard he is through the denim. She breaks the kiss, eyes wide like cherry pies and lips swollen from their actions.

“Get in the stall.” She commands, nodding her head in its direction. Andy’s breathing is ragged from their kiss, but he does as he’s told, walking into the stall as y/n follows behind and locks it after she enters. 

“Have you been thinking about me at night?” She asks, moving to stand in front of him and slowly undoing the buttons on his jeans.

“Wait, what?” He questioned, his cock twitching as the tension of his jeans were removed, y/n pushing them down along with his boxers, his hard cock springing free against his chest.

“I said.” She gripped his cock in her hand, looking up at him. He was definitely way bigger than anyone she had ever been with, which made sense considering Andy was all man, nothing about him being boyish.

“Have you been thinking about me?” She asked again, his breath hitching as she started to pump his cock in her hand, barely being able to grip it.

“Y-yes.” Andy stammered, a groan escaping his lips as she continues to pump him.

“Tell me you want this Andy, and I’ll get down on my knees right now and give you release.” She met his gaze, a choked-out moan escaping his lips.

“Please.” Those were the only words she needed to hear before she dropped down to her knees, the cold tile soothing the heat coming off her body.

“Wanna taste you.” She preened, taking Andy’s cock into her hand and lapping gingerly at the tip. He could’ve come just from the sight of her before him, but he wouldn’t, he wanted to savor this moment.

Y/N held up his cock, licking a stripe from the base to the tip before suckling on the head, eliciting a groan from deep in Andy’s throat. She tasted the precum leaking from his tip, her thighs clenching together. This wasn’t about her pleasure; this was about Andy’s. And she wanted to show him just how seductive she could be.

Her lips curl around his girth, bobbing her head back and forth along his length. He’s not just thick but long, and she struggles to take him down, eyes watering as she brings her face closer and closer to his pelvic bone.

Her eyes look up to meet Andy’s as she pulls off him with a wet pop. “Is this what you wanted? To see my mouth stuffed full of your cock?” She pursed her lips, her core dripping underneath her skirt. 

“Yes, god you look so pretty down there. My little Lolita.” He praised, keeping his gaze on her. Her lips curl into a seductive smirk, batting her lashes at him.

“Want you to use me, I know you’ve thought about it. Want you to cum down my throat.” Her words urge him on, his hand grabbing a tight fistful of her hair and guiding her back down onto his cock. 

Andy’s not going to last much longer, bucking into her mouth and listening to the sloppy sounds of her gagging on his cock. It’s a beautiful song on her lips and he watches as some of the saliva from her lips runs down her chin and onto the floor. 

“Fuck, y/n, m’gonna cum.” As soon as the words leave his lips he’s steadying at the back of her throat, holding her on his cock as he cums deep down her throat, giving her no choice but to swallow. Y/N takes it in stride, swallowing all the sticky substance and milking his cock before letting go of him. She stands back up, taking her thumb and wiping against the corner of her lips, rubbing it across her bottom lip before straightening her outfit.

“It’s late, we should head back.” Y/N turns to unlock the door of the stall while Andy pulls his clothes back on, her eyes meeting a man who she hadn’t heard come into the restroom, standing at the urinal with his jaw agape. 

After leaving the bathroom Andy and Y/N burst out laughing about the man in the restroom, walking towards the front door of the club and out to the valet where they waited for his car. As soon as the man at the valet brings his car back, y/n slinks into the passenger seat, tousling her hair with her fingers.

“That was…” Andy trailed off, roaring the car to life and starting down the road towards home. Y/N leaned her head back, looking over at Andy. “That was a one-time thing.” She stated, looking back out the window.

“Are you sure about that?” He quizzed, stopping at the red light on the street and looking back at her. 

“Guess it depends on if you’re worth it or not. You’ll have to wait and see.”

Andy didn’t know why, but he wanted more. He wanted much more with her. She made him feel alive, feel young again. She made him feel wanted, something he hadn’t felt with his ex-wife in such a long time before their divorce. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing her shivering in what little fabric that covered her skin. Bringing his hand into the backseat, he reaches out and pulls out one of his buttons up work shirts, handing it over to her.

“You’re cold, put this on.” She silently thanks him, pulling the shirt on and buttoning it halfway, the shirt smelling strongly of his cologne. They sat silently for the rest of the ride home, y/n looking out the window as they drove. 

After about five minutes of silence they arrived back at the house, walking through the door in the garage and into the house. She knows things are complicated now, but she doesn’t care. She’s lived her life free as a bird, boys wanting her but never acquiring her. What would be the difference now? 

“Thanks for coming to get me.” Her voice is soft and honest, turning to look up at him. They’re inches from each other again, Andy closing the distance this time to kiss her lips, y/n pulling back with a smile.

“Goodnight Andy.” She heads towards the stairs, turning back to look over her shoulder one last time at him. “Oh, and feel free to jerk off to thoughts of me any time.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @midnightf @my-divine-death @saamwilsonn @fierylibraa @fuckandfluff​ @rattlemyb0nes​ @rootcrop @goldenboysteve​  @turtoix​  @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​  @ccmarvelxx

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Irresistible ⊰

Request: Maybe a smut with a lot of fluff where keanu x reader is in an established relationship and the reader has been teasing him all day.. thank you so much!! - Anon

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader (f)

Warnings: Smuuuut

Words: 2.6k

A/N: Okay, this is my first fic with Keanu Reeves and first real smut. Let me know what you think! Also, requests are still open, so feel free to send one :)

It all started out with a simple bet—how long could your boyfriend Keanu keep his hands off of you? You had wagered that he would fail within just one day, knowing that he would not be able to resist you that easily. Meanwhile, Keanu was so positive that he would win, explaining that his self-control was much greater than what you believed.

Sure... This was coming from the same guy who had left the premiere of John Wick: Chapter 2 early just so he could bring you back to the hotel and fuck you. Well, you couldn’t blame him. You did look very tempting in that low-cut black dress you wore, and Keanu couldn’t wait a second longer.

Still, he was quite confident that he would not break in the next 24 hours. But little did Keanu know, you had a few tricks up your sleeve ready that would have you winning the bet by the end of the evening.

When morning came, Keanu had already left to do a couple of things at the Arch office. You chuckled at the thought of Keanu waking up earlier than you so that you wouldn’t be able to tease him in bed. That would have been a quick win. Though you missed your window to wake him up with a blowjob, you had plenty more opportunities to get under his skin throughout the day.

After breakfast, you decided to go for a dip in his swimming pool. You chose to wear that sexy red swimsuit, which offered little to no modesty and drove Keanu crazy every time you had it on.

Standing on the shallow side of the pool, you grabbed your phone lying nearby and checked the time. You remembered that Keanu was currently having a meeting with a client after he mentioned it yesterday, and it gave you the perfect idea.

Pressing the upper half of your body up and against the ledge, you made sure that your wet breasts were on full display before snapping a photo with your phone and texting it to Keanu.

Amused with what you had just done, you could imagine him getting all hot and bothered by seeing your picture while knowing he couldn’t do anything about it.

There would undoubtedly be consequences for this. You could already feel yourself getting wet at the mere thought of what Keanu would do to you when he gets home. 

Well, that’s if he was willing to lose the bet so early in the game.

Your phone buzzed two minutes later, and you smirked at the one-worded message Keanu sent back in response.

Tease.

Laughing, your fingers were quick to type out a reply.

Sorry! I just wanted to remind you what you left at home ;)

You’ll regret sending that.

And what exactly are you going to do about it?

Keanu didn’t answer afterwards, and you were sure that it wasn’t because he was busy focusing on the meeting. He was probably struggling to pay attention, thanks to that image of yours now stuck inside his head. You definitely had the upper hand, you were inching closer to victory.

Around two in the afternoon, you were surprised to hear the front door opening and seeing Keanu step inside the foyer. He shrugged off his black leather jacket and hung it inside the closet before brushing his long dark hair back with his fingers. He looked so handsome just standing there in a tight black tee, showing off his muscular arms and chiseled chest.

God, you loved it when he’s training for the John Wick movies. It was always a treat seeing and feeling the results of his hard work.

“Baby,” he called out for you, catching your lingering stare from the end of the hall.

You approached him, and once you came to stand in front of him, you immediately pressed your lips against his, kissing him until you pulled away to breathe. His eyes darkened, and you smirked at him. “Remember the terms of our bet—I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”

Stepping back, Keanu released a frustrated sigh as you watched him fight the urge to touch you. “Vixen.”

Smiling, you took his hand and kissed the inside of his palm. “It makes the stakes higher. Plus, you’re the one who agreed to it, so don’t complain.”

“I’m not complaining,” he assured. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you won’t win.”

“What brings you home so early then, hmm?” You questioned him as you walked away and into the living room, Keanu following closely behind. You made sure to add a little seductive sway to your hips, letting him drink in the sight of you in a tank top and shorts. Even with your back turned, you could feel him staring.

“I just miss my girlfriend, that’s all,” he replied so innocently as you both plopped down on the couch. “Is it wrong for me to spend more time with you?”

“No, it’s not,” you said, shifting in your seat so that your body was facing him. “How did you like the picture I sent you?”

Keanu let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you did that, knowing that I’m with a client and all.”

“Were you hard?” you asked, placing your hand on top of his thigh, dangerously close to his cock.

“What do you think?” He added, his eyes locking with yours. “You did that on purpose.”

“Did I now?” you bit your lip tantalizingly, gauging Keanu’s reaction. “Well, I apologize for my behavior. Why don’t you just give up and have your way with me now?”

Keanu smiled before grasping your hand and moving it away from his thigh. He leaned in close, his warm breath softly blowing on your face. “How about a late lunch instead?”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. You had been so confident that Keanu would finally make a move. Perhaps you gave him less credit than he deserved, but you were still quite determined to win your silly bet.

At your insistence, you and Keanu had lunch at your favorite restaurant downtown. It was a busy Saturday afternoon, and the place was a bit packed. Luckily, the two of you were able to get a seat at the back of the building, away from everyone’s view.

After the waiter brought over your orders, you decided to continue with your little teasing game. You made a show of yourself as you ate your spaghetti. Making eye contact with Keanu, you slurped a pasta strand into your mouth, letting out an exaggerated moan as you chewed.

It was working, you could tell. Keanu could not keep his eyes off of you as you darted your tongue out and licked the sauce on your lips. At the same time, you slowly ran the side of your foot on his leg, stroking the inner side as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat across the table.

“You got something there,” he said in a low voice, pointing out the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

“Thank you,” you responded. You used the edge of your thumb to wipe it away before bringing it up to your lips, giving it a small lick. Keanu let out a shaky breath as you wrapped your mouth around your finger and sucked, hollowing your cheeks as you stared deeply into his eyes.

If the look on Keanu’s face was a clear indication, you would have thought that you had won. You could see that he was flustered, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were out in public, he would have fucked you there on top of the table. But despite this, he retained his composure, much to your utter disappointment.

“You might have turned me on, but I’m not letting you win,” Keanu whispered before finishing the steak on his plate nonchalantly.

By the time you both got home, it was already five o’clock in the afternoon. Your deadline was at seven, giving you only two hours to break Keanu’s self-control. You had one last card to play against him, and if it didn’t work, you would lose.

As Keanu hopped in the shower, you got your bedroom ready for the final phase of your plan. You lit up several candles around the room and then headed to the closet. You pulled out a new lingerie piece that you had bought last week and had yet to make its debut. Hearing the water switched off, you quickly put on the lingerie and sprayed on your favorite perfume.

You sat on the edge of the bed just as Keanu entered the room wearing nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips.

“You really pulled out all the stops today, huh?” He chuckled softly.

You playfully shrugged your shoulders. “What can I say? I want to win.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he returned as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think I can wait for an hour.”

You scoffed. “Seriously?”

Keanu paused, staring down at you while you wondered if it was time to concede defeat.

“Fuck no,” he retorted, removing his towel and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room. “Come here.”

Keanu suddenly reached down to pull you up on your feet before crashing his mouth into yours, nearly knocking the wind in your lungs. The kiss was rough yet passionate as your arms wound around his neck, kissing him with equal fervor. He bit on your bottom lip as his hands drifted down, and you gasped when he took one of your breasts in his grasp.

“This new?” He mumbled as his lips trailed down the side of your throat, and you could only hum out a response. “Love the lace, baby, but it’s gotta go.”

He pushed the straps of your lingerie off your shoulders, letting it pool around your feet and leaving you as bare as he was. Immediately, Keanu took a nipple into his mouth and gave it a suck, your fingers coming up to entangle with his damp hair. You tugged on it gently, and he groaned deliciously.

“Fuck, Ke…” you moaned out, arching your back as his mouth switched over to your other breast. Afterwards, Keanu gently coaxed you to lie back on the bed, your legs hanging freely off the edge as he stepped in between them. He kissed your lips, allowing his tongue to dance with yours. He then slowly and agonizingly moved his mouth down to your chest, then to your stomach, and finally, near your pussy.

His strong hands came to grip underneath your legs, pulling your lower half towards his face before kneeling down, his hot breath fanning over your wet slit.

“You’re so wet already,” he noted, holding you down tightly as you squirmed from the tender kisses he placed inside of your thighs. You lifted your head and met Keanu’s darkened gaze, silently begging him to stop the teasing.

“No,” he muttered with a slight smirk playing on his lips as if he had heard your wordless plea. “You teased me all day, now it’s my turn.”

You felt Keanu’s finger slip between your pussy lips, and you let out a drawn-out moan. You watched through hooded eyes as he added another finger, slowly dragging them in and out of your core. “Feels good?”

“More, please,” was all that you could say, and Keanu finally relented. He leaned in and pressed his lips against your cunt, tasting your sweet juices with his tongue. His fingers dipped into your warmth, curling them as he moved back and forth inside. Keanu sucked on your clit as he continued to finger you. The scruff of his beard burned the soft skin of your thighs, but it didn’t matter that much. Not when he’s giving you the most pleasure you’ve ever had.

“Oh shit—right there,” you whined as your hands held him tightly by his hair.

A loud moan emerged from your throat when Keanu stroked your g-spot, and it quickly had you coming undone. Your legs quivered as his fingers kept fucking you through your orgasm until you came down from your high. Keanu sat back on his heels as he watched you sprawled across the bed with a contented smile on your face but still unable to open your eyes.

Eventually, you propped yourself up on your elbows as Keanu stood up, his hard leaking cock coming into view. Your tongue darted out as he finally joined you on the bed. Your hands reached for his cock, only for Keanu to stop you short.

“Next time,” he simply said, spreading your legs once more so that he could kneel between them. “Need to be inside you now.”

Your legs wrapped around Keanu’s waist as he began inching closer to your slick entrance. He kissed you on your mouth, making you taste yourself on his tongue. You felt the head of his cock against your pussy, and he swallowed your moan as he slowly entered you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Keanu groaned as he gave you a moment to adjust. He always felt so thick, so big.

With a roll of your hips, you hinted at Keanu that you were ready. He started out with deep, shallow thrusts, letting out his own moans as his hands came to grip you by your waist, controlling your movements. You squeezed your inner muscles tightly, and that’s when Keanu groaned into your ear, quickening his pace as he began pounding into you harder.

“Keanu, I’m almost—fuck, I’m almost there,” you warned him as each of his strokes hit all the right places.

“Me, too,” he panted, bringing a hand down to your pussy and started rubbing on your pulsating clit.

You gripped tightly onto Keanu’s shoulders, your fingernails leaving marks as they dug roughly into his skin. Meanwhile, he nuzzled his head into your neck, breathing harshly into your ear as his thrusts grew merciless and had you clawing at his back.

Keanu then lifted his head up as his rhythm began to falter. Your hands held him by his hair, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. Your eyes locked as you both chased each other’s high, the mixture of sounds of your wanton moans, his labored breaths, and your skin slapping together filled the air.

“Come, baby,” he choked out, nearing his orgasm. “Come with me.”

Keanu’s smooth voice telling you to come was all it took for you to reach your high for the second time that night. Your body tensed, clenching around Keanu’s cock as you brought him to climax. He grunted as he released deep inside of you, his breaths coming in pants just like yours. Soon after, he pulled out and rolled onto his side before pulling you in close.

The two of you stared at the ceiling until your heartbeats settled down, and you were finally able to use your words again.

“This bet was stupid,” you spoke, earning a throaty laugh from Keanu as you turned to your side, placing a hand on his broad chest. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” he replied, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. So much for that shower.

You grinned as you leaned in to give Keanu a sweet kiss. “Can we just forget about the whole thing?”

“Sure,” he agreed tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But, the bet did prove a point.”

“Which is?” You cocked your head to the side inquisitively.

Keanu smiled mischievously as his hand gripped your waist, pulling you over his lap so that you’re straddling over him. You could already feel the hardness of his cock underneath you, and you smirked at his eagerness.

He then brought his lips up to your ear. “That you’re simply irresistible.”

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​

[coffee-at-annies]

Okay, I've seen you post about it and I'm utterly clueless as to what it is. So What Is Blaseball? I'm assuming it's a knockoff Baseball thing but online. So I need an infodump? Love you Anne!💜💜

Ummmm. I’m not sure I could explain the cultural event of blaseball succinctly in my own words. So strap in for a long post. At its core it’s a baseball simulator with 20 teams of made up of randomly named people with randomly generated stats. Fans have taken the team names, the player names, and the events on the simulator and created surprisingly deep lore mostly on twitter and the official discord server and then archived on a fan wiki. There’s a lot going on on twitter. The blaseball commissioner is on there and they are doing a great job. There’s also fake news accounts, splorts broadcasters, rp accounts for players, all sorts of stuff.

The teams follow a [place]{emoji} naming convention and are separated into two leagues with two divisions per league. An example is my team is Yellowstone Magic ✨ and my sister’s team is Breckinridge Jazz Hands 👐. There’s also the Baltimore Crabs 🦀, Philly Pies 🥧, Dallas Steaks 🥩, Seattle Garages 🎸, etc. The leagues used to be Good and evil with the divisions being Lawful and Chaotic but after a change a couple weeks ago they are now the Mild and Wild leagues with the divisions being Low and High. The Magic are currently in the Mild Low division.

Each season starts Monday morning, lasts for 99 games that start every hour on the hour, and ends Friday. The post season is on Saturday and the top 4 teams in each division take part in a series best of 5 series trying to make it from the quarterfinals to the finals. Sunday is the election where you can take whatever money you and your fellow fans/players have and turn them into tickets to vote on a number of decrees or place them into the raffle for blessings. Decrees drastically remake the league the following season (which starts usually starts the next day). You know how I mentioned the leagues used to be good and evil? Well two weeks ago we passed the decree High Filter which reordered the divisions based on the teams’ regular season standings and also changed the names. This week one of the decrees will make the top 4 teams have to run an extra base before they can score. That’s an example of how they can shake things up. Blessings are buffs and debuffs and work on a raffle system. The Crabs have a large fan base won 4 blessings at the end of season 5 and improved their team so much that they dominated the following season. The Magic unfortunafely have been passed over for blessings since season 1. It is currently the middle of season 7.

Most of gameplay is done by betting on games. There are 10 games per round and they start every hour on the hour. You’ve got a betting maximum that you can bet up to and if you ever run out of money you can beg for coins in the shop and get 5 to 12 coins which you can then use to bet on games. If you aren’t sure who to bet on, each matchup will have a set of odds telling you how likely each team is to win. Season 6 also introduced an idol mechanic where you can idolize your favorite player and get money for whenever they do things. Batters will give you money whenever they hit the ball (get on base) or get a home run. Pitchers will give you money when they strike a player out or pitch a shutout.

Also in the game are different status effects and weather. Sometimes the weather is birds and there are so many birds it making the game run long. Sometimes the weather is peanuts and there’s a chance one of your players may swallow a peanut and either have a yummy reaction where their stats will go up or an allergic reaction and their stats will go down. Sometimes the weather is solar eclipse and a rogue umpire will incinerate a player who is then immediately replaced by a new random person. That happened lot today bc today had some crazy in game moments. Other weathers are feedback, which causes two players to swap teams, reverb, which will rearrange a team’s lineup, and blooddrain, which will boost a player’s stat by hurting that stat in an opposing player. The weather gets kind of wild.

So now onto the fan stuff. I saw a tweet describing blaseball as if the twitch plays Pokémon crowd watched marble racing while welcome to nightvale played in the background and if you recognize all 3 of those references then you’ve got the basic vibes of blaseball. The discord and twitter communities spend a lot of time coming up with lore and backstories and who these players are, despite the fact that we have absolutely no control over the game outside of elections and blessings. An example of the types of characters, the Magic has Washer Barajas, a geyser with a blaseball bat and cap, Oscar Dollie a goatman, and Cory Twelve a survey robot who pitches for us, among other players. Halexandry Walton, my favorite player who is now on the Unlimited Tacos due to a feedback swap is a coyote with a blaseball bat in her mouth. Collins Melon on the Jazz Hands is a literal melon, and they also have Baby Doyle a literal baby and also the past version of all the other Doyles in the league including one who has been incinerated. York Silk on the Hawaii Fridays is an 8 year old wielding a gunblade bat named Vibe Check. The league fanfavorite is Jessica Telephone of the Pies and her bat, the dial-tone. The San Fransico Lovers apparently grew out of a giant polycule, and so on and so forth. I’m not super familiar with every team’s lore yet. Also the fan base is very queer so the players are too. A lot of players use some variant of they/them pronouns, are queer/bi/trans/lesbian/etc and that’s really nice. The lovers are an extreme example I suppose but there’s also the New York Millenials who are the gayest team in blaseball.

So there’s a lot of fun stuff with the teams and characters themselves and there’s a lot of fun/chaotic things that have happened in game. At the end of season 1 the fans voted on a decree to open the forbidden book which started the discipline era and introduced solar eclipses as a type of weather. There was a glitch during season 3 which eventually became known as the grand unslam and resulted in the LA Tacos being renamed the Unlimited Tacos. There’s a lot of fun raging against the blaseball gods for various in game and meta reasons. Last season with the introduction of the ability to idolize players, some fans discovered you can idolize dead players and then exploited a blessing used to steal the 14th most idolized player to bring the first player ever incinerated, Jaylen Hotdogfingers, back to life. Which uhh is causing some things. It used to be impossible for a batter to get hit by a pitch (hbp) but Jaylen’s thrown a bunch this season and that applied the status effect Unstable to those players. We just discovered (like 2 hrs ago) what that means in the most dramatic of fashions. Turns out unstable makes a player more likely to get incinerated during a solar eclipse and the status effect will jump when that happens. In the course of two games the Hades Tigers and Canada Moist Talkers lost a collective 5 players which has to be a record. So that’s some developing lore. We’ll see where that goes as the week goes on. And I haven’t even mentioned the shelled players yet. Or the peanut conspiracies. The fans find some interesting ways to have fun.

There’s also amazing fan work being done by the fandom. There’s constantly art being produced. I think I mentioned the RP twitter accounts for the players, but there’s also stories and lore being written for the teams. The Garages have a bandcamp with actual music. The Pies are putting together a recipe book with a pie submitted by each team. Sunday is blaseball cares day which means the devs encourage ppl to donate to charity and some really nice mercy has sprung up around the idea of donating the proceeds to charity. It’s a very lovely and active community. Full of nice people and also memes. I’ve made so much dumb memey art in the last two weeks, but it’s been nice to create again and have ppl appreciate it. And there’s a lot of writing inspiring too. Last night someone suggested little league blaseball and the idea of Spell Scouts, a version of Girl/Boy Scouts and I spent probably too long this morning brainstorming Spell Scout badge ideas. Honestly it’s been nice having a constantly active community since I’ve taken a step back from hockey with Pens out of the playoffs.

I could probably gush more but this is already super duper long. Blaseball has slowly taken over my life in the-new hyperfixation that’s constantly giving me input and feedback-way which is probably not the best long term but I’m chatting with people and I’m not feeling understimulated so I’ll work on getting myself back to focusing on other things and in the meantime enjoy the glow of a new hyperfixation while it lasts.

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

Deviltown

An Obey Me! Fanfic with an @snowandseven OC and paired with Lucifer. Inspired by Beauty and the Beast’s scenes. You’ve been notified.

It was a typical Saturday in Devildom. The eternal night sky is slightly brighter during the day, the blood bats were 'cutely' screeching and Cerebus was very excited for walkies since he's been busy paroling the House of Lamentation's underground tomb. Accompanied with Beelzebub, whom he can handle Cerebus next to Lucifer, was the exchange student from the human realm, Valentine.

Deviltown, it's a quiet village - Every day, like the one before

They've stopped at the entrance of the Deviltown, which was the opposite side of Devildom's big city, was what you might called an old fashioned town. The buildings was like old peasant-like housing, brick walls, fairytale look a like, almost slightly before the Victorian style era began. Granted, there were some updated mechanics and technologies, but most were kept old fashioned charm. Valentine fell in love with this place due to being an 'old soul.' -no pun intended-  Whether he had an agenda or not, he'd come here for anything and re-enacted his fantasies of his 'Snow White' image. Valentine hopped down from Cerebus with his DeVil school bag, only exclusive for RAD students and specifically made for Valentine by Diavolo's request. Meaning Valentine's school bag was suitcase-like but turquoise coloured themed.

Deviltown, full of mythical people -

“Are you sure you can manage the tasks by yourself? You have quite a lot to cover and carry.” Beel said to him. Valentine smile and said with assurance. “I am fine and confident to carry the order. It is my duty and also part of an apology of a sort. I must at least show how appreciated you and your brothers that you've forgave, accepted as family and taught me what feeling are after what happened, my 'rebirth,' when my 'secret' revealed and my true motives are. I am determined to start over and gain your trust not as pawns or tools anymore, but as a family.” “Even though we're literally demons?” Beel asked. Val chuckled. “Of course! You've forgotten I was one too on the inside. I can still change, despite my actual age. Now, I must be going. I'll summon if I do indeed need of help. I shall make my best meals from the freshest- er... maybe I'll say it once I've made it. It will make you think of hunger more than it is already.” Thus Beel's stomach started to growl. “I think there's still something left from the fridge back home. I promise to make a feast fit for a king tonight if you can manage long enough!” Valentine thought of a quick strategy. If he can get Beelzebub to get away from the fresh market, he won't cause a scene to devour the entire produce sections. “... Alright. But will there be-”

“Sour raspberry pie? Yes and I can also make other goodies once I finished and- oh! He left already.” Beel had already left with Cerebus. Guess that a yes.

Valentine then started quest to search for his ingredients.

Waking up to say:

He was greeted by the town demon-folks. It was like any other trip, smile and be polite, but this time, he wanted to start practicing being a real, genuine person and not a mechanical doll. He learns a good handful to start on something easy like saying:

[DEMON FOLKS] : Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!

He greeted them back. He realized that he felt a little heart warming that wasn't there before. It's not much, but it was new to him. It was nice!

There goes the baker with his tray, like always - The same old bread and rolls to sell

The first thing he needed was fresh bread rolls and more bread for breakfast tomorrow. The owner of the bakery was a kind ogre. He too has a family and his shop was operated like one. Maybe he can try learning a bit from them if he have that chance, like now.

Every morning just the same - Since the morning that we came - To this poor provincial town

Valentine decided to learn how he interacted with his loving wife and maybe he can do the same when the time will come when he can make a pact with Lucifer. After all, he wanted to be more genuine when he says he does love him. "Good Morning, Valentine! Grocery shoppin' again for the lords?" The ogre baker asked Valentine. “Indeed, but I've decided to make tonight's meal a special treat. I would need...”

Valentine carefully chose the baked goods and he place them in his RAD suitcase. “Our generous lord Diavolo had blessed me with this lovely suitcase and even more is that one of my pact mate, Satan, had placed a special spell on it so that I can carry more than it looks.” The baker was impressed. “I'm impressed! I must say that if that involved magic as powerful as his, you're quite a human! Not many can make pacts from them, let alone being alive for so long.” Valentine felt a bit proud. For someone who's emotions are almost non-existence, the 'feelings' are new to him. Thus, he done his best by learning more and understand what the were. “Thank you for the compliment.” That was the supposed reply, he guessed. Before he asked the baker about his relationship advice, he started shouting in the kitchen, presumably the wife, something about the baguettes. Valentine knows that it's just the language barrier and it wasn't too difficult making out what they were REALLY saying, but it sounded like they were arguing. (But not really!) 'This must be one of those lover's quarrels situation that I've heard about.' He thought. Maybe some other time and leaves for the next item quest. [DEMON FOLKS]: Look there he goes, that boy is strange, no question.

Valentine continue to search for his ingredients. He was in luck for this time of year in Devildom, because it's their harvest season and there are so many delicacies and special imports from the human and celestial realm. Thanks to his brilliant, quick learning mind and his very good memory, he knew exactly what to look for AND finds items his pact mates been trying getting their hands on. Normally, his 'old' self would think this is for keeping them happy just to be pawns, but from now on, he must try to be like a family member.

Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?

He found a good amount of meats such as the FirePhoenix meat, MadCow hamburgs and steaks, FilthyPig pork chops and his Lucifer's favorite, the HellFurry Peacock's pack fit for a celebration dinner. (Or in this case, a 'modest' feast made for a future Demon king's coronation.) He got a fair amount in wrapped plastic. Cause it's for sanitary reasons, even in literal hell.

Never part of any crowd - 'Cause his head's up on some cloud

He then moved on to the next selling stand where they sell a fair amount of human and Celestial goods. The first ones that he immediately noticed was ramen noodles. Mammon and Leviathan’s favorite for on the go or gaming. He remembers the first time he saw this in his last cycle of 'rebirth.' It was in his human realm and he was catching up to the latest youth trends and he was offered a cup. 'You can now just add boiling water and it's done? What kind of magic is this? Is there really no time nowadays to even prep the meals?' Was his first reaction and to him, it's a descent food but not as good as home cook ones he's best at. Would you like to know how mind blown when one time he made a thanksgiving feasts one time to his previous roommates and they were in disbelief when he said it's just a 'normal' dinner?

The other story about it was when he eats it again, this time with 'THE' Mammon, he was taken aback when he devoured it like a beast with no manner. Maybe due to the fact that they were in Mammon's room and not at the dinner table that he think good manners doesn't apply. Valentine did his best, at the time, to show he's 'relate-able' by sipping the broth from his cup. Mammon noticed him and it started off their friendship on good terms. Looking back, deep down Mammon's a good guy and well, he IS his first pact in order for him to gain power... He must at least show him that he's sorry for using him as a tool. Maybe later he can help him with clearing his debt a little or get him off the hook from Lucifer... just once if it's minor.

He got the human world of chicken and beef flavored ramens for Mammon and the Shrimp flavored ones for Leviathan.

No denying he's a funny boy, that Val.

He then stopped to see the imported figurines called 'anime' as they called it. Val was thinking 'first it's animation, then cartoons and now anime?' He thought of Leviathan, his second pact. At first he thought that he was just a shut-in otaku, but as time goes on, he felt he can relate to him. He was scared of people hurting him. He can't understand what 'normal' humans do or 'normies' does. He is passionate on things he's very interested in like TSL and Rurui-chan. He did helped him out sometimes when fixing his uniform one time due to his cosplays and sewing.

He saw some limited key sets of the latest Rurui-can collectables and decided to buy the one that had his color themed and his. 'Maybe he'll like me more if I show this as 'friendship phone straps' and make most out of that gaming app Majolish.'

Bonjour! - Good day! - How is your family?

He searched all over the fresh produce market for vegetables, fruits and exotic herbs. He was thankful that Beelzebub was NOT with him at the moment and his charm spell has cast him away. Otherwise, there will be a concerning letter along another separate big grocery bill and that would make his Lucifer stressed.

He was his third and quite a formidable power house. Finding out his weakness was not so hard and his raw strength does come in handy at times like lifting the couch with one hand while eating a cucumber sandwich in the other.

But what he admire and now values in Beel the most was his kindness. Sure, he does act dangerously ferocious when he was denied food one too many times, but for his family especially for his twin, he would do anything for them. Valentine can learn a thing or two from him.

He already knew Sour Raspberry pies will be another easy favorites, so he made sure that he bought plenty for pies and at least one of them for the others.

Now as for the other twin and the seventh born, Belphegor, he was the one who revealed his 'rebirth' ability to others when he was killed again. To his surprise, he came back to life in hours rather in years unlike the human realm. Must be the realm's magic or something cause he's certainly sure it ain't from his heritage. Belphie was the one who made him confess everything, his true plans, his back story and his reason why he needed power. He thought that at the moment he was going to be kicked out and send back. But instead, they forgave him, said that they were literal demons to each other and that they wanted to start over again with him but be more honest and true.

Belphegor was probably the one who he can be more open and honest with himself when talking afterwards. Asides back rubs and talking about the stars, he does seems like a likeable character and he does care. Like himself, he tries to make amends for his big brothers from his mistakes.  

He saw some silky fabrics with night star patterns that reminded him of his favorite sleeping spot, the Planetarium. Maybe he can get some to make a pillow cover for him whenever he changes and washes out the laundry for bed sheets.

Bonjour! - Good day! - How is your wife?

He then came across the beauty sections where perfumes, jewelries, clothing, you name it is here. Too bad Asmodeous is being help up for catching up his neglected homework. He heard him dramatically sobbing from the other room of how 'cruel' it was for him being held up especially for today when fall fashion had just arrived today and that he'd always be the first in line.

I need six rotten eggs! - That's too expensive!

Asmodeous was the fourth he made pact with and to be fair, it was like they're staring at their own reflections of outer beauty wise. Both of them are beautiful in their characteristic ways such as Asmo is more self-care conscious while Val is more natural. They both shared much in common such as fashion statements, jewelries, skin care, Lucifer, ect...

While Asmo is narcissistic most of the time, he does think about others and wanted to help them as much as he can. One time he cut his finger and when Asmo saw it, he immediately took out the first aid kit.

Valentine decided to at least buy a beautiful beige scarf and a new hand lotion from the human world that's one of his favorite beauty lines.

There must be more than this provincial life!

He then hopped back on a black hellhorse royal carriages that was still new from the handle like it was a free ride during it's time. He was almost done with the shopping and he got most of the brother's favorites. He was in a trance of understanding what emotions are. He already knew what fear is, more than he can remembered. He knew, in others, how they acted with their emotions and their reactions. But he still haven't felt emotions himself until he discovered them during these months whenever he interacted and developed his relations with the brothers. Happiness, sadness, anger, laughter, embarrassment, envy, and others he had seen or heard before. It felt so new to him when he realized that for the first time in what seems forever, he laughed when there was that pillow fights saga and just last night when he had to confess about everything, he cried.

But most importantly, he started to develop something he can't quite describe yet...   He decided to think about it later and hops off the carriage when they've passed at the bookstore where Satan gets his favorites and hard to get books. It's probably the only and closest bookstore in Devildom to get his books. [DEMON FOLKS] Look there he goes, that boy is so peculiar - I wonder if he's feeling well

What he finds attractive in Satan was his vastly knowledge on so many subjects. Like he, Valentine's no slouch when he shows his knowledge. (He lived for almost two centuries.) They can talked for hours on so many topics and they're quite close apart when it comes to the subject of Lucifer. He knows that Satan's power alone is powerful enough to make anyone quiver in fear, but he was also created from Lucifer's anger before he was casted out from heaven. Not to mention Lucifer was a former arc angel and to be honest: He's got that temper that needs to be kept in check unlike Lucifer.

None the less, he is still a valuable person that he was glad to make a pact after that trip to London for the swap curse saga. He picked up Satan's weekly orders and also he picked up a fairytale book for another report. 'Beauty and the Beast.' He read this story a few times before, remembered how both the girl and the Beast learned to love each other. Maybe he can learn too if he tried harder? He also picked up 'The little mermaid' too. For 'human lessons' reasons.

With a dreamy, far-off look and his nose stuck in a book - What a puzzle to the rest of us is Valentine

When he got out of the store, he saw a Hellish black horse that had blue flames as his mane and tail. The creature, like every others, felt a slight charm from Valentine. He took this opportunity to practice a bit of what it called 'kindness' by taking out his 'Beauty and the Beast' book and shows it to the beautifully yet terrifying creature. He then sings gently a bit to help it calm down. [VALENTINE]: Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because you'll see - Here's where we meet Prince Charming but we won't discover that it's him till chapter three!

The Hellish black horse then rubs his cheeks with Valentine's as affection. "You're very welcome!" He then realized that he was then surrounded by a few other small street creatures and they were eyeing on him. If he doesn't ditch them soon, he'll get more than just a 'warning' from Lucifer when he sung while cleaning near open windows and not realizing there were Hellbats and Hellbirds flew in. (Though he admitted he finds his frowning face attractive when scolded.) So he the skedaddle over to the next stop. [GARGOYLE WOMAN]: Now it's no wonder that Asmodeous is worried, His looks have got no parallel.

He blushed at this felling what he recalled embarrassment. He halted when he arrived at one of his favorite clothing shop in Devildom. It's the only one that has those old vintage tuxedos and vests made for dukes and 18th centuries royalties. 'I guess I can look for a little bit before I return home.' He thought of himself.

[BUG CREATURE SHOPKEEPER]: But behind that fair façade, I'm afraid he's rather odd - Very diff'rent from the rest of us.

If you think Valentine's had a minor spell from his 'charms' for the demon lords alone, you might be mistaken when there's other powerful demons who wants to make a pact with him and we're not talking about Diavolo or Barbatos here.

[DEMON FOLKS]: He's nothing like the rest of us. Yes, diff'rent from the rest of us is Val!

In the Blood square of the town, there are two powerful demons in their own rights. They were from a neighboring kingdom, who's under the demon king's control, are there for their day off. One of them had a particular goal of meeting Valentine.

There was one demon who's name is Giovanni The Hellian. He's a high ranking demon for his strength, his manly appearance, his legendary rivalry against Beelzebub's sports team, but most importantly, he is very prideful. (In other words, he's the Devildom's version of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.) He had red hair fairly long like Asmo's but slid back, his attire is something similar to a high school student for today. He threw a fireball towards a black horned goose that flew over them. It hit the poor creature and it hit the ground dead. “Wow! You didn't miss a shot, Giovanni! You're one the greatest hunter in the whole Devildom! I bet you'll be summoned by prince Diavolo one of these days for one of his hunting trips.” The other one was a fairly strong demon named Kiru, he was a male Incubus with some envy. He's got that bowl cut, brown hair and he wore the same team jacket as his friend does. He is most likely the support type. “ I know. I will get what I always want.” Giovanni boasted. “No beast alive stands a chance against you, ha ha! and no Incubus girl, for that matter.” Kiru replies as he took the goose in his bag for supper later. “It's true, Kiru, but I've got my sight set on that one in particular!” He pointed out at Valentine who he just exited the shop. “You mean the exchange human student by Diavolo himself?” Kiru questioned his friend's taste. “He's the one, the lucky boy I'm going to make a Formal pact with!” Giovanni boasted with pride. “But he's-” “The most beautiful boy in centuries I've lived through!” Giovanni cuts him. Kiru tried to tell him about Val, but Gio wasn't listening. “I know, but-” “That makes him the best. And don't I deserve the best?” Gio picks him up from his jacket's collar and look dead in the eye. Kiru fussed with it. “But of course! I mean, you do! But I-” He then drops him. [GIOVANNI]: “Right from the moment when I met him, saw him - I said he's gorgeous and I fell. Here in town there's only he - Who is beautiful as me. So I'm making plans to woo and pact with Val.”

Giovanni wanted Valentine more than just a simple pact, he wanted him to make an OFFICIAL demonic pact. The only difference is that a regular pact can easily be removed once a deal is set or done. An Demonic pact is more like a marriage bond. It's more 'official' and gives more power for the demon.

Giovanni only saw him three times at events prior to today. The first was at a Devil-ball game, where his team was up against Beelzebub's. Valentine was in the crowd along with the other seven demon lords. His feminine-like beauty had captured his attention. The second was on another sparring competitions where high ranking demons, including the seven lords themselves, practices and compete for top spots. The third one was at Diavolo's party where Valentine had changed his appearance to fit in with other demons. He almost ask him for a dance until Lucifer took him away from him. Gio wouldn't let that glare from Lucifer that night to keep him away from Valentine. He 'marched' straight to Valentine who's just strolling into the further end of the town, presumably to return to the House of Lamentation. Whenever Giovanni wanted something, he takes it. No compromise. [FEMALE CHEERLEADING INCUBUSES] Look there he goes. Isn't he dreamy? Monsieur Giovanni, Oh! he's so cute! Be still my heart. I'm hardly breathing! He's such a tall, red, strong and handsome brute! [Witch Woman:] Bonjour! [Giovanni:] Pardon [Beauty incubus:] Good day! [Clown Woman 2:] Mais oui! [Undead Woman:] You call this bacon? [Werewolf Woman:] What lovely grapes! [Vampire Man:] Some cheese? [Ghost Woman:] Ten yards! [Cat Man:] One pound.

Unfortunately, the busy hour of the demon folks in the town residence had commence their daily routines. They unknowingly prevented him to reach Valentine who he was walking away from them.

[Giovanni:] Excuse me! Please let me through! [Vampire Cheese merchant:] I'll get the knife [Undead Woman:] This bread - [Werewolf Woman:] Those fish - [Witch Woman:] It's stale! [Clown Woman:] They smell! [Ogre Men:] Madame's mistaken. [Ogre Women:] Well, maybe so. [Demon folks:] Good morning! Oh, good morning!

Back on Valentine, he looked around to see several interactions between the demon town folks. Some were happy, upset, angry and more. He knew beforehand what they were, but he still haven't learn how and why. Which was new and exiting to him. [VALENTINE]: There must be more than my provincial life!

Eventually, Giovanni had catch up to him.

[GIOVANNI]: Just watch, I'm going to make Valentine a pact!

Gio had placed a hand on Valentine's shoulder and the human looked back at the demon. Val recognized the face before but he was clueless on who he was. “My name is Giovanni The Hellian. You might have heard of me before, haven't you? Ha! Well, as usual, I'm full of surprises for anyone.” Poor Val was like 'Have we really met before?'

[DEMON TOWNSFOLK]: Look there he goes! The boy is strange but special. A most peculiar gentlemen! It's a pity and a sin - he doesn't quite fit in.

Giovanni continues to 'flirt' by bragging himself even more, unknowingly that Valentine's still doesn't know him asides his name. “You know, my little Valentine, there's not a demon in all of the Devildom's united kingdoms who wouldn't LOVE to be in your shoes. This is the day-” Gio had noticed he looked at the widow reflection of himself and just wiped something on one of his sharp teeth with  his triangular tong. “Ah, ahem! THIS is the day where all of your hearts desires comes true.” Valentine might not be a social butterfly, but he knows how narcissistic characters can be. (He ought to know, he was born from one.) “What do you know about my desires? Do you know me well enough about my life before I live here?” Does this demon knew about his mother who she's rumored to be a very legendary, powerful witch? Who she's so powerful that almost every demon shuttered at her very name? Whom she had an obsession of dominance and control over him and tries to break him?

“I know plenty! Picture this!” Giovanni then traps Valentine between himself and the wall. “Once I've risen up and be acknowledged by future Demon King Diavolo, we will live in a modern luxury apartment with all the latest gadgets and clothing. My latest kills roasting in a white, electronic, up to date kitchen that does all the cooking and my beautiful little human, massaging my horns and wings. We'll also have beautiful incubuses to satisfy our needs, so I don't mind if you wanted some fun on the side. I'll make sure we'll have big beds to fit all of us.”

“For you and them?” Valentine 'innocently' asked. Does he think he KNOWS Valentine that well?! “Ha! Not just them but also you! Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be the only one sleeping in my arms.” Valentine then slides underneath his barring arms. “Thank you for the invite, but your picture and mine are very different paintings.” Giovanni doesn't let him go. He grabbed Valentine's wrist with a bit of force. “Make a formal pact with me, Valentine. Only you can help me.” Val tried to pull away from him. “I'm sorry but no, I want to be with the one I love, not just for status or image alone.”

Giovanni laughed “Love? Ha! Don't be ridiculous! I like my human more obedient, not-” His eyes widen as to someone who was standing behind Valentine. He recognized this menacing aura. “Didn't you heard what our human said? He's not interested making a pact with you.” He then saw red gloves freeing his wrist and he held it up while the other one covered his left torso. “Lucifer...” Valentine whispered with a blush when he looked up to him. “I suggest you leave him be if you want to keep your current status and have a chance to be promoted by Lord Diavolo himself.” Giovanni tsked and then leaves them, cussing mumbling 'freaks.'

“Are you alright? Have he done anything else to harm you?” Lucifer's attention is now on Valentine. “Yes, I'm fine. He really was a brainless boar.” Val responded. He then felt a hand brushed through his long hair and then lips on his fore head. His cheeks heated up. Lucifer chuckled. “My words exactly.” Valentine then looked down. “I... I know that I've wronged you and your brothers with pacts that I made prior to last night's confession. I really mean it when I said that I will change and... I DO want to be with someone I love. I can't stand being with someone who's just wants me as a possession and not as an only partner for life!” That makes Lucifer smiled. “Then you'll only need to prove it yourself if you ever want it really bad. If you can manage to make amends with my brothers, I will forgive you and maybe, we can make a pact. But my standards are normally high, are you sure you want that?” Valentine looked up straight in Lucifer's red eyes and nodded. “Good. Now, how about we both take quality time at the nearest cafe? I want to know a bit more about your... 'early' life in details. The others can wait for a bit.” Valentine then accepted Lucifer's invitation without hesitation. Lucifer chuckled as both of his left wings covered Valentine and pulls him closer to him. “That's what I like to hear. Now, stay close to me. I don't want you to be with another demon apart from me and my brothers, is that understood?”

[DEMON TOWNSFOLK]:'Cause he really is a funny boy. A beauty but a funny boy. He really is a funny boy. That Val! (Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!)

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Yeah, this is a different Gaming AU that I’ve played on my phone and I really liked @snowandseven‘s OC and story arcs.

Obey Me! Game belongs to Solomare. OC belongs to @snowandseven