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{D I G I M O N 02} x Text Posts Meme + The Beginning!Steve & Yukidarumon {Frigimon} ~ {CANON!} JEWISH-American Chosen Child/Chosen One (Confirmed in the 02 Memorial Book Post-02 Production) {I.M.G by Me} (ASK to Use/Share) {DO NOT RE-POST} {DO NOT RE-SHARE} +To Other Sites Without My PERMISSION!}
#steve and frigimon#steve and yukidarumon#steves yukidarumon#international digidestined#international chosen children#tamer steve#d02tb#koushirouizumi 02#d02tb: cap#koushirouizumi d02tb#koushirouizumi steve#kousteve#stevekou#koustevekou#stevekoutai#stevephil#stevelouphil#stevelou#reform jew steve#(IM t R Y I N G---)#({I HAVE VERY LIMITED c AP'S TO USE EVEN TO THIS DAY IM S O R R Y WE GOT EXACTLY ONE {1} f RAME IN D02TB})#(OK Steve does Enjoy D r i n ks if not h EAVY D r i n k e r b U T)#(O K Steve *wont* swear if Steve *knows* someones made uncomfortable by it b U T WHEN ALONE OrTalkinWith KoushiroLmao)#(STEVE ' I dont remember telling anyone I was 'saving myself for marriage' ')#(This is just as an aside but when I rewatched to grab the cap)#(Im pretty sure Steve is facing Phil when they touch hands in pure e LATED H A P P I N E S S at Stopping the IncidentTM)#({But its SO CUTE})#({I *a LWAYS* l o v e d that sequence in general but y EA WOW GOIN BACK to check SO MANY t HINGS in 'H. Q.' over T i m e})#r18 mention#the beginning spoilers
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O!Steve who kept slipping his used panties into Eddie's locker because he wanted to catch the poor alpha's attention.
There might be a better way to do it but Steve had listened to the little demon inside his head and became a menace instead.
"It's not attractive for an omega to be so bold," advised Tommy.
"Don't listen to him, babe, it's gonna work out just fine," assured Carol.
"But it's Munson so I'd say you should be careful, Dingus," warned Robin.
Not a week later, his wish was granted when Eddie finally cornered him and brought him back to Munson Trailer.
True to Robin's words, Steve had paid for his little trouble by having his pussy spanked until he cried and begged for the alpha to stop.
"Still wanna be a minx?" Eddie pushed two fingers inside and started fucking him with them.
"Nâ Nuh uh," Steve shook his head frantically, shaking and drooling at the painful pleasure. "Gonna beâ hmpâ gonna be good, alpha."
Eddie laughed meanly at him as if he knew Steve would act up again. He was definitely right about that.
Because after riding Eddie's knot all night long, Steve was back to his business once more.
But this time, he decided to give his alpha courting gifts. And better yet? They were photos of him with his beloved dildos.
He hoped Eddie would snap and make him scream until his throat was ruined.
#steddie#omegaverse#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#brat steve harrington#brat tamer eddie munson#sionewritesatmidnight
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whatâs your favorite ship and why is it a feral blonde with anger/daddy/mommy issues and a brunette who tries (but fails) to keep him on a leash?
OR alternatively, psycho, killing machine brunette and his moral compass and handler blonde?
#harringrove#billy hargrove#steve harrington#merlin#merthur#merlin emrys#arthur pendragon#gale cleven#john egan#buckbucky#rafebarry#obx rafe#barry obx#drarry#draco malfoy#harry potter#hangster#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#top gun maverick#top gun iceman#amc iwtv#lestat de lioncourt#louis de pointe du lac#aemond targaryen#lucerys velaryon#and every other blonde and brunette duo out there yall#like it tracks#and to make it interesting?? the roles switch#psycho brunette + psycho brunette tamer blonde
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Steve Blum appreciation post đ
#anime#Steve blum#cowboy bebop#spike#durarara#kyouhei#toonami#tom#naruto#orochimaru#zabuza#oonoki#legend of korra#amon#Digimon frontier#jp#digimon tamers#guilmon#w.i.t.c.h.#blunk
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Billy: I hate this stupid ass town! You're all so fucking lame.
Steve: Baby?
Billy: Yeah?
Steve: Are you feeling frustrated?
Billy: *Sadly nodding* Yeah...
Steve: *Pulling Billy into a hug* Is this why you're lashing out at others?
Billy: Yeah...
Steve: How about, tomorrow, we go into the woods, and I watch you do karate on a tree?
Billy: I'd really like that.
#billy hargrove#billy antis dni#billy hargrove deserved better#billy hargrove protection squad#harringrove#steve harrington#steve knows what his bf needs#billy needs to asked about his feelings sometimes#he may not be forthcoming on his own but if u ask he'll be honest#steve is the number one lion tamer#the lion is his baby#its billy btw#source: that 90s show#incorrect harringrove quotes#harringrove incorrect quotes
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Has anyone done a 10 Things I Hate About You AU with Harringrove and Fem! Billy because I can see Neil implementing the rule, Lucas getting Dustin to beg Steve to date Fem! Billy so that they can compete to ask out Max and Fem!Billy being the kind of woman that would be called a shrew?
#harringrove#billy hargrove au#billy hargrove#steve harrington#billy x steve#elle rants and writes#harringrove au#but can you imagine#Harringrove set in the 90s#Kat is essentially female Billy anyway in a different time and a less abusive dad#10 things i hate about you#if you want to go to the original#taming of the shrew#it still fits even if it problematic because Petruchio was basically a brat tamer#even if his methods are problematic now
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Gahhhhhhhhh. Chapter two was so good. I mean so, so mean. And angsty. But we psychically begged you for it and you gave it to us đ
Me: Queen of very early define the relationship tasks and always knowing where you are
Also me: Horny on main for undefined mean!dom Steve and baby!sub Eddie
Ahhh thank you so much! Not sure if the fic is really going to venture into mean dom Steve, I like him more as a soft dom but I think the last chapter kinda upped him to more of a brat tamer lmao, we're just gonna see where it goes. I'm glad you're enjoying it!
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Oh My Fucking God
this changed my life thanks
william afton who will not stand for any bratty behavior. throwing a hissy fit will result in you being thrown over his shoulder and into the bedroom, where he's very tempted to tie all your limbs together. perhaps another time. for now? he just wants to edge you until his message gets through your thick skull.
he fingers you, stretching you out to at least fit three inside of you, and pumps them rapidly, ignoring all your whining and begging for more. he'll suck your clit into his mouth and tease it with the tip of his tongue ever so slowly, having you crying out for more, only to have his mouth gone as soon as it came. he'll add the combo together and having you crying, thrashing around in the bed only for him to stop. he rests his head on your thighs, pretending to contemplate whether you actually deserve to cum or not.
and if you really pissed him off, he'll take the switchblade he keeps in the safety of his nightstand, and trace it up and down your body, always leaving the threat of cutting you out in the open. he'll stop at your thighs, grasp them, and carve his initials 'w.a.' which makes him smirk if you only know him as steve.
#YESSSSS LORD#BRAT TAMER WILLIAM AFTON !!!!!!!#Growls#gnaws on him#koe >>>>>#sliding on my wall like iâm in a music video#The FuckinfâŠ. Initials Iâm Nutting.#THIS IS SO YUMMY#clawing at my walls#???? THE THROWING OVER THE SHOULDER#SCREAMING#MEOWWWW#rhiâs recs#william afton#william afton x reader#BUSS.#steve raglan#steve raglan x reader#reading this and memorizing it as a daily mantra
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A third look at the human fucker community on monster tumblr
đŠEVIL-Empoaroarđ Follow
I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents.
đŠEVIL-Empoaroarđ Follow
Update: I seduced the hero's parents. Does anyone have advice for bonding with a human stepson?
(65,678 Notes)
đHumanTamer-BloodRaven Follow
Here are some ways you can keep your human from escaping without outright locking them up. I'm including stuff most of you won't be able to use just for thoroughness and to give ideas, feel free to add to this post with your own contributions.
-Erect a magical barrier your human needs your permission to cross, be sure to ask local wizards and the like for help if you're not used to setting this sort of thing up.
-Use love potions and other methods to speed up the process of removing their desire to escape you or resist your advances.
-Let them try to escape a few times, but set it up so that they fail and are immediately caught. You only need it to work enough times for learned helplessness to set in, so it doesn't need to be sustainable, psychology will do the rest.
-Put the exit somewhere they can't reach without help. Like up high if you can fly, or deep underwater if you're aquatic.
-Get guards. If you're worried about them getting at your humans, pick ones who won't be interested. Like if you only have men, recruit some lesbians for guard duty or vice versa. Bisexuals, call upon the asexuals.
đMr.Demon-King Follow
Also in some areas, like my domain, check for publicly available resources. I've been doing a lot to make humans more accessible for monsters, like free human tamer consultations.
(947,237 Notes)
đșAscetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow
At the monastery telling the monks about my magic that enthralls monks while I'm in the process of using it on them (the monks). The monks are enthralled.
đ§Vampy-Vevito Follow
Aren't you the guy who thought humans could breathe underwater?
đșAscetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow
FUCK YOU!
(53,435 Notes)
đDaddy-Angel Follow
Some of you will literally look up mpreg spells before acknowledging the existence of human women
đInkEbus Follow
It'd be sexist to only bring in a human woman for baby making when you really only care about the men, women should be with monsters who truly appreciate them
đDaddy-Angel Follow
My way of appreciating human women is getting them pregnant đ€°đ€°
đDragevening Follow
I wish they could lay eggs instead.
đŽNah-Gilfa Follow
Anything is possible with enough praying and mantras, do it long enough and the gods have to give you what you want
âĄïžIndra-officialâ
Follow
I swear if one of you fuckers calls on me via prayer or mantra for some weird sex thing I'm begging Shiva to end the world.
đȘTezcatlipoca-officialâ
Follow
You didn't seem so mad when Kunti needed you to get her pregnant.
đDaddy-Angel Follow
What happened to this post?
(405,345 Notes)
đNo-bell-steve Follow
It's so disappointing when I meet a human into monsters but not centaurs. I know people have their preferences, but it's frustrating how some people will be eager to have octopus like monsters from the abyss wrap their tentacles around them, but fucking a centaur is too much like bestiality.
đGoylegar Follow
Don't worry OP, there are plenty of monsterfuckers out there, you'll find your human partner one day. Your frustration is valid too though. It took me centuries to meet my human partner, I hope you don't need to wait as long.
đNo-bell-steve Follow
Thank you.
(200 Notes)
Read the first two entries here (part 1) and here (part2). May end the series here or at least put it on indefinite break, don't want to drag it out.
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Brat Steve and his smitten tamer Eddie.
Steve thought it was funny how easy Eddie would become whenever he called the older man 'Daddy'. It was his ultimate trick to win against Eddie in every quarrel they had.
âPlease, Daddyâ with puppy eyes would get Steve anywhere he wanted.
He was always smug that he had his boyfriend wrapped around his little pinky, but there was a reason why people always cautioned each other to not play with fire.
And Steve had been playing his little game for far too long for his own good.
âCall Daddy,â
Steve shook his head stubbornly and whimpered as the older man continued abusing his prostate without mercy.
âWhy not, hm?â Eddie nipped at his chin teasingly.
âYouâre playinâ dirty,â Steve whined and tried to glare, but rolled his eyes back instead when Eddie picked up the pace.
âBe nice to your daddy, babydoll,â Eddie ground into his sweet spot with controlled thrusts, making Steve mewl and shake like crazy.
âOâ Or what?â Steve challenged despite knowing heâd never win like this. Not when there was a big cock spearing him open and fucking his brain out.
He could feel it, the powerful orgasm that would overtake his senses at any given second. He was so closeâ
âOr,â Eddie buried to the hilt and stopped, firm hands keeping Steve in place when he attempted to move on his own. âWe're gonna stay like this for the rest of the night.â
âWhat d'you mean?â Steve frowned, irritated that Eddie had interrupted his orgasm.
"You can stop being a brat or," Eddie smiled slyly, "you can cockwarm me til morning. Your choice, baby."
Steve gasped, stupidly turned on and frustrated at the mere idea of Eddie ignoring his needs and using him like a cocksleeve.
He wanted to ask if Eddie would fuck him in his sleep and wake him up with a blinding orgasm.
As if reading his mind, Eddie smirked and pinched one of his nipples harshly, making him jolt and moan wantonly.
"Such a slut, aren't you?" Eddie patted his flushed cheek fondly.
"M'not," Steve protested petulantly and clenched around the thick cock inside him, doing his best to make Eddie move again.
Instead, the older man just gave him an amused look that annoyed him to no end.
âDon't be mean,â he pouted and huffed indignantly, âThis isâ this is bullying.â
"How is this bullying?" Eddie chuckled and bounded his wrists in a big hand when he intended to reach down for his neglected cock.
Steve squirmed and whined pitifully. He was so hard that he could cry. He needed Eddie to do something about it. Butâ but he didn't want to beg. He was not a slut. He was not.
âAll you have to do is ask, angel,â Eddie reminded him with a tender kiss on his forehead, but he could tell those dark eyes were glinting with something dangerous.
It was a trap that Steve had been too familiar with but still willingly stepped into it anyway.
If only he wasn't so desperate for relief, if only Eddie didn't have such a nice dickâŠ
âFuck me,â Steve looked up at his boyfriend from beneath his lashes. "Please, Daddy?"
âAs you wish, baby boy," Eddie said with a sharp smile before pulling him in a heady kiss, "Daddyâs gonna take care of you."
And take care of him Eddie did.
All night long until Steve was a delirious mess who couldn't stop babbling âThank you, Daddyâ every time Eddie came inside him.
Needless to say, Steveâs ultimate trick had worked a little too well for his ass' comfort.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#brat steve harrington#brat tamer eddie munson#but he's also a simp so there's not much he can actually do lmao#sionewritesatmidnight
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Are the ST Spotify playlists good? Like with a varied mix of songs?? That sounds cool do you have a link?
hey! they tried to capture the character's vibe and what we've seen in canon of the music they listened to, so i find them varied enough while still being character-specific. billy's is the only one i really stuck to listening to bc i like him & i like rock. (also i already liked a lot of his songs.)
billy's pedal to the metal playlist
will's castle byers classics playlist
mike's bassment beats playlist
^ those 3 are the only live ones from spotify left, but there were 13 playlists released after s2 of every main character + the demogorgon (LOL) and ppl have tried archiving them on spotify. ive attached a screenshot of the playlists' titles under the cut, so if you're curious, you can search the title in spotify and maybe find copies of them from diff users who archived them. :)
#rei replies#stranger things#i remember nancy's and steve's being good for pop music#looking through will's i can see that it's like a tamer version of billy's playlist haha#his also has good stuff if youre into rock/indie etc. there's queen on his playlist!!!#the closest thing to queen on billy's is the struts (who are also great)#but anyways i really only tried the playlists of the characters i liked and billy's was the only one that stuck (tho steve's was close)#i WANTED to like max's but i couldnt with the more pop ones on hers đđ#looking at will's i feel like his actually has a lot of artists and songs i listen to but put together there isnt enough energy for me đ
#most of billy's are fast :) but i digress
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Playing Dangerous
part 2 of Salvatore
pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader
summary: sure, the fact that heâd schemed up an entire, elaborate ruse to get between your legs was upsetting. more upsetting was the fact that he refused to fess up, insisting that you needed to be protected (or at the very leastâcautious) because your life was in âgrave danger.â most upsetting, however? that would be the fact that through it all and above everything else, you still wanted himâbadly.
warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; afab fem reader; mentions of reader having long hair; bratty!reader; brat-tamer!javi; alcohol consumption; smoking; pet names (baby, sweetheart, cariño, hermosa); some angst; dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, age gap).
word count: 10.7k (sorry again)
no use of y/n in this fic
hello here is part twooooo! thank you for all the love on Salvatore I absolutely love all of you so much. you don't rly need to read p1 to enjoy this, just know that: reader is the ambassador's secretary and is an asshole, Javi is also an asshole, they fucked for the first time a few days ago b/c he took her home after someone seemed to be after her life.
donât forget to join the taglist if youâre nasty; feedback, asks, comments, smoke signals and carrier pigeons always welcome. kisses. -em<3
â
read part 3, Dark Paradise, here.
â
Letâs get in the back of your cop car, officer! - Playing Dangerous
âI am not speaking to you.â
Murphyâs eyes come alive with exasperation, a striking shift from their usual half-asleep, perpetually vacant gawp. Not quite at the point of impatience yet, his voice is soft when he responds.
âPlease.â
You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. An impassive sneer makes its way onto your expression.
Not a fucking chance.
Not only were you not planning on ever doing Steve Murphyâand especially, his asshole partnerâeven the smallest of favours throughout your remaining time on this godforsaken planet, youâd come to the conclusion (quite recently, in fact) that youâd rather dance barefoot on broken glass than be in the same room as either member of the pair.
And it was a shame, really.
After that (now regrettable, once incredible) night at Peñaâs place, everything had been fine.
More than fine. Not even awkward.
For a glorious moment, waking up next to him, ruined and sore and bruised and satisfied, sharing a morning coffee and then a ride to workâpeace (and the planted seeds of something else, too) had finally settled across the worn-in battlegrounds between you, solid roots spreading with each passing second spent not bickering. For crying out loud, when heâd gotten called away to BogotĂĄ that very same day, youâd put yourself to work keeping his place clean, going so far as to anticipate his return.
Everything had been fine.
Until, of course, youâd gotten the old Chevy serviced.
âCarâs running fine, señorita. Put that missing part back, sâgood to go.â
âMissing part?â
âThe spark plugâwasnât in there when we looked.â
And the missing pieces fell into place.
How heâd waltzed into your car earlier on in the day, running his fingers along the hard, hot plastic of the dashâanalyzing, observing, and finally commenting on your shitty engine. Then, heâd been conveniently there, waiting for you in the middle of the night, watching you wrestle your hood open in the parking lot after work. Hell, he took you to his place after heâd told you he'd seen a shady truck parked in front of yours⊠and youâd trusted him.
Without bothering to check for yourself, youâd trusted him.
You had to hand it to the man; it was a clever plan. Wear you down during the day only to corner you while alone, vulnerable, and at night, with no possible avenues for escape.
All to get inside your pants.
God.
Murphy huffs, bringing you back down to Earth. âListen,â he rubs his temples, exhaustion weighing down the curves of shoulders, âWe just want to make sure youâre safe. You donât have to stay with him, either; Connieââ
âI donât want to hear it,â you snap, narrowing your eyes in full view of his own. âI keep wondering, though... seeing as you'reâŠÂ thick as thieves, these days,â you lean forward over your desk, studying his swallow. âWas it you that shot off that gun? Or did he get someone else to participate in his little scheme?â
The agent tilts his head to the side, putting on the air of a wordless 'really, sweetheart?' before launching into a recitation of a sorely well-versed explanation.
But you cut him off, unforgiving in your suspicion. âDonât bother, alright? Even if I did believe that, what, some 'cartel sicario'ââ you emphasize the ridiculousness of the statement by tossing up a couple of well-timed air quotes ââwas after meâŠ?â and then youâre gesturing wildly to yourself, fingertips pointed straight to your heart. âI would rather dieâreally, seriously, dieâthan step foot into your homeâor-or fucking PeñaâsâEver. Again.â
The mounting ire behind your breathless rambling finally wears him down; he surrenders his complexion to a look of genuine defeat. His arms drop to his sides, heavy and limp.
As you try to appear busy, fidgeting with the scattered papers and documents lying listlessly across your desk, Murphy turns on his heels, stooping toward the exit.
For a brief moment, he hesitates, coming to a slow halt halfway down his holy pilgrimage of freeing you from his fucking presence.
âDid youâŠâ and he briefly trails off, anticipating your wrath with a wince. âDid you fill out that form?â
Irritation clouds your thoughts. Its manifestations in your body feel almost violent.
âWhat do you think, genius?â
You scare yourself with the aggression underpinning each and every word.
Inside the safety of your mind, your inner dialogue treats him even worse.
Go, motherfucker. Go, go, go, go, go or Iâll tear us both apart, Iâll explode, Iâllâ
You hope that itâs Luck listening to your prayers (and not God), because as soon as your brain has time to register the nature of your wicked, near sacrilegious thoughts toward the man, Murphyâs yellow-dusted crown is drooping down in eventual resignation, leading the way as he trudges back to his corner.
A relief.
A short lived one.
Too short.
BecauseâŠ
Well, because those fucking memories wonât stop replaying inside your mind, etched like crude Botticellis on the backs of your eyelids.
Overlaying the non-stop highlight reel of a vicious fight with Peña, just that morningâ
âWell, I didnât see a car. What I saw was you, whipping me over to your fuck-padâand now? I see your whole... fucking masterplan to get me into bed.â
âYouâre talking fuckinâ crazy. Thereâs no pussy in the world thatâs worth pulling all that.â
âare flashes of his bare, glistening chest, an almost tangible haze of longing obscuring his eyes. Youâd taken him in your mouth; youâd felt him all over: against you, with you, inside you.
And when youâre not seeing him, youâre forced to hear him, over and over and over again.
âYou fuckinâ sing for me when youâre cominâ on my cock.â
So, you push certain memories away by calling on certain others, repeating every cruel word youâd ever exchanged with each other like a mantra, an affirmation.
They remind you of the man that Javier Peña truly was.
âYou are the worst person Iâve ever had the shit-luck of meeting, Peña.â
âYeah, well, Iâm not too crazy about you, either. Got some serious growinâ up to do, sweetheart.â
A loud snap wrenches you back to your senses. You unfurl your fingers to reveal the broken remnants of a poor, innocent pencil youâd been white-knuckle-death-gripping.
What really had you ticking was that, after youâd hurled accusations and insults at him for the better part of an hourâtotally monopolizing the space of the familiar, dusty old filing roomâheâd had the nerve to continue on with his little act.
âYou donât have to stay with meââ
And his voice had been coated in poison, laced with the kind of fiery contempt that surely only a guilty man could achieve.
ââbut do me a favour and just donât be a fuckinâ idiot. Itâs shit work, hiring new secretaries.â
He hadnât waited around for an answer, leaving you alone with his final words and a mountain of your own unsaid ones.
So, youâd hissed a âfuck offâ to the lingering ghost of his presence in the room, trying, in vain, to slow your shallow breaths.
You heave a sigh, forehead dropping to lay heavy against the desk.
If only you could take your brain out for the day. If only you could run it under cold water. Better yet, if only you could scrub it clean with bleach, put it in the dishwasher, run it with the damn laundryâanything to make it shiny and new and untainted.
Peña was lying.
He had to be lying.
What kind of shit sicarioïżœïżœgoes after secretaries who, beyond not knowing what theyâre supposed to know about, donât care enough to actually retain any of it?
Not a good sicario. Definitely not one who would still be alive in MedellÏn, today.
It was all bullshit.
~
You werenât the kind of person who attended work parties.
They always ran excruciatingly long. On top of that, you had to watch traumatized coworkers drink. A lot. Then, there was, of course, after-hours work-talk.
None of that had ever screamed 'best night ever!' to you.
Tonight, however, you hadnât been given a choice: the ambassador had needed 'someone there, you know, just in case work stuff comes upâ which really meant that she was banking on you to give her a ride home at the end of the night.
Like that was happening. She hadn't been pleased when you'd made it clear to her that you were out of commission, off-the-clock, done-zo starting at fifteen to ten. You'd hoped that, at that point, she would've rescinded her original request.Â
She hadn't.Â
Still, Noonan had spent the week being remarkably kind to youâmaybe her invitation was her (deeply misguided) way of trying to make up for the shit-storm sheâd watched you face over past few days (whether she believed Peñaâs dystopian, hitman fantasy was uncertain; either way, sheâd witnessed your torment at his hands, and both realities seemed equally as emotionally taxing).
Despite all the hints youâd dropped about wanting the night off, she either hadnât noticed, hadnât cared, or thought you were just trying to be polite.
Come on.
Sheâd been your boss long enough to know there was no chance of you pussy-footing around out of politeness.
The event was meant to commemorate some big accomplishmentâa narco sting gone right (or else, some big narco boss gone six-feet-under). The reason behind the festivities wasnât of any importance to youâgetting through the next few hours as quickly and as painlessly as possible took up all of the remaining (albeit limited) space in your head.
Because, afterwards? You were going out.Â
A good friendâs bachelorette, a shit-ton of dark tequila, and the warm lips of a total stranger.
God, you needed that. Every intimate spot on your body was in desperate need of a cleanse. Your tongue, the soft skin between your thighs, the peach-fuzz on your cheeksâŠ
They remembered him.
They made sure you couldnât forget him.
About half-way through serving your sentence in regulatory purgatory, someone turns on the stereo. A Queen songâthe one that everyone knows. Youâre looking around, trying to locate the source of the sound.
Itâs mostly administrative and political bodies crowding up the office's stuffy foyer. Thereâs an odd clink of glass meeting glass whenever someone new walks in, or else when a dealâs finally graduated beyond the negotiation stage.
Itâs too highbrow, too boring and white-collar for restless DEA agents, you remind yourself.
Slowly, slowly the hours trickle by.
The music helpsâevery Diaz song has the minutes moving double-time.
And after what feels like centuries of excruciating small-talk, of brushing off endless, casual condescension, of staring at the clock hanging off the wall, finally, itâs time to go.
First, a last minute change (youâre not wearing a damn button-up to the barâitâll be a tight dress and cute shoes or absolutely nothing at all) and a quick refresher in the bathroom. Then, youâre trailing a bee-line towards the exit with 'home-free' on the tip of your tongue.Â
Keep your head down. Nod. A chagrined smile to each pair of gawking eyes.
âCause soon? Youâll be dancing.
Youâre straddling the office doors, left foot in, right foot out when an authoritative voice calls your name from behind.
Christ Almighty.
Turning slowly, you find yourself triangulated between Noonan andâŠ
Fucking Steve Murphy.
That one looks apprehensive. The former?
A bit red in the face.
âMurphy, here,â the ambassador gestures sloppily towards the agentâs uneasy form, âTells me he needs something. Papers, right? Think we can get that to him before you leave for your⊠little soirĂ©eâwhat do you say?â
She doesnât catch it, but he does; your unbridled, aversive stare pierces him right between his eyes. Forcing it down (and oh, does it ever burn your throat) you etch a reluctant smile, nodding wordlessly to your boss.
God, if only money were an object. This damn job would be a short paragraph on your resume, a blip in your timeline on this Earth.
Noonan slaps Murphy on the back, harrumphing as though sheâd just solved world hunger. Quickly, she finds someone new to accost (or be accosted by), swept into a different, equally-boring conversation before you can even begin to feel angry at her for putting you into such aâŠÂ distasteful position.
And you whir on him.
Before the rush of accusations gets a chance to part from your lips, Murphy interrupts you, putting his hands up in mock surrender.
âI didnât say a thing.â He sounds serious, sincere. âSwear. She came up to me and just⊠knew all about it.â
You narrow your eyes in suspicion. Nonetheless, your fingernails slowly retreat from their burrows in the skin of your palm.
Itâs not because of his earnestness.
No.
Itâs because only a serious maniac would flaunt their under-the-table bullshit so publicly, flying it right under the ambassadorâs nose. Whatever those records were for (and whatever the reason why Peña and Murphy so badly needed them), it was becoming increasingly clear that they were not intended to land in either of their hands.
Murphy hadnât been nervous because of you. Heâd been nervous because of her. A little less drink, a bit more curiosity, and Noonan would've been privy to whatever it was that the pair was up to.
âFine.â
He exhales, shoulders relaxing, dropping like stones with the release.
Without another word, you make your way down the hall, charging toward the alcove harboring your desk. Murphy trails behind, five feet back at all times like a recently-scolded school-child.
Good.
It takes a few, long minutes to get the job done.
He waits around anxiously, fiddling with your stationary (until you slap his hand away from your beloved pens and planners) and pacing around the room.
When it's done, you donât read the form, you donât investigate. The less you know, the better.
And frankly?
You couldnât give less of a shit.
As the papers slide out of the printer, you warn him: âYouâre gonna need a signature from their side, you know. I can only get you so far.â
He nods, taking the precious sheets in hand. âThink we got that side covered.â Then, heâs reading them over, checking to make sure everything's in order. You stand with your hand on your hip, waiting impatiently for his goddamn approval. After an eternity (reallyâby the end of it youâre genuinely wondering whether the man should get tested for dyslexia), Murphy hums in satisfaction, giving you an awkward, âThanks, again.â
You scoff, crossing your arms over your half-exposed chest.
Didnât even thank me a first time, asshole.
He spins around, aiming for the exit, when another body appears before him.
And the man stops Murphy in his tracks, deep-brown eyes trailing down to the packet of papers cradled between his partner's hands.
âNoonan came through, then.â
Itâs all he says.
Your nostrils flare.
The skin on your face positively burns.
Of course it had been him. He was probably the entire reason behind the ambassadorâs unusual tipsyness, too. Hell, heâd probably fed her Prosecco and half-compliments âtil sheâd been more than happy to do him a million favours.
Wasnât that his M.O., anyways? âGet âem drunk and get my way?â
Three comfortable, familiar words find themselves slidingâeasilyâoff your tongue.
âFuck off, Peña.â
You surprise yourself with the cruelty of your tone, the biting emphasis of each word.
He settles his onyx eyes on you. They glaze over with hunger, with amusement, with danger.
Fuck.
âDonât get your panties in a twist, sweetheartâI will in a minute,â and he nods at his partner, effectively dismissing him.
Murphy hesitates, eyes jumping between the stand-off taking place before him. Likely, he was trying to decide which one of you was going to murder the other first.
Finally, with his beloved form tucked under his arm, Murphy heaves a sigh of resignation, and then heâs gone.
Leaving you alone with Peña.
The corners of his lips pull back into an arrogant smirk as his eyes rake over your bodyâdone up, dressed down, and positively fuming in your little kitten heels.
âYou look hot.â
Itâs all he says.
Some girls wouldâve killed to hear those words from him. Youâd spent years watching their eyes trail his movements in the office, listening to their puling voicesâ'is Javi there?'âover the phone.
But it just makes you want to scream.
Fearing the actual possibility of that coming to fruition, you keep your mouth sealed shut. Tight.
Silence wonât do for Peña.
âWhatâd you tell me, once?â He muses softly, making his way towards your desk. âSomethinâ about this place not beinâ a⊠a whatâd you call it? A brothel?â
Dog.
He yanks a retort from your lips as if he had full command over them. âIâm going out, asshole.â
His face twitches ever-so-slightly, just enough for you to catch the hint of emotion. Then, itâs gone.
âNo, youâre not.â
Casual as ever, he does that thing: runs a finger from the corner of his bottom lip down the length of it, looks up at you through thick, dark eyebrows.
You bristle at the sheer, unwinding effect it has on you.
âYes, IÂ am.â
He raps his knuckles against the desk in irritation; nevertheless, his voice is soft, imploring as he persists. âCâmon, baby. I need you to listen to me, right now. Itâs..." and he undresses you with a mere look, "It's not a good time for you to be goinâ to those kinds of places.â
Just like any other man.
Probably, Peñaâs ego was so over-inflated that the mere thought of any of his conquests colluding with another man had him on the brink of spontaneous combustion.
Because God forbid you fuck anyone else.
God forbid you even think of touching anyone else.
And this strange, uncharacteristic possessiveness, this⊠need for controlâit was wearing extremely thin.
The man had zero authority over you. He certainly didnât get to preside over the choices you made during your free time.
âDonât call me baby, PeñaâIâm not your baby.â The snapped retort makes you sound so young, to the point where, for a moment,  you understand why the agent had called you a brat so many times that one, fateful night.
Still, you soldier on, focussed on freeing yourself from yet another one of the evening's grueling set-backs. âAnd Iâm not gonna âlisten to youâ just âcause you think youâve got some sort ofâŠÂ machismo claim over me.â
A deft muscle in his jaw tenses. He rounds the desk, moving just a half-foot closer to you; that alone is enough to jump-start your heart, and youâre almost sure he can hear it, jack-hammering away inside your chest. You both know that being the first to step away signified weaknessâconcessionâso you stay put (even when your legs yield to a slight wobble).
And heâs almost crooning. âYou can spread those legs for half the country, for all I care, baby.â A condescending look, cast down at you over the bridge of his nose. âNot what this is about.â
Yeah, right.
âPlease.â You roll your eyes. âStill working that angle?â
He takes a step forward. âIs it so crazy to think that I could just be tryna look out for you?â Meeting your gaze, he speaks earnestlyâpleading through his irritation.
âI donât need you to âlook out for meâ,â Your back grazes against the ambassadorâs doorsâyou kick yourself internally for having subconsciously conceded to a back-step. âEspecially not since the last time I thought thatâs what this was?â your fingers gesture wildly between the (lack of) space separating your bodies, âYou totally took advantage of me.â
A pause as the agent fluctuates from bafflement to genuine offense.
âTook advâare you being serious?â he scoffs, shaking the coarse, dark hair on his crown. âI gave you, like, one drink.â
Victory courses through your veins at the sudden, intense flood of irritation marking his tone, the vein popping in his jaw.Â
Anything to get to him, to make him tick, to scratch that itch.Â
Dig. Dig. Dig.
A shrug. âMaybe you put something in it.â
His eyebrows jump up, eyes widening with the movement.
Just. So. Close.
âAnd⊠you know, I am a lot younger than youââ
ââokay, enough.â
Peñaâs growled response has your voice fizzling out into nothingness. Closing whatâs left of the distance between you, muscled form looming, he flattens you against the ambassadorâs office doors. As one large hand slowly splays out next to your ear, the other comes up to grasp your chin. His fingers wrap around your jawbone, all the way from one ear to the other.Â
Youâre stuck, frozen under the weight of that dominant leer.
âYâknow,â he muses, deep and low, âItâs really fuckinâ obvious what all this is actually about, sweetheart.â Trapped in his glare, you watch his eyes grow dark, his gravelly voice falling into a register youâd never before heard it descend to. And heâs so, so close to you, close enough that you can smell him: that distinct, earthy scent of man that never failed to have your head spinning, your arms weak. âThis⊠highschool bullshit youâve been pullinâ since I got back⊠accusinâ me of all kinds of shitâ"
You deny yourself the pleasure of looking at his lips when his words withdraw into an almost-whisper.
âMakes you feel real innocent, doesnât it?
You donât respond, concentrating on stifling the growing ache in your core, the thump-thump-thumps inside your rib cage, the lump forming in your throat.
A rarity, a miracle, Jesus turning water into wine: words fail you.Â
âKnow what I think, cariño?â His fingernails press into your cheeks, digging soft indents. Not to bruiseâ
To hold you steady.
To assure himself of his command over your full, devoted attention.
When he finally continues, his smoky breath raises the hairs along your exposed skin.
God, it must be, like, nine-hundred degrees in the room.
âI thinkââand heâs toying with you, near-black eyes dancing with amusementââYouâre just embarrassed.â
Leaning in, his lips brush against the ridges of your ear, slow words washing over you in big, heavy waves. ââBout how easy it was for me to get between these legs.â Male, calloused fingers ghost over the skin of your thighs, creeping higher and higher up the length of your body.
âRemember how wet you got for me, cariño? Begginâ me to fuck you so rough?â
And for a brief, suspended momentâ
You do.
He leans back enough for you to watch his eyes harden, uttering an âI remember it all, baby,â as his thumb leaves your jaw to trace the highest point of your cheekbone.
And his tone turns to stone.Â
âEspecially when youâre acting like you need a fuckinâ reminder.â
Your cheeks grow red-hot. The ground feels unsteady under your feetâand the spell breaks.
Pig.
âYouâre fucking vile, Peña,â you spit, wrenching his grip off your face. âAnd also, dead wrong.â Slamming into his shoulder, you aim to storm out.
He catches your arm, twisting you back around to face him. âIf you go out tonight,â the man near-growls, lecturing down at you like a damn parent, âYouâre putting your life and everyone else's on the line.â
You tear your wrist from his fingers, shrugging off his empty warning with a dramatic spin on your heels.
Strutting out, you leave him with a poison-coated, âSay âhiâ to the whores for me.â
And youâre gone.
~
Itâs loud. Your feet are sore from dancing in your heels. A different, unfamiliar body is in reach in every possible direction from your own.
Itâs perfect.
Five shots in and you still feel like you could take more, if only to forget the exhausting events of the day.
Less than 48 hours ago youâd been preparedâdear God, longingâto hand yourself over to a man you were now quite happy to never see again. With your hands wrapped around a strangerâs neck, youâre determined to cleanse yourself of his lingering traces.
Heâs gazing down at you, male, hungry eyes gunning for the taking. Local, you guess, or at the very least South-American. After a daring look, you grab him by the collar, brushing your starved lips against his.
âWant to get out of here?â
The pronunciation isnât greatâbut it does the trick. He nods enthusiastically, allowing you to take his hand in your own without hesitation. Too easy. The hard part is weaving through the agitated, bustling crowd with your nameless partner in tow.
Itâs reckless. Itâs stupid. But God, is it ever necessary.
Escaping your friends at the start of the night had been childâs play, and they could be counted on to be too fucked-up at this hour to notice your absence, anyway.
Good.
Your act of desperation would be remembered solely by its participants.
A gentle evening wind swirls around your tingling body, the dayâs heat hanging thick in the air as you step onto the street, the syncopated thumps of Latin music fading unwillingly into the background.
Pivoting abruptly, you flatten yourself against the wall outside, pulling the stranger in close by the fabric of his blue button-up.
âYours or mine?â
He smirks, gentle lines forming by his golden eyes. Internally, you commend yourself: the catch was quite pretty.
âHere is okay, I think.â
Then, his lips are on yours, parting you open in a sloppy, drunk kiss.
This could work.
His traveling hands already seem to be numbing some of the tension simmering under your skin.
This could work.
His rough kisses overwhelm your senses, slowly filling the hollow ache lodged at the heart of your core.
Please, Godâlet this work.
Just as a hand reaches up to cradle the back of your neckâ
(let this work, let this work, let this work)â
Just as a pleased moan travels from your lungs into his ownâ
Tires screech against the pavement, slamming you back into your body, wrenching you straight into the dire moment. Tearing your lips from the strangerâs, you peer over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of a black Camino screaming to a stop right before you. Time stops; the windows are down, and what you know to be the barrel of a hand-gun pokes out from the backseat.
âGet down!â
Maybe it's in your head (after all, it would make sense for your psyche to summon his voice in a moment so violent); or maybe it's real. Either way, you listen to the command, hitting the ground without any reservations. And those stupid heelsâyou stumble, face-planting onto the pavement, scraping every exposed part of your body against hot, rough cement.
A cry of terror rips from your throat as the sound of bullets punctuates the warm, summer nightâJesus, itâs louder than anything youâd ever heard before.Â
Somewhere along the chaos, the pretty stranger from the bar books it down the calle.
Everything happens so fast. A familiar Cherokee veers in the way, separating you from the attackers. The surrounding air becomes rife with lead, a terrified chorus of male and female voices joining the symphony, and you really canât tell whether the pain in your chest is from the friction of your own harmonizing screams or if itâs bullets tearing through your body. From the ground, you watch your attackersâ vehicle take off down the street, haphazardly parting crowds of cowering civilians in its wake.
When it all stops, it doesnât really stop.
Violence persists, ringing in your ears like a doomsday clock going off, an A-bomb alarm siren. The echoes are happy to prolong your torment.
The Jeepâs passenger door swings open. You scramble back, scampering down the pavement as adrenaline claims you in never-ending rushes.
âGet inside, now.â
You nearly sob with relief at the familiar voice. It hadn't all been in your head. Jumping up on unstable legs, you lunge into his car, jerking the door shut behind you.
Without sparing a moment, his white-knuckled hands yank the wheel to the side, veering onto a road just off the main strip.
Javier Peñaâs never looked so stressed.
âYouâre not gonna follow them?â It comes out as a cry, a desperate plea for retribution.
He doesnât answer.
Which doesnât stop you.
You want to see them punished for making you feel so helpless, and for the scrapes and bruises decorating your elbows, your knees, your palms.
âJavi,â a begging king of shout, âWhy arenât we following them?â
ââCause youâre in the fucking car!â
In the heat of the moment, the cutting edge of his harsh tone doesnât bother you. If anything, itâs gentle compared to the violent sensations stewing within your body and mind.
âSo?â
He takes a sharp right, slamming your side against the Jeepâs hard interior.
âBeen in enoughâŠâ He grits his teeth, trying to keep his irritation in check, âCompromising situations tonight, alright? Now, just shut up ân let me drive.â
You pipe down, not awfully interested in getting yelled at again in your fragile state.
At first, it feels like the full-body trembles wracking your entire being wonât ever cease. And yet, by the grace of God, after a few minutes, the thundering behind your ribcage slowly subsides.
It helps that youâre still a little buzzed.
It especially helps when his driving slows and the streets begin to emptyâwhen the shops and houses become more and more recognizable, when the night grows more and more tame.
You know where heâs headed. The safety of the intended destination has you relaxing, finally level enough to take deep breaths.
Eventually, he stops the car, cutting the engine in full view of his building's front door.
The rumbling stops, and suddenly, it's very quiet. Javier groans, leaning back against his seat, bringing a hand up to his temples. He doesnât look at you, keeping his eyes closed behind the palm of his hand.
And oh.
Heâs pissed.
âGo inside, lock the door, donât open it for anyone.â His command, though dripping with ire, is underpinned with genuine concern. When you donât respond, he finally shifts his gaze to meet yours, fixing you with an intimidating, severe kind of stare.
âDo you understand?â
At first, your impulse is to respond with a bitchy retort, to meet his intensity head-on with your own brand of unpleasantness. You stifle that reflex, taking stock of the situation at hand: Peña had just saved you from a flurry of bullets.
Peña⊠had just saved youâŠ
And the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.
Heâd been telling the truth.
Someone was really after you. Twice, now, they'd tried to take your life.
And, still? Your addled brain canât seem to wrap itself around the idea of Peñaâs innocence. Your bursting question takes you both by surprise.
âSo, you didnât take my spark plug?â
He stares at you, full mouth parted in genuine bewilderment. Then, he scoffs, breathing an exhausted exhalation. âNo, I didnât take your damn spark plug, sweetheart. Thatâs what Iâve been saying. If youâd bothered to actually fuckinâ listen for once in your lifeâŠâ he shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, ââCouldâve avoided allâŠÂ this.â
Shame tries its best to seep into your core. You resist it, scrambling for reasons to justify your actions to him.
To yourself.
You hated being wrong. That feeling had a tendency of overwhelming everything elseâof overriding rationality, itself.
So, you turn to a classic defense, an ol' reliable: deflection. âAfter all the shit youâve put me through over the years, can you blame me for not, just like, blindly trusting you?â
He scowls, angling his shoulders to square off with your own.
âNever asked for you to âblindly trustâ shit, though, did I?â He huffs, âJesus.âÂ
You try not to wince as he continues on, as the truth of his words and the seriousness of his delivery render you mute. âYouâre a secretary, sweetheart. This is my jobâmy lifeâokay? When I tell you to be careful, for the sake of your own damn good, you need to listen to me.â
Thereâs a long pause as his words tease out your final, entangled threads of resistance.
He was right. Youâd been stupid in your denial, putting yourself and dozens of others in danger.
Putting Javi in danger.
It takes everything you have to fight the tears threatening to well along your lashes. But there's no sense in allowing yourself to mourn your mistakesâat least not at this very moment.
No, now was not the time to work through your shame.
Now was the time to seek forgiveness.
To make amends.
âIâm sorry,â you whisper, trying to catch his downcast eyes.Â
And itâs true.
Javi shakes his head, resisting your apology. He says nothing, and your heart aches for him.
Whatever this man wasâhe hadnât deserved a fraction of the hell youâd given him.
The hell youâd given him becauseâŠ
Because heâd gotten close. Too close. Close enough to soften you, to see you in a way that not one single person had the right to. Heâd been a novelty: the first man youâd trusted enough to be capable of handling the full breadth of yourself. And when that had started to feel volatileâas though heâd gained too much of you?
Well, youâd needed a reason to push him away. To wrench yourself back from him.
Because youâd been embarrassed.
Knowing that heâd been right about that, too, makes you feel so small, so young, and deeply naive.
Immature.
You lean over, crooning at his turned profile.
âI mean it, Javi.â His name is your weaponâyou will it to wear him downâa reminder of what it sounds like leaving your lips. âIâm sorry.â
Again, silence.
Itâs fucking unbearable.
Placing an unsteady hand on his knee, you trail it up his thighâslowly. His chest hitches with the force of a deep, sharp inhale and yet, he still refuses to meet your gaze.
But you catch his reflection in the glass: a slight twinge of the eyebrows, a delicate parting of the lips, and a hint of longing within those furious eyes.
Wiggle room.
âCould you ever forgive me?â You ask timidly, seductively, fingers creeping towards the crease of his trousers and that big silver buckle looming right above it.
Finally, he turns, his expression meeting yours with a hungry (albeit still deeply annoyed) look.
That wanting youâd learned to recognizeâŠ
It excites you.
And as you tug at his belt, releasing it with tantalizing slowness, you keep your steady gaze on his undecided one, uttering a pleading, âI can make it up to you, baby.â
Wordlessly, he watches your fingers move to the button of his pants, then to his fly, working with dedication, with delicate care.
Thereâs movement as you reach your fingers underneath the fabric. He grows hard for you, burgeoning out of the fabric in a matter of seconds.
Itâs all the invitation you couldâve possibly hoped for.
His skin is hot against your knuckles as they slide down his lower abdomen. Grasping the base of his cock, you use two hands to spring him free.
God, heâs even bigger than how youâd remembered himâbigger than even your guiltiest fantasies.
Javi groans softly when you pull him, releases a hot, shallow breath when you stroke him, and a low, breathy âfuuuckâ when you finally, finally take him in your mouth.
He tastes like the salt of the ocean. This close, you can smell men's cologne mingling with sweat.
Itâs heaven.
And you just donât want him to be angry anymore. Itâs all you can think aboutâlips cradled adoringly around his cock, tongue running up and down the long length of himâas he throws his head back in pleasure.
He eventually relaxes, conceding to the ecstasy you persuade him with. Almost drinking the uncertaintyâthe resistanceâright out of him.
âChrist,â he groans, tangling his fingers in your hair, forcing you to take in every last inch of him. âWanted to shut you up like this all fuckinâ day.â
It becomes a challenge to breathe, but air simply isnât a priority with a man like him at your fingertips, as your responsibility. This, he knows, his heavy hand determining the slow, careful pace, the impossible depth, and the angle of your unspoken apology.
Growing wet and lightheaded at the same time, you loose a moan against his velvety skin.
Javi laughs, darkly. âAlways got somethinâ to say, huh? Even with a mouth full of cock.â
You smile around himâtaunts are good. Better than silence, anyways. âMhmm.â
The sounds of his laughter rumbles soft and low throughout his middleâso different, so sweet and innocent compared to the wet, filthy ones produced by your mouthâs ministrations.
You give him everything you have, ignoring the droplets forming in the corners of your eyes and lips, the dull burning inside your lungs. When the tip of his cock lodges at the back of your throat, you keep him there.
Whatever Javi gives you, you take.
Happily.
Every last drop would find its home inside you, traveling down the length of your tongue and into all of your warmest places.
It was the least you could do for him.
But he has other plans. His hand bunches up your hair, tightening into a fist to pull you off of him. His cock pops out from between your lips; youâre guided up to face him.
He looks stern.
Dangerous.
Out of breath, tears sliding down your cheeks, lips glistening with the slick of your own spitâyouâre a welcome sight to any man of his kind.
âSay it.â
He makes use of his free hand, wiping the coarse pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, clearing the string of saliva collecting there.
Itâs not rocket science, figuring out what it is that the man wants to hear.
âIâm sorry, Javi.â
Neither of you had ever known how much an apology could sound like a prayer.
âYeah?â Despite the gentleness of his tone, his eyes darken with lust to the point that you feel genuinely nervous about his intentions. âWhat are you so sorry for, hermosa?â
Fuck, the pet-names... the way his voice changed when reverting to its native tongueârolling with confidence. At such an awkward angle, youâre forced to grip onto his forearms to keep balance. They feel strong and unbending beneath your fingertips.Â
Everything⊠everything about him draws you in.
He just makes you crazy.
Crazy enough to smile, to turn your profile to the side, laying a long, careful kiss to his palm. Crazy enough to answer his question in a needy, whiney whisper:Â âfor being such a brat.â
He almost smiles, near-black eyes dancing with hunger, with approval, with a playful kind of ire.
Jerking his head to the right, he gestures to the backseat. âWanna show me how sorry you are, cariño?â
Youâre nodding before the question really even registers.
He releases his hold on you, deft fingers quickly untangling from your hair.
Victory. Victory. Victory.
Then, youâre stumbling out of the passenger side, opening the door to the backseat.
(You take a second to commend yourself for driving a man so wild, making him so impatient that he couldnât be bothered to walk the ten feet required to fuck you inside his apartment. Or, maybe he just liked letting the neighbours watch.)
Before you can even step foot inside the car, youâre being hauled by your upper arms onto Javiâs lap. He manhandles you into his desired position, spreading your knees around his thighs until your dress is hitched up, only covering your ass half-way.
After snaking a hand between your bodies, the agent runs his thumb down the slick fabric of your underwear.
Already, youâre holding back a slew of pathetic whines.
âNext time you give me headââGod, the feeling of those fingers against your clit, the bliss of them pushing your panties to the side, assessing your readiness for himââWanna be able to see that pretty mouth while my dickâs inside it, sweetheart.â
His lust has him speaking a bit out of breath. It makes every crude, filthy word sound sweet, almost endearing to you.
Nodding in response, you work with himâlowering yourself onto his fingers as he pushes them between your folds.
âJesus Christ,â he smiles, head falling back in appreciation, âYouâre soaked.â
His fingers curl up, pressing to please in all the right places. Your answer arrives between gasps:Â âYou tasted good.â
That pleases him.
âYeah?â and heâs dragging his digits out of you, letting them trail through your folds and along your heavy, sore clit before leaving you wanting, leaving that needy cunt clenching around nothing. âI bet you taste even better.â
Then, his grip is on your jaw, pressing damp spots into your skin under his index, middle, and ring fingers. With the pad of his thumb pressed firmly to your bottom lip (and the row of teeth behind it), Javi eases your mouth open, wider and wider and wider for him.
âShow meâshow me how good you taste.â
His index crawls onto your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking him in until his fingernail scratches the back of your throat. He wants to be shown, so you show him: gazing intently into his eyes, you watch his brow furrow as he studies your every movement, as he drinks in your every moan.
âFuckin' hell,â he groans, commending your efforts. âYouâd do anything I asked right now, wouldnât you, hermosa?â
Your bottom teeth graze the undersides of his index as you pull offââyes, Javi.â Almost instinctively, youâre reaching your hand down, letting it coast down the hardness of his chest to rub circles around the slick tip of his cock, still peeking out from his open fly.
âNot yet,â he clicks his tongue, pushing his index, and this time, his middle and ring, too, back through the opening of your lips, âNeed to clean yourself off every one of these fingers, firstâthaaatâs right.â You listen, obediently sucking everything he gives you. He instructs and praises, âeasyâeasy, cariño, there it is,â as he watches you glide up and down him in slow, big pulls, all the way down to his knuckles.
Itâs fucking filthy, and he loves it, unable to keep that arrogant smirk off of his face.
Heâs practically in paradise, coming up with a mental list of creative ways to shut you up.
Still, Javi allows you to multitask: all the while, your fingers continue to explore the exposed parts of his cock. Only when heâs satisfied, when his length couldnât possibly get any harderâonly then does he free your mouth, letting his damp fingers trail down the side of your neck.
The feeling sends a shiver up your spine.
Without warning, he yanks down the straps of your dress and bra, pulling them all the way down until youâre postured on his lap, chest fully exposed; his abrupt movement has you loosing a stunned "Javi!" He runs his palms over the most sensitive peaks of your breasts, a hungry smile teasing the corners of his lips.
Then, he shrugs. âTold you last time I wanted to see them. Got the prettiest fuckinâ tits, hermosa.â
You donât have time to roll your eyes, to laugh, or to really even register the vulgarity of his words, nor the taunting, degrading way theyâre delivered to you. Javiâs already holding both you and himself up in one arm (and, oh, how youâd simply ached for the feel of his strength) pulling down the waistband of his pants. He maneuvers you into the proper position to receive him in, two pairs of downcast eyes watching his cock spring free, tip curving in, grazing against the fabric of his shirt.
He rushes, but it still feels torturously slow. Youâre craving, needing, as he uses the dark head of his cock to ease your ruined underwear to the side, guiding himself towards your dripping opening.
This time, heâs far too impatient to make you beg for it.
Ecstasy forces your back into an arch as he pushes himself between your walls, as you feel him filling you up, up, and upâwordless mouth falling open, your heavy head collapses aaall the way back.
Immediately, a hand is at the back of your skull, forcing your gaze back downwards. âNo, no, no, baby, you let me seeâlet me see you when you ride,â and his voice is a little strained, a little desire-stricken, a little bit softer as he settles his every last inch inside your cunt.
Your irises could be forest fires as you set your sights on his own, seeing nothing, absolutely nothing but Javier in that moment.
Moving your hips in tandem, you set your pace.
Mother Maryâitâs hard, so fucking hard to keep your legs steady when he stretches you openâwide fucking openâand as his head grazes that spongy spot inside.
He doesnât help, either. In fact, while your hands dig anchors into his shoulders (sometimes his chest, his neck, his waist) just to keep yourself upright, his own are trailing up to the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a pack of smokes.
You mewl softly at the heat building inside your cunt, loosing an indignant whine as Javi neglects his responsibilities toward your climax.
âGave me such a hard time today, baby,â he muses, placing a cigarette between his fingers and tossing the rest aside, âWanna hear a fuckinâ âthank you Javiâ every time you come.â
His words dance around you like streetlights passing in the night, barely registering inside your disintegrating mind. How could they? With the feeling of his thighs grazing the undersides of your own, the buttons of his shirt nudging against your aching clit⊠how could anything else even exist?
All you can give him is an âMhm.â
He pulls a lighter out, smirking. ââTough-talker âtil this pussyâs all full, huh?â
âI-Iâm sorry, baby, Iâm s-sorry.â
And he laughs. âDonât say it, cariño,â he takes your hand, placing the light inside your fist. âFuckinâ show me.â
He rolls his hips. Your weight collapses against his chest.
âCâmon,â he coaxes, pushing you off, straightening you up before placing the cigarette between his lips, âAaall you gotta do is light up the tip. You got it, sweetheart.â
His hands travel down to your ass, giving it a rough squeeze before his fingers splay out. He spreads you open over his thighs, watching the etchings of your lust corrupt your expression as he fucks himselfâslow, deep, hard strokesâinside you.
âFuâplease, JaviâI canât, sâtoo much, babyâpleaseââ
A smile, full lips parting around the dart. âSâwrong, baby?â The words are low, breathy, teasing, contorting around the smoke in his mouth. âCanât focus?â
God, just make him happy.
Itâs the only thought you seem to be able to form. His request doesnât seem to be up for debate, either.
So, summoning every last bit of control still lingering inside you, you bring a trembling hand up to the unlit end, a string of moans and âJaviâs rising from your throat.
And fuck, heâs beautiful, brimming with playful passion, orange filter hanging off those pretty pink lips.
Trying to still yourself, you flick the lighter onâthe flame dances between you, illuminating the expansive darkness lurking inside his gaze. It takes everything, everything you have left to light it for him, to make that white tip glow red hot, to stay steady enough, to keep from burning him.
And also, to hold your pace. That grip of steel wrapped around your hip serves as a constant reminderâ
Keep taking it.
In those final moments, he picks up his pace, of course. Your simmering blood bubbles to a boil, the flutters inside your cunt graduating into pulsing throbs.
As the flame finally takes, you feel every muscle inside your core tenseâwhen Javi inhales his first drag, you straddle the precipice of your orgasm.
Your weight falls onto his shoulder. One of his arms reaches up to ash the cigarette; the other wraps tightly around you, bouncing you against him as exhales a cloud of smoke into your hair.
âBabyâJavi, Iâm coming, Iâm coming, I'm cââ
Heat builds between your thighs, and as that bundle of nerves grows heavy, pulsing with the rush of your orgasm, his thrusts only deepen.
He pulls you in close.
âI know, cariño,â Javi coos, condescending into the shell of your ear, basking in the feel of your cunt near-strangling him in adoration. âCan feel you, yâknow? Got such a grateful lil' pussy,â he places a kiss to the side of your neck, groaning against the soft skin. âAlways lets me know how much you love having my cock buried inside it.â
As he speaks, you try to catch your breath. To come down from your high.
It doesnât work. Not while his hips continue to grind against yours, not while cradled between his arms like his holy beloved, and especially not with his tip still pressing against every available, wanting spot on your walls.
Javi takes another long drag from the dart. âWhat do you say when you come, baby?â
A big, laboured inhale, and the words come out in one, rushed exhalation. âThank you, Javi.â
He responds with a downright cocky laugh. âYouâre welcome, cariño. Good girl.â
The praise⊠it makes you melt.
Tangling his fingers in your hair, nails grazing the skin of your scalp, he pulls you off of his chest. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the stale heat of the Jeep Cherokee.Â
You buck up, doing your best to keep pleasing him as he studies your devoted movements, as he leans back against the seatâgroaning.
His handâoften glued to your rolling hipâprovides you with only a mere hint of stability.
âThat guy you were with,â he takes a drag from his cigarette, using his free hand to toy with one of your peaked nipples. âAt the bar. Youâdâve done this for him?â
Your lips part, but no sound crosses the threshold of your lips. Youâre dazedâstill comingâand building to yet another peak. His unwillingness to move starts to ground you; the long length of every hard muscle beneath his arms, the round, bulging ridges of his shoulders⊠they become your salvation, places to lay your weight into. Riding him becomes second nature: youâre attuned to his rhythm and the desperate, commanding desires of your body.
Suddenly, youâre a part of him; when he exhales, the smoke creeps out of his lungs and into your own.
You burn right along with it.
He drops the still-smoking cigarette onto the seat next to your entangled bodies, bringing both his hands to rest against your dampened skin. One comes down hard, delivering a quick, harsh slap to your ass.
It would leave a mark.
âTell me. Use that pretty mouth, hermosa. âKnow you know howâused itâran it all fuckinâ day.â Javi grunts, angling to bend over you, pushing into your guts as he wraps you in his arms, finally taking the burden of your weight off of your scraped up, wobbling knees. He continues on, âTonight, tooâbeen so easy, baby, lettinâ me put anything I want in there like a good lil' slut,â drinking in your cry of pleasure. He almost says it to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he reminisces, as your cunt begins to throb around his hardening cock once more. âYou'd've done that for him, cariño?â
You swallow, trying to clear the stars dancing before your eyes, and that fuzzy sound of static. It muffles the symphony of Javiâs hoarse breaths, your own, helpless cries, and the filthy sound of skin colliding withâgrinding againstâskin.
He quickens, now, using you like a damn toy. Every rough thrust brings you closer to heaven; every ardent, breathtaking squeeze of his arms around your middle feels like angels sighing.
âNo,â you breathe, closing your eyes. Your arms cling around his neck, fingers fanning through his thick hairâeverything is him, him, him. He leans forward again, ducking down to kiss the hollow of your throat; you pull him in faithfully, moaning softly at the feel of his lips, his teeth under the valley under your jaw. âOnly you.â It sounds like worship, sliding up an octave as that low ache worsens, as he compells a second climax out of your already-quivering body. âOnly you, Javi.â
He growls, lips dragging up to your ear as the hairs of his mustache tease your cheekbone. âProve it,â he breathes, deep thrusts growing even more erraticâ needier, sloppier. You can barely hear him over your own noises, but he continues his gravelly coos inside your ear nonetheless. âGimme another one, babyâwanna feel you comin' on my cock when I fill you up so fuckin' full, babyâshow me that youâre mineâzâthis pussy mine, hermosa?â
âYesyesyesâoh God, y-yesâmâyours, Javi, yââ
Your legs seize as yet another release tears through your body. The skin of his neck anchors you in place, and you hang off of him like a rosary, digging your fingernails into the warmth of his flesh with every ounce of strength at your disposal.
He fucks you through your second climax, headed straight for his own.
âS-such a good girl, cariñoâf-fuckââ Arms, wrapped around your waist, tighten enough to snap you in two as Javi crushes you against his chest, using the momentum of your entire, shaking body to finish himself off. He comes with a grunted âs-shitââand you pay attention, wanting to commit the divine sound to memory. Swelling between your silken walls, Javi spills everything he could possibly give inside you.
A final, abrupt thrust, married with the non-stop, involuntary clench-and-release of your cunt works to cover every square inch of you with him.
When itâs over, the man refuses to let you part from him (not that you had any real desire to do so, anyway). A big, shaking hand keeps your head cradled in the firm crook of his neck, and he slowly, slowly softens inside you. He basks in the final, weak flutters of your cunt as you lose yourself in the smell of his cologne.
His heart hammers in his chest. You can hear it with your ear pressed to his neck. Going limp, your damp forehead rolls onto the hard roundness of his shoulder.
That aching, sore opening soaks the skin of his thighs. You shiver softly, dripping onto the base of his shaft.
âSay it, cariño,â Javi murmurs, laying a rough kiss to your temple. He runs his hands up and down your bare spine, fingers dancing along your sticky skin.
You loose a breathy laugh against his golden skin. âThank you, Javi.â
And you pull back just in time to catch his genuine smile.
It fucking melts you. Adoration, pride⊠spreading like tree-roots under rich, forest soil throughout your still-heaving chest.
He rubs the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, wiping clean some of the going-out makeup that had no-doubt become a total, leaking mess.
ââPretty when youâre nice, y'know,â he mutters, moving to cup your cheeks between his warm, hardened palms. And then he pauses, reconsidering his words. âBut fuckinâ hot when youâre mean.â
A breathy giggle. âWhat can I say,â you whisper, trailing a few appreciative fingers up and down his forearms. âYou bring out the very best in me, Peña.â
He scoffs, but smiles all the while.
Off in the distance, thereâs music. Sounds of debauchery and excitement travel through the warm summer air, audible even through the closed windows. The night is alive for the rest of the city; somewhere far, far away, an engine growls, rubber tires squealing against the pull of hard pavement.
It takes him away.
Javi grasps your shoulders, pushing you up and back to effectively slide you off of his half-soft length. âIâll wait for you to get inside,â he says, yanking his pants back up over his hips, tucking himself back into his briefs. âMake sure you lock the door, alright?â
Pause.Â
What?
âYouâre leaving?â You mirror him, hastily rearranging yourselfâskinny straps find their way back above your shoulders, your short dress finds itself yanked down to its rightful place.
Itâs awkward work, given the confines of the space.
The agent slips out from underneath you. He opens the door, rising from the backseat and straightening up with a groan. âThink I know where he was going,â he responds, mostly to himself. âIâm only, whatâŠâ a flip of his wrist as he checks the time, âThiiiiiirty? Thirty-five minutes behind him?â
Before you know it, youâre bristling with irritation.
Again.
You throw your heels down on the street, unceremoniously shoving a cramping foot in each one. âDonât be an idiot, Peña,â and you try your hand at standing, buckling slightly on a pair of Jell-o legs.
He comes around to your side, steadying you on your feet. Reflected in his deep-brown eyes is the same annoyance flashing across your own gaze. âDâyou just expect me to be there, sweetheart? Zâthat it? Every time your ass needs saving?â
Shame heats the soft skin of your cheeks. Your eyes trail down to the ground, volatile, incomprehensible emotions building with every passing second.
âIt wonât happen againâI wonât-I wonât be so stupid, or-orâI wonât go out, anymore.â
He scoffs. âYeah, well, thatâs nice 'n all, but itâs sure as shit not gonna change anything.â
When you donât respond, when you donât look up, his edges soften. âThey went to your house, sweetheart.â With his hands on your shoulders, he implores you to see sense. âItâs either we get them or they⊠get you.â
You exhale, hard. âYouâre being dramatic.â
That does it for him.
After an exasperated shake of his head, heâs grabbing your hands in his own, placing a set of keys in the cradle of your palm.
His tone is low, demanding, unbending. âLock the doors.â
Then, heâs turning to leave, walking to the front of the Cherokee.
Before rounding the corner, he turns his hardened profile to the side. The glare of the buildingâs lights dance on his tanned skin, turning the whole scene into a sort of lucid dream.
âYâknow, youâre really starting to piss me off with this whole⊠utopian fantasy youâre livinâ in.â He barely even addresses you, mumbling the rest of his sentiment mostly to himself. âIâm fuckinâ tired of being the only one looking out for you.â
Utopian fantasy?
You try to dismiss himâto call him ridiculous, to throw yourself into the familiar task of poking holes in his argumentsâbut⊠you canât. Over and over, his words rush you in waves: âthe only one looking out for youâ âutopian fantasyâ âthe only one looking out for youâ âutopianââ
Suddenly, youâre on a different street. In the same clothes, and in the same body, but somewhere far, far away, facing a different man. Itâs somewhere very loud, where tires and knees come to a screeching stop against cement, where the downbeat of every Latin measure is punctuated by the sound of a bullet, inscribed with your initials, ripping through the static summer air.
Panic hits you like a bolt of lightning.
It doesnât go away, either.
Not even once youâre back on Javiâs street, fossilized in amber, watching him move to the driverâs side of his Jeep.
All the fear you hadnât allowed yourself to feelâŠ
Youâd forced him to shoulder it for you, instead.
But, inevitably, what goes around comes around. And heâs dropped your burden right back onto you with a few well-timed words.
Truth bares itself to you, settling heavy atop your bones like an ancient, primal wound. The result is a pair of unsteady legs, a perennial tremor in both, white-knuckled hands, and a crackling voice, resisting use.
âJaviâŠâ
Only when you hear the sound of your own terror echoed back to you do you permit yourself to cry.
And there you stand. Disheveled, confused, brokenâclothing misplaced, ruined, brokenâ
And you just donât want him to leave.
Not now.
Not when you need him.
Not when you need someone.
Not when you think youâve finally got it figured out, and especially not when youâre so damn close to speaking it into existence.
Realization. Acknowledgement. Expression.
Itâs not a customary pattern, in your experience.
Javi stops in his tracks, stunned to a halt at the sheer emotion in your plea.
It stings when you clear your throat. âI justâŠâ and you falter, strange, unfamiliar words sticking to your throat, sickly-sweet dried honey. Each vowel reverberates back to you, amplified by the acoustics of the empty street and their novelty.
Still, youâre not quite sure how heâs able to hear you, given that you can only bring yourself to speak a handful of decibels above a damn whisper.
âIâve just never been important, Peña.â
You wipe a self-conscious hand across your face, clearing the sea-salt from below your downcast eyes.
Before youâre able to put a stop to itâit all comes rushing out. Averting his gaze, you ramble on in agitation.
âNot beyond being a-a pair of hands to make fucking photocopiesâor as the butt of some sort of âprissy receptionistâ joke or even just as someâas-as a kind of fucking challenge to menâmen like you, Javierâbecause I⊠well, because Iâm mean, and I-I guess itâs just fun for everyone to see how far they can take it beforeâbefore IâŠâ You give your head a fervent shake, trying to reel yourself back in, trying to close off the monologue.
But the cracks had formed, and with nowhere to go, the mounting pressure of the seven seas washes away the rest of your weakened dam.
The agent can't even get a word in.
âAnyways, thatâs-that's not the point. The point is that it just⊠it didnât seem possible that anyone in this whole fucking country would even think twice about meâeven if it was just to⊠to kill meâŠâ
A lump forms, lodging behind your larynx.
You start to rush.
âSo I really am sorry that I acted like such an asshole, but none of this makes a fucking lick of sense to meâIâm-Iâm a secretary, for fuckâs sakesâIâm nothing, no one, Iâm notââ and then youâre franticâ
The gunshots, the tires, the music, the spark plug, a Caminoâ
âJust please, donât go, donâtâI-I know youâre mad, justâplease, just donâtââ
Itâs impossible to catch your breath. Every heaved sob racks your lungs, shaking you all the way down to your buckling knees.
You want to turn, to run and hide, to fling yourself into oncoming trafficâanything to end the interminable humiliation you couldnât seem to keep from putting on display in front of Javier Peña.
And shit. No man could see a woman in the same way after this. No man would care for a woman like this, destroyed and pathetic andâ
âOh, cariñoââ
And heâs there.
Those armsâso used to takingâthey wrap you up, pulling you into the heat of his body, protecting you from the pointed echoes of laughter and song breezing through the night air. Those hands, the ones that bruised, slapped, grabbedâthey holdâthe right unburdens you of your oppressive weight, pressed flat against the small of your back. His left cradles the back of your head, laying your temple to the side of his throat.
âYouâve always been important to me, sweetheart.â
His soft murmurs tumble down your spine. That smoky breath envelops you; it reminds you of those blankets in the moviesâthe ones that the firemen hand out after the disasterâs over, the survivors rescued. In the denouement.
âSâokay, Sâokay. Iâm sorry, baby, alright? Iâm not mad, cariño, itâs okay.â
Running his fingers through your hair, supporting your head like a delicate, sacred object, murmuring comforts against the softest parts of your neckâJavi goes on and on. Despite the frequent shifts between Spanish and English, you manage to catch the main gist of his crooning.
âI could never be mad at you, baby.â
âItâs okay.â
âIâm not mad, cariño.â
âAnd Iâm sorry, baby.â
âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry.â
âIâm not mad.â
âIâll stay.â
âIâm sorry.â
After an eternity, you feel calm enough to pull away. Youâre a wreck, gazing up at him with big, silver-lined eyes.
And itâs then that you see him.
That you really see him.
The concern, the anguish, the affection⊠Youâd punished him for doing the very thing that you were incapable of doing.
Protecting you.
Caring for you.
As tears continue to leak from your eyes, you take note of his beauty. Not just of his looks, but also in the sheer power radiating from him, towering like a knight over you. In those capable, caring handsâhands that had torn others apart, that had put you back togetherâthere was beauty in them, too.
You wipe your face dry.
And you soften your tone, aiming to lighten the mood. âStop trying to get in my pants, Peña." A sniffle. "I donât sleep with cops.â
He rolls his eyes, the ghosts of a smile tugging at his lips. âYâknow,â he cups your face, drying the final, lingering remnants of your melt-down off your cheeks, âI waited outside that fuckinâ bar for hours tonight. Just in case.â
Oh.
God, youâd never even bothered to think about how heâd gotten to you so quickly.
Of course heâd been there.
That truth feelsâŠÂ warm.
He goes on. âWatched you⊠saw you with that guy.â He scoffs at himself, shaking his head. âHad to look away when you came outside. Sâwhy it⊠took a minute. To get there.â
That has your gaze trailing off, eyes cast down in shame, studying the worn-in rubber on the Jeepâs tires.
It would have never worked, anyway. There wasnât a man on Earth who could ween your mind off of this one.
With the pad of his thumb against your chin, he brings you back to him. Javi commands your full attention with the just the sincerity of his stare.
âEven when you want nothinâ to do with me... Iâm there, alright? Iâm here, baby.â
Those eyes⊠softened with affection, hardened with conviction. Javier always had a way of straddling both worlds at once.
He waits for your signal, your quick nod of acknowledgement.
Then, heâs kissing youâsoftly. Fingers curling around his forearms, you borrow his strength to keep yourself from swooning. He holds your face as tenderly as he caresses your lips, and with every synced inhalation, he speaks yet another unspoken word into existence.
After giving you enough to make you feel whole again, he pulls away.
With his great-big-palm to your cheek, he says everything you need to hear.
âLetâs go inside, sweetheart.â
â
part 3
â
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â
Officer Officer Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer No, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure The house was already on fire, I swear I'm not a liar (Well) I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for asking Tell me, do you always work alone so late? Gosh, I'm a little shy standing here in my night gown Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?
Looking at me, then suddenly
I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane
I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane
Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer You can ask me anything you want Anything, anything
Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger Well, that's interesting Have you ever thought of dating a singer?
The flames are getting higher So is my desire It's kind of exciting Don't you think?
Then suddenly he's uncuffing me
I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane
I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane
Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I can be the bad girl I'm getting you so hot You can be the good guy Tell him please stop
Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane
You can be the good guy (Officer) I'm in love Tell him please Stop (Officer) (Officer) You can be the good good (Officer) I'm in love Love in a hurricane
â
#Javier Peña#javier peña x you#javier peña x reader#javier peña smut#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena smut#javier pena fic#javier peña fanfiction#narcos fanfiction#narcos#Pedro pascal#Pedro Pascal x reader#Pedro Pascal smut#javier peña x y/n#javier peña narcos#javier pena narcos
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I Put A Spell on You - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #03
Summary: After a tense week and a training session, Wanda finally had enough of your attitude.
Warnings: (+18), heavy smut with power dynamics, brat tamer!Wanda and sub!Reader, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, a lot of teasing, blindfold and magical restrictions, enchanted strap, kind of rough, implied enemies to lovers, some cursing | Words: 3.559k
A/N-> This is almost late. I totally forgot I had to post the stories.
General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad
-&-
It was Natasha's idea, or at least it was a Black Widow kind of thing.
Most of what Wanda knew about it came from Steve's official report on the training, and the rest of the story came from Sam gossiping around the tower.
But in a nutshell: You had your vision temporarily impaired on the last mission, you were knocked out by it and it almost fucked everything up. Wanda would have thought that this was all it took to diminish your ego a bit, but instead, you and Nat had a weird widow's agreement about eliminating weaknesses or whatever, and this was adapted to your training.
The whole story was the reason you were training with a blindfold on.Â
And don't let Natasha hear this, but you were an impressive fighter, even more than the older widow. Somehow you were more agile and stronger than Nat, and it was the kind of thing that made Clint remark worriedly about how much harder your widow training could have been and secretly made Wanda's heart beat faster.
But back to the point: Wanda shared very few training shifts with you. Steve and Nat found peaceful interaction between team members advantageous, so as you didn't get on so well, she had fewer training sessions in your company.
Well, that changed because you seemed determined to prove that you could block blows without seeing them.
"Wow, you're still here." It came out more ironic than she wanted, but Wanda was actually almost impressed. It had been nearly a month since the whole thing had started, and this training was coming after a particularly exhausting mission. She was just going for a quick session - so that the muscles wouldn't lose habit as Steve liked to say - when she found you in the empty tower gym.Â
The eyes covered by a black cloth were an almost comical sight, or at least, Wanda assumed that finding it funny was what she was feeling, every time she saw your serious and concentrated form, sweating in the gym.
"Good evening, Wanda." You greeted her without looking at her, your head down. You were listening to her movement she assumed.Â
Wanda muttered the greeting back, busy leaving her belongings on the bench and looking for a treadmill. But you cleared your throat. "Don't you want a real challenge?"
She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and that would be you, of course."
You smile, your hands behind your body. Wanda thinks she likes the blindfold, it allows her to stare you brazenly, without you even knowing.
"I'm a legendary fighter, yes."
She has to laugh at how naturally you say that. She takes a quick look at the treadmill, and well, smashing your ass really does sound more interesting.
"Okay, real challenge, show me what you've got."
Wanda positions herself on the opposite side of the mat from you, and clears her throat when you remain static.
" Won't you take your shoes off?"
She grimaces softly. Yeah, your hearing was starting to impress. Sighing begrudgingly, she uses magic to make the shoes come off and float away, and before she even has a chance to speak, you do.
"No magic tricks." It sounds like a serious warning, rather than a request, and Wanda doesn't miss a chance to torment you.
"Oh, is that too much for a legendary fighter?" She mocks, but all she gets back is an easy chuckle that she isn't able to reciprocate because you adjust your training gloves and the movement is distracting enough.
After a moment, you get into position. "I'm ready."
"At last." She scoffs, stepping forward.Â
Ultimately, she's impressed. And she almost begins to believe that maybe the cloth is fake - there's no chance that you can dodge absolutely all the blows she's so exhaustively learned with such ease.Â
It doesn't take long for Wanda to start getting impatient, and for you to start smiling at her, in that smug way that makes her skin itch.
She makes a mistake, and it's enough for you to knock her to the ground.
"Again." You say, standing next to her, equally out of breath but without a scratch. Wanda huffs.
"How the fuck are you doing this?" She asks, getting to her feet with a magical push. You swallow dry, taking a step back, very alert.
"Practice, of course." You mutter. "Are you ready to continue?"
But Wanda narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly at your sudden alertness. She decides to test a theory, and red sparks appear in the air near your head.
The leap you make in the other direction makes her giggle playfully.Â
"Something wrong, darling?"
You grumble, raising a hand in warning, irritably hitting exactly the right spot to point it at her. "Stop this. I told you, no magic."
But Wanda is tired, and she's feeling naughty tonight. Something about your vulnerability makes her body heat up.
She chuckles darkly, taking steps away that only make you swallow dry. "Someone's scared." She sighs, and the sparks appear again. You gasp, clearly anxious and not knowing where to strike.
It's Wanda's fault, there are too many of those and magic is much harder to defend against.
She chuckles at your state, and you snap back almost immediately."That's not funny, Maximoff."Â
A magical tug pushes under your knee, behind your elbows, near your foot. Everything makes you jump with fright and sends Wanda into a fit of giggles.
"You're not so cocky when you're scared."
In a desperate attempt, you try to attack the magic, which only disappears into thin air against your skin. Wanda just stands back, watching the scene with amusement.
With an impatient grunt, you raise a finger at her. "Stop this shit, I'm warning you-"
"Don't be rude, darling. I like you best when you're polite." Wanda interrupts, and your exclamation of indignation turns into a grunt of pain when a magical tug forces you to your knees on the mat.
"What the hell?" You gasp, raising your hand to remove the blindfold.Â
But the sensation that follows is like ropes grabbing your wrists and pinning your fists behind your back. Your heart is racing at the same moment. "Wanda, what the actual fuck you're doing?"
Although you can't see her, you hear her very well. Her slow steps towards you, until she makes you jump gently when she touches your cheek. You swallow dry. "Stop this bullshit, Wanda, I'm serious."
She pushes her tongue into the roof of her mouth, a clicking sound that makes you swallow dry again. Her fingers caress your cheek, and the lack of visibility makes everything all too vivid.
"You have a very dirty mouth, kotenok (kitten)." She retorts in a tone that makes you shudder from head to toe. With a dry throat, you look up, even though you can't actually see her.
It must be a good thing for your sanity, though. God knows what you would have done if you could have seen the way Wanda's eyes darkened with hunger when she saw you on your knees, looking up at her.
Licking your lips, you say calmly: "Be very careful with your next action, Wanda. It will be definitive for our future interactions."
She bites back a smile, and her hand leaves your cheek for your hair, the motion in the strands at the nape of your neck drawing a stubborn sigh from your lips.
"See, it's much better when you're polite." She says softly, letting her fingers slide between the strands, stroking your hair gently. "That's how it goes. You behave nicely, and you're rewarded. Behave badly, and well..."
To illustrate, she moves her free fingers. You hear the magic before you feel it - right under your blouse, like a rough tug on your left nipple that makes you grunt in pain.
"Fuck, you little shit-" But swearing at her makes it worse. The sensation is repeated on the other nipple, not real enough to hurt the flesh, but enough to cause pain. And in the current scenario, on your knees and blindfolded, just the right amount for a wave of pleasure to wet your panties.Â
It takes you by surprise, so much so that instead of grunting in pain, you practically moan. And that makes Wanda smile, especially as she can see the blush rising on your face.
"You need to improve that attitude." She starts again, adjusting the grip on your hair to force your face in her direction again. You bite the inside of your cheek hard, certain that this time, you would have whimpered. "You've been acting like this for too long, you've gotten comfortable in your naughtiness. I can fix that."
"Wanda..."
"Shush, darling, now you don't talk. You listen. Isn't that what you were hoping to train yourself to do?" She teases, and the grip loosens. You don't have to obey, but you're desperate to do so.
With a lump in your throat, you nod and remain silent. And the next second, when the sound of a zipper fills the room, you grow restless and alert.
You're ready to question when Wanda sighs.
"Shit, honey, that's been working for me too." She panted and you were dying to understand what the hell she was talking about when, along with her shortened breaths, you heard a sound that shook your body to its core.Â
Was it really possible that Wanda Maximoff was fingering herself right in front of you?
"W-wanda-"
The slap isn't magical - nor is it weak. Your cheek burns, but Wanda grabs your face anyway.
"I told you to be quiet." She grunts, and in a way, the affected voice is confirmation enough of your suspicions. You can feel your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable with the dampness gathering. "You've talked a lot of shit since I joined the team, now you listen, you brat."
Not only do you hear it, but as the movements continue, you can smell it. Her sweet, intoxicating essence is enough to make you moan for the first time in the night.
Wanda let that one slide, because the sound is too good to punish you for it.
And because you've held still long enough for her fingers not to be enough anymore, she's decided that you deserve a reward.
"Open your mouth, darling, I've got a little treat for you." She sighs, and you obey almost immediately, even though your face is burning.
Wanda removes her fingers from inside herself, sighing softly as she does so. Unhurried, she presses them against your tongue and has to bite down hard on her own when you buckle forward, sucking on her fingers with enthusiasm.
"Look at you, who knew you were such an eager little thing?" She taunts, although the sensation of your tongue on her fingers is almost making her lose her train of thought. She can only imagine how deliciously warm you must feel elsewhere.
You just keep moaning, sucking all her wet pleasure from her fingerprints, and Wanda has to reach down and grab your hair once more to regain some of her sense of grounding.
Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again, but you don't seem to mind. "Did you like your treat, darling?"
You open your mouth to reply but hesitate before doing so. And Wanda smiles proudly when she realizes. "Oh, dear, you can speak if it's to answer my questions. Tell me how much you appreciated your treat."
Swallowing dryly, you lower your head. "I loved it, Wanda. And I would love to taste it from the source."
She bites back a giggle, using one hand to lift your chin. "You didn't even thank me."
"Th-"
The magic squeeze comes directly to your clit now. You let out a little yelp, but Wanda's hand doesn't let you lower your head.Â
"I didn't tell you to thank me. Rather, I was reprimanding you because good manners don't come to you naturally." She clarifies, and with tears of pain and pleasure in your covered eyes, you nod in understanding. Wanda sighs. "I'm going to make a good girl out of you, even if I have to keep you on edge all night for it."
The whimper that escapes your throat is humiliating, Wanda loves the sound.Â
The next sensation on your skin is that of a chain, wrapping itself around your neck.Â
"We need to continue this in a more private place, darling. Where no one will interrupt us." Wanda guides, and the chain gives a gentle tug, the hint caught just in time by you, who are on your feet almost immediately. Wanda bites back a smile. "Fuck, I could get used to this."
She manages to lead you quietly and obediently through the empty corridors, but your anxiety overcomes you at the door to her room.
You stop walking, gulping. Wanda smiles because you're waiting for permission to ask a question, even when you're dying to have it answered.
"It's my room." She clarifies, but you shake your head, signaling that it wasn't your doubt. She shouldn't be impressed that you've already become able to memorize the sound of the way to the rooms, but she is. Smiling, Wanda brings a hand up to your face again. "What do you wish to ask, darling?"
You sigh at the permission granted. "Are you... are you sure? About this..." Wanda is taken aback. Your hands are still bound, you're still blindfolded, at her mercy, and yet you're worried about how sure and comfortable she is. You take a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. "This is important, Wanda. We can't go back to how things were before if I come in. And if you're not sure, send me away, and I swear we won't talk about this again and-"
Wanda moves in, it's quick and less hungry than she thought your first kiss would be, considering recent events and frankly, the way she's been craving you.
Your lips are soft and kind of addictive. Your mouth kisses her with real confidence as if you've done it a dozen times, and Wanda has no idea how often you've done it in your dreams.Â
But reality is superior to any of those.
You grunt against her mouth, impatiently, and Wanda knows it's because of your trapped hands. But all she can do is smile mischievously, using hers to pull you by the shirt into the room.
The door is magically closed behind the two of you.
You're not surprised to be put on your knees again - even if a moan of protest escapes you. Wanda smiled, feeling a wave of excitement at your vulnerable anxiety, your eyes blindfolded and your head moving gently as if you expected to hear what she was up to.
Wanda bit her lip, working on her own clothes without magic, so that you could hear the motions. It brought a shiver to watch you squirm gently, swallowing dry as if you could picture her naked. And your pleading sigh, practically meowing her name, made Wanda lose her mind.
Now wearing only her underwear, she grabbed your face again and kissed you with everything she had - teeth and tongue - and swallowed every throaty moan until she needed to breathe again. When she pulled away, a line of saliva connected your lips.
"We need a system, darling..." She murmured, her fingers working to open the belt loop of your sweatpants. "You know the color one? Green for go, and red for stop?"
"Y-yes, Wanda, please, just keep going-" She interrupted with a kiss mixed with a giggle at your desperate response, the hands that had opened your pants helping you to the bed, laying you down. The magical chains had adapted, and your hands were attached to the headboard now, holding you open for Wanda. Your arousal grew so intense that Wanda could see your muscles twitching.
She sighed contentedly as she sat on your hips, watching your curious and expectant movements. Magic did the work of removing your pants, but Wanda was taking her time teasing your skin under your blouse, having the best time in the world watching you squirm and gasp.
"Tell me what you want."Â
You swallowed dryly, forcing your voice out: "Anything you want to give me."
Wanda bit back a giggle, her fingers tracing your torso. "Good answer, darling." She sighs, and in one tug, rips off your shirt. The remaining pieces are swept away as you try to keep your breathing under control. Wanda adjusts herself and sits on your stomach, her wetness and warmth against your skin making you wince. "I have an idea, you let me use you and I might consider letting you touch me, what do you think?"
"Fuck." You moan, and Wanda can't let that one slide, though the slap on your cheek is light, and much more of a teasing warning than a punishment. It makes you throb inside.
"Language." She warns, and you sigh.
"I'm sorry."
Wanda strokes the soft red on your cheek, leaning in in a way that makes her wetness slide down your abdomen. The involuntary contraction of your muscles draws a gasp from both of you.
"Behave yourself." She warns, and it seems to be as much about the language as your slight movements, and although you nod, you repeat the gesture. Wanda gasps and grips your cheeks tightly. But you force your body upwards, and her grip loosens as she begins to grind against your stomach, giving in to the sensation.Â
It brings some kind of pride to know that she's just as affected by this as you are, but even as she's drenching your skin with her hot pleasure, Wanda lowers herself to wrap her hands around your throat and as she uses your tense abdomen to reach her own orgasm, her grip warns you who's in charge. She doesn't take long to come - all the teasing outside has gotten under her skin - and it's the hottest thing that's ever occurred to you, even if you can't see it.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps through the last waves of her orgasm, her hips thrusting hard into you, who pants beneath her. Her juices run down your belly and you squirm impatiently.
"Please, Wanda. Let me touch you." You beg breathlessly, but she kisses you hungrily, her hands going down to your waist. At first, you think she's going to give you what you want, but Wanda gropes you in an unusual way, and you hear her magic before you feel a new volume between your legs. It takes you by surprise, the enchanted item and your tense body makes Wanda break the kiss.
With her forehead pressed against yours, she asks: "Red or green, darling?" As if to encourage an answer, Wanda grabs the conjured fake cock in her hand. It's really enchanted because you feel everything and the pleasure of the moment's stimulation brings a gasp. You move your hips, in the same direction as her without realizing what you're doing, and Wanda giggles. "I still need words."
"Fuck, green, yes." You moan and Wanda gives you a warning bite on the lips for cursing, but your head is spinning with pleasure from the movements that continue between the two of you.
Toys are nothing new - but a magic strap-on that you can feel as an extension of you certainly is. And Wanda seems willing to drive you to the brink of insanity when she simply adjusts the toy at her entrance and sinks in all at once.
You whimper, almost coming at once. She rocks gently against your lap without caring.
It's hard to breathe, especially when Wanda picks up speed and practically jumps on your cock, her warm walls clenching around you, trying to stop you from pulling out. Everything is too hot and just when you're ready to come, Wanda grabs your throat.
"Hold it." It's an order, almost impossible to obey when she rides your lap with such determination. You choke, struggling against the chains, the hot knot in your belly begging to break.
You almost sob. "I-I can't... please-"
She lets out a wicked giggle and doesn't stop moving. "Don't worry, babe, you're not coming. No matter how much you want to."
Wanda moans, and suddenly her movements stop. She groans heavily, gets impossibly tight and you think you're going to come, but something holds you back. Almost like a force of strength, and when Wanda falls limp against you, and her body continues to tremble from the intensity of the orgasm in contrast to yours, burning with more frustration, you understand what she's done.
"Wanda, what the fuck?" you gasped in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. And instead of losing her temper, she giggles mischievously at you.
"That's why you don't deserve to cum, baby. You're a foul-mouthed brat." She bites your jaw as she sits up, and you gasp, feeling her clench around you. "You're not coming until you improve this attitude."
She thrusts into you as a warning and although you feel as if you could come, your body simply won't obey. Because of the blindfold, you can't see her red irises either.Â
"You're so mean, Wanda." You groan, sighing at the sensation of her pulling out.Â
"Oh, darling, we have barely started."
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#kinktober 2023#wanda maximoff oneshots
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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.
Chapter five âïž 'Cause you know it could never be
Warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of the upside down, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of Stancy (I guess), but none really
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: Weeks had passed since your conversation with Steve, and things between you have shifted into a different direction...
Word count: 8k+
Author's note: @hellfire--cult shoutout to my bestieeee, thank you for helping me and for keeping me in check, I love u
Series masterlist âïž Previous chapter âïž Next chapter
âĄ
As the weeks passed, the warmth slowly started to surround Hawkins. The flowers have all bloomed, the sun is blessing the town with light and itâs something you greatly appreciate, knowing that things couldâve been so different had victory not been the outcome weeks back.Â
The day Steve had come by to apologize and talk, things had started to change between the two of you. While you tried to avoid him at all costs, fearing more confrontations and arguments, Steve had done everything to show you that he really wanted to keep the peace between you both.Â
You felt awkward around him for the first few days after your conversation, especially because it felt like he was walking on eggshells when he was around you, he bit his tongue whenever you tried to throw a jab at him, he looked at you differently, he was careful with his words and it annoyed you to no end. You never wanted him to feel like he had to be nice to you after what happened. Luckily, he couldnât keep his act up for long, the moment you said something that was enough to set him off, you went back to your usual banters â though, it didnât feel as rough as it did before.Â
You were also dragged into everything involving the whole group. Itâs something you would have hated if it wasnât for Eddie who somehow had nestled his way into your life and reached for the title âbest friendâ before you could even blink. Despite the fear that still lingered deep inside of you, you let him in and you are glad that you did so. You really needed a friend.Â
But you are not the only one who grew close to Eddie in the past few weeks, Steve has also taken a great liking to him, and you now see more of him than ever before, because now it isnât only the weekly movie or game nights that you spend time with him, itâs also Tuesday nights at the hideout, Wednesday nights at the movies, Sunday mornings at the diner and⊠you donât mind for a single second.Â
You used to watch him from afar, now he is everywhere you go and while the relationship you two have isnât exactly friendly, you still appreciate it. Youâll take anything you can get when it comes to him.Â
You eye Eddie through the vanity mirror, watching as he lounges on your bed, flipping through some old magazine he had found on your shelf. His curls are wild on his head, a little tamer than usual though, a few new rings adorn his fingers as well as the new shirt that doesnât exactly fit the occasion.Â
âEddie, you could have at least put a nice shirt on! A black one! Without a stupid band logo at the front!âÂ
âStupid?â He gasps as he sits up, staring at you, looking very offended, âlet me remind you, Sweetheart. None of them are stupid, they are meaningful and artistic.â
Max scoffs at him, trying not to shake her head as youâre still using the hot curling iron on her hair.Â
âRight, because the music video of that Samuel made absolutely fucking sense.âÂ
He drops the magazine and jumps up from the bed, his jaw dropping at her words.Â
âYou mean Samson!?â He almost yells, âBiceps of Steel is a masterpiece, Red!âÂ
You and Max share a look of amusement through the mirror, scoffing simultaneously.Â
âYeah, you made me watch that video like four times,â she rolls her eyes at him.Â
Eddie squints his eyes at her, continuing his ramble while you smile at their bantering.Â
Not only did you and Eddie grow closer, he and Max did too. Eddieâs new home is close to Maxâs, just like back in the trailer park. And the teen just loves to bother Eddie and Uncle Wayne, more so Eddie in the early morning hours, knowing how grumpy he will get. She still snaps at him and judges his âpoorâ taste in movies and music but he only judges back, though playfully. They behave like siblings and you never get bored watching their banters.Â
Eddie is the brother Max deserved to have.Â
âBla bla bla,â she rolls her eyes at him, sighing in relief when you finish up with the final touches.Â
âWho taught you to be so rude, Red?â Eddie shakes his head in disapproval.
Max only laughs in response, she leans closer to the mirror and turns her head to the side as she touches her curls. Her eyes meet yours and a smile appears on her face, âthank you.â
âYouâre welcome,â you smile as you put the curling iron on your vanity.Â
Max gets up from the chair, she walks out of the room and into the hallway, still limping a little but the cast on her leg is already gone.
âIâll call Lucas and see if heâs ready,â she says as she walks down the stairs.Â
You turn to face Eddie, who is staring at the dress you are wearing, like he only noticed it now. The playful smile on his face is now gone, replaced by a teasing one.Â
âGot all pretty for someone?â He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.Â
You tilt your head and squint your eyes, âit was a formal invitation, Eddie! You just didnât get the memo.â You point to his band shirt before you turn away from him and sit down on the chair, picking up your lipstick that you havenât applied yet.Â
Eddie rolls his eyes at your words, walking closer to you, he leans down and puts his hands on his knees, staring at you through the mirror.Â
âDarling, apple of my eye, sweetheart, long lost soulmate⊠I am not buying shit.âÂ
You keep staring at your lips, careful not to go over the lines as you apply the rosy tone to them, only when youâre done and you put the lipstick in the bag you had picked out earlier, you look up at him with a sigh.Â
âItâs the same as always, Eddie.â
âIs it?â He tilts his head, still looking at you with that same teasing smile. âCause while you do wear all these trendsetter outfits, I never saw you wear a dress this⊠fancy.âÂ
âTrendsetter outfits?â You laugh, furrowing your brows at him. âAnd fancy? Itâs just a black dress!â
He raises his brows, stepping away as he looks down at the silky fabric on your form.Â
âA little black dress.â
âWell, look whoâs the trendsetter now!â You snort.Â
He walks back to your bed, picking up the fashion magazine that has a little black dress on the cover. He raises it up, showing it to you, âVogue taught me.âÂ
Shaking your head, you look back at your reflection and add the final touches to your hair, before you apply your favorite perfume. You get up and smoothe down your dress, itâs beautiful and you have been dying for a chance to wear it. But your stomach suddenly fills with doubt because of his reaction. Are you overdressed? No⊠right? Itâs truly nothing special. Itâs just a dress, a little black and silky dress, nothing fancy about it.Â
Besides, Joyce invited you all to a formal dinner, after all. You canât show up in jeans and a t-shirt, even Max put on a skirt today and that girl hates dresses and skirts with a passion.
But maybe Eddie was right, maybe⊠you did think of a certain someone when you bought this dress, and maybe you do feel your insides tingling at the thought of seeing him again tonight, maybe you did get pretty for him â even when you know that he will have eyes for somebody else all night. That thought makes you want to stay at home and hide from the world but you canât back out now, you couldnât even decline the invitation you got from Joyce herself when you ran into her at the coffee shop two weeks ago.Â
She is one of the few people in this godforsaken town that you have always liked. Finding out that she is now dating Jim Hopper â the very alive Jim Hopper, wasnât exactly a surprise to you. You heard all the rumors about them, even before you were dragged into the mess your new friends had been in for the past few years. â The bored middle aged women who met up at the coffee shop every Wednesday afternoon just loved to talk about all the existent and non-existent relationships in this town and well, you loved to hear about all the gossip too, though you always acted like you were immersed in the books you had brought, you really never read a single line whenever they were providing each other new drama.Â
On the drive to the Byers/Hopper house, you picked up Lucas before you made a quick stop at the store to buy a cake, none of you wanted to show up with empty hands and you didnât know what else to get â besides the little bouquet of flowers that Lucas got for Joyce.Â
As you look out the window, watching the passing trees, you listen to Eddieâs conversation with Lucas.Â
âYou ever wonder how Hopper explained his return from the dead?â Eddie asks as he plays with his sunglasses, âcause Iâm really curious.âÂ
âI am too,â Lucas says from the backseat.Â
âDo you think he went with the kidnapping story?â Eddie asks, his sunglasses low on his nose as he glances at you. âImagine he told Chief Powell and Deputy Dumbass about the upside down.âÂ
âDonât say that too loud, Eds. Or the suit wearing dicks will come back to take all our hush money back,â you snort. âAnd then youâll lose your fancy house and your fancy Barbecue grill.âÂ
He waves his hand at you, âIâll take my fancy Barbecue grill and move in with you. Iâll still have a fancy house, rich girl.â
You snort.Â
âOh, can I move in then too?â Lucas asks, grinning at you. âYou always got the best snacks,â he points to the store bought cake on your lap.Â
âEddie and I chose the cake together,â you chuckle.Â
âWell, duh, weâd make great roommates, sweets,â Eddie winks at you. âSame taste in food â but you still need to up your music taste.â
You scoff.Â
âHonestly, I think a girls only place would be so much cooler,â Max says to him, âjust peace all the time, no boys, no stinky clothes lying around⊠just pure girls heaven.â
Lucas frowns at her, tilting his head, âyou say that to your boyfriend?âÂ
Eddie snorts at the offended tone in Lucasâs voice, while you shake your head in amusement.Â
The burgundy BMW is already in the driveway when Eddie pulls up, he parks his car behind Steveâs. You inwardly curse at yourself for feeling a rush of something just from looking at his car. You tear your eyes away from it and take in the beautiful sight in front of you, instead.Â
The light blue house has a big porch, flowers on the grass in front of it, a big willow tree on the right side â itâs so pretty and this neighborhood is a quiet one, itâs perfect.Â
Lucas rings the doorbell, waiting patiently with the flowers in his hands that Max keeps teasing him about, giggling and making jabs at him until he finally gets fed up. He picks out one of the daisies and turns around to face his girlfriend, he brushes her hair back and tucks the little flower behind her hair, which shuts her up immediately, her eyes widen and she starts blushing furiously.Â
You press your lips together, so you donât burst into giggles at the look on her face.Â
Lucas sighs in contentment when she grows silent, he turns back to the door.Â
Eddie though, he starts chuckling.Â
Max clenches her jaw, she sends Eddie the deadliest glare you have ever seen. It only makes you want to laugh even more.Â
The door opens and youâre all greeted by a very happy El, a bright smile on her lips as she waves at you.Â
âHi guys, come in!â She reaches forward to Max, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the house, âI need to tell you something.âÂ
The two girls scurry away and up the stairs, leaving the three of you standing on the porch.Â
Lucas shakes his head, sighing, âyou know, I wouldnât be surprised if Max left me to be with El.â
Eddie throws his arm around Lucasâs shoulder as they both step inside the house, âevery girl has a girlfriend, just deal with it, Sinclair.â
âWhat?â You laugh, following them,âI donât have a girlfriend.â
âOh, itâll happen magically, Sweetheart. Once you have a boyfriend, youâll also find a girlfriend.âÂ
âThat literally makes no sense.â
âOh,â Lucas smirks, looking over his shoulder at you, âhe means, once you and Steve stop acting like you hate each other and youâll fall in love and get together, you wonât only have a boyfriend, you will also have a girlfriend which is his best friend,â he wiggles his eyebrows at you.Â
You roll your eyes and ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the word âboyfriendâ. Steve will never be your boyfriend, he wonât even be anything close to it. Hell, he is barely even a friend. He is your frenemy.Â
You open your mouth to speak when Joyce walks out into the hallway, smiling at the three of you before a gasp falls from her lips when Lucas hands her the flowers.Â
âOh, youâre such a sweetheart, Lucas,â she smiles down at the flowers.Â
You feel a little out of place, being new to this group, being in a tight friend group for the first time in your life feels nerve wracking. And while you arenât the only one, Eddie is definitely way more sociable and open than you are, where you struggle to make conversations, he rambles on just about anything.Â
But Joyce makes you feel welcome, she greets you with a warm smile, placing her hand on your arm.Â
âWe got you your favorite,â Eddie grins at her, taking the cake from your hands so you can greet her properly.Â
âOh, you shouldnât have! Youâre all so kind,â she smiles at the both of you, âcome on, Iâll put it in the fridge for now. You guys go ahead, Jonathan and Nancy are in the backyard with Hop, the kids are in the living room.â
When you step inside, you notice the smell of food from the kitchen and the dining room, the sound of music playing from the stereo â Joy Division. You know right away that Jonathan was the one who put on the music.Â
You greet Mike, Will and Dustin who are in a heated conversation about something D&D related.Â
Robin walks into the living room, her blue eyes meet yours and a smile appears on her face.Â
You eye her up and down, sheâs wearing black dress pants, suspenders over her red blouse. Your lips curl into a smirk when your eyes meet hers. She opens her arms for you and you hug her, leaning closer to her ear, âif I was into girls, Iâd be on the floor for you right now, Buckley,â you joke, suggestively.Â
She gasps and slaps your arm lightly, ânaughty.âÂ
A giggle falls from your lips when you pull away from the hug, âitâs the truth, you look hot in this outfit.âÂ
She shakes her head, biting her lip as she tries to hide the blush on her cheeks.Â
âYouâre one to talk,â she whispers, smirking when she takes a look at your dress, âhow did Munson not crash the car?â
Your lips part in shock, and you look down, âi-is that too revealing?â You whisper, tugging at your dress.
She starts chuckling, âno, I just mean because youâre so gorgeous,â she winks. âI know Iâd crash the car, Iâd be too busy staring at you.â
âOh my god,â you swat her arm this time, âEddie and I are not attracted to each other.â And youâre certainly not lying about that.
âRobin, I see her the same way you see Steve,â Eddie suddenly says from behind you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. âDifference? Iâm heterosexual,â he whispers to her before he looks at you, âno offense, itâs not that youâre not hot, itâs just that youâre a little gremlin to me already.â
Your eyes flash with amusement and you put your hand on your chest, âI will take offense to that actually.âÂ
Your stomach flutters when your eyes fall on the figure in the kitchen.Â
âSucks to be you then,â he chuckles, âanyways, howâs Vickie doing?â He wiggles his brows at Robin.Â
You donât even hear Eddieâs words, youâre already too far gone, staring at the one you had your eyes set on since forever. You donât know how he always does it, but he looks so gorgeous. His fluffy hair looking better than ever, a smile lingering on his face as he talks to Joyce.
His white shirt is tucked into his dark brown slacks that he paired with a black belt. He looks like he walked straight out of a 60s movie and god, he looks really good. He turns his back to you, and you watch as Joyce leaves the kitchen, walking out into the backyard.Â
You donât feel your feet moving, but you feel yourself being pulled into the kitchen, still admiring Steve â his broad shoulders, the way his muscles are moving underneath the shirt.Â
You are practically drooling over the guy, and you feel shame but not enough to stop yourself from ogling him, maybe youâd feel a bit more ashamed if things between you havenât shifted into something else, you still get on each otherâs nerves, the bickering is still there, poking into each other's ribs to see who bends first, but all that is never too much or hurtful. The scowls are there, they never left, the scrunches of noses, the deadly glares. But you noticed that the bickering had gone from yelling to soft talking. Enough for just the two of you to hear, no one else.Â
Itâs all still the same⊠but it also isnât.Â
And you canât help but love it.
Steve is cutting vegetables and throwing them into the bowl. Your heart flutters as you take another moment to look at him. While the others are chatting in the living room and in the garden, Steve is helping Joyce prepare dinner. Cute.
You lick your lips, moving closer to him, you brush your hand over his shoulder as you walk past him, not even realizing how soft your touch actually was.Â
Steve tenses up, not because he doesnât like your touch â but because he does. He likes it, even if he would never admit it. He recognizes you by the sweet and flowery scent of your perfume, something that makes his insides tingle in an unfamiliar way.
âHey, Lego head,â you greet him, leaning against the counter next to him, ânice mousse on the hair.â
A smirk tugs at his lips, he puts down the knife as he opens his mouth to speak, though when he turns to look at you, his breathing stutters, his heart stops beating and his eyes widen as the smirk slowly falls â instead, his cheeks heat up and he presses his lips back together, gulping as he takes in the sight of you in your beautiful dress. Itâs not any different from the sundresses that youâve been wearing a lot lately, but it would be enough to make him stutter if he tried to talk right now, because somehow, you look even more beautiful, right now.
You turn away from him, looking around at the food he had already helped prepare, giving him the perfect opportunity to ogle you. Itâs a good thing he stopped cutting the fruit, and put the knife down before he saw you, he surely wouldâve chopped a finger off by now, and heâs not sure if he would have noticed because, all that he is focused on is how pretty you look, with your glowy, smooth skin and the makeup that you donât even need, the dress that almost has him on his knees.Â
But he gets dragged back into reality when your eyes meet his and he remembers who you arenât supposed to be â a girl who effortlessly manages to make him blush. No one has ever made Steve Harrington blush, absolutely no one, and he surely wonât let you be the first.Â
âBlondie.â
âDo you think theyâll let us drink?â You ask, looking around as you try to spot anything but soda.Â
Steve chuckles, shaking his head.Â
âAre you twenty one yet? No. What makes you think that Hopper will let us drink?â He picks up the knife again, forcing his eyes away from you.Â
âWe fought monsters and had near death experiences multiple times,â you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, âwill alcohol hurt us?â
âNo, but it might turn you into an alcoholic, better not start with that, kid.â Hopper suddenly appears from behind, causing you to flinch.Â
Steve watches from the side, laughing at the wide eyed look on your face.Â
You turn to face the older man, scrunching up your nose when your eyes instantly fall on the beer in his hand, âoh, really? Whatâs that in your hand then, alcoholic?â You mock him.Â
Hopper shakes his head, chuckling.Â
âSo thatâs where Elâs attitude has been coming from lately.â
âTold you, miss sunshine over here is a bad influence,â Steve jokes.Â
âDonât know which attitude youâre talking about, I donât have one.âÂ
At that, both Steve and Hopper burst out laughing, the latter squeezes your shoulder as he walks past you, âyou keep telling yourself that, kid.âÂ
âWell, arenât we celebrating something today?â You ask.Â
Hopper opens the fridge, taking out another beer after throwing the empty can into the trash. He looks at you with raised brows, a smile tugging at his lips.Â
None of you know what this celebration even is about, that you all got invited to â except for El, Jonathan and Will, of course. They know all about it.Â
âYeah.â
âSo⊠canât celebrate without the drinks,â you shrug, giving him a sheepish smile.Â
Youâre unaware of the smile on Steveâs lips as he watches you.Â
âYouâre nineteen, wait two more yearsââ
âWe fought interdimensional monsters, this one almost got strangled to death,â you point at Steve, ânot to mention all the times he got his ass kickedââ
âYou didnât need to go there, Blondie,â he rolls his eyes.Â
âI almost died! A girl can have a drink, come on!âÂ
Hopper sighs, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks between the two of you.Â
You are desperate for a drink, itâs been months since you had any alcohol in your system, and youâre craving the buzz, feeling careless and free. All you felt after the night at the Creel house was pain⊠and more pain. Your head was constantly hurting, your vision blurred every time you got up, the dizziness drove you crazy â itâs still there sometimes, but you feel better now, much better, good enough to have drinks again.Â
But the stubborn man wonât let you have it and you can already tell by the look on his face that he will say no. So, you pull out the big guns.
You smirk at him, tilting your head.Â
âMy dad told me what you used to get up to in high school.â
He holds his hands up, squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance.Â
âDidnât you and Joyce used to smoke pot behindââ
Steveâs eyes widen as his lips part in surprise.Â
âGet this demon a drink, Steve.â He waves his hand and quickly leaves the room, sending you another warning glance over his shoulder.Â
âWhy meâŠâ Steve mutters.
âCause youâre maid material, chop chop, Harrington.â
He sighs, rolling his eyes again.Â
âOh hey Hop, long time no see.â You hear Eddieâs voice in the living room, followed by Hopperâs groan.Â
If you werenât so fixated on Steve right now, youâd be watching Eddieâs and Hopperâs interaction, right now. Itâs never not amusing.Â
âYou sure you want me to make you a drink?â He steps away from the counter and bends down to open the cabinet he saw Hopper putting the whiskey into earlier, he looks through the few bottles and reaches for the rum.Â
You watch the way he furrows his brows, licking his lips as stares at the bottle. He straightens his back and steps up beside you again.Â
âWell, didnât you used to throw parties and mix cocktails?â You shrug, tilting your head to the side.Â
Steve watches you, the way your flashes flutter as you blink, the way you look at him so innocently, something that makes him feel⊠intrigued.Â
âI never got to taste it,â you pout.Â
He swallows harshly.
âIâm craving something sweet on my lips right now, so please⊠Can you make me a drink?â You ask with a sickly sweet tone in your voice, not intending these words to sound so⊠suggestive and you donât even notice it either.Â
But he does, and he almost drops the bottle he is holding. Your flirty words make his eyes widen and his stomach flutters. Itâs not the first time something like this happened, you threw suggestive words or glances at him before but all this time he was certain that you did this unintended â even now, because the look on your face is innocent, genuinely innocent.Â
You arenât teasing, you arenât even aware of how flirty you can be sometimes.
He turns away from you, walking over to the fridge, he grabs the pineapple juice and puts it on the counter next to the bottle of rum.Â
He looks up at the shelf, where all the long drink glasses are. How convenient it is that youâre standing right in front of it.Â
While you do everything unintended, he doesnât. He knows what he is doing when he steps towards you. He looks down at you with that same innocent look that you just gave him, the only difference is that he isnât innocent. He places his hand on your waist, testing the waters. âExcuse me,â he murmurs, squeezing your waist ever so softly. He reaches over your shoulder as he grabs the glass, he keeps his eyes on you, biting back the smirk when he sees the way your eyes widen and you visibly gulp.Â
Your lips part and you start blinking, looking up at him before your eyes fall to his chest and you squirm beneath his stare.Â
Got you. He thinks.Â
You stop breathing and your heart freaking jumps in your chest, his innocent touch is almost enough to make your knees buckle.Â
Despite the nervousness, you look into his eyes, watching the way they twinkle with mischief. Bastard. Is he doing this on purpose? Because he somehow knows that every slightest touch from him drives you crazy?Â
He takes way too long to get that stupid glass from the shelf but fuck, you canât help but love the way his big hand feels on your body, or the way he is almost pressed against you, the way the smell of his cologne makes your stomach flutter.
And then, he steps away like nothing happened.Â
Because it was nothing⊠to him.Â
Even when thereâs a hint of a smirk on his lips as he prepares the drink, you know that this was only because he wanted to get a reaction out of you.
âHere,â he slides the drink over to you, still smirking, âtry it.âÂ
You wrap your hand around the cold glass and take the straw between your fingers, stirring the ice around, furrowing your brows, âwhatâs this called?âÂ
He crosses his arms over his chest, âthe King Steve special,â he winks.Â
You scrunch your face up at him.
Wrapping your lips around the straw, you look into his eyes as you try it, the sweetness from the pineapple juice definitely overpowers the taste of rum, and you donât know if you like it or not.Â
Steve ignores the way his stomach tingles from watching you â watching your glossy lips as theyâre wrapped around the black straw.Â
âJesus, that really is a high school drink, King Steve.â
He squints his eyes at you, âitâs a fucking drink, Blondie.â
âA horrible one at that.â
He places his hand on his hip, rolling his eyes at your words, but a smirk tugs at his lips and he suddenly leans closer to you to whisper in your ear.Â
âYou really fooled me with that dress of yours⊠if only you kept your mouth shut.âÂ
He wants to stay and keep staring at the shocked look on your face, at the way you grow so flustered beneath his stare. The smirk that lingers on his lips grows even wider when he sees the way your lips part but close again.Â
He left you speechless.Â
He reaches for the bowl of salad, âgonna bring this out,â he says, tilting his head into the direction of the garden, âthey set up the table outside.âÂ
You donât even hear his words, you just stare at his lips before your eyes fall on the chain around his neck. You swallow and look down, hiding your flustered face as you take another sip of the drink.Â
Steve holds back the chuckle, he turns away begrudgingly and walks out, he wouldâve loved to see more of that look on your face.Â
It takes you a moment to recover from whatever that was, you nearly down the King Steve Special in one go. And maybe preparing yourself a second drink is a mistake, knowing that you will probably feel more than just a slight buzz, you only had breakfast and you skipped lunch because you were too busy getting ready and stressing over your hair that never looks nearly as perfect as Steveâs does.Â
You step out into the backyard, the table on the porch is already filled with food and drinks, the smell of the Barbecue lingering in the air. Jonathan is standing in front of the grill with Nancy by his side, her chin on his shoulder, her arm wrapped around his waist, theyâre talking and smiling at each other.Â
As you watch them, the sudden realization that you will never have anything like they do, fills you with a slight sadness.Â
You donât envy them, youâre happy for them, youâre happy for anyone who gets to experience love. But maybe, you envy the love someone else still holds for her, someone you will never have.Â
You look down, frowning at your drink.Â
The teens all stumble out into the backyard as Joyce ushers them to the table.Â
You flinch a little when you suddenly feel an arm around your shoulder, instantly recognizing Eddieâs cologne, you turn your head to look at him.Â
âThis could be us if you werenât such a gremlin,â he says as he points to Jonathan and Nancy who are now kissing, in front of the sizzling meat that is probably now burning.Â
You squint your eyes, shaking your head disapprovingly.Â
You know heâs only joking, and it fills you with relief, because as much as you crave what they have, you definitely donât crave it with Eddie. You crave to have this with Steve, and itâs something you feel stupid for. The guy may not hate your guts anymore, but heâs surely not your biggest fan either. Â
âYou know, youâre a gremlin too, Eds.â
âThatâs why weâre best friends,â he chuckles, patting your shoulder as he looks down at the drink in your hand, âwhatâs that?â
âKing Steve Special,â you snort, offering it to him, âwell, this one was made by me.â
âCan I try?â
You hand it to him, and his curious eyes widen when he takes a sip, âwow, that is uhââ
âToo sweet?âÂ
He shakes his head at you, curls bouncing, ânah, itâs perfect.â
âWell, you can have it, I might get drunk if I finish that.â
âAlready!?â He scoffs, shaking his head at you, âlightweight.â
"Uh, excuse me? I havenât had any drinks in months, Eddie. Months.âÂ
âWell, I havenât had any in weeks, Iâm still standing.â
âYou only took one sip!â
He takes another sip and grins at you, holding up two fingers.Â
âTwo sips.âÂ
You canât even help but laugh, slapping his shoulder lightly, âyou are soââ
âFunny? Handsome? Perfect?â
âToo cocky?â Lucas says behind Eddie, grinning at him.Â
âMe and cocky?â Eddie raises his brows, ânever.â
âOh no, that kid is right, boy. Youâre cocky,â Hopper sighs, âtrust me.â
âWell, I am also very fast, Chief,â he smirks, winking at the older man, âbut you already know that.â
Hopperâs amused face grows serious, a hardened look takes over and he grumbles something under his breath as he stares at Eddie. You canât even help but giggle. â A sound that doesnât go unheard by Steve who just sat down across from Robin, not even hiding the fact that he no longer listens to her rambling about some movie she watched with Vickie last night. All he can do, all he can see, all he can hear right now is you, just you.Â
The sound of your giggles is not something he is used to â he is used to your grumbling, to your sarcastic chuckles and the smirks on your face. A giggle? A very unusual sound to hear but something that heâs been hearing quite often lately. If your friendship with Eddie wasnât so obvious, he mightâve thought that you took a liking towards him, but itâs clear that your friendship with him is just like his with Robin; Platonic with a capital P.Â
He canât help but smile as he watches you, not because he likes you, god no. He just likes watching you. You are pretty, gorgeous even. He always knew that, even through his dislike, he always saw your beauty â he isnât blind. And seeing you like this makes his chest feel⊠warm.Â
He eyes your dress again, the lace on the straps lay so prettily on your shoulders, the silky material fitting your upper body so perfectly, itâs loose on your hips, and itâs short, not too short but enough to make him gulp.Â
The chair scrapes against the floor, but even that sound doesnât tear his attention away from you.Â
Nancy steps up beside you, exchanging a few words with you and Eddie before she turns her head into Steveâs direction, she lifts her hand and points at him, something that instantly makes Steve tense up, because not only did Eddie catch him staring at you, you did too.Â
With his cheeks blushing red, he clears his throat and turns back to Robin who is now rambling Dustinâs ear off. He places his elbow on the armrest, running his fingers through his hair nervously.Â
What is wrong with him? Since when does he spend time staring at you? Since when does he blush because of you?Â
âHere you can sit next to your favorite person, gremlin.â
He doesnât know who he expected to sit down beside him, but he surely didnât think itâd be you. He goes to lift his head when you pull back the chair. Just as heâs about to glance at you, he suddenly feels your hand on his knee and hears your groan as you stumble forward a little.Â
âAlmost broke my ankle, for fucks sake. Iâm sorry, Lego head,â you mumble, inwardly cursing at yourself for tripping over the stupid leg chair and using him to steady yourself. You remove your hand when you finally sit down, turning away from him to hide the flustered look on your face.Â
He blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat, he plasters a smirk on his face, âare you drunk from that one drink, Blondie?â He chuckles, watching the way you roll your eyes at his question.Â
You feel a slight buzz, but youâre not sure whether itâs because of the alcohol or his âflirtyâ comment that certainly had no meaning.Â
Steve loves to flirt and he does it every chance he gets but he definitely wouldnât flirt with you, no matter how desperate heâd be, youâd never be good enough for Steve Harrington.Â
When everyone is finally seated and the rest of the food is now on the table, Hopper is standing up with a drink in his hand, waiting for the teen boys to stop talking so he can finally open his mouth to speak. He tries to be patient, he really tries.Â
Joyce looks down in amusement.Â
Jonathan waves at Dustin, trying to shut him up, but the boy doesnât see, too focused on the conversation with Mike.Â
âMike,â El whispers, nudging him with her elbow.Â
He looks away from Dustin, and turns to look at his girlfriend when his eyes find Hopper glaring at him with that very intimidating look on his face.Â
His face grows pale and he slowly leans back in his seat, punching Dustin in the arm to shut up.Â
Hopper clears his throat, he puts his hand on the back of his neck, squinting his eyes a little. Itâs silent now, except for the faint music that still plays in the living room. His throat bobbed as he looked around the table.Â
You can tell that he struggles to find his words, by the note that sticks out of the pocket in his flannel, you can tell that he had already prepared a speech.Â
Joyce gives him an encouraging nod as she reaches for his hand.Â
âI uhâ I just, I thought that it would be a great idea for us all to sit down and uh⊠chat. Iâm not good at all of this so Iâll just jump straight into it,â he starts, chuckling at his own words, before seriousness takes over his features again, âyou kids went through a lot, you went through too much, every single one of you. But you were all so brave, you stuck together and defeated that⊠son of a bitch.âÂ
Giggles erupt around him and his lip twitches a little.Â
âWe defeated him,â El says, smiling at her dad, âwe defeated that son of a bitch, âtogether.âÂ
âLanguage, kid,â Hopper chuckles but he shakes his head at her, âbut yeah, together.âÂ
âThe past few years havenât been easy for any of you,â he continues, looking at all the young teens, at his daughter, at Jonathan and Nancy but also at Robin and Steve, and then he looks between you and Eddie too. âYou all lost something or someone, you shouldnât know what itâs like but uh, I guess in all of this chaos, you all found each other and I-I think thatâs, thatâs something, that means a lot.â
You can tell that he is struggling to say these words out loud, you hear the shakiness in his voice, the way he is holding himself together, the way he is speaking so softly because of how emotional he is after he spent the past few years in darkness after losing people he loved.Â
El and Joyce stepped into his life and so much chaos followed when he was dragged into a mess he had only seen in movies before, but it also brought him so much light and happiness again.Â
Just like it did for you and you wouldnât change a thing about it.Â
If you had to go back and relive all the awful things you had to endure those few weeks back, you wouldâve done it in a heartbeat. Because, despite the horrors and the darkness you had been pulled into, you have found friends, a family. You found a best friend again, Eddie who sits across from you, smiling at you because he too, found a best friend in you.Â
And you and Steve, you arenât close by any means, but you are happy to have him in your life now, even if only like this.Â
âAnd I, I found a family and my uh beautiful soon to be wife.âÂ
It takes a moment for the words to sink in.Â
It takes another moment for everyone to lose their calmness.Â
When the soft smiles vanish and the shocked and surprised looks take over your faces, Joyce and Hopper canât help but laugh.Â
âW-Wait what!?â Dustin shrieks, âyouâre getting married!?âÂ
âYep,â Hopper nods, smiling proudly.Â
El is smiling excitedly, clapping her hands together, like she is relieved that itâs no longer a secret, âand I canât wait for the wedding!âÂ
Nancy and Jonathan laugh at her excitement, while Dustin still looks between the older couple.Â
You glance at Eddie, who is staring at Hopper like he wants to say something but he bites his tongue, not wanting to ruin the sweet moment with one of his jokes.Â
âAnd we want you all to be there,â Hopper nods with a small smile on his face, âit wasnât my idea to invite you all, just so you know.âÂ
Everyone laughs at his words and the fake grumpy look on his face, by now you all know that the former Chief isnât as mean and cold as everyone always knew him to be.Â
âIt was his idea,â Joyce smiles, cheekily.Â
âOf course it was, he loves us!â Dustin grins at Hopper.
âWell, congrats,â Robin smiles brightly, âI canât believe youâre inviting a bunch of kids but hey, Iâm excited!âÂ
Joyce gives her a warm smile, while Hopper grumbles something under his breath as he looks between Dustin and Mike.Â
After all the congratulations go around, Hopper finally takes a seat, pointing at all the food on the table, including the few pieces of chicken that Jonathan had burned because he was too busy making out with Nancy, telling you all to finally âdig inâ.
The conversations flow easily between everyone and it feels familiar despite being new to this circle.Â
And while you and Steve donât really talk to each other, you feel his eyes on you every once in a while. You feel his arm brushing against yours, his hands grazing your knuckles whenever he reaches for his drink â and every slightest touch shoots electricity through your veins and your heart beats a little faster every time his skin touches yours.Â
You curse at yourself for feeling so weak for him, for almost crumbling after only these small and very innocent touches, for liking someone who spent most of his life hating you.Â
You spend the rest of the night avoiding him, trying to lean away, trying to look at anyone but at him. And even then, you can still feel his eyes on you and itâs driving you crazy and you suddenly canât wait to get away from him so you can finally breathe and stop feeling so delusional â his comment, his touches, his glances are all getting too much. If he was someone else, you would think that he was flirting but he is Steve Harrington for god's sake, and he would never flirt, not with you.Â
You feel relief rushing through your whole body when hours later, Eddie announces that he is going home, you almost jump up and bolt towards the door but your best friend seems to have other plans.Â
With his hands on your shoulder and an apologetic smile on his face, he opens his mouth, âBuckley is driving my car tonight, I wouldnât want to put you in danger, sorry sweets, youâre with Harrington tonight. Donât worry, youâll be in good hands.â He winks and pinches your cheek before he scurries away.
Robin follows him, winking at you as she walks out with Eddieâs car keys, and the teens following her.
Max gives you a sheepish smile, mouthing a âsorryâ before she walks out, as well, leaving you standing in the hallway.Â
What the hell.Â
You have been waiting to get away from him, now youâre forced to drive home with Steve? No. Just the thought of being alone with him makes you feel nervous.Â
You look around the empty hallway, you already said your goodbyes to everyone and no one will care how or who you went home with. You can just walk home⊠by yourself, and you wonât have to suffer through another car ride with Steve.Â
But as you reach for the knob, the sound of keys jingling stops you from opening the door. You close your eyes, clenching your jaw. You donât have to look to know who it is.Â
âRunning away from me?â Steve asks.Â
You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes and the smirk on his face. Hazel eyes glowing beneath the dim lights.Â
âCome on, Blondie,â he murmurs, eyeing you up and down as he steps up behind you, placing his hand over yours so he can open the door.Â
His hand touches yours. His hand envelopes yours fully. His chest is almost pressed against your back. Your heart flutters and your knees almost buckle for real, this time.Â
His lip twitches and he licks them as he looks down at you.Â
You tear your eyes away from him when he opens the door. You quickly step out and breathe in the fresh night air, hoping that it will calm your racing heart.
âI-I didnât know youâd be my ride tonight.â
Steve watches the way your dress sways as you walk down the porch steps. Fuck. He clears his throat, but feels unable to look away as he follows you. You donât even look back at him, not until youâre standing next to his car and giving him a very annoyed look.
âIs that a problem for you?âÂ
âMaybe.â
He shakes his head with a chuckle as he unlocks his car.Â
âGet your ass in the car, Blondie.âÂ
Steve doesnât know what it is about you today, but everything you do, everything you say drives him crazy. That cheeky smile that you throw at him as you open the door, the way you tilt your head as you lick your upper lip before you say âyes, sir.â Has him clenching his jaw.Â
He looks up into the night sky, taking a deep breath before he gets in the car.Â
He tries not to look at you, but itâs hard not to when he for some reason feels some sort of electric pull towards you tonight.Â
He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway without another word.Â
Neither of you speak on the drive home but Steve canât help but steal glances, while you are completely unaware of it, just like youâre unaware of how much your dress rode up, not enough to reveal too much but enough to make him sweat.Â
Steve is under your spell tonight and you donât even know it.Â
The drive to your house is too short for his liking and unlike him, who seems to be eager to spend more time with you tonight, you seem like you canât wait to jump out of the car and get away from him.Â
You open the door, mumbling a âthanks for the ride.âÂ
âYou know, I really didnât think that you could dress like that, Blondie.â He says, intending those words to sound⊠flirty.
A laugh falls from your lips because of how absurd this is. He didnât think you looked cute, he probably thinks you dress too feminine for the attitude you have towards him, thatâs all. This new kind of teasing is hurting you, but you canât say anything about it to him, you canât say that this hurts you, that itâs making you go insane. He would ask why, and you would have no excuse. You canât face rejection, at least not right now⊠So you play along.Â
âCareful, Lego head. Youâll give me the wrong idea and make me think that you have a crush on me or something,â you joke with words he said to you not too long ago. You throw a wink at him and shut the door before he can even open his mouth to say something.Â
With his hand on the steering wheel and his eyes still stuck on you, he breathes heavily, his heart pounding and his cheeks burning as he slowly comes down from whatever high he had been on all day.Â
He swallows harshly, but his heart fucking flutters when he can smell your perfume that still lingers.Â
He watches you disappear into your house and shutting the door without giving him another glance or something.Â
He slumps back in his seat, throwing his hand into his hair, he runs his fingers through it as all the events come rushing to him.Â
The teasing, the touches, the⊠flirting.Â
Steve is stunned by his own actions, by how he acted towards you today â something that you were very unaware of, something that he is now glad about⊠Yet, he canât help but feel a little disappointed that you didnât notice the teasing.
He doesnât even know where it all came from but he blames it on his desperation to feel something again, something that he had been craving for so long.Â
He was guided by lust, not by interest.Â
Because in no way, would he ever be interested in you.Â
All he saw today was a pretty girl in a pretty dress, it didnât matter that it was you. He just needed to feel something, and he did⊠by teasing you.Â
But itâs something that will never happen again.Â
He swears, it will never happen again.Â
âĄ
tagging friends and mutuals
@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munsonlore @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @ibellcipem
I'm sorry if I forgot anyone again (I'm the worst at taglists)
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington angst#steve harrington fluff#stranger things angst
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happy birthday
Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: Steve's deep in a lie. One that he won't be able to recover from. What happens when he finds out you know the truth.
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, and fluff of course. Brat Tamer!Steve, Oral (M Receiving),
AN: Based on a headcanon I read at some point where Bucky threatens to reveal when Steve's real birthday is - I don't think I ever laughed harder! Hope you guys all enjoy! LYYYYYYYYY
"Hey, Cap," You called to him, walking over as he filed out of the briefing room. He looked up at you and smiled - lifting his hand up to wave. He looked at you suspiciously - your hands were hidden behind your back, clearly holding something.
"Whatcha got for me?" He smirked, "Hopefully not more files?" He added with a slight groan.
"Not at all. Just a little something," You showed him the box, "for your birthday."
Steve chuckled awkwardly, "Thanks sweetheart, but it's not my birthday for a while yet? It's December 12th?"
You smirked evilly, "Ahh but Captain, I discovered something quite interesting the other day. There was a collection of old SSR files found in an old crate and I had the pleasure of having to catalogue it. Most of it was boring but there was a file that caught my eye," Steve's eyes widened, but you continued, "The file of one 'Steven Grant Rogers'. And it surprised me to discover that the great Captain America is a-"
You were cut off by Steve slamming his hand down over your mouth. He looked around wildly, hoping that no one heard, before dragging you outside.
"Where did you find that file?"
"So it's true! Ha!"
"I'm not messing around, sweetheart. Who else knows?"
"No one. For now."
Steve stalked up to you, finger pointed at your chest, "You best keep your mouth shut, sweetheart."
"Or what, Captain, what are you gonna do?" You looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.
"Fuck around and find out."
"Don't tempt me with a good time, Captain."
"Shut your mouth," He growled, his pupils blown with lust.
"Make me."
You barely made it back to his room before he slotted his lips over yours, hands grasping your face gently. You gasped into his mouth, his nose bumping yours as he pushed you through the door of his apartment.
"Jump," he mumbled against your mouth and you obliged. His hands gripped your thighs as they wrapped around his waist and he nudged the door shut with his toe. All without ever breaking the contact between your lips.
He carried you into the bedroom and dropped you in the center of his bed. He looked down at you like a lion looks at a gazelle, lust-blown eyes raking over your body.
"Just here to stare, Captain? All bark, no bite." It probably wasn't a good idea to provoke the beast, but you were having slightly too much fun watching Captain 'I-never-have-a-hair-out-of-place' Rogers lose his temper.
Steve shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're such a fucking brat," he muttered, a hand dropping to his belt. Your eyes followed his hand, raking over his unfortunately-still-clothed body. "You know what brats like you need? You need to be taught a lesson."
You almost let out a whimper, your cunt pulsing with need. Steve pulled off his shirt and his belt and dropped them on the floor unceremoniously. He climbed over you and crawled over you, his large body pinning you to the mattress.
He laid hands on the top button of your shirt before looking up at you for consent. "Please, Steve."
"See, that wasn't so hard." He began unbuttoning your shirt, laying gentle kisses in his wake. Once it was unbuttoned, he pushed it down your arms and tossed it onto the floor. He unbuttoned your trousers in the same way before pulling them off your legs and tossing them by your shirt.
His eyes raked over your semi-naked form, slowly appreciating every curve and dimple on your body. You smiled shyly - the weight of his gaze was heavy, heavy with adoration.
He flipped you onto your stomach and pulled your hips against his crotch. You could feel the bulge straining in his pants and you let out a moan as it brushed against your sensitive clit.
"Someone's sensitive," Steve said, the smirk evident in his voice.
"Someone's taking a long time to fuck me. Maybe I'll find some other agent to finish the jo-"
Slap. You jolted as Steve laid a hard slap against your ass. Your surprise melted into arousal and you let out another moan. You pushed back against him, letting him know you wanted more.
"You're mine," Steve growled, continuing to slap your ass, alternating between cheeks and pressures, "Mine to tame, mine to fuck. Get it, only mine."
You moaned in response - an enthusiastic yes.
"God, I can smell how wet you are, sweetheart. You like it when I slap you, huh? You like it when I get rough?" You nodded your head, pushing back into Steve again. You hear him chuckle and move away. You whine at the loss of touch, "Cockdrunk already, pretty baby? I haven't even touched you yet."
You heard Steve's zipper and the sound of jeans landing on the floor. You turned to look at him and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Impressed, baby?" Even through his boxers, Steve's bulge was impressive. Steve was a well-endowed man and he knew it. "Now come over here and show me how much you want this cock."
You climbed off the bed and sank to the floor in front of him. Your knees hit the solid cold floor and you were now at eye level with his cock. Steve's eyes went wide - clearly, he hadn't been expecting you to do that.
"May I, Captain?" You said, your fingers playing on the waistband of his boxers.
"Fuck yeah, sweetheart." Steve threw his head back as you pushed his boxers down. He was big. Bigger than youâve had before. Your mouth watered at his size and you leaned forward to give the tip of his cock a little kiss.
Smirking at the way Steve groaned as his cock twitched, you wrapped your hand around his girth and started pumping. Steve threw his head back, his hands finding your hair and making a makeshift ponytail.
Your tongue swiped over the tip of his cock, collecting the pre-cum on your tongue. You took his tip in your mouth, hands still languidly stroking the base of his cock. Your left hand traveled down to play with his balls, gently massaging them. It was music to your ears the way he choked out your name from your actions.
You took him further down your throat, pulling away when you started to gag. You tried again, trying to go further.
"Breathe through your nose sweetheart, that's it," Steve said as you took further down your throat. Your tongue ran over the large vein on the underside of his cock, massaging it as Steve threw his head back in ecstasy. "Fuck, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin you if you don't slow down."
You smiled, as you pulled away from his cock. "Donât be afraid to do what you want, Cap." You hummed, "I can handle it."
Steve wrapped your hair around his fist, before guiding your face back down to suck on his cock. He pushed your head all the way down so that your nose was brushing against the trimmed hair at the base of his cock. You gagged around his length and the pressure made Steve let out a loud groan.
"Fuck, just like that, baby, yes," pressure began to build up in his stomach, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, "Keep going baby, don't stop."
Your hand moved back up to his balls, rolling them between your fingers as you kept sucking. The action made his hips stutter, the groan of your name practically coming out as a growl. "Iâm not going to last," he choked out, pulling you off his cock and up to standing again.
Your knees felt stiff after so much time on the cold, hardwood floor, that you winced at the sudden movement. Steve caught it.
"Next time, you're using a pillow." You smiled at the thought of a nest time.
He pushed you back on the bed, his mouth latching back onto yours as he kneeled in front of you.
"Can I?" He looked up at you, his beautiful blue eyes shining brightly. His fingers traced the waistline of your underwear, fingers hooking the sides to pull them down,
You frantically nodded yes, and they were gone a second later, your bra following soon after. Steve lifted you up and threw you onto the middle of the bed, his eyes ravenously traveling to your sopping wet cunt. You moaned at the show of strength.
"You like that? Being manhandled like a slut?" You moaned in affirmation.
You gasped at the feeling of Steve's tongue on your pussy. He licked a long, flat stripe up to your clit, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled him up.
"As much as I would love for you to eat me out. I need your cock. In me. Right now."
"Your wish is my command, sweetheart."
You saw him grab a silver foil packet from his nightstand and he ripped it open with his teeth. You watched as Steve rolled the condom down his cock, the cock that was just in your mouth.
"See something you like?" Steve smirked as he caught you staring.
You blushed, "I see a lot that I like," you replied honestly.
Steve's face broke into a huge childish grin and he pulled you closer to him, "Good." That was the only warning he gave you before he hit home, sliding into you gently. He moaned loudly, head tossed back in pleasure as you squeezed him.
You gasped, trying to adjust to his size, "S'big, Stevie. 'S so big hmmm, 'm all - ah - full." you squeaked, a rough growl escaping from his lips at your words.
"Yeah, sweetheart? God, you're so tight. Filling you up to the brim, like a little hole for me to use."
Tears slipped down your face as you tried to adjust to the stretch. He was so big you could feel him everywhere, with every shift of your body, with every breath you took. Steve took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears, "Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe, yeah?" You nodded, taking a shuddery breath. Steve pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, "You tell me if it gets too much."Â
"I need you to move," you whispered. Steve slowly, pulled out and slowly pushed back in. And then again. And then again. Each time he got closer to bottoming out inside of you and you moaned as he pushed further and further.
Eventually, he picked up the pace, falling into a steady rhythm. A steady stream of moans left your lips. He brushed past your G-spot and you swore you saw stars. You were begging for more.
His hips began to snap into you, cock drilling into you so fast that you had fallen silent, mouth stuck in an 'O' shape. The praises falling from Steve's lips were lost on you as the pressure built up in your stomach.
"Steve, 'm not gonna last, Steve, please, 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna - oh my GOD, 'M GONNA CUM, AHHH-" You fell apart all over Steve's cock as he kept up this brutal pace.
Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud moan of your name before collapsing beside you. You smiled up at him through your post-orgasmic haze, turning to nestle into his arms. He chuckled, laying a light kiss on your forehead, "I have to go take care of this, give me a second."
He laughed as you shook your head, desperately clinging to him tighter. He unraveled himself from you and quickly disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the used condom.
Your eyes drifted shut as you waited for him, only to be forced open by something cool touching your inner thigh. You snapped your legs shut, only to find that Steve was holding a wet towel. "Just cleaning you up, sweetheart."
As soon as he was done, Steve pulled one of his t-shirts over your body and bundled you into his arms. At your disapproving grunt, he chuckled.
"Need to put some food in my best girl." He said, placing another kiss on your forehead.
"And then snuggles?" You asked, hopefully.
Steve smiled, "Yeah, sweetheart, then snuggles." He put you down on the cold island in the middle of the kitchen of his apartment and turned around to grab some fruit from the fridge.
The doorbell rang. Steve looked at the door and then the clock on the wall. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone. Both of you stood unmoving - you didn't know exactly what the nature of your relationship was. If it was someone you worked with - which of course it would be - you didn't want to be forced to go public.
Whoever it was was insistent. They banged on the door. "Hey, Punk, open the door." Steve let out a sigh of relief - it was Bucky, his best childhood friend. And also one of the best secret keepers in the compound.
Steve opened the door as you reached over to grab a strawberry. "What do you want, Jerk?" The door opened to Bucky mischievously smiling at Steve. Clearly, the fact that Steve was half-naked didn't bother him.
"Did you forget what today is?"
Steve's face blanched again.
"Happy Birthday, Punk!" Steve tackled a smirking Bucky to the ground. The sight made you burst into laughter, a strawberry held up to your mouth.
The sound made Steve look over at you. The sight of you sitting on his counter in his t-shirt, eating his strawberries made his heart jump. If this was how he got to spend the rest of his birthdays, he'd be a happy man indeed. Even if he had to put up with all your teasing.
fin.
buy me a coffee
#steve rogers#steve rogers smut#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x you#captain america#captian america#captain america fic#captain america fanfiction#captain america fanfic#captian america smut#captain america smut#captian america fluff#captain america fluff#captain america x y/n#captain america x you
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