#the name i wanted is gone but it's fine i can work with it

[in1-nutshell]

Silveraid in TFOne, go

I may or may not have shaken the 'Angst salt shaker' a bit too hard...

Hope you enjoy!

TF1 Silver Aid

SFW, Platonic, ANGST, Mention of injuries, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TF1

Elita and Silver Aid were a prime example of opposite split sparks.

Also known as being twins with opposite personalities.

No one could have guessed the two were related, much less twins.

Elita was the one who took charge and had more of the aggression.

Silver was less intense than her twin, opting for more peaceful and gentler approaches.

Or as gentle as you can get in the mines.

Elita had tried to toughen up her twin, but it never ended up well.

Elita punching a training pole. She turns to Silver. Elita: “Your turn.” Silver turns to the pole. Silver Aid: “Remind me why I let you talk me into this?” Elita: “Because I told you.” Silver Aid gives her a look. Silver Aid: “In what situation would I need to deck someone in the face? That’s why I have you.” Elita gives her a look. Silver Aid: “… Fine…”

Eventually Silver caught the optics of some of the miner medics and ended up moving into their sector thanks to some supervisors.

Silver still visited the mines after work.

Many of the miners welcomed the kindness the bot gave.

Elita often warned her about getting too soft.

Silver Aid would playfully roll her optics at her twin.

It was thanks to her twin that she would meet Orion and D-16.

It was… eventful when they first met.

Silver Aid walks into one of the med bay rooms. Silver Aid smiles at the two mechs in the room. Silver Aid: “Hello, I’m Silver Aid. I’ll be patching up you two up today.” Orion: “I haven’t seen you around? New around the mines?” Silver Aid starts checking his arm. Silver Aid: “Oh, I’ve been around, just moved into a new sector so you’ll only be seeing me around here.” She turns to D-16 and smiles. Silver Aid: “And what are your names?” D-16: “D-16 and that’s Orion Pax.” Silver Aid carefully buffs out a dent on the side of his chassis. D-16 feels a bit warmer. D-16: “Umm, my frame feels a bit warmer than usual.” Silver Aid: “Oh? Let me take a look.” She places a cooling patch just below the hole in his chassis. She can feel the spark pulsing fast under her digits. Silver Aid: “You need to calm down D-16. It’ll make the process go a lot faster.” D-16 nods and glances over at Orion. Orion just has a knowing look on his face plate. The same look that usually got them into trouble. Elita: “Silver Aid.” The three bots jump a bit at the sudden presence of Elita One. Silver smiles widely putting away the cooling patch and hugging Elita. The mech half expected the pink bot to flip the medic over, but to their surprise Elita just patted her back. Elita gets out of Silver’s grip. Elita: “Are these two knucklehead’s ready to go back to work?” Silver Aid: “Not yet, they still need a bit more time to heal.” Silver Aid turns to the two mechs and waves. Silver Aid: “You two are free to go. Goodbye!” Both mechs wave back as the bot left. Elita glared at them both. Elita: “Stay away from my twin.” Orion and D-16: “SHE’S YOUR TWIN!”

Both mechs have near whiplash hearing it.

How?!

After that day, Orion started dragging D to the medbay to try and meet up with Silver Aid.

Not that D-16 needed much convincing.

He really wanted to meet the medic again.

Eventually the three bots became close friends.

Especially between Silver Aid and Orion Pax, much to the dismay of D-16 and Elita-One.

D-16 and Elita-One are in one of the med bay. Orion and Silver Aid had been gone from the mines for two days and had recently gotten a message from them to meet in the med bay. Silver Aid and Orion walk into the room. D-16 sighs in relief and starts to go over to the pair but gets shoved aside by Elita. She runs to Silver’s side and looks over her. Elita: “Are you okay? What happened? What did Pax drag you into?” Orion: “Well—” D-16: “Wait you did drag her into something?” Silver Aid: “Not really. But there is something we want to tell you two.” Orion swings an arm around Silver’s shoulder with a goofy smile. Orion: “We are now officially Amica Endura!” SMACK! Orion gets punched in the face and falls backwards. Silver Aid: “Elita!” D-16 blinking in surprise. D-16: “You two… you performed the Amica rites?! How?! Why?!” Orion stands up with Silver’s help. Orion: “Relax D, Elita. It’s not like I asked her to be my Conjunx.” SMACK! Orion is once again on the ground holding his face. Silver Aid: “D!”

D didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous of his friend for having the bearing to do something so uncommon.

Amica’s were not too common in Iacon.

Orion keeps teasing him about going out with Silver, he just wanted both his friends to get Conjunxed already.

D-16 tries punching him whenever he says this.

Elita knows that her twin has a certain optic out for a certain silver mech.

She hates it.

Often telling her that she could have any other mech, just not him or Orion.

Now to the main story.

Silver Aid is on scene when the tunnel collapses immediately going to Jazz.

Is shocked to see Elita get demoted.

She was going to need to talk to her on her break.

Silver gives D and Orion a quick smile as she quickly carries Jazz to the medbay.

Is there with d when Orion talks about going into the Iacon 500.

Silver Aid tries to be supportive of her Amica but does tell him to be a bit realistic in the fact that they didn’t even have cogs.

Accompanies D back to the mines.

Silver Aid: “Well this is our stop. See you later D.” Silver starts to leave but D grabs her servo. She turns to look at him. Silver Aid: “D?” D-16 blinks before letting go of her servo. D-16: “I, umm… you want to sit with us tomorrow?” Silver blinks before smiling sadly. Silver Aid: “I’d love to… but I have a shift to work tomorrow… I’m sorry.” D-16 felt a pang seeing her sad. D-16: “Hey, we can tell you what happened in the race. Maybe even get some memorabilia or decal from the shop!” Silver smiles at him. Silver Aid: “Thanks D… see you tomorrow then.” She leaves after that. D-16 sighs and has a warm smile on his face. Orion: “So!” D-16 jumps at Orion’s sudden entrance. Orion: “When can I expect you to make a Conjunx of my Amica-AAA! STOP TRYING TO HIT ME!”

Silver Aid gets called down to deal with something in the level were Elita worked.

It turned out to be an easy fix, she spotted Elita loading a crate and decided to go over, at least have a small chat.

Elita was about to start talking when Silver noticed the top of the train was open.

Elita told her to get behind her, someone was on the train.

If they worked together to get the perp, she could get promoted and maybe Silver could get some newer equipment.

Silver is just confused why Orion, a yellow bot and D are inside.

Elita roughly grabs her servo and tells her to run.

Not one to question her twin, she runs by her side.

Silver Aid and Elita are running and leaping over crates in front of the three mechs. B-127: “Who are these bots?!” Orion: “Just my Amica and her twin.” Elita and Silver copy similar flips and jumps. D-16: “You know I can finally see the resemblance now.” Meanwhile with Elita and Silver Aid. Silver Aid: “Elita maybe we should listen to them—” Elita gives her a glare. Silver: “Okay, just going to keep on running…”

Then they all got to the surface.

Everyone is staring at the beautiful horizon.

D-16 inches closer to Silver, but Elita sees this and firmly pulls her into a side hug glaring at the silver mech.

The train gets launched in the air.

Orion and D-16 land on top of her back.

Orion went to go help Elita while D helped Silver and they both went to help B-127.

Reveal of the Quintessons.

Silver instinctively grabbed onto D and Elita’s servos trying to guide them to safety.

Clenches on D’s servo when Orion and B nearly get caught

Elita’s servo let go, but not D’s.

Not that either wanted to let go.

It wasn’t until B-127 made the comment that they both let go, both looking a bit flustered.

Orion is happy.

B has found a new ship.

Elita is seething.

Seeing what happened to the Prime’s.

It hurts seeing their frames like this, guessing how they were terminated by some of the old wounds and tears in the frames.

Steals up for a bit comforting D seeing his idol beheaded.

Meeting Alpha Trion.

Seeing what happened to the Prime’s and confirming her previous thoughts.

Seeing what Sentinel was doing.

Is by Alpha Trion’s side trying to get rid of his of the organic material in his joints when D and her Amica start the fight about what to do with Sentinel.

Freezing hearing that Sentinel had taken their cogs.

How could someone be so cruel?

Getting cog’s.

Silver Aid gets Onyx Prime’s cog.

A bit weirded out by the new parts in her armor.

Unlike the others on the run, she refuses to transform.

She didn’t need to transform to get to point A to point B before, plus there was no telling what she turned into after noticing the lack of wheels, treads, rotors or wings.

Thankfully Silver Aid did not transform since she had to help her friends and family down the hill safely before they could properly transform.

Silver Aid grabs Orion’s servo. Orion: “WHO’S TOUCHING ME!” Silver Aid: “I AM PAX! YOUR HELMS TUCK INTO YOUR BODY!” Orion: “I KNOW!” Silver Aid watches B-127 fly above them screaming. B-127: “WHEELS! I NEED WHEELS!” Silver Aid: “PAX IF WE SURVIVE THIS, I’M GOING TO SMACK YOU IN THE FACE!” Orion: “NOT YOU TOO!”

D hits the drone that would have shot Silver and Orion.

Feels a bit uneasy seeing him happy with the kill.

Tells Orion that she would talk to D after the awkward tension later.

Getting kidnapped by the High Guard.

Knows most of the High Guard thanks to Orion constantly talking about them.

Is horrified when D starts fighting Starscream.

Clutching Orion’s servo seeing the look in D-16’s optics.

Arachnid and her army arrived.

Silver Aid still refuses to transform and grabs a blaster trying to protect the injured guards.

Gets captured with B and D.

Is scared for D-16 standing up to Sentinel.

Silver Aid’s energon runs cold seeing Sentinel brandishing out a torch. She tries to stand up but Arachnid steps on her back struts. Silver Aid: “Get away from him!” D-16 glances over worried. Sentinel smirks and ignores her. Silver continues to struggle as D-16 starts screaming from the torch. Finally with a move that would make her sister proud, Silver Aid manages to kick Arachnid in the face and head buts Sentinel in his chin, making him stagger a couple feet away. She stands, still bounded, protectively in front of D-16. Fury dancing in her optics. Sentinel walks forward trying to intimidate her with his size. She does not back down. Sentinel: “You done medic? If you move, I might even spare you a painful termination.” Silver spits in his face. Silver Aid: “I will protect D-16 as long as I function.”

One swing and it would be done.

Silver braces herself for the slice when the train hits the building.

Gets thrown back trying to cover D-16’s frame with her’s.                                                                                              

Grogging wakes up to Orion and D helping her from her restrains.

Elita hugs her tightly before letting go to help Orion.

Silver Aid refuses to leave D-16 alone with Sentinel.

D-16 sees Silver Aid by his side. D-16: “Silver go! I’ll deal with Sentinel!” Silver gives him a look before charging up a blaster. Silver Aid: “You must have had a few blow to the helm to think I’m leaving you here.” D-16: “Just go with your Amica—” Silver Aid grabs the front of his chassis and glares at him. Silver Aid: “What part of I’m not leaving you, don’t you understand.” She lets him go and mimics one of Orion’s smirks. Silver Aid: “Ready to beat this false Prime?” D-16 smirks back. D-16: “You have no idea.”

Both manage to push him off the balcony.

Silver Aid skidded a bit farther on the stage.

Wakes up from the pounding to hear Orion and D fighting over whether to kill Sentinel or not.

Orion lands on her as D pushes him back.

The next few seconds are a blur.

Screaming in pain as Orion gets shot.

She could barely move from the sudden pain in her chassis, in her spark.

Just barely looking at D on the edge holding him.

Her energon running cold seeing Orion fall into the pit.

Screaming as she felt Orion’s spark go out.

More of the guards started surrounding her, bad news, considering her frame was still in shock and could barely move.

Out of pure fear and shock, Silver Aid transformed.

She doesn’t know what she transformed into, but it was big, had many arms and she could suddenly see much more.

It was much easier to deal with the guards around her, seeing D dealing with his own.

Then she hears the screams of terror.

More blaster fire comes her way.

It stings.

Silver Aid hears the frightened voices in the crowd.

Hideous.

Freak.

Monster.

Murderer.

She hears D-16 name himself Megatron after splitting Sentinel in half.

Too busy with the blasters and influx of bots trying to stab her to realize that Elita and B had gone to stop him.

A sudden blast knocks her into the crowd.

She gets to the ground and transforms back on impact.

Just in time to see Optimus Prime start fighting Megatron.

The pain in her chassis suddenly vanished.

Almost as if Orion… but he wasn’t Orion… right?

Frozen in place hearing him banish Megatron and the High Guard from Iacon.

Once most of them start leaving, the crowd around her starts turning.

Bot 1: “It’s the freak!” Silver Aid: “I’m not—” A bot pokes her while another yanks her armor. Bot 2: “A monster!” Bot 3: “Get back!” Bot 4: “Maybe the new Prime can finish it off.” Silver tries to make herself smaller to avoid the harsh touches. She makes brief contact with Optimus, Elita and B-127 on the platform. They all have a look of shock. The same shock as the bots around her. The ones trying to close in around her. Silver Aid: “I’m not here to hurt anyone!” Bot 5: “Liar!” Bot 6: “Tear her apart!”

This was enough for the sudden transformation to take place.

Silver ignores the screams and yelling; her main priority is to get out of there.

On the plus side of this new form, Silver was able to crawl into tight places and hide.

The bot managed to avoid all guards and bots until night fall.

Silver was shaken to the core from what had happened in the last 24 hours.

How could everything change so much so fast?

She wanted nothing more than to craw into Elita’s arms and have her tell her that things were going to be okay and that she would beat up who ever made her cry.

But she couldn’t go back.

She saw their faces, there was nothing to go back to now.

And it wasn’t like she would go to D—Megatron.

She’d probably get shot on sight as well.

With a heavy spark, Silver Aid silently boarded on the train that led up to the surface.

She jumped off the train and started to look for a new home, hoping not to run into any of the High Guard.

Primus decided to show some pity to her, as she found an old, abandoned ship safely hidden in the rock formations.

Silver Aid makes her way into one of the old rooms. The weight of the day finally crushed her as she crumbled to the ground and silently sobbed. She pulled her knees in tightly. Slowly she pulled out a picture she had taken earlier that day of the five of them on the way to Alpha Trion. Silver Aid gave a watery smile: “Night ‘Lita, Night B, Night Orion, Night D… I’ll see you… someday… night…” The empty ship echoed with the soft sobs of the bot inside.

[teabutmakeitazure]

told my mom I don't feel like her daughter or blood because of the way she treats my cousin and she told me I'm being ridiculous and petty

[noctualagenaria]

.. i feel nauseous

[radiance1]

By all accounts, it shouldn't have worked.

By all bloody accounts, that should not have worked.

Constantine will repeat.

That, by all accounts, should not have worked.

The warehouse was shitty. The materials were shitty. The summoning circle was shitty. The chanting was shitty. The magic was shitty.

By all accounts, the summoning should not have worked.

So Constantine couldn't give much of a shit about really stopping it because the summoning was so shitty it shouldn't have worked by an means possible.

So what. In the ever-loving fuck. Was the Ghost King, known tyrant of the Infinite Realms. Standing in the middle of the circle and not, last he checked, imprisoned?

That was another thing that he thought would have made it fail, actually. Because the Ghost King was incapacitated, asleep, gone, unavailable, nada.

So what. The fuck. Was he doing. Here?

Constantine knew the day was going to well to stay that way but wow. The universe loves to fuck him over, apparently.

Or the Justice League in specific.

Or both.

Doesn't matter, because now he has to bullshit his way out of this or get ready to brawl for his life.

Good thing he's good at both of those things, then.

Mostly the bullshit-

"Phantom what the fuck are you doing-" Constantine wheezed out, watching one of their newest members-a ghost going by the name Phantom-fly over in front of the known tyrant and-

Oh.

Oh, holy shit this won't end well.

Ghost King.

Phantom. A ghost.

Well, shit.

This is fine. This is totally fine. He just needs to bullshit his way out of this or face two powerhouses.

This is fine.

He's done worse.

"Sup War" Phantom said, floating around the summoning circle that contained the king of all ghosts like it wasn't a problem. "Didn't expect to be seeing you here."

"Ward." The Ghost King inclined his head slightly, eyes trained on Phantom. "I would not have come here if not for Time's insistence and I have been meaning to..." The King paused, hands gripping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword. "...Check in... on you."

"Aww, were you worried about lil old meeeee?" Phantom, ever the little shit and holy shit did Constantine want to go over there and shut him up, said. Floating around until he was staring upside down in the Ghost King's face. "Didn't know you were so soft, pa."

"I am not soft." The King huffed, flame dancing at the edges of his hair. "I was merely... concerned. Over how you would be acclimating to your circumstances. This world's League of Justice covers far more than your small haunt."

"Weeeell, it's not that bad honestly." Phantom admitted. "Haven't really done anything too big yet just some smallish things here and there. So, you know." The ghost boy shrugged, swinging back in the air to turn upright and crossing his legs. "Nothing too bad."

"Good." The Ghost King nodded, shoulders slumping so slightly that if Constantine wasn't looking, he wouldn't have seen it. "That is good. Yes. Good." The King slightly cleared his throat, grasping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword.

Silence echoed in the warehouse as the King seemingly looked for words to say.

"Would you..." He cleared his throat again, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. "Would you like to join me and Time for a meeting? It has been some time since you had last joined us." The King shifted slightly before adding. "Of course, if you're busy you do not have too."

"Sure." Phantom said, rolling back and forth in the air as he hummed. "Been a while since we've had some family time-"

"Family time?" Constantine caught someone-who he thinks was Green Lantern-say. He was just as bewildered.

"And if Time sent you here then it must be important." Danny paused before shrugging. "Or maybe not, can never know with him. But yea, sure. I'll come."

"Wonderful." The Ghost King smiled. Smiled. At Phantom. "Then I shall. Leave. Now. To do. Things. Yes. Things." The summoning circle flashed a familiar green, the same green when the King was first being summoned. "Goodbye, ward."

"You can call me son, you know."

The King paused for a moment, blinking slowly before hesitantly nodding.

"Then goodbye. Son."

The circle flashed and just like that. The king was gone.

"Kid. What the fuck." Whoever said- okay wait no that was Constantine, him. But yea fuck it he agrees with himself. "What the fuck." He repeated.

Phantom, the brat, only gave him a shit eating grin and a peace sign before disappearing on the spot.

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, ���it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

[omgeto]

☆ COVER UP — tattoo artist!GETO SUGURU

summary: all you wanted was a cover up tattoo to replace the name your ex left on you. you didn't think you'd be leaving the tattoo shop with a replacement for your ex's tattoo and a replacement for him as well.

wc: 3k

cw: afab!reader, geto gives you backshots, he's kinda obsessed w/ your ass here, unprotected sex (since I forget condoms) BUT he's a gentleman pulls out </3 your kinda a meanie. he's kinda a meanie so light angst (?) but barely. MDNI

an: haven't posted a longer work in a hot minute, but here is how you meet tattoo artist boyfriend!geto soooo give this one a chance big fanks to my lil twat @kazushawty for helping me out and reading bits of it.

as you push open the heavy glass door of ‘cursed ink studios,’ a subtle bell chimes softly, announcing your presence. instantly, the atmosphere inside crackles with an electric charge. the air is thick with the intoxicating scent of ink, mingling with the sterile bite of antiseptic. the walls are adorned with vivid flash art form a chaotic tapestry, while the rhythmic hum of a tattoo gun echoes through the room.

and there he is, geto suguru – a tall, enigmatic figure with jet-black hair and sleeves of mesmerising tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. he sits at his workbench, surrounded by an array of ink bottles and tattoo machines, his piercing eyes never leaving the art he's creating. a carefully curated playlist of music plays softly in the background, punctuated by the occasional buzzing of the tattoo gun.

he glances up from his intricate work as you enter, his gaze slowly travelling up and down your form. there's a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he's wondering why you, of all people, have ventured into his sacred space. his expression, however, suggests that he's far from thrilled about the interruption.

"need something?" he asks, his irritation evident.

"i need a cover-up” you swallow your nerves, holding your head high, your voice steady, ”my ex's name."

geto raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your request. "ex's name, huh? you people never learn."

your jaw clenches at his condescending tone. "well, i'm here now, so can you do it or not?"

he continues to scrutinise you, his gaze feeling like a judgmental weight. finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly. "fine, show me."

with a sigh of resignation, you turn around, your heart pounding as you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to reveal the offending name covering your left ass cheek. it's a constant reminder of a relationship gone wrong, and you're more than ready to be rid of it.

"this won't be easy," he mutters, his fingers cool against your skin as he traces the outline of the name. his touch lingers, just a little too long, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his fingers, skilled and confident, continued to trace the inked letters of your ex's name on your skin — almost toyingly. and you could feel the chill of the tattoo parlour's air-conditioning contrasted by the warmth of his touch.

his voice, though still gruff, held a trace of disgust "who did this?" he asks, not looking up from the tattoo.

you hesitate, your memories of that past relationship flooding back. "my ex-boyfriend," you reply tersely.

geto's fingers stop their tracing, and he lets out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "you let your boyfriend do a shitty tattoo on you, and you let him make it his name," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "you practically let him brand you."

“is it your job to be such a bitchy artist?” you snap, already fed up by his comments. you’ve heard it from your parents, your friends, ever since you got that trashy tattoo. but couldn't disagree with that sentiment — you knew it was a shit tattoo. “i thought i was paying you for your artistry, not your smart mouth.”

"listen," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "you walk in here with that god awful mess on your skin, and you've got the nerve to criticise my attitude? if you want to be rid of it, you'll do well to keep that attitude in check, sweetheart."

you bite back a retort, realising that you've indeed crossed a line with your comment. there's a palpable tension in the air now, a simmering anger beneath the surface, and it seems that geto has no intention of backing down.

with a deep breath, you swallow your pride and offer a reluctant apology. "i'm sorry," you mutter, a touch of remorse in your voice. "i shouldn't have snapped at you."

he continues to hold your gaze for a moment, his expression still stern, before finally nodding. "apology accepted."

you didn’t actually have an idea of what you wanted for the cover up, you just knew you needed it gone. geto was a highly sought out cover artist so you had no doubt that he’d be able to do you good. with your initial meeting being heated, you thought it was best to leave him to do his thing.

with a sense of relief that the confrontation has subsided, you decide to give geto some space to work his magic. "i'll leave you to it," you say, your voice quieter now, and you turn away from him.

"good," he mutters, his focus fully on his ipad as he starts to sketch, not even looking as you leave the shop. 

geto usually was quick to draw up tattoo sketches for clients, but when it came to you he was stunned — too busy thinking about how your ass looked rather than what he was meant to tattoo on it. from the moment you stepped in his shop, he was intrigued, you didn’t see the type to get work done by him and the marking stretched on your ass didn’t seem like it would belong to someone with an attitude like yours. 

his mind was anything but focused on the design. he couldn't help but replay the encounter with you in his thoughts, your brashness and the way you'd stood your ground, even under his scrutiny.

"why the hell did she get that shitty tattoo?" he mutters to himself, his fingers deftly working his pen. the sketch was beginning to take shape, but his mind kept drifting back to the curve of your ass. he couldn't deny the attraction he felt, and it frustrated him. he was supposed to be a professional, detached from his clients beyond the art he created on their skin. but something about you had thrown him off balance.

“so you ready to get this tatted on you?” is the first thing he asks when you return the following day. you inspect his sketches in awe, of course you never doubted his talent but you didn’t think he’d be able to draw something you wanted without you even having to say.

“well it seems you do live up to your reputation,” you comment with a neutral facade, but you both know that you were downplaying your excitement — you were pleased. and like with any client, that made geto satisfied that he was doing his job correctly. but when he saw the way your eyes lit up when he initially showed you the sketches, it was a sight he wanted to see again. “i guess we can start the tattoo.”

“okay i’ll get my stuff set up, get rid of those,” he says nodding towards your jeans, “and lay down when you’re ready.” you slip yourself out of your bottoms, leaving the itty bitty thong that you knew you���d need for the appointment and that a small part of you hoped he liked.

he pauses when he sees you laying down on the seat in his station, your head resting in your arms, your ass slightly raised.  ‘this is gonna be a long session,’ he thinks to himself as he smirks, shaking his head as he works his way to his seat.

as he sits down, he places the stencil over your ass, and you berate yourself for getting giddy at the feeling of him rubbing over the design to make sure it was in place — wishing that his hand stayed for longer. 

“how are you with pain?” he asks, and from the way you were laying you weren’t able to see the way he was gawping at your ass.

“what type of pain?” you retort.

“y’know the type of pain where someones drilling into your ass for hours,” he comments as if it’s obvious but you both knew his words were hinting at more than just the tattoo.

“choice words there,” you muse, “but any type of pain i’m alright with, so give me your best.”

geto's needle hovers just above your skin, poised for action. "you sure about that?" he murmurs, his voice low and suggestive.

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you respond, "I can handle it if you can."

with a deliberate, almost tantalising slowness, he lowers the needle to your skin. the first touch is a sharp, stinging sensation, but you refuse to flinch. you're determined to hold your own, to meet geto's challenge head-on.

he continues to work, the needle dancing across your skin with a practised precision. the room is filled with the rhythmic sound of the tattoo machine, creating a hypnotic backdrop to your growing tension.

as minutes turn into hours, you find yourself lost in a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. the pain is undeniable, but there's something oddly exhilarating about it. you steal a glance at geto, his intense focus on his work, and you can't help but wonder if he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"still doing okay?" he asks, his tone a mix of concern and something more primal.

you bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan that threatens to escape. "i told you, i can handle it."

geto smirks, his gaze locked on your ass as he continues to tattoo. "you've got quite the threshold for pain. impressive."

“is it really? i'm sure you’ve worked on a lot of other clients with higher thresholds for pain.”

“but none of them have had an ass like yours though,” he mumbles to himself — but you hear him loud and clear, a grin forming on your face at the confession. “anyways, we’re all done now, go ahead and look in the mirror.”

you stand in the full length mirror, your head slightly turned at an angle as you gawp at your ass. your eyes widen seeing what was once your shitty exes name, now turned into a piece of true art. 

“so what d’you think?” he asks, and you didn’t even notice him coming to stand behind you until you felt his breath on the back of your neck, “this shit is hot right?”

“you can say that again,” you agree, keeping your eyes focused on the tattoo, trying to ignore the quickening of your heart beat at the presence of him, “this is really great though, like i couldn’t imagine my ass could look this good after having that tattooed on on it all his time.”

“well no need to imagine anymore,” geto’s face forms a smiling grin, you can tell he was admiring way more than just his artwork, “you mind if i take a picture… for my instagram?” he says, barely asking as his phone is already out of his pocket and is in his hands, he looks up at you for permission and you give a slight nod before he’s snapping away at your ass.

“are you sure this is for your instagram,” you tease, as he continues to take photos crouched down, as he circles your ass with his phone, “or is this just for your personal wank bank?”

“would you like it to be?” he retorts back swiftly, there wasn’t even any mischief in his eyes as he looks up at you, just pure lust.

“um i–” you stutter, only now feeling exposed — as if he hadn’t been working on your ass already for the past six hours.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, standing up to face you head on, “y’gonna let me finish off making you forget that ex or yours or what?”

“be my guest,” you respond, trying to come across as nonchalant, but the eager look in your eyes gave geto all he needed to know. 

he pushes you softly, as he commands, “hands against the mirror and spread your legs.” and you do just that, as he comes behind you, fitting in between your legs perfectly. his hand forces ur back down, deeping the arch of your spine before both of his hands grab onto your ass.

geto really rubs and digs his thumbs into your cheeks, biting his lip at the sight at the way his fingers mould into your ass. “fuckk man,” he groans out, he’s not even in you yet and he was already obsessed with every inch of you. 

he frees his dick from his pants, and pumps it quickly before sliding it across your already gushing slit. you hiss at the contact, a pleased smile working its way on your face as the tip of his dick edges into you.

“s-shit,” you stammer, as he inches himself into you deeper, “w-what about the rest of the shop?”

“what about them?” he shrugs, “you don’t want them to hear naught you’re being right now? HEY GUYS—”

“oi,” you hiss out, your eyes widening as you turn your head to look directly at him.

“i’m just playing, i’m not ready to share you quite just yet,” he retorts, his dick moving in you at an achingly slow pace, “now, keep your eyes focused on the mirror, and you better not let those hands slip.”

before you can respond, he thrust his hips into you as deep as he could, his dick slamming into you. you moan out at the surprising force, trying your best to keep your palms flat on the surface of the mirror, as you stare straight at him — watching how he works his hands from your ass to your hips so he can drive into you with all of his force. 

“this pussy is s-so fucking good,” he praises, the sloppiness of your cunt making it easy for him to slide his dick in and out of you. “oh and this ass,” he continues giving a hard spank on your ass cheek, to emphasise his point, “c’mon throw your ass back on my dick, i wanna see it bounce.”

you fuck him back, doing exactly as he says, your ass meeting his hips with the same amount of force. his spanks encourage you to be quicker, to give him everything he wants. his repeating, strong strokes, have you feeling weaker, your hands slipping as you try to stay up right, when all you want to do is collapse and cum everywhere. 

“f-fuckk it’s too much,” you whine, as he drills into you.

“nah,” he says, shrugging his head, “it’s not enough,” he lifts up his legs, his digits pressing into your deeper, as he now angles his strokes even further into your pussy, hitting your spot with ease. “give it to me harder, i know you can” he encourages, another two swift spanks landing on your ass.

with his continuous contact of your ass and his hips, and the way his dick pushes into you deeper, you felt like you were splitting in two. but you kept going, thinking back to your earlier conversation, you didn’t want to prove him wrong, you wanted to show him that you can handle it, handle him.

geto was practically beaming, licking his lips feverishly at the sight of your fucked out face through the mirror as he watches himself plough into you, your body rocking forward with every thrust. his eyes concentrate on your ass, as he says, “d’you see how your rocking my work on you now?” and you nod dumbly, too busy trying to reach your climax to string a sentence together, “so fuck that ex of yours and his shitty ass tattooing, from now on you only can me on your body, you got that?” he asks and you nod again, but he shakes his head, his hand moving from your waist to your chin as he grips it making your eyes stay locked on his through the mirror, “i said do you got that?”

“ahhh s-shit yet i do, i do,” you say, mirroring his words, “i will only have you on my body, ‘promise.”

“good girl,” he approves, giving your chin a squeeze before letting go, “now cum.” 

with those simple words, you release all over him, your stance getting weaker, as you shoot out cum all over his dick. he’s quick to pull out of you though, stroking his dick as he sprays his cum all over your ass, with a deep groan.

your hands are still on the wall, as you take deep breaths, trying to recollect yourself. but you turn around swiftly seeing a flash of a camera behind you, and geto is back to crouching down, with his phone out, taking pictures of your cum covered ass.

“you mind if i keep these in my wank bank forreal this time?” he asks, smirking as you nod, “i’ll take some more later, but i got two questions to ask.”

“and those are…” you say, prompting him to continue.

“first, let me take you out after this?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer. after the way he just dicked you down, you’d be a fool not to let him wine and dine you, “second, y’gonna come suffocate my face with that ass of yours or not?” you couldn’t even answer the second question since he’s pulling you down to the floor with him, with a joyous grin on his face.

AN: IGNORE THE FACT THAT HE CUMS ALL OVER UR FRESH TATTOO. LIKE JUST IGNORE IT. just focus on the fact that you have a lovely ass and geto loves it too. but yes do you want to see more, I HAVE ENOUGH IDEAS TO EVEN MAKE A LIL MASTERLIST FOR IT. I love tattoo artist boyfriend!geto so so much, like when u guys become an established relationship it actually gets so good. BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, BUT IF U GUYS FW IT I PROMISE ILL ACTUALLY WRITE AND POST THE ONES I LOVE. BUT I FELT LIKE I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIRST SO YOU COULD SEE HOW U AND GETO STARTED. LMK UR THOUGHTS

[vampiefemme]

a blurb in which ellie’s a sex shop worker you’re becoming very, very well-acquainted with <3

18+ mdni! shoo!

you’re on the verge of what would be your most earth-shattering orgasm to date when your vibrator betrays you.

your naked body, painted with a thin layer of sweat, sprawls over the wrinkled sheets of your bed, the damp fabric clinging to your skin as you gasp for breath. you’re working the vibrator over your slick folds, through the creamy spend of your previous orgasm, and every sensation below your waist is pure ecstasy. it hasn’t taken long to bring you right back to the edge - your back arches of its own accord, your eyes squeezing shut as a flurry of daydreams passes through your head.

all of them, it turns out, involve the very person who’d sold you the vibrator buzzing between your legs. ellie.

her hands on your hips, your ass, your throat. her mouth on your neck, her tongue on your clit. you can almost feel the warm puffs of breath she’d huff down at you as she fucked you, splitting you open with her strap and leaving you empty-headed and spent.

the mental images alone are enough to send you reeling, and right as you’re about to pass the threshold into the white-hot, blinding pleasure of another orgasm, the persistent hum of your vibrator abruptly cuts off.

you could throw up. you could cry. you could exercise sound logic and just charge the damn thing, but instead of any of the above, you find yourself rummaging through your drawers for whatever clothes you can find. sweats and a band tee, a mismatched pair of socks. nothing else.

ellie’s behind the counter again when you pull the door open. the shrill chirp of the entrance sensors draws her eyes to you, and you’re unsurprised to find her smoking a cigarette, body huddled over the edge of the counter. her brows lift in surprise when she sees you.

“back already?” she asks, putting out her cig leisurely. “must’ve gone really well. or maybe really poorly?“

you don’t miss the way her eyes roam over your figure, lingering on your chest; you’re not wearing a bra, and the peaks of your nipples are visible beneath the thin fabric. your back straightens.

“it died.”

“oh,” ellie says. “did you… charge it?”

“no, i wanted to—i thought maybe i could try something else.” you chew at your lower lip, casting a glance at the wall of toys from which ellie had plucked your vibrating bullet the first time you’d come here. you turn back to ellie just in time to see something dark glimmer in her eyes. she nods.

“yeah, of course. think you’re ready for something more intense? c’mon.” she nods her head towards the toy section, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulder. you follow her and watch as she surveys the wall of toys, the sheer volume of packages just as overwhelming as last time. ellie reaches out for a hot pink box, shiny lettering spelling out Boss Lady across the top. you grimace.

“what kind of name is that for a sex toy?” you quip, reaching for the package. ellie snatches it out of reach.

“ah-ah, sweetheart, don’t doubt the Boss Lady. she packs quite the punch.”

“really, now?” you ask, cocking a brow. “you know from experience?”

ellie just smiles, dimples in her cheeks. “if the name is just too cringy for you, we can find something else. but i recommend her—i think you’ll have lots of fun with her.”

“okay, fine. you pulled my leg.” you reach for the box again, and ellie lets you grab it this time, her gaze on you as you flip the package over and read through some of the metallic pink text adorning the back. the only rabbit vibrator you’ll ever need, it reads. powerful dual stimulation will keep you satisfied!

it occurs to you then, as you follow ellie to the register and dig in your pockets for some cash, that you should probably be embarrassed. here you are, a week after your first ever vibrator purchase, ready to fork over some hard-earned cash for a second one—one with a questionable name, no less. your cheeks warm as ellie regards you from the other side of the register, the heels of her hands pressed to the counter. there’s a knowing look on her face, her lips curled into the faintest hint of a smirk, that dark look from earlier still dancing in her eyes.

god, she probably thinks you’re a sex addict. she totally thinks you’re a sex addict.

“is it weird that i’m back so soon?” you ask, before you can think to filter yourself. ellie’s brows knit together in confusion.

“huh? no, no, not at all—we have plenty of regulars, you know.” she types something into the register, eyes still fixed on you. “i’d say it’s weirder that you’re here at two in the morning.”

you blink. “two?”

“two twenty-one, to be precise.” ellie nods at the clock on the wall, the hour, minute, and second hands made of three different flesh-toned penis cutouts. “but hey, i get it. your vibrator died.”

you clear your throat. “how much do i owe you?”

“hm. well…” ellie drums her fingers on the cash wrap’s countertop. “i’m feeling generous tonight. answer one question for me, and Boss Lady is yours for free.”

“i’m awful at trivia,” you confess.

“trivia? jesus.” ellie barks a surprised laugh. “i’m not—it’s not trivia.”

narrowing your eyes, you shuffle up to the counter and nod. “okay, fine. ask away.”

ellie moves in closer, too, head dipping ever so slightly to allow her to peer down at you. it takes everything in you to keep your eyes from lingering over her frame and drinking in every inch of her: the bold lines of her forearm tattoo, the burn-holes in the collar of her shirt, the faint kiss of freckles on the bridge of her nose. but while you attempt to reign in your wandering gaze, ellie doesn’t hold back. she takes her time looking you over. bites the plush, pink swell of her lower lip.

then: “what were you thinking about?”

“huh?”

“earlier, when you were touching yourself. before the vibrator died. what were you thinking about?”

“that’s your question?” you chew on the inside of your cheek. embarrassment roils in your stomach; she has to know that, while your body writhed in the center of your mattress, cunt twitching and gushing, you’d been thinking of her.

ellie smirks. “you don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.”

“no, it’s… it’s okay,” you murmur. your palms are clammy and you force your gaze to Boss Lady, waiting patiently on the counter for her chance to help you see god. “i was thinking about, um… you, actually.”

you’re still staring at the gaudy pink package on the counter, hands squeezed into fists at your side. you can feel the half-moon indents of your nails digging into your palms, and just as the silence stretches a bit too long for your comfort, ellie laughs.

it’s a wicked thing, a biting sound. all self-satisfaction and enthrallment. you dare to steal a glance at her, and she’s grinning like a maniac, her cheeks tinged the prettiest shade of red.

“can i tell you something?” she asks, stuffing a hand into her pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. her fingers glide over the cash register, clicking at a few buttons, and she slides the money into each respective slot before pushing the drawer closed with a satisfying click. “i’ve been touching myself to the thought of you, too.”

mouth going dry, you gawk at ellie like she’s got four heads; she simply beams at you like she didn’t just admit that she’s thought about you with her hand between her legs. she leans over the counter, one strong hand reaching towards you to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“you seem nervous,” she says.

“i’m—i don’t…” you trail off, cheeks positively flaming.

“tell you what,” ellie begins, retracting her hand. she moves back from the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. your eyes flicker over the whorls of ink that decorate her skin, biceps flexed just so; your cunt throbs. “you can go now, if you want. i won’t stop you.”

“or,” she says, voice dipping low, husky, “you can lock that front door, and i can show you how much fun you can have with your new toy.”

she reaches a hand out and taps the box for emphasis, and you’re struck by how at ease she seems. how comfortable she is with your mutual attraction and the opportunity to act on it. it lights a fire in you, one that engulfs every last trace of doubt.

you lock the front door, of course.

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴇx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yandere ex who wants you back

yandere ex who textes you everyday, on everything

yandere ex who you blocked, so how is he still managing to message you?!!!

yandere ex who makes 67 new alt accounts, pretending to be nail artists that you won a give away for

yandere ex who sends you an address, and you come but immediately scowl when you see him open the door

yandere ex who gets slapped by you once you realized he set his whole thing up

yandere ex who calls you everyday, crying into his phone

yandere ex who shows up to your door one day, all dressed up and shit, with flowers in his hand

yandere ex who you gave a dirty look too and slammed the door on his face

yandere ex who comes to your door everyday, with a new tuxedo and flowers, and chocolates asking for a second chance

yandere ex who you broke up with for being hella possessive, even going as far as deleting your family's members numbers so the only person you'll ever talk to is him and only him!

yandere ex who only fucks girls that look like you, hitting them from the back since if he sees their face it'll run the fantasy that hes fucking you

yandere ex who pretends hes fucking you, while fucking some random girl, moaning out your name and everything while the girl dont gaf since yan ex fine asf

yandere ex who can only get his dick wet if hes thinking about you

yandere ex who scrolls through your instagram pics, rubbing his wet pinkish tip as he likes all your pics, groaning out your name

yandere ex who has had several diff gfs after your break up to try to make you jealous and come back to him but never works

yandere ex whose gf has gone through his phone and saw the many diff down bad messages he sents you,

𝐲/𝐧_𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐚𝐞_𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

bae take me BACKK

bae PLEASEE

THAT GIRL IN MY INSTA HIGHLIGHTS IS NOTHING COMPARED TO UUU

BAE I LUV U

U MY EVERYTHINGG

PLEASEE

baby

please

BABE

did you get a new man?

is he fucking better than me or something?

y/n im not fucking playing with you

I hope he gets run over

I hope he gets skinned and worms go inside his body and begin to eat him

actually tell ur bf to watch out at excatly 10:34 pm.

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

yandere ex who broke up with his gf and got into a huge agrument after he said "what the fuck? my ex was wayyy better than what ever the fuck your doing" during sex

yandere ex who broke up with his girl after a week of dating and decides to go text you, acting as if he was super hurt and depressed when he just wanted to have a reason to text u

yandere ex who you actually had a convo with, helping him with his 'sadness' (more like freakiness bc he was holing the phone with one hand, stroking his dick the whole convo)

yandere ex who is now ur sorta friend and thinks u guys are back together

yandere ex who never got over you, and wants you back terribly

[hoshigray]

just gojo smut

. and hesss a bullyyy

another part of this scenario...

၇͜ᩘ𑁍 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you and Gojo are college juniors - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play - squirting - multiple orgasms - pet names (angel, crybaby, pretty girl) - mention of tears and drool.

Sitting here, thinking about bully! Gojo and…how playfully mean he can be to your body…

“Ahhh!! Sa–toru…p-please go slow…!”

“Ehhh, but I thought ya liked it when my fingers go fast, angel.”

Just picturing you pressed up against him with your legs spread and your wrists restricted to your chest by a hand, your back to his chest to maintain inessential closeness. The other is in between the personal zone of your lower regions, his digits playing with you to the point of your thighs quaking with every touch and proximity of him.

Because there’s no such thing as “personal” when having you like this.

You throw your head to his shoulder as his slender fingers venture deeper into you, your legs threatening to close but are held open by his feet, spreading your ankles. “Gaaaahh, ohhGo—Mmmm!”

The white-haired man behind you comes to your ear to whisper. “Hnnnm, fuck, that feels nice,” he curls the digits to brush your walls, your figure jolting to the contact. “All wet and tight like I like it.”

“—Mmfff, Satoru, please, I can’t—“ you bite down on your lip with another rub to your texture, his slender fingers going more extensive than you could ever on your own. “S-Stop..! I’m t’ sore…”

“Oh? You’re sore?” He mocks childishly. “But you promised you can handle this much.”

Bullshit! More like pulling you aside and choosing to finger you to heal his boredom. Aren’t you two supposed to be working on a project together? “I caannn’t; I came—shit—like t-twice already…!”

“Aww, don’t be such a spoilsport,” he snickers as he increases the pace of his fingers. Your back arches at the frequent touches on your vaginal borders, yet Gojo is right there to keep you still. “C’mon, pretty girl, you know I want to see you do that first before I stop.”

You shake your head hurriedly, your eyes finding his. “I really can’t do iit! I m-might…break!”

His side profile harbors one of his azure eyes that glimpses at you, and a smirk pulls up. “Fine, then I’ll make you.”

Words that have your stomach drop to the bed, your mouth open to protest, yet it is stopped by the cadence of his hand going irregularly fast. You swore your vision had gone blank for a split second as Gojo’s middle and ring fingers pushed and pulled your innards with spasmodic bursts. Your conscience forces the body to retaliate—to retreat from this tall man’s grasp. But it’s futile, of course; his titter close to your eardrums melts your face into a deeper pool of embarrassment. 

Oh my God! Your mind is all you have to curse, your lips betraying your words as the only thing they can release is humiliating babbles. Gojo pushes his hand deep to the point that the blunt of his fingertips makes your toes curl and your vagina clamp onto them. No, no—I can feel it!

“C’mon, ya big crybaby,” he whispers again, a shiver crawling up your nape. “Let it out already.”

The words of his voice mixed with the frequent digs of your chasm swirl and pound your head. Your eyes find the top of your skull as your trembling legs succumb and your glads expel a clear liquid that exerts with every quake of your thighs. 

A mischievous grin twinges on Gojo’s face, removing his fingers out of your spasming cunt and swiping your vulva to have you squirting everywhere, plastering on the skin of your legs and tummy and his jean-clad thighs. You cry out during it all, nearly choking on drool as his fingers frequently and roughly glide on your clit, tears watering your eyes and beacon to fall. 

“Yeah, that’s it!” He cheers, smearing your substance around your bare lower regions as if the mess you made doesn’t extend to the sheets of his bed. “There you go, angel, keep making a mess for me.”

His thumb teases your clitoris some more on your clitoris as he pushes his middle finger back inside your swollen slit. “—Dahaah!! Yo–You said you’d stop if I…Mmmph!”

The light from the ceiling shines on his rounded shades. “I lied~.” 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ☆ dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋ🖍️crayons and connections

pairing: prohero!katsuki x nanny!reader

summary: after a harsh relationship he really didn't want another try at romance for a while. at least, not until he hired you. he thought he loved the way you cared for his kids, but you both knew it was something more.

tags: fem!reader, domestic au, use of pet names, no proofread, fluff, cursing, taking care of kids, a millisecond of angst i swear trust me, comfort

(a/n: i couldn't get this au out of my headdd)

wc: ~3k

katsuki was honestly sick of his wife.

she would nag him constantly, asking for his cards and attention without ever asking about him or how he was doing. everything was an argument now, most of their nights would eventually end up with him on the couch.

the only lights of his life were his newborn son and one year old daughter. he had adopted the 'staying for the kids' mindset, but her skipping out on their shared daughter's first birthday was his breaking point.

who knew 'i want a divorce' would be the happiest words he'd ever uttered such far? watching her cry and swear she'd be better feeding the hole of despair that had opened over their three year relationship, that had only really blossomed because she got pregnant.

he had made her sign a prenup, thankfully, so he got to keep the house. with a payment and some paperwork he was left with full custody of his kids in his house, to sleep in his bed for the first time in ages.

well, only because he hired you.

it was only natural that he needed a nanny, i mean he was gone for most of the day patrols. after taking some in for interviews, he eventually landed on you after some hours of questioning.

he was exhausted, some of these hags were terrifying, both in their practices and appearances. he relaxed a bit at the sight of you. you were really pretty.

"hi mr-- um bakugo was it?"

you and no idea who he was? it kind of hurt but would end up working out in his favor.

"yeah, just katsuki's fine."

"oh, okay! i'm [name], uh-- i have a couple years experience for babysitting and i worked as a nanny for some other families too--"

as you rambled about your past experience and why you were good for the job, katsuki's mind went elsewhere. you looked breathtaking just speaking there, he swore your hair was flowing in the wind and that the sun shone brighter around you.

not to mention you were really sweet, he had saw you making small talk to the hags earlier, which meant you really were a saint.

"so uh-- yeah that's all about me... uh, hello?"

"oh! yes? that was all really impressive [name]. so, would you be available from eight in the morning to about ten at night? those are my current patrol hours, and obviously you'd be compensated for this trial."

"yes, that's perfect for me! when can i start?"

"uh.. tomorrow?"

"okay!" you stuck out your hand, a small smile on your lips. "nice to meet you katsuki."

he shook your hand firmly and you bowed before leaving.

the next day you arrived earlier than anticipated, he was suited up in his heroes outfit, relishing in the moments where his kids were still asleep.

he heard a knock at the door and opened it. it was you, a tiny purse behind you. "hi katsuki! woah wait a minute.. are you like a hero?"

he shrugged his arms. "yeah, you know only like top three, nothing big."

he saw your eyes widen. "oh wow! sorry for not recognizing you, i don't really keep up with all that stuff-- but im sure you're really strong!"

he nodded, "hell yeah i am. anyways, come in."

you were greeted by a large family home. you were sure your apartment was the size of the kitchen alone. huge halls and grand staircases filled the space, lavish chandeliers all shaped as explosions hung from the ceiling. not to mention the crazy amount of trophies displayed.

the rocking chairs and baby blankets scattered about were seriously out of place, making you giggle a bit.

when he looked back at you, you immediately slapped your hand over your face. "something funny?"

"no, no it's just-- your house is so nice!"

"thank you? anyways, i'll take you up to their rooms now."

you followed behind him, even his kids had huge rooms. you were super kind of jealous.

he opened the door and waved you over to see a small, adorable baby boy sleeping in a cot. "this is kei, he's only eight months." he whispered. "he fusses a lot, but he loves music."

he closed the door slowly behind, and walked to the room straight across. a tiny toddler laid in a princess bed, the room drowning in all things pink. "this is kioko, she's a handful. she turned two a bit ago." he whispered, closing the door behind him to give you a basic rundown of the schedule.

"so, they normally wake up around eight. there's a lot of formula for kei in the kitchen, and kioko just likes cereal. kioko can and will play all day, but kei gets real sleepy."

you nodded along making mental notes of everything.

"they eat lunch around three, but a snack before then is fine. dinner is at seven and they go to sleep at eight."

"okay, i think i got it."

he nodded. "i think you do too. there's extra keys in the counter by the door. call my assistants if there are any emergencies, i wrote the number on the fridge."

you nodded again, "kay, i got it. you get going though, it's already eight twenty!"

"fuck. okay, i'll see you later."

"bye katsuki."

the door closed behind him and you were alone. you decided to start prepping a bottle. just as you finished, you heard the wails of a baby ring throughout the halls.

you walked up to the cot, speaking softly. "hi kei, i'm [name]." as you picked him up, he gurgled in confusion. "i'll be taking care of you from now on, let's go eat."

you kept him in your arms. he was looking up at you curiously, making you smile as he touched your face. as you walked to his sister's room, where sure enough she was awake too.

"hi kioko, im [name]. i'll be taking care of you, okay?" you said, reaching out a hand for her to shake it.

she grasped your hand. "okay. go eat?"

"yes, let's go eat. follow me, okay?" she followed after you sleepily, her blanket and stuffed animal in her arms as you led her to the kitchen.

you placed her brother in a high chair first, giving him his formula. "can i pick you up?" you asked her.

"up-up!" she said, raising her arms up in the air. you carried and placed her into one too. "so, what do you wanna eat?"

"cookie!" she pointed to an expensive cereal brand you'd never even seen before. "oh, okay."

you placed a bit in a tiny bowl, adding some milk. they ate relatively peacefully, were they really as crazy as katsuki said?

yes, yes they were. kioko was a ball of energy, walking any and everywhere. she wanted to play every single game known to mankind. it didn't help that hide and seek was hard in such a huge house.

kei clung to you. as you searched for her he never wanted to leave your side, he'd start sniffling when you even left his sight.

lunch and dinner were a blur, you made the food katsuki had told you to on the sticky notes he'd left around. you had a bit too, and man did these kids eat good.

kioko finally crashed, tugging on the back of your pants. "sleepy time." you were washing dishes, so you wiped your hand clean to ruffle her hair. "okay, go wait for me in your room."

you finished up, picked up kei from where he was sat by his activity cube, and walked over to kioko's room.

you read her a book, 'the giving tree.' she fell asleep halfway through, utterly tuckered out from the day. kei fell asleep against your chest, you went and laid him down in his cot.

you looked around the house, seeing the mess. you sighed. "let's do this."

the house was sparkling once you were done, a pot of coffee on the stove as you waited for katsuki to get back. you seriously didn't know how you were going to go back your one-bed apartment now that you've seen how the rich live.

the door sounded, it was katsuki. "hi katsuki! how was uh-- patrol?"

he was covered in soot and dirt from head to toe. you internally sobbed at your hours of mopping going to waste. "oh uh, it was good. caught some guys and shit."

"ah, that's cool!"

he looked around. "did my brats cause you any trouble?" he eyed how clean everything was, from the dishes to the floor.

"they're full of energy, but so cute it makes up for it."

he wore a soft smile. "yeah, they really are."

"you know, they both look exactly like you. it's cute."

he flushed slightly, "yeah?"

"mhm, oh! i had leftovers from earlier? if you wanted some."

"yeah, i'll eat them." she smiled and started to grab her things. "so, does this mean i pass?"

he smiled too. "yes,

yes you did."

days melted into months of your routine with kei and kioko. some days katsuki would come home early, letting you play games all together. you'd cook with him sometimes too, laughing at how precise he was about it.

everything got a bit real the second kei spoke his first word to you.

"mama."

you and kioko got so excited, recording a clip to send it to katsuki immediately.

the entire day you were so happy, treating the kids to a secret extra snack, and letting them beat their favorite baby popcorn.

a knock on the door was heard, you were feeding kei so you walked over to the door with him in hand. you thought it was odd, why would katsuki knock?

except it wasn't him, it was some woman. "uh.. who are you?"

"oh, so he thinks he can replace me so quickly? newsflash, bitch, i'm his ex wife."

"can you not curse in front of the kids?"

"i'll do whatever the fuck i want. you know why? because i'm actually connected to those kids. you're just playing mother, he'll dump you eventually."

she slammed the door behind her. "star her mama?" kioko asked behind you.

"yeah, stranger."

you had gotten a bit weird after that, acting weird about affection and things surrounding it. you didn't know why, but she really did make you question your role in their lives.

you weren't a mother, you were a nanny.

katsuki finally got fed up with your new, odd attitude. he questioned you with a look in his eye.

"why you been acting so weird?" he asked, his mouth full with food.

"huh? i don't know what you mean?"

he pointed his chopsticks at you. "you've been acting all weird 'round 'em. you don't like that they call you mom or something?"

"no! it's just.. don't you think it's weird?"

"no. i'm happy that they like you so much."

"you don't think i'm trying to replace their mom?"

"they never really had one in the first place. she was never around, so if she said some shit to you know she wasn't half the person you are."

"oh.."

"so she did come."

"yeah. she did."

"[name]. you are ten times the person she ever was. you're perfect without trying. actually, you do try. and that's why..

that's why we all love you."

you both turned red, which made you laugh. "thank you katsuki."

you reached out and held his hand.

"seriously, thank you."

he put a restraining order on his ex the next day, also going to get flowers for you as it was his day off.

you'd started to sleep over after that, the affection between the two of you growing gradually.

he gifted you a room in the house, fully furnished with about ten thousand dollars left in one of the drawers so 'you could decorate for yourself.'

that room went mostly unused though, as most nights you'd end up cuddled with katsuki in his bed.

the fridge was filled to the brim with photos by kioko, who'd love to draw all four of you as one big family.

katsuki even asked her for a small one, one that he now keeps in the back of his phone case for good luck.

he asked you out officially with kioko's help, her unwanted help that is.

she snuck out after bedtime where he was speaking to you on the couch, you in his arms as he was mustering up his courage--

"pleaseeee have a play date with daddy, pleasee?" she said, using her puppy eyes.

"we all love you a lot, but he loves you this much!" she spread out her arms to make a point, making you laugh.

"okay! okay, i already said yes kioko. go to sleep, okay?"

"yay!" she ran up to her room and you heard the door close.

"so.. about our playdate?"

he took you out to a fancy dinner of your choice, telling you to order whatever you'd like. his mom was babysitting so you two could relax.

he'd learned a lot about you from his kids, your favorite color, the music you liked, the way you like your eggs, but it was different to hear it from you.

he thought you were so gorgeous and kind, so sweet to him and the lights of his life. who was he kidding? over the last year you'd become a pillar of his life.

he enjoyed going home knowing you were there with his kids, you were there to hear about his stresses and support him.

he was happy to support you, to let you stay in his house. to let him pay for things for you, to let him make you smile.

one 'playdate' turned into multiple, you went out every other week.

he knew he had to do something, a grand gesture to show you just how much he loved you, how he wanted to continue building this perfect family of his forever.

he knew how much you treasured the opinions of his kids, he loved that about you.

so, he got them in on it. kioko and kei each held a gift for you, one of your favorite flowers and the other of your favorite perfumes.

you were at a seriously gorgeous park, streams the only noise you could hear for miles. you saw your two favorite kids sitting on the picnic blanket.

"kioko, kei?"

"mommy!" they ran up to you, kei handing you the bouquet of roses, and kioko handing you a vial of perfume.

"aw, thank you you two. where's your dad?"

"hes waiting for you! come come!"

"come!"

they guide you to a secluded area, with a natural arch of overgrown vines, where katsuki is waiting for you.

"katsuki?"

"[name]."

"what's all of this for?"

"you." he took your hands into his, looking deeply into you.

"you're important to me. you've.. you've become the thing i was missing. the thing i searched for in other people.

and, you've become that to the people i care about the most too.

so,"

he got down on one knee infront of you.

"will you marry me?"

the word yes escaped you before you even realized it. you tackled him into a hug, which prompted kei and kioko to join in.

everything was just so sweet from then on.

kioko was the flower girl at your wedding, kei was the ring holder.

your first kiss shared under the altar was magical, the memory of it forever engrained in your memories, and in your lips.

your honeymoon was bittersweet, as you missed your two headaches. but you and katsuki also enjoyed the private time alone with eachother, embracing and finding comfort in eachother's presence.

when you got home though, your picturesque family was about to have a new addition,

you were pregnant.

whilst everyone was debating whether or not you'd have a boy or girl, to everyone's surprise once you and katsuki cut the slice of cake open..

it had both colors.

you we're having twins.

as you looked over at katsuki, a shocked expression on his face, all you could do was laugh.

laugh because you couldn't have ever imagined a life this perfect for you.

but it was a wax-drawn line of fate that led you to katsuki,

and you'd always be thankful for it.

tag: @kovu-bunnbunn

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi! I enjoy your stories very much. As a shy person myself wanting to push myself out of a shell I am curious if you've always been naturally good at meeting people, or do you get social anxiety too? Sorry if this is a super random/personal question. I appreciate you!

I used to get REALLY bad social anxiety but then I accidentally threw myself off the deep end on the first night of college when I heard people assembling furniture out in the hall and thought "If I do not get up right this second and go hang out with those people I'm going to lie here crying about how much I miss my family all night and they wouldn't want that."

So I went out in the hall and said "Hi! I'm [Gallus], and I thought I should meet people instead of being a miserable wreck in my room!"

And then we spent the rest of the night assembling dorm furniture, talking about weeb shit and generally having a good time! and every single time I've gone and introduced myself to someone since then, I've either made MORE friends and had a good time, or had, at worst, a perfectly neutral time. So that positive re-enforcement really helped.

Anyway, the three Guidlines to Meeting People:

Meet people at places they expect to meet people. People do not want to make friends when they are busy with something else- see how much we hate it when people come to the door when we were working or cleaning. But when they're at somewhere they expect to socialize like a Hobby Meeting, a convention, The Club? they're THRILLED to make friends and tbh probably glad you broke the ice. Go to places where people who share interests with you are meeting. They'll probably adopt you.

2. The Worst Thing that will happen is that you will lightly confuse someone. No for real. Nobody is going to scream at you and you're not going to terrorize someone by saying hi. It's fine.

3. Sample conversation script for those of us who have brains that make us act like we're in a movie:

*Be At Place to Meet People* *See someone who looks interesting to talk to, who is not actively doing a physical task or already having a conversation* You: Hello! I love your (Physical aspect of their appearance they chose: Hair color, lobster-themed dress/Dog/Orbital mechanics tattoo)!" Them: Oh, thanks! It (single sentence of explanation: I did it myself/It has pockets/He loves people/I got it for completing my thesis!) (this is a sign that they are open to social activity) You: That's so cool! I'm (you name), and I'm new here. You seem like cool people, can I hang out with you? Them, and I actually for real swear this will be the answer 90% of the time: Sure!

Congratulations! You have introduced yourself to someone. Continue to be a huge dweeb about the thing you have a mutual interest in and you will shortly have a new friend!

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x best friend!fem!reader

Summary: You and James stumble upon an ancient book of spells rumored to enhance pleasure.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm) + hurt and comfort

Warnings: sex while under an 'aphrodisiac' of some kind, unprotected sex, penetration, cock warming, quickie, public (not seen by anyone), riding, insecurities, porn with plot ✨

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

"Someone is gonna see us," you whisper, feeling James Potter's hand in yours, his thumb occasionally soothing circles over your palm as you stumble in the dark corridors under his invisibility cloak.

"That's the point of the cloak, love," James answers, holding in a laugh as he guides you towards the entrance to the library and he mutters the spell for the lock as you hold your breath. 

"Hear us then," you counter, unconsciously squeezing his hand for reassurance. 

James doesn't hesitate to return the squeeze and he smiles when the lock opens with a click. He opens the door and you both squeeze inside.

Once the door shuts behind you, James drops the cloak and you let out a shaky exhale, adjusting your hair. The room is dark and it smells like dust. You hold in a cough as James mutters, "Lumos," and then grins like he'd gone mad.

"Told ya we'd be fine," he sing-songs and kicks your shoe in a playful manner as he walks by you to look at all the restricted books. 

You groan and take out your wand, walking along the shelves as you pick up dust with your index. "Are you looking for something in particular?" you ask, your voice low as you read the names of books, realizing just how dangerous this could become.

James nods. "Yeah, I bet Sirius I could find "Moste Potente Potions" so we could make some Polyjuice potion," he says casually. 

"And you needed me, why?!" you turn to glare at your best friend. 

James looks at you with a smile. "Didn't really. I'just like your company."  

You bite the inside of your cheek and go back to looking at the books. "Polyjuice is dangerous, James. Are you sure you want to meddle with that?"

James nods again and he hums, "I'm top of the class in Potions, I'm sure I can handle some Polyjuice." He sounds smug and you roll your eyes at his behavior.

James is reckless and impulsive and honestly, you're worried about him making that potion with his friends. You don't dare bring it up, because who are you to tell James what to do? You aren't his girlfriend or anything—

"Woah," James's voice interrupts your thoughts as he walks over to you. You turn, standing in front of him as he flips the pages of some old dusty book. "These spells are ancient—and completely forbidden—" he mutters, his eyes round with excitement. 

You tilt your head and read the title; "Antiqua Cantus." Ancient Spells.

"Bloody Hell, there's a pleasure-enhancing spell–like a sexual thing—" James exclaims and holds the book open to you so you can see. You walk over and stand next to him, looking over his shoulder at the spell. James begins to recite the spell and you read along, entranced by the words on the worn-out parchment.

By moonlight's glow and stars above, 

Ignite the flames of lustful love. 

Let passion's heat our bodies bind,

In ecstasy, our souls combined.

Whisper soft this sacred plea,

Unleash our wildest fantasy.

Once he's finished, you glance around the page and frown. "Shit." You grab the book from James and then look up at him with wide eyes, "James, this is a wandless spell!" you whisper and his eyes widen like yours did as he realizes what happened. 

He grabs the book from you and reads the instructions. His shoulders relax and he points to the small print— "It says the participants must have already existing feelings for this to work," he mumbles and looks up at you, smiling reassuringly and unsure all the same. "So—"

"Yeah—" you whisper, stepping away from him.

"I feel fine," James starts.

"I do too," you say, feeling completely normal. 

James shuts the book with a slam and his smile returns. "Thing is probably too old to work, anyways," he says confidently. You nod, less confident than he is but you push those worries down. 

He doesn't like you like that—so why would it work?

Once James finally finds the book he's looking for, you both cram under the cloak and you make your way back to the dorm. You ignore the feeling, but your head feels fuzzier than it should. Every brush on James's arm against yours sends shivers up your spine. You're extra aware of how he smells and it's intoxicating. You bite your lip, hoping the pain will distract you from the pleasure building. 

The spell. 

James looks normal. He's even humming the Hogwarts song under his breath, his eyes trained forward as you make it to the Common Room. It feels so unfair—that he's fine and your stomach twists with butterflies as your nipples harden painfully against your bra. 

It isn't fair. 

As soon as you have the chance, you pull away from James and sit on the couch, pressing your thighs together. You glance up at the stairs to the girl's dorms, wondering if you should run up and take a cold shower to quench the ache.

"Hey, you okay?" James asks, folding up the cloak as he looks you over.

Bloody fuck, his voice. 

"Mhmm," you nod, focusing your attention on anything but how turned on you are or how hot James sounds and looks. How much you want his lips on yours. 

You clench your thighs again, nervously pressing your hands in between them and your breath hitches when James sits next to you, his hand flat on your thigh. You inhale. 

"Are you sure?" he asks, looking at you behind his glasses with a look that makes you want to pounce on him. This is so humiliating. You move your thigh so his hand slips onto the couch and James's frown deepens. "Hey," he whispers again, "What's happened?"

You feel like your entire body is on fire. You need to touch yourself or throw yourself out a window—you can't make up your mind.

"The stupid spell—" you say, your voice soft as you avoid his gaze and stare at your knees, feeling your hands shake. "it's working and I- I can't handle it, James," 

He doesn't answer for a moment until you hear a familiar laugh. "Oh, darling," he says, his hand finding your chin as he turns your head around, grinning. "Look at me." 

You do so but he shakes his head, his eyes shimmering. "No. Look at me," he whispers, his voice husky and deep and your eyes widen when you understand what he means. Your gaze falls from his eyes to the painful-looking bulge tenting his trousers and you inhale sharply, the sight causing your mind to haze over. How had you missed this!?

"Look at what it's done to me, love," James finishes as his thumb strokes your cheek. "We really messed up this time, didn't we?" he hums.

"You messed up," you whisper, leaning into his touch. Thank Merlin no one is in the Common Room at this hour because your desperation is embarrassing.

"I messed up," James says with a strained smirk and he twirls some of your hair in his fingers. "Can I make it up to you, darling? Can I make the ache go away?"

James knows this is wrong. You're both under some kind of sexually enhancing spell—this is so many shades of messed up. Still, his heart and dick yearn for you. Somehow, he's managed to hide it well, most likely because he'd had experience in that department—James was constantly turned on to some level when he was around you. He can't help himself. 

"H-how?" you ask, the idea of giving in to the desires not even crossing your mind. 

James smirks, looking at you as his glasses fall down his nose. He pats his thigh. You look down, your eyes widening. You shouldn't. This is wrong. Still, your body responds to him without your brain's permission as you lift yourself to straddle his lap. Your skirt bunches up your thighs as your arms wrap around James's shoulder. You gasp for air at how sensitive you are and you can't look him in the eye.

You can feel him hard and needy against you and you swallow. 

"Look at me," James whispers once more, his voice husky and deep as his hands grip your hips and he moves you up and down his trousers. You whine and bury your face in the crook of his neck, your skin clammy and flushed from need. 

Suddenly the movements stop and your grip tightens around his shoulders. 

"Look at me," he says again, lips pressed to your ear as he sounds as desperate as you are. "O-or I'll stop," he threatens, not sounding convincing considering the spell is starting to hit him hard and he's about ready to come in his trousers. 

You pull away, looking at him as your mind buzzes and you search his eyes for some hint that you both need to stop this. You see none so you say, your voice strained, "James. Fucking need you, please."

You lift your hips, finding his zipper and fumbling with his trousers as you push aside your panties. It's rushed and sweaty and not at all romantic like you'd planned—not to mention public. You pray everyone else is asleep and won't walk in on you sitting on your best friend's cock.  

With a moan, you press down and he slides in easily. "Shit, you're so wet," James mumbles as he kisses your neck, holding you close as his cock twitches inside you. You both don't even think of the fact he's not wearing a condom or anything. You're too lost in the pleasure for any rational thoughts.

"Fuck," you groan, keeping him inside you without movement for a while. You hold him as close as possible, needing him. Needing his warmth.

James groans, his eyes shut in pleasure as he holds himself back from fucking you roughly. He's going to explode at any moment if he doesn't feel you move. "Y/n," he warns, his hands tightening even more on your poor hips. 

You take that as an invitation and you move, your movements slow and languid in the beginning, feeling every pull and stretch and you can't tell if James's cock just feels so much better than any others you've been with, or if the spell is messing with you. 

Perhaps it's a little of both. 

"Bloody hell," James grunts, losing control, as he moves you with him, his hips snapping up into you. You gasp, falling onto his shoulder as you hold him even closer, the pleasure almost unbearable.

You don't know if it's been hours or mere minutes but once James spills himself into you, his hands around your back as he continues to move your body to his liking, you can't hold it in and your mouth opens, a silent moan catching you by surprise as you finish around him. You feel weak and fuzzy almost instantly as if the string master that kept you aware suddenly cut you loose. 

James's hand soothingly runs in your hair as he pants, his eyes shut. The only sound you can hear is your and James' ragged breaths and all you can smell is the burnt-out firewood and sex. You feel much calmer now as your brain tries to catch up with the events that just transpired, and when it does your blood runs cold.

You sit up, looking down at your best friend. He's looking at you, not daring to speak. You'd just fucked him with such want and need and yet all you can think about when you look at him is how you did all that without knowing the feeling of his lips on yours.

Shame burns your skin and you scramble off him, the feeling of his cock leaving from inside you makes you wince as you hold in all the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. 

"Hey," James whispers, his hand reaching for yours as he stops you from running away, standing up in the process so he's looking at you. He drops your hand and, clearly embarrassed, tucks himself back inside his trousers. You stare at him, feeling dirty from an experience you'd wished had been amazing. 

And it was more than amazing if you were honest with yourself. You'd never been more satisfied in your life, but it also wasn't what you'd really wanted. Was it too cliché to want roses and candles? A steamy kiss and some swoon-worthy romantic confession? 

Instead, you'd gotten love bites and finger dents.

"What's going on in your head?" James's voice interrupts your thoughts as he moves closer. 

"Hmm?"

"Darling, come on, please talk to me," he insists, wanting to know exactly what you're feeling so he can understand his own feelings. 

You cover your face with your hands, head dipping down as your body finally calms down from the surplus of hormones you've experienced.

"We shouldn't have done that, James—I–it was wrong," your voice fades as his hands find your wrists and he pulls them down. He looks hurt, sad, and guilty all in one emotion painted on his handsome face. 

"Do you regret it?" he asks, his voice wavering. 

You open your mouth to say yes but hold yourself back. It's more complicated than that. "I don't know– I just didn't think it would happen like this and—we didn't even kiss," you ramble, avoiding looking at him. You should have been looking because then you could have seen his next move coming.

James gently takes your cheeks in his hands, pulling you into him so he can kiss your lips. For something surprising, it isn't forceful at all. He doesn't kiss you longer than a few seconds and he doesn't use his tongue. He's delicate with you, making sure he isn't crossing any boundaries.

When he moves away, your eyes are open and you're silent for a moment. Then, you grab his collar and pull him in, crashing your lips onto his. You kiss him like he's your last meal on earth--like you've been starved of him. He feels so good pressed against you, his hands in your hair and then your cheeks again, and then your waist. You feel dizzy and you pull away. Your lips feel swollen and love-bitten and you're a flustered mess.

James continues to hold you close as he presses his forehead to yours, his thumb rubbing your waist. "You're amazing," he speaks so softly as a faint smile graces his lips. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I don't tell you enough, do I?" James smiles and tilts his head. He leans in and kisses your neck. "You're amazing—so wonderful," he inhales your scent but doesn't comment on it and a shiver runs up your spine. 

"I– we–" You want to bring up the fact you had sex with him but James puts his finger on your lips, his thumb rubbing under your chin and he shakes his head. 

"Stop worrying so much, lovely. It's okay. I promise it's okay. I didn't hurt you did I?"

You shake your head and James's smile turns into a grin.

"Good. So we're okay, hm?" he looks at you expectantly. "You're still my best friend."

Your heart thumps loudly in your ears. Best friends. "Y-yeah, you're still my best friend, Jamie," you say, your voice strained as you smile reluctantly. 

You want to be so much more than best friends.

James can sense your hesitation and he takes a breath. "W-would you want to try to be more than just friends, Y/n?" he pauses, and then his voice picks up, "and I'm not saying that because we just fucked. No. I'm saying this because I'm hopelessly in love with you and I think you love me too. You kissed me like you love me. I want to try to make this work."

You feel like the world is crashing around you. Your skin feels clammy and your head is dizzy. Still, an unfamiliar warmth spreads all around you. You feel blissful and you reach for James's hand, needing to hold him. He lets you hold his hand and he intertwines his fingers into yours. He looks nervous like he's expecting a rejection.  

"I do love you, James. So much. I want to try this too," you whisper, looking at him with a shy smile. 

James's grin widens and he picks you up, spinning you around as he keeps you close when your feet touch the ground again. "I'll do right by you, my love," he whispers in your ear and you hold your hands behind his neck. 

"So no more late-night trips to the restricted sections and trying old, dangerous, spells?" you tease.

James nips at your ear. "I kinda liked this one."

You laugh and swat his pec, your hand trailing down his chest as you fist his shirt and look up at him with a mockingly stern look. "Don't be a smartass, you wanker."

James returns your laugh and kisses behind your ear. "No more trips to the restricted section and trying old dangerous spells. Pink swear."

You pull away and hold out your pinky, which he takes and you grin. 

"We can still have sex though, hm. We don't need a spell to do that, right?" he teases but the question almost sounds serious. 

You roll your eyes. "James."

"I'm just making sure!" 

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | Poly 141 x Fem Fat Reader | masterlist

Part 1: New Girl

You stare up at the sign reading ONE - FOUR - ONE in old English font. It’s an old building, all brick and stuffed in between several others. The windows have a thin, semi-opaque cover them to let in the light without allowing you to see inside.

You make your way to the front door, trying the handle and feeling stupid the moment you do. Your eyes connect with a small intercom beside you and you press it. There’s a small buzz, then silence.

A few beats go by, you debate pressing it again. You don’t want to be too insistent.

“Hello?” A voice comes through just before you reach up to press again.

“I, uh…” You stutter. Despite having many, many tattoos you somehow still feel like a poser every time you enter a new studio. “I have an appointment at one? With John?”

The man on the other side confirms your name before buzzing you in, the door letting out a loud click before you step inside. It both makes you more nervous and more relaxed - you can appreciate a closed storefront like that. Especially for something often as private as tattoos and piercings, but it still feels like you’re doing something wrong. Just a little bit.

The front room is lovely, though. The texture over the glass bathes the front room in a calm, iridescent light. There are a few waiting chairs, a low, black table piled high with books of flash. The front of the high counter is covered with posters and stickers from events going all the way back to the 90s.

The pretty man behind the counter repeats your name absently, obviously thinking about other things. Probably the half-finished design that sits abandoned on the iPad next to the appointment book he’s staring down at. You just nod in agreement.

“I’ll let John know you’re here.” He nods back, turning and pushing through a pair of saloon style doors to disappear down the hall. You take the time he’s gone to look around, flipping through yet another small book of designs on top of the counter. They’re good. Unique. Very gothic and interestingly detailed. Somehow both fine and bold simultaneously.

“Afternoon.” You jump, snapping the book shut and looking up to meet a pair of soft blue eyes and an easy smile. He looks you over briefly before extending his hand. “John Price.”

You murmur your name quietly, trying very hard to not stare at the incredible traditional work patched into a sleeve up his strong arm. Damn.

He leads you back to his work station - past a piercing studio and across from another room with the door shut and an IN SESSION sign on the door. The dull, buzzing sound of a tattoo machine drifts through.

“Now,” John says as he cuts down the extra paper around the stencil. “Just remember if you don’t like the placement we can move it. No problem.”

“Okay.” You nod, appreciative that he mentioned it. Sometimes these older men in the industry are gruff and have an attitude if you do anything less than treat them as if they are anything other than Absolutely Right and Perfect. Not that John came off that way. There’s a softness in his affect that relaxes your muscles and leaves you breathing easy.

“I know y’have several but I’m still going t’do a line and then see how you feel.” He murmurs, voice low.

It’s sweet, the way he’s walking you through it all despite the piece being small and you obviously having done with process several times. The sting of the needle is as expected and you murmur that it was fine before he really gets to work.

“Just let me know if y’need a break…” He mumbles, voice dipping even lower as he concentrates on his work. In any other situation that rumble would probably have you squirming in your seat. There’s a silence for a while before he speaks again, almost as if he forgot you were there. “This design have any significance?”

“I just wanted to get a new tattoo in my new hometown.” You snort - now at the point where most of your tattoos fall under the ‘because it’s cool’ category. “Probably stupid, seeing as I don’t have a job yet but… I don’t know. Feels like good luck.”

John grins. “Well then, thanks f’lettin’ me be your good luck charm.”

Your face heats at the rumble in his voice - glancing away nervously.

There’s another lapse of silence while he works, the only words exchanged are when he asks if you need a break and you decline. Eventually, toward the end you think, he asks another question. “What brought y’here then? If not a job?”

You would shrug, but you try to keep as still as possible while he works. “Just needed a change. Found an apartment easy enough - now I just need a way to make money.”

He hums in agreement. “What do you have experience in? Been around here a while - might be able to recommend somethin’.”

“Oh! Thank you!” You brighten up. “Receptionist work, mostly. Some admin assistant stuff.”

He pauses, cocking an eyebrow. “Y’know, we’re hirin’ right now.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “I don’t have, like, a resume with me.”

“You’ve got enough tattoos I’m assumin’ you know how the industry works. My apprentice is going to start actually tattooin’ soon, an’ I hate t’ have him still pickin up extra duties at the front.” He sits back, carefully smoothing saniderm onto your arm before turning and reaching for the ink-stained sketchbook behind him. “Tell y’what, you write down a few references for me and your number. If they’ve got good things t’ say we can do a trial period.”

You blink at him. He’s awful forward, and insistent, but you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. A temp job is better than no job. “Alright…”

Just like that, you gained employment by way of making a stupid financial decision.

John’s an incredible boss. He pays fairly (generously, but you know better than to accidentally negotiate your pay down). He gives you plenty of hours and trains you well - with the help of his apprentice. He doesn’t get annoyed when you ask questions, seeming content with your determination to do your job to the best of your abilities. The shop goes by appointment only - no walk ins and potential customers have to call to book. John keeps things old fashioned like that. All pen and paper and cash transactions. An ATM sits in the waiting area. The most complicated part of your job is changing out the cash box in it, and that only take a few days to learn. Not that you mind, it’s sort of refreshing to not deal with some fuckass new and “improved” register and appointment system.

Turns out part of the reason they operate in such a way (other than preference) is because John is a big name in the tattoo world. You hadn’t realized until he pointed out a couple of your flash tattoos were from his best-selling book of designs.

“Wait, you’re famous!?” You gasp, staring wide eyed at the old binder of newspaper clippings and book sales. ‘My Mum Wasn’t Impressed At First - Now Even She Has One’ reads the title of one of the older clippings - yellowed with age. John lacks his signature beard in the photo. It almost looks wrong.

John chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back in his rolling chair. “You could say that. You really didn’t know about our shop before you booked?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I just saw y’all get recommended on Reddit.”

He barks out a laugh at that. It’s a low, pleased sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His beard only emphasizes the apples of his cheeks as he smiles. Yeah, that’s the other thing, having a hot boss is kind of fire.

Plus, he’s not the only one. The whole studio is full of hunks.

Kyle is easily the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Like, run for Miss Universe pretty. Big doe eyes with a little scar on his cheekbone - small golden hoops glitter from both his earlobes. They frame his face so well, creating a perfect diamond from them to his sparkling eyes to his pretty smile; curled and genuine with perfect teeth. He walks you through the booking process step by step, that first day, a warm hand on your back and the other tracing down the columns of the physical appointment book.

His work is as beautiful as he is. At least, the ones done on fake skin. John hasn’t let him tattoo anyone for real yet - but his practice sketches are immaculate. At least to a layman. Kyle himself never seems quite satisfied with them. He gets such vivid color, though.

“Tattooing darker skin is an art form in and of itself.” He murmurs as he works on a piece of very dark fake skin. “I want people like me t’ be able t’ get exactly what they want, with just as much color as they want.”

You nod along, sipping at your coffee from across the street that you’ve taken up stopping at every day before work. Kyle has so much passion for the industry. The look he gets in his eyes while talking about it or designing a new piece makes your heart flutter.

Simon, the other resident artist, you’re the least familiar with. You can’t quite decide how to feel about him, or decipher how he feels about you. John introduced you a couple days after you started, but all you got was a perfunctory nod and a ‘good luck’. You couldn’t help but feel starstruck, despite his blunt nature. Both thick arms covered in full, detailed sleeves. High quality, ornate black work. A man of stature - six feet and some change with a breadth that a barn would envy. Pretty, blonde hair cropped just short of turning to curls and dark eyes that bore through you to the very core.

Sometimes, when he comes to ask about his next appointment, you let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he stands close because he likes you. That his knee briefly knocks against yours because he wants to touch you - not that you’re crazy enough to believe it. Just crazy enough to be a tiny bit delusional for the fun of it.

You meet their resident piercer on the weekend. Apparently, he’d been away visiting family your first week.

He leans up over the counter, grinning at you from ear to ear. A well-built man only a few inches shorter than the others with a perfectly groomed mohawk. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a bonnie little thing?”

You frown, hackles raising instinctually. “Uh, can I help you?”

“Och, they dinnae tell ye about me yet? I’m hurt.” He pouts, thick brows emphasizing the puppy like nature of his blue eyes.

“Let her be, Soap.” Kyle sighs heavily, walking to his area of the front with a fresh sketchbook.

“Soap?” You repeat.

“Aye. Cause apparently I need my mouth washed out.” He pokes his tongue out, only to reveal a silver piercing. He holds a hand over the counter. “Johnny MacTavish.”

Johnny is the most egregious man you have ever met - always touching you in one way or another when he checks in about appointments and so on. His Scottish brogue rings in your ears, every word loud and confident. A hand finds it’s way around your waist, a finger poking under the band of whatever bottoms you wear that day. At any other job, you would have considered it harassment and tore him a new one.

Johnny’s different, though. If you shrug him off he steps away, if you flinch he pulls back. Plus, he does it to everyone else just as much as you. More, if you’re honest. If Simon is within arms reach they’re touching. You noticed Johnny pushing a hand under his shirt at one point, grabbing at the soft layer over Simon’s abs. (A great view for you, frankly.) Hell, you saw him casually hold Kyle’s hand while they were talking over lunch. Even John isn’t immune to the clinging. You don’t think much of it. Body modding attracts all sorts of people. If Johnny’s just a touchy guy then he’s just touchy. Besides, you don’t mind that much when he slips an arm around your waist or hooks his chin on your shoulder to talk to you. Warm breath tracing the shell of your ear with a quiet ‘bonnie lass’ punctuating ever other sentence. A slight pinch to your hip before he trots away to set up his station.

You feel nauseous when your trial month ends. John sits you down across from him in the back office. A practical space with not much more in it than a desk, computer and the large safe. None of you spend much time back here outside of counting down the cash and dragging the trash bags through the back door to the dumpster.

“Think you’ve done really well, dove.” He grins. You try to ignore the way the pet name looks warmth in your lower belly. “You’ve picked up quickly, you’re good on the phone. Kyle’s been very happy about the extra time to practice.”

You let out the biggest, most relieved sigh of your life, shoulders slumping slightly.

“You don’t seem to mind Johnny, but if he gets to be too much let me or Simon know, yeah? He means well but he can be… well, you know.” John says absently as he reaches for something across the desk. “How are you feelin’?”

You nod. “I, uh, feel good. I like this position a lot. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”

John nods along. “Good, good. I see no reason to not hire you on full time. Here.”

You hold put your hands as John drops a small, silver key into them. Holy shit! You get your own key! Up until now they’d been buzzing you in, but they’re trusting you with your very own key!

John must see the excitement on your face because he chuckles and extends a hand. “Welcome aboard, kid.”

A/N: I was very wine drunk writing most of this and it has next to no editing but I hope you enjoyed it! I just want something I can write that’s episodic and not as serious/brain heavy as Fancy or Across the Way

[minhosimthings]

Both || 18+

Synopsis: it's literally just porn I have no explanation

Pairings: bf!Heeseung × fem!reader × bf!Jake

Warnings: Smut MINORS DNI, oral ( f recieving), poly relationship, dom!Heeseung, dom!Jake, sub!reader, fingering, double penetration, p in v sex, rough sex, dirty talk, mean dom Heeseung, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, anal sex eyy, dacryphillia

A/N: so if any of you remember the symphony smut series, then you'll remember how the Skz threesome fic I had with MinChan was originally meant for HeeJake, but I didn't write it due to certain issues. BUT ITS HERE NOW. And no I didn't write a completely different fic, I just replaced the names from the original fix and rewrote some of the dialogue.

Original SKZ Version

Living with two boyfriends had been a much livelier experience than you would had initially thought. Or perhaps it was because they were Heeseung and Jake was what made it lively.

They were completely opposite to each other in all aspects. Which especially showed in the bedworks.

Heeseung was your drug for slavery while Jake was your poison for salvation.

Their duality was what turned you on, they could call you their little princess and give you as much pleasure as you wanted or they could tell you that you're their slut, with a pussy made only for them.

So it was no surprise that when you got mad with one, you went to another.

And on one fine Tuesday evening that's exactly what happened.

•••••••••••••••

"Princess are you alright?" Jake peeked his head around the door, his eyes taking time to adjust to the dim light. His ears were working though, and your sobs broke his heart. He didn't like it when you argued with Heeseung. He knew both of you were competitive, and competition never lead to much success, it usually led to tears and ignoring one another.

"If he sent you here-" you hiccuped, looking up at Jake, "Tell him I'm never going to talk to him again."

"You're so adorable." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you, his hands on your hips, "How about a little session hmm? To get your mind off things?"

"What if he hears?"

“Hyung has his headphones in” he breathes out, slowly leaning in to kiss you. you meet him halfway, lips colliding against one another as his hand starts to trail down the curve of your waist. He pulls apart for a second, placing a quick peck before he speaks again. “He won't hear what he's missing.”

Jake makes quick work of the pants you had on, tearing them down your thighs as his primal instincts starts to kick in. In seconds, his head is buried in between your thighs, nose pressed against your clit.

“darling-“ he breathes out, absolutely in awe of how delicious you’re going to taste for him right now. “this is…” he trails off, unsure if words could describe how much this means to him.

“Never seen you so speechless before.” You tease, trying not to squirm under his gaze, his eyes locked onto the wet slick pooling at your entrance.

“What can I say?” he presses a kiss just above your clit, eyes darting up to yours. “I like having you all to myself.”

You open your mouth to retort but his tongue catches your throbbing nub first, sending a jolt throughout your body. After that first taste, he’s gone. completely lost in you and the frenzy begins. He tosses your leg over his shoulder, angling himself to get deeper.

His tongue delves back into you and you feel him everywhere. It’s enough to arch your back, your fingers clawing in his hair. He grunts approvingly into your messy cunt, licking up every little speck of drink he can get his mouth on.

Each precise stroke of Jake's tongue has you unraveling in his hold, undoubtedly gushing more of your essence on his eagerly awaiting mouth. He was practically moaning now, the vibrations shooting throughout your body. He breaks for air for a moment, licking his lips and looking up to you.

It’s all too much and you’d be lying if you said his enthusiasm wasn’t the driving force towards your release. you’d never been with a man so desperate for your taste, especially when you were in this state.

Your back starts to arch off the bedroll, reeling in the pleasure that’s about to snap. The coil shatters into a thousand pieces as you dig your fingers into his curls once again. You don’t know if you were loud or not, you don’t know anything as a white veil had taken up your vision, pleasure coursing through your veins as your blood pounds within your ears.

It takes a few moments for you to come back down to reality, your head swimming in the pleasure Jake hurtled you in. You watch as he places one last kiss against your cunt, slowly backing up on his haunches.

"Having fun there aren't you?"

Oh fucking no

You snapped your head up to look at the doorway, where your eyes fell on the image of Heeseung, casually leaning against the door, shit eating smirk on his face.

"Want a taste? I'm done." Jake got off the bed and plopped onto the nearby armchair.

"So the plan did work." Heeseung chuckled, taking off his jacket, and striding across the room, looking at your confused figure with bedroom eyes.

"What fucking plan?" You spat with venom in your tone, making Heeseung click his tongue together.

"Jaeyun here offered to help me after our little 'argument'." Heeseung dipped the bed down with his weight, "And let's just say, now that you're all riled like our pretty princess-" he took off his belt, "You won't refuse my fingers will you?"

"Fuck you Lee Heeseung, and you too." You directed the last part at Jake who merely shrugged his shoulders, and lounged on the armchair.

You gasped as Heeseung cupped your pussy, involuntarily clenching around nothing and feeling a gush of wetness spilling as your body reacted in anticipation.

"Aww did you miss me that much?"

“Use your fingers properly and find out.”

Your taunt didn’t go amiss. “Not even a sorry?” he said, arrogance dripping from each word.

Much to your frustration, your hips rolled into his touch, silently wishing he would stop avoiding your swell. Heeseung's hands worked quickly to unbutton your shirt. You knew all too well that you’d feel his cock hard enough if he was already this eager to expose your breasts. Your nipples quickly hardened and you rolled your hips once more, causing one of his fingers to slide inside.

It was the vicious clenches around his finger that snapped him out of it and his lustful eyes met yours. “Give me one reason not to slide out of you.”

"Jake's cock is getting hard and you don't want to disappoint him do you? He is the favourite in this relationship right?" You grumbled, feeling Heeseung's finger slide across your pussy. You tried your hardest not to moan.

Heeseung threw a glance at Jake who was chuckling behind his fingers, his cock almost bursting through his trousers. A second finger slithered past your tightness and he brought his lips to your ear.

“You're right. He is my favourite, but he doesn't have a pussy like yours does he?”

Your whimpers increased in intensity and you looped your arms around his neck for added support, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist. The new angle allowed him to go knuckle-deep and you shuddered as his strained erection pressed against his hand nudged him even deeper.

He groaned first, clearly enjoying the newfound friction, and you clenched hard at how his face twisted in pleasure. His lips brushed against yours this time, dragging his fingers back as you clenched desperately around him.

“What happened darling?” Heeseung taunted as you tried to have him back inside, your hips following his retreating hand. “That desperate for my fingers?”

"Selfish little princess” He continued, sliding one finger back inside, but not quite deep enough to fully satisfy you. “You know, I can be quite greedy when I want to. But..."

You whined in response, frustrated that you were now faced with an agonising emptiness.

“But what?” you groaned, trying to have him sink deeper to no avail. He placed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back.

“But I am willing to share you with Jake for a bit.”

The moans and whimpers and gasps that slipped from you were being effectively muffled, the third finger nudged at your entrance and you could only roll your eyes shut as your bit hard around your tongue to not give Heeseung the satisfaction.

“Surely you can take one more,” he teased, his voice low. It slid inside painfully slowly and the stretch had you gasping.

The combination of being so full of him and how he allowed you to rub your clit on his palm was too much. The lewd sounds were almost too obscene and you gripped both hands together, holding onto the remainder of the sanity you had left.

For a brief moment, Heeseung allowed you to ride three of his fingers, giving you the illusion that you’d reach your peak easily and rather quickly. His generosity came to an abrupt halt just as you felt the familiar coil down below becoming more and more overwhelming, your body quickly reaching the point of no return.

And then you felt a painful emptiness as he pulled out from you at once.

He chuckled when you groaned in sheer frustration, looking over at Jake and giving him a smirk too.

Of course. He was a sadist.

“Now, now,” Heeseung tutted, caressing your flushed cheek with his thumb, a single tear streaming down your face. “You didn’t think I would be that generous, did you?” 

"Fuck you both so much."

"Well if you say so doll." Jake shrugged his shoulders again and got up, getting onto the bed as well.

"Only if she stays silent though." Heeseung chuckles like a madman. Fuck you, you thought, but you couldn't get the words out. Jake removes his underwear, and you suddenly don’t feel so sure that you can take anymore.

“i-I” you can’t get the words out as a moan slips from your lips, when he enters you in one thrust. Your head falls back and your eyes close at the feeling of his thick length inside you. Had he always been this big?

“Fuck you're tight” Jake groans.

“Oh fuck.” You breath, feeling too full and overwhelmed already, and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“How does she feel?" Heeseung asks Jake. “So. Fucking. Tight” he groans as he slowly starts moving.

“oh fuuuck” you moan, unable to stay silent. Your hands search for something to hold on to, and they reach Jake's dark curls

“Does it feel good darling?” Heeseung whispers in your ear as he stretches your ass with his fingers.

“f-fuck y-yes” you breath out as Jake picks up speed.

"You like Jake fucking you while I stretch your ass?”

“Yes” you moan again.

“Good girl, look how well you’re taking us." Heeseung's hot breath tickles your skin pink.

Jake groans as he picks up speed, hitting that one spot inside you that makes you scream. Heeseung's hand clamps over your mouth again “what did I say about keeping silent darling?” he says mockingly.

“Fuck you're ready to cum again aren’t you? I feel you fucking clamping on my fingers” Heeseung groans.

“please” you beg them, but the sound is muffles by Heeseung's hand.

“what was that darling….you want it harder and…deeper?” Jake says mockingly. “I think she said she wants it harder hyung.” he says.

You try to shake your head, it’s already to much but Jake picks up speed even faster and Heeseung pushes a third finger in your ass. You come so hard you see stars. But both men don’t stop. No, they continue their ungodly rhythm.

You close your eyes enjoying the feeling. Your eyes shoot open when you feel Jake’s cock move through your folds. "Jaeyun..” you gasps as he puts himself against your entrance.

“you wanted us both, so you get us both” Jake says darkly before he slowly thrusts inside you. Your vision blurs at the overwhelming fullness you feel. “fuck I can fucking feel you” Heeseung mutters to Jake.

“fuck” Jake groans in response. You already feeling another orgasm rise.

“please…please” you have no idea what you’re begging for, the stimulation overwhelming you.

“cum for us” Jake orders as he starts moving in and out of you again.

Heeseung lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, kissing him deeply. “No, I can’t. please” you beg. “You can do one more darling”

“hmmhhmmm f-ffuuuckk” you have no idea where the sounds are coming from that leave you, and who might hear. But you’re too far gone to care. You only feel them. Jake and Heeseung as they thrust in and out of your holes in a brutal pace.

“oh fuck…FUCK!” you scream out as yet another orgasm breaks you. you feel the both of them come inside you almost at the same time. You have no idea if you're still cuming or if it’s another orgasm.

Their thrusts turned slow but remained powerful as they bottomed out, hitting you as far back as they could. You gasped with every rut of Jake's hips hitting yours, and Heeseung's little moans cornering your ears.

Jake's hand aimlessly stroked your hair. he pulled back to look at you, smiling at the sight of your flushed face and disheveled hair.

“see. knew you could take it.” Jake kissed the tip of your nose, regretfully pulling out of you, you felt Heeseung do the same from behind. You whined at the loss—you had got so used to the feeling of them inside you, it was almost painful for them to leave.

"Princess?" Heeseung asks uncertainly, "you alright?"

"I'll forgive you if both of you do that everyday." You breathe out, being wrapped safely into Jake's arms.

"Well if you say so." Heeseung chuckles and smirks at Jake, who smiles back and wraps both of you tighter into a cocoon of comfort.

[leeloooonfire]

based on this post about Steve's internalized bi-phobia:

Steve has known for years.

And how could he not when Tommy's freckles come back tenfold each spring like a flower peaking it's head through the last layer of snow? Or when Matthew Carver's hair have a reddish brown tone that turns blond after they spent the last days before summer break practising outside and remind Steve of liquid gold? Or when he watches Star Wars and Harrison Ford, rugged and witty, comes into view and twists his stomach in knots? How could he not know?!

Steve knows he finds guys as attractive as girls, known for many, many years. But.

But he can't. Not when Tommy sneers at that boy in their literature class who likes flamboyant clothes and wants to be an actor on Broadway. Not when the people they meet in Indi who are like Robin and Eddie 'fully queer' and talk about people like Steve as if they're traitors and scams. Not when he reads the newspaper and is assaulted by Reagan and his folk preaching about the 'fag pandemic' or how his father nods in approval and mutters 'another sinner gone for good' when the news play on TV and they occasionally mention the crisis that kills people like Robin and Eddie and him.

Like him....

It doesn't matter how much he loves sleeping with his nose pressed against Eddie's collarbone or that he thinks he'd like to kiss Eddie and hold his hands and wake up beside him until they're old and wrinkly and complain about bad knees.

He is, but he cannot be a queer, half a fairy '50% like me, 50% like Eddie' as Robin jokes.

He will not be a bisexual, he can keep it inside, keep it hidden, buried deep inside him no matter how much it pains him. He can be the straight friend who goes to pride and bakes rainbow cakes and marries a woman even though his heart screams in an ear ringing cacophony, 'Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie!'

This is how his 20s go: loud and hurting and yearning and hiding and more noticeably being disgusted and ashamed of himself for simply being able to love men the way he can love women.

He's 29 when his wife, Becky, leaves him. It's not just Eddie and this shameful secret that weights heavy on their relationship, but the scars and all the other secrets he is unable to explain to her that drive Becky finally away - back to Boston. She leaves him alone in that tiny house they bought three years ago with their Saint Bernard puppy they lovingly named Bernadette.

He's 30 when he goes to a coffee meeting of the bisexual group meeting in Chicago, nearly turning the car multiple times, hands and knees sweaty with fear that they won't want him there. They do want him there, welcome him with open arms, and talk about things Steve knows all too well: 'When I fell in love with the first girl, I ran. I like men just fine, so I hid my crush. It's just easier, when your parents hate gays, when the world is shaming our community, when we're dying.' He finds a second home there, and learns - learns about queerness and bisexuality, about trans and gender non conforming people and physical attraction versus emotional attraction. He learns about his past and present and about his future, about their history and where they want to go, how they want to mold their world to fit people like them into it without the pain and the hiding.

Steve is 33 when he finally comes out to everyone dear to him. To the kids who aren't kids anymore and to Joyce and Hopper, and then his parents. this does not go well, but Steve doesn't want, doesn't need their validation anymore. He has his family, his friends, his support system who love him not regardless of his sexuality but because of it, love him because it's part of him. He comes out to Becky, too and that goes much better. they want to be friends, in the future. She's also met Gary who works the the NY Times and wants her to follow him into the big city. So Steve is looking forward how that goes, their tentative friendship.

He is 34 when Eddie comes back from his latest world tour and wants to take a break to rekindle with his uncle, to write new songs, to take a breather. It's only natural that Eddie moves into Steve's guest room and takes over his space on the couch where he cuddles Bernadette while Steve is in the kitchen and makes them grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.

Its even more natural when their feet meet while watching a movie and they lean into each other in the kitchen, dawn barely there, while they wait for the coffee maker to finish.

Steve's 35 when Eddie finally kisses him and he kisses back. No hurt, no shame, no guilt gnawing on him, Steve finally allows himself to be with the person he truly wants - regardless of their gender.

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

pet names and looped pinkies [s.h.] 18+

hiiiii so i've never written for steve but just did a stranger things rewatch and have felt...inspired. i hope you enjoy! pls feel free to send suggestions or concepts or anything :) thanks for reading!

masterlist

summary: steve is your best friend and you have a crush on him and that's fine until one day it's not and the next thing you know you can't think or speak or breathe around him. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: loooots of pet names, fluff, pining,cursing, kissing, m masturbation, dirty talk, handjob, spitting, tiny bit of cum eating :))) 18+ ONLY!! MDNI

wc: 6.4k

part 2 here!!!!

You and Steve had been friends for quite some time now. 

Going from quietly watching him throughout high school, maybe quietly crushing on him too, to fighting monsters and trying to survive could do that to people. Make them friends, that is. 

The crush you’d been harboring on Steve didn’t go away, oh no if anything it had gotten about ten times worse in the time you’d spent growing close. That Steve you knew in high school was long gone. The, for lack of a better word, asshat you had come to blush over had turned into a protector. A funny, endearing, unnervingly hot protector that made your tummy flutter and your palms sweat. 

It didn’t help that he seemed completely unaware of your feelings, or that the things he did made your heart race and your cheeks turn pink. Linking his pinky with yours while you strolled around town, letting his thumb mindlessly rub circles on the little sliver of your stomach that was visible during movie night, giving a little tug on your hair when you said something cheeky, letting his dimple pop out when you teased him. 

And the pet names. God, the pet names! Maybe he did know! Maybe he wanted to torture you and make you squirm. They slipped from those perfect pink lips so effortlessly it kind of pissed you off. 

“Hey honey, how was work today?” 

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be late for the movie and I will not be blamed when we don’t have time to grab your snacks.” 

“Any chance you wanna pick up an extra shift and spend some time with me? What do you say, pretty?” 

He had the hair, the smile, the charm. You imagined it would be hard for anyone not to fall madly in love with him. It was surely hard for you! Steve did a good job of turning you to mush. It was hard to think around him, even harder to not think about him. 

Which is why you’re really struggling now, smushed on a far too little couch with 3 other people, your thigh pressed so tightly against Steve’s it’s making your head spin. It’s movie night, a tradition you’ve picked up and held onto tightly amidst all the craziness that happens in your small town. Steve is on your left, stuck between the arm of the couch and you. Robin is on your right with Eddie next to her and Jonathon next to him. A couch meant for 2, maybe 3, but all 4 of you packed on while the rest of your friends lounge on the floor or a chair, eyes all focused on the screen. 

Almost everyone’s eyes are focused on the screen. 

You’re staring straight ahead, sure! But while a movie that you now can’t even remember the name of is droning on, all you can think of is how your hip is touching Steve’s. Or how his pinky has somehow found yours again and they’re looped together on his lap. Or even worse, how he’s got his head resting on your shoulder and you can feel little puffs of his breath hitting your neck everytime he laughs. 

It’s driving you crazy, your hand not in his twitching by your side and your chest rising and falling a little faster than it should be while watching a comedy with your friends. You’re so distracted it takes you a few minutes to realize that Steve is no longer watching the movie, but is now focused on you and how uncomfortable you seem to be. He gives a small tug to your pinky, drawing your eyes to meet his and you’re so overwhelmed with him right now you could cry at the furrow in his brow and the small pout he’s wearing looking at you. 

“Y’alright, baby?” You can see his genuine concern at the state of you but all you can focus on is trying not to let a small whimper through your lips as you hear him call you baby. Not being able to look at him for more than a few seconds you drag your eyes away from him, a small huff leaving you while you shake your head, mainly at yourself. “I, uh m’fine. I’m fine.” Neither of you are convinced, you know that, but you can’t find it in you to care at the moment when all you can think about is taking his bottom lip between your teeth. 

He studies you once more, eyes taking you in quickly as he reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers around your neck a second longer, two fingers giving you a little pinch before he’s drawing his hand back to his lap. You find yourself staring far too long at his hand, wondering what it would feel like if he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. Or if it would be as good as you imagined to have him slip that same thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, wearing that same smirk you’ve seen a thousand times.

Fuck fuck fuck. You’re so fucked. 

As soon as the thoughts come, they’re gone because the next thing you know you’re using his and Robin’s thighs as leverage to jump up from the couch, turning to face everyone with red cheeks and a forced smile. 

“So I, uh, I gotta go! Just remembered mom wanted me home early tonight, some, uh, some family thing going on. Yeah that’s it. Family thing!” Everyone is staring, eyes wide with confusion written all over their faces. You love movie night, never miss it let alone leave early. 

You don’t give anyone the chance to question you before you’re bouncing up the stairs trying to pull your shoes on as quickly as possible. You know he’ll be right behind you, asking you what’s wrong or offering a ride home. You both know you’re full of shit but you can’t find it in you to care right now, too focused on getting away from him before you do something crazy like kiss him. 

Steps away from the front door you think you’ve made it. Can almost feel the relief of the cool breeze cooling down your skin that seems to be burning up from where Steve was touching you. You're so close, less than a foot away when you realize you weren’t quick enough. 

A hand wraps around your forearm, a large calloused hand that you’d know anywhere. Shoulders slumped in defeat and you turn to face him, not all the way because you don’t think you could handle it, but enough to acknowledge his presence. “Harrington, I gotta go. You know how my mom is, this’ll be held over my head for weeks if I’m late.” Lies. All lies. Your mom fully expects you to sleep at Robins tonight. He’s quiet for what feels like hours but is really only seconds before he speaks, “Let me give you a ride then. You’ll be home in less than 5.”

Now you know that cannot happen. You cannot be in his car that smells like him. You cannot watch the way his hands grip the wheel, and you know you won’t be able to look away. You cannot be locked in a car with him where you know he’ll try and figure out why you’ve been acting so weird tonight. And honestly you just cannot be around him right now without feeling like you’re going to faint. 

“No, no, don't worry about it, it’s a quick walk and I could use the fresh air! I’m feeling a little…off right now anyways so I wouldn’t mind being alone. Go finish the movie! Love you, see you, have fun!” And before he can react or try to argue with you, reaching up on your tiptoes you plant a quick kiss to his cheek, lips tingling as you turn and run out the door, hoping to god or whoever is listening that Steve doesn’t come after you. 

What you don’t see as you’re running down the sidewalk is your best friend standing in the doorway with his hand hovering over his cheek where you just kissed him and a blush crawling up his neck as those quick seconds play on a loop in his head for the rest of the movie. 

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

It’s been a few days since movie night. The night you’re refusing to think about but also the one you can’t seem to get out of your head. More specifically the sound of Steve calling you baby and the feel of his fingers brushing against your throat. 

Well you’ve tried not to think about it. 

You’re not sure why this is happening now. You’ve liked him for as long as you can remember so why all of a sudden do you feel like panting when your skin touches his? Why now are his little smirks and pet names enough to bring you to your knees? Over the years you’ve done good, so good, at keeping yourself together in front of him, letting his comments and flirting roll off your back. But now…now you can’t be in the same room without wanting to tug on his hair or leave marks on his chest or feel so desperate to taste him that it drives you insane. 

You don’t know what caused this switch to flip but it fucking sucks. It sucks because besides all of that, he’s still your best friend. Yeah, it’s ungodly how hot he is but he’s also still the guy who buys you your favorite ice cream when you’ve had a rough day, who goes to see scary movies with you when no one else will because you’re the only one that likes them. He’s saved you, cared for you, loved you for a few years now and honestly that just makes it worse! 

He’s mouthwatering AND a good guy. Fuck him for that. 

In the few days since you’ve seen him he’s called. 11 times? Maybe more. And you’ve been conveniently in the shower or asleep or anything else your mother can make up while you try and figure out what you’re going to say to him. The problem with this is that the longer you avoid him, the more awkward and hard this is going to be. 

So when you wake up today, 4 days after movie night, you decide it’s time to be a big girl and talk to him. Not about your feelings, god no! But it is time to at least try to be normal around him and to stop avoiding him. You already know he’s gonna look like a kicked puppy, big brown eyes staring down at you while you try and justify not talking to him for days. You’re fucked. So fucked. 

Walking downstairs you hear the phone ringing and your heart drops. Maybe you’re not ready for this. Maybe your family can just move! That should work. You’ll miss everyone but honestly this seems like your best option at this point. 

Your dad is gone for the day, your mom is standing at the counter with her purse on her shoulder like she’s about to walk out the door with her mouth open, ready to give Steve yet another excuse to why you can’t talk to him. But you’re brave. You’re a big girl who can handle a phone call with your best friend. Your hot best friend you're madly in love with and want to climb like a tree. 

Your hand is out and reaching for the phone before you can talk yourself out of it, a sigh of relief leaving your mother as she practically throws it at you, running for the door before you change your mind. It’s by your ear for a good few seconds before you hear him, his voice raspy and deep so you know he’s just woken up and it makes your whole body buzz. 

“Hello?” 

It’s now or never. Never sounds nice. “Hey! How ya been? How’s it going? How was the movie?” The questions pour out of you so quickly you’re not sure he can even understand what you’re saying but you hold your breath and wait anyway. 

“How’s it going? Are you kidding me? Fuckin’ Christ! You’ve taken about 12 showers in 4 days and couldn’t be bothered to talk to me, why don’t you tell me how it’s going.” So he was upset. Totally fair. 

“Don’t be mad at me, please.” It was the first thing that came out of your mouth and you knew it was stupid but you couldn’t help it. He deserved to be mad at you, to yell and cuss and whatever else he deemed fit. But now that you had heard his voice again for the first time in days, the thought of him being upset with you made you want to cry, even though you had done this! 

You heard him take a deep breath and knew he was running his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends the way he always did when he was stressed. “M‘not mad, sweetheart. I mean, maybe a little but I was more worried! That something had happened or I had done something or…I don’t know. Was just worried sick and…god I just fuckin’ missed you.” 

Had you mentioned that you were fucked? His words hit you a ton of bricks, any thoughts you had about moving on or maybe distancing yourself gone in an instant. Because he was worried. And he missed you. He fuckin’ missed you. And god you loved him so much it hurt, so much you could feel it in your fingertips and toes like little zaps of electricity when you thought of him or heard his voice. 

You were gone for Steve Harrington. 

“I..m’so sorry, Stevie. I missed you too, so much and I’m so sorry and I’m just…I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, you never do! I’ve just been a mess and my minds been a mess and I thought some time to myself would help me but really it's just..it doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m sorry and I missed you.” 

“S’okay, bunny. You alright? Can talk to me about anything, you know. I’m not…I know I’m not always the best at this stuff but I’d be good for you. I’ll listen to ya all day, do whatever I can to help you. Wanna come over? Movie night just the two of us? I’ll order you pizza and get you extra buttery popcorn and some ice cream, promise.” 

The thought of being alone with Steve sends red lights flashing through your brain but when he sounds so…god when he’s saying all the right things in a voice you’d dare describe as whiny you can’t help but to want to drop everything and all but crawl to him. 

So at the expense of your sanity you agree quickly, promising you’ll be there by 8 o’clock and hang up the phone before he can call you sweetheart or bunny again running up the stairs to take the coldest shower you’ve ever taken that does nothing to erase the thoughts of Steve from your mind. 

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

The walk to Steve’s was surprisingly calm. You weren’t freaking out completely, just a little nervous but that was nothing new to you when it came to spending time with Steve, especially alone. 

Unfortunately for you, that calm lasted for all of about 10 minutes. 

In theory it was a good idea to spend some time with Steve after ignoring him for days. It was an okay idea to agree to a movie night with your best friend. Was. 

But now that you’re standing on his porch and his door was just thrown open to reveal a freshly showered Steve, it seems like all of this was a horrible idea. 

An awful, terrible, horribly bad idea. 

Awful because you can see little beads of water from his freshly washed hair dropping and running down his throat. Awful because the urge to lean forward and run your tongue over them is so strong you swear your mouth waters a little bit. 

Terrible because he’s wearing that goddamn white t-shirt that is hugging his arms so tight and since when did his arms start to look like that? Awful because that same damn shirt is tight over his chest too. It fits him so well you can see it snug against his tummy and waist. It fits him like a glove and your hands clench at your sides to keep from touching him. 

And this is bad. So horribly bad because he’s wearing his favorite pair of light wash denim jeans that cling to his thighs so nicely you feel your knees wobble. One of your hands comes up to your mouth to run over your chin, subconsciously making sure you’re not actually drooling despite the way you wish you could drop to your knees and spend hours leaving marks on those thighs. You can’t see his ass and you’re praying to god he doesn’t turn around so you don’t have to suffer through seeing how his jeans hug him just right. 

While your mind is running a million miles a minute with thoughts of Steve, you realize you actually haven’t said anything. Haven’t made a move to greet him or walk in, instead just standing there with what you imagine is a slack jaw and wide eyes. Willing yourself to meet his gaze, you somehow manage to drag your eyes off his thighs and bring them up, up, up until you meet his. 

He definitely does not look like a kicked puppy right now. Those brown eyes are darker and he’s wearing a smirk that would make you do anything he asked. He cocks his eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his face as you try and collect yourself. 

“You look starved, honey. Wanna come in?” 

   *********************************

After the initial embarrassment wears off, you feel a little better. Somehow managing to brush off his teasing as if you weren’t just devouring him with your eyes, you follow Steve to the kitchen, laughing as he tries to balance all the snacks he’d bought for you in arms. He shot you a glare full of playfulness when you tried to help, insisting that he “was a big boy and could handle the snacks.” 

Now you find yourself on that same couch from last week, much more space between the two of you than there had been then, a good foot and half extra in fact. Steve laughed when he saw you practically throw yourself to the other end of the couch, hand reaching out for you with a little pout on his lips. “Think I’m gonna bite you or something?” God I wish. Please please please bite me! 

But instead you held out your hand reluctantly, fingers twisting with his as he tugged you toward him. Movie night flashed in your head. His clothed thigh just inches away from yours, arm thrown over your shoulders and a cheeky grin on his face as he pulled you into his side. A satisfied hum was heard and you could have sworn you heard him mumble under his breath, sounding a lot like “much better” but it was hard to hear anything with the smell of him clouding your senses. 

Trying to get your thoughts off of him you reach forward to grab the dvd case laying on the table, a small smile gracing your lips as you see what he had picked. “John Carpenter's Halloween. I thought you said you’d never watch this?” This time when you turned to him, he was the one with red cheeks and shy smile as he glanced between the movie and you. A small shrug and wink was thrown your way, “S’one of your favorites. You should know you’re the exception to my rules.” 

You’re fucked. 

Heart pounding in your chest all you could manage was a smile and a small “thank you” before turning away, hoping he’d get up and start the movie so you’d have something to distract you from how sweet he was, watching a scary movie you know he doesn’t want to watch just because it’ll make you happy. 

It was about halfway through the movie when it happened. 

Everything was going well! You were snuggled into his side, actually paying attention to the movie and not sitting there distraught over being so close to him. You were so invested you hadn’t noticed your hand slip to his thigh during a scene that had made you jump. 

But Steve noticed. 

Too engrossed in your movie to see how your hand was holding his upper thigh and it definitely would have been too high if you’d been paying attention. You didn’t notice this or the way Steve was now on red alert, whole body tense with his hand gripping the couch cushion and his eyes trained on your hand as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. 

He could do this, he could ignore your hand and let you watch your movie. It would be fine. He’ll just slip into the bathroom when it’s over or wait till you go home to take care of his now aching cock. And god was he aching. He didn’t dare move, too nervous that you’d get all weird and fidgety like you’d been. This was the closest you’d been to him without seeming freaked out in weeks and he was not about to ruin that. 

The smell of your lavender shampoo overwhelmed him, a groan threatening to spill out while you sat there so unaware of how beautiful you looked just existing. He noticed everything about you. The slope of your little button nose and the way your lips, your perfect pink lips, parted just so when you were lost in thought. He noticed how your cheeks would turn the prettiest shade of red when he called you baby or honey or sweetheart. And he loved it, craved it even. He couldn’t tell if it was because of him or if you were just a sensitive little thing in general. He’d take what he could get with you, even if he had to live off your rosy cheeks and holding your pinky for the rest of his life. 

“Fuck, honey, m’sorry but you have got to move your hand, please.” Steve’s voice in your ear so suddenly made you jump, a small yelp leaving your lips as you turned to see what he was talking about. You didn’t even realize you were touching him! But one look down at this thigh and you gasped, cheeks burning as your eyes moved from your hand clinging to his thigh over to now very noticeable bulge straining against those light wash jeans. Ripping your hand away as if he’d burned you, a string of curses and apologies flew out as you scrambled to move as far away as possible. 

If he looked pained with your hand on his thigh then he looked downright miserable now that you’d taken it away. “Don’t have to run away from me, honey. M’sorry, didn’t mean to scare you I just…fuck I couldn’t sit still with you holding onto me like that.” He did his best to tug you back and you let him. “Sorry, Stevie. I wasn’t…I didn’t, I was just watching the movie I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

He looked at you with furrowed brows, eyes jumping all over your face like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew something you should know. Neither of you said anything, just stared at each other for some time before he sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch before coming back to look at you again. 

Hand cradling your cheek he gave you a small, tired small like he couldn’t believe you could possibly make him uncomfortable. That is not the word he would use. “Silly girl, I’m not uncomfortable because your hand was on me. I’m uncomfortable because your hand on me is making me wanna pin you down and fuck you so hard you can’t think straight.”

Oh. Oh. 

Lips parted you just stared at him, not sure you’d be able to form a coherent thought let alone words right now. He wanted to fuck you? Since when? Why hasn’t he ever brought this up? Doesn’t he know you’d do anything he asked of you? 

Steve let you process, could see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours and your eyes switching from looking at him to looking at where his cock was pressing up against the zipper of his pants. Maybe he’d said too much, gone too far. He was almost certain now that you liked him, wanted him, but maybe it was too overwhelming to be so blunt with you. 

“Y’know what baby? I can see you freaking out and I didn’t mean to make you nervous so I’m gonna go to the bathroom, alright? Gonna take care of this real quick and then we can finish the movie, can start another one if you want. I’ll be right back and we can figure this out later.” It was him getting off the couch that broke you out of whatever spell you were under, hand wrapping around his arm and if you weren’t so desperate for this, for him, you’d be embarrassed by the look of panic in your eyes at the thought of not getting to see this, to make him feel good. 

“Please stay. Just…fuck just stay, okay?” 

Both of you paused, staring at each other and waiting for someone to move or to breathe or just do something. A soft “okay” was murmured between you, Steve settling back into the couch as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Fuck was this really happening? 

“Whatever you want to happen can happen, baby.” 

You definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud but now that you had, a little burst of courage hit you and you just let it pour out. “Didn’t mean to say that out loud I just..I didn’t…I’m nervous. You make me nervous. I want this. I want this so bad you have no idea but I didn’t know you wanted this so now my head is fucked and I’m rambling and kinda freaking out but you can stay. You can stay and I can watch or I can help or whatever you want just..stay. Ok?” You dared a glance up at Steve, his eyes wide and a grin broke out on his face. He looked as if you’d just handed him the moon not offered to watch him get off. 

Taking your hand in his he gave you a squeeze, “We’ll go slow. I can start and you can watch and if you wanna do more, feel fucking free, honey. But if you don’t, that’s fine. If you want me to stop, say the word. You’re in charge here,” he paused, lifting his hand to take my chin between his fingers so I’d be forced to meet his eyes, “and for the record, there hasn’t been I second I've known you where I haven’t wanted this. I’ll take anything you give me, swear it. Whatever you want, any way you want.” 

“Kiss me, please.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, moving his hand to cup your cheek and pulling you toward him, his lips pressing against yours soft at first, testing the waters and trying to keep you calm. His lips were just as soft as you’d imagined, sweet like the candy he’d been eating earlier. You groaned against him, pushing closer and opening your mouth to invite him in, the thought of his tongue on yours enough to have you reaching your hands into his hair to tug him closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. 

He pulled back first, a string of spit connecting the two of you and he cursed at the sight, “Jesus, fuck I can’t believe you’ve kept this sweet, pretty mouth away from me. S’not nice, baby. So mean to me, yeah?” If you thought you were desperate before it was nothing compared to now, now that you’d had a taste of him. 

“M’sorry Stevie, so sorry, not gonna keep em from you anymore. Promise, promise, promise.” You’re barely making sense, your head spinning and your body on fire. Foreheads pressed together you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t think or breathe or function when he was this close to you with his swollen, spit kissed lips just inches away from yours. 

Coming out of your post-kiss haze you move back beside Steve, eager and desperate to finally see him, all of him. His eyes widen as your hands go to the button of his jeans, tugging relentlessly and you're just so cute he has to laugh. Eager too and fuck how did he get so lucky?

“Take em off, please. Want them off, Stevie.” You’re full on pouting now and it takes everything in you not to cry. You’d do it if he wanted, you’d do anything. But he doesnt let it get that far, taking your hands off his jeans and cooing at you and it makes you feel a little pathetic but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when he’s about to finally pull down his pants. 

He does so wordlessly, eyes bouncing from his lap to your face every few seconds like he’s checking in on you, making sure he’s not missing anything and that you still want this. It makes your tummy flutter and your heart race, his caring for you. His pants pushed down to his knees is all he can manage, head too fuzzy thinking about you and how he’s so hard it hurts worse than it ever has.

As soon as his jeans were out of your way you were staring, gawking really, at the white boxers sitting so prettily on his hips that were doing nothing to hide how hard, how big he was. A small wet patch forming where you know his tip is resting and it makes your mouth water. He’s just so hot. So hot and it makes it even better that this is because of you. Fuck.

A beg was on the tip of your tongue but before you could he put you out of your misery. Lifting his hips up you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep still while he pulled his boxers down, pretty, messy, cock slapping against his stomach. “Jesus fucking Christ, Steve! You’re so…I’m…fuck.” He breathed out a laugh which quickly turned to a wince when we saw how you were looking at him, at his cock. He felt himself twitch under your stare and you swear your mouth just fell open as if it was meant to be. 

His hand drifted towards his cock, eyes still on you to make sure you were okay. You gave him a nod and the sigh of relief you both had when he finally wrapped his hand around himself would have made you laugh if you weren’t throbbing. His head fell back against the couch and you were torn between watching him touch himself or watching his face while he did it. The former won, your eyes trailing the way his hand moved slowly, teasing the both of you. 

“S’pretty, you’re so pretty…” You’re not even sure you were talking to him, more just to yourself but he heard you nonetheless. His hips jerked at that, a small moan slipping past his swollen lips as he turned his head toward you, watching you with hooded eyes. I could watch this forever, you thought. 

You couldn’t believe it. A few days ago you were thinking of ways to never speak to Steve again and now here you were, watching him stroke his cock in front of you and looking at him as if he was your last meal. He held his hand out, a silent plea for something but you didn’t know what, not until he spoke.

“So good, baby, so pretty. Can you ju-just spit on my hand for me, honey? Lick it, spit on it, anything you want, I just need you please.” His words were slurred and if you hadn’t spent the last few hours together you would think he was drunk. He seemed so out of it, but in the best way. Like he didn’t just want you but needed you. It made you feel good, better than you ever had and it gave you a spark of bravery you were missing before. 

Knocking his hand out of your way you leaned forward with cautious eyes, watching as he tried to figure out what you were doing until it dawned on him and his cock twitched in his hand. You leaned forward, face hovering inches above him and spit, both of you watching as it dropped from your mouth to his tip, covering the top of his hand as he began to stroke himself again. His lips parted in an “o”, eyes squeezed shut and his tummy clenching as he let out the loudest moan you had heard, so loud and strong you felt yourself clenching around nothing.

You were wet but with Steve looking and sounding like that you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how bad you were aching right now, far too focused on Steve and how his thighs were starting to shake a little and his hips were starting to move faster and more uneven. 

“C-can I?” 

His eyes shot open, head shaking furiously before he had even fully understood what you were asking. He knew he wouldn't last more than ten seconds if you touched him but he couldn’t care less. All he could think about was how pretty you were, how good he was feeling, how you had just fucking spit on his cock. He would take whatever you gave him. 

With a whine that you would replay in your mind for the rest of your life he took his hand off, tugging yours closer to take his place. Both of you moaned at the contact and you were almost convinced you could cum just from touching him. “Help me, I want you to feel good, please.” He looked like a bobblehead as he nodded, putting his much larger hand over yours and giving it a squeeze, helping you to stroke him just how he liked, though anything from you would feel a million times better than his own hand. 

Addicted would be the word to describe it. Now that you had touched him, felt how hot and smooth his cock was in your hand, how pretty it looked all pink and wet and coated in your spit. Steve liked it messy and apparently so did you. You thought you were addicted to his cock, and you were, but nothing prepared you for the absolute filth that started spilling from him once he finally had your hand on him. It made you dizzy and out of breath and goddamn you would have to throw these panties in the trash after this. Absolutely ruined, just like you were. 

“Fuckin’ dreamed about this, ‘bout your hand on my cock, s’good, baby.”

“Don’t think I don’t see you squirming, honey. My pretty girl all wet ‘n needy and I haven’t even touched you. Bet you’re drenched and achy, huh?”

“Gonna make me cum, gonna make a mess of us but I bet you’ll be good and clean it up for me, won’t ya, bunny?”

He was babbling now and you could barely make sense of what he was saying but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t and you didn’t want to. His cock was slick with precum and your spit one of his hands guiding yours in quick strokes while his other was gripping the couch so hard his knuckles were white. 

“M’close, honey…so so close.”

“Please, Stevie…want it, I need it, please.” And that was all it took. No warning, your words taking him by surprise and hitting him like a punch to the gut. He took his hand off, bringing it to your hair and tugging you to him. It was a messy kiss, lips pressed together while he moaned against you, just breathing each other in while he cursed and whined, his hips stilling and you slowed, looking down just in time to see him cum. Your hand and his lower stomach was covered, his hand that was gripping the couch now thrown over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. 

Chest and neck covered in sweat, he looked good. When he finally had gathered himself enough to look at you, he instantly regretted it. Instead of his innocent best friend, his sweet little bunny, he was looking at a little devil lapping at his cum on her hand like she hadn’t eaten in days. His softening cock twitched against his thighs and he stifled a groan when you hummed happily at the taste. 

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” You shrugged half heartedly, not even a little bit of you was sorry. 

“Can we finish the movie now, Stevie? I’ll probably pass out soon you wore me out, but I’m too tired to move.”

He looked down at you a little confused, your cheeks still pink and thighs still clenched together tightly. “You don’t…I can…I wanna take care of you too, sweetheart. Been dying to get a taste of you, know you’re sweet.”

You giggled and even though you were a mess, in every sense of the word, you didn’t think you could handle anymore and told him as such, eyes already feeling droopy and your body sagging against him. “Next time? Promise you can do anything you want to me next time but watching you cum was enough for me.” Your cheeks flamed as if you hadn’t just licked your best friend’s cum off your hand. 

“Alright, honey. Let’s finish your movie, you little vixen. Didn’t even take me out to dinner before you were drooling over my cock. A crime!” His smile was bright as you smacked at his chest and cursed him for teasing you.

You were sure that what had just happened would hit you soon and the panic would set in but for now you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you pressed a kiss to Steve’s bare chest and felt his grin against the top of your head. 

Did I mention I was fucked?