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blkkizzat · 28 days ago

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PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟑 — 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: nov 8th, 8:48 am ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞: tshirt with no panties + dubcon + edging + cunnalingus + squirting + backshots + brat!reader ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 3548

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A week into ‘No Nut November’ Toji already is feeling fidgety—not that he’d ever admit it. No, he was going to win and prove to you he wasn’t like those other chumps you dated in the past, pussy couldn’t control a man like him.

Yet a part of Toji has to know he is lying to himself.

Otherwise why the hell did he get out of bed last night at 3 am, dick stiff as fuck, while your ass was still asleep?

The job Shiu gave him could have waited a few more hours for daylight to break at least. But laying in bed, wide-awake and fully bricked, Toji's cock nearly jumped out of his sweats when he swore you softly moaned his name in your sleep.

Fuck he could practically smell your pussy too! Toji couldn’t get the fuck outta that bed fast enough.

Speaking of jobs, he’d been taking more of them—anything to get him out of the house. Although he told you it was so you'd stop nagging him about bills—a big ol' lie.

Now, hours later after returning home, Toji steps out of the shower. Scoffing at his reflection, the grumpy look on his face is all thanks to his twitching hard-on practically waving back at him in the mirror.

Annoyance simmered in his chest. Toji wanted to call the whole fuckin' thing off but his pride had taken a hit the moment you goaded him into this ridiculous challenge. Your smug, off-hand comment about how he’d 'fold like an omelet' if he attempted 'No Nut November' had sealed it.

He couldn’t let that remark just slide.

It had only been a week so far but a chore from the start. A foolish experiment neither of you were built for. Restraint had never been either of your strong suits—not when you could barely keep your hands off each other for a single day, let alone thirty.

Even three years into the relationship, that much hadn’t changed. He’d fucked you so often, so thoroughly, he knew your body as well as his own—a truth that made this self-imposed abstinence feel less like a challenge and more like torture.

Toji knew you were struggling through all of this too. The way your thighs pressed together when he casually manspread on the sofa the other day had been proof of it. You tried to play it cool but your eyes betrayed you, locked on his cock like you could melt the fabric of his pants with sheer willpower alone. Squirming in your seat, you made it painfully apparent how badly you wanted him buried inside you, stretching you open like only he could—yet you also refused to give in.

Unfortunately, you were both as stubborn as all hell. Neither of you willing to bend first, even if it was driving you both insane.

*CRASH*

Hearing the shattering of glass, a sound Toji recognizes far too well by now, he makes his way to the kitchen.

Tsk—he’s told you over and over to just call for him when you want to reach the top shelf.

“Mamas, that lil’ short stack ass of y'ers better not be up on that counter again. I told ya—”

Toji grins widely upon entering the kitchen.

“....heh, ya fucking slutty ass minx.”

Caught red-handed, you’re balancing on your tippy toes on the edge of the kitchen counter, with one leg hiked up on a spice shelf for extra leverage. However, Toji was far less concerned with the fact you disobeyed him now that he’s seen your state of undress.

Like a starved predator his eyes rake ravenously over your exposed flesh—your entire ass and pussy poking out of one of his old t-shirts you often slept in. Toji licks his lips as he hones in on how even your puckered rear hole seems to clench tighter, sheepishly even, under his scrutiny.

“And just what do ya think y’er doing, slut?”

Frozen mid-stretch, you’d whip your head back to see Toji.

His arms are crossed over his broad, bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, giving him the appearance of a Greek god. The morning rays stream through the kitchen, casting a warm glow that highlights every chiseled inch of his body. The towel around Toji's waist hangs low, giving you a peek of the sleek black hairs leading down to—his completely bricked up erection aggressively poking through his towel.

“Nah, eyes up here slut.”

Toji snaps his fingers and you manage to rip your eyes away in order to roll them back, not letting him get away with any sass.

“I’m hardly a slut for trying to cook breakfast, Toji.”

Finally getting your mixing bowl at the sacrifice of 3 others, you safely plant both feet on the countertop.

“Nuh-uh, ya know what I fuckin’ mean, ma—heh, ain’t a slut but y’er tooting that fat ass up f’er me bare, knowing you shouldn’t even be up there in the first fuckin’ place." Toji's grin widens deviously. "I know y'er tyna tempt me lil' girl—so just give in. Just say ya want me t’ fuck ya mamas and I’ll do it.”

You bristle at his words—he had some nerve!

“As if! You’re the one who's been walking around with a loaded gun in your pants all week!”

“Yeah mama n’ ya been lookin’ at my dick like ya wanted me to bust this gun in ya for just as long.”

You fluster, caught. Thinking your drooling over the heavy cock in his pants had gone unnoticed, yet you were sorely mistaken.

“Now y’er walkin’ around without panties and in my shirts knownin’ what that fuckin’ does t’me—y'er not slick at all, ma”

Unfortunately, you don’t realize just how close to snapping Toji actually is as you stand your ground throwing more sass back at him.

“Get over yourself Toj! I’ll have you know I didn’t even have any last night either—you know the saying—gotta let her ‘breathe’.”

And that was the final straw.

Your heart races seeing the darkened look in his eyes, not to mention the smirk on Toji's face is absolutely diabolical now.

He’d woken up so early thinking he was going mad with arousal that he was manifesting you moaning for him and the smell of your sweet wet pussy only to realize you’d be practically advertising yourself to him all night—fuckin' taunting him to take a peek. “Oh? She’s having trouble breathing, my favorite girl? Well then, looks like that stuffy lil’ cunt needs some mouth-to-mouth then, mamas.”

Before you can blink, your vision blurs as Toji moves with blinding speed, his Heavenly Restriction amplifying every motion to an imperceptible degree. Manhandling you roughly, Toji splays you out on your stomach across the marble counter of the kitchen island, sending whatever are on it crashing to the ground with the others you'd broken.

You don’t have to ask Toji ‘what in the hell he thinks he’s doing?’ as you figure it out as soon as you feel the baggy t-shirt fabric bunching at your upper back and his breath ghosting over your bare cunt.

Toji isn't surprised that you are already moist and leaking just from him calling you a slut a few times, your slutty lil cunt would get soaked for far less.

Toji anticipated that though and he is pleased that he can see the slick glossing your pussy lips as he pulls back a bit to admire the view. You looked like a freshly prepared breakfast platter to Toji, he didn’t need you cookin’ anything else either—just heat up that tight pussy of yours for him and he'd take his fill.

Placing a tender kiss on your ass cheek the gesture is almost an appology for whats to come as Toji quickly follows it up with a searing bite into you squishy flesh. Not leaving the other lonely, Toji graces gracing your other ass cheek with an open palmed spank. You're trying not to squeal as he kneads your supple skin between his fingers, squeezing the fat of your ass posessively. However, Toji is displeased at you trying to hold back your cries and for that you're spanked harshly again. The force leaves a handprint burning in your skin as the sting pushes more gooey nectar out of your cunt.

“Nah, none of that holding back now slutty mamas, ya wanted this teasin’ me like that now I want ya to scream f'er me.”

Panting you attempt to resist him again, wanting to push yourself up off the counter but it's impossible when your feet aren’t even touching the floor. Your toes ghosts over the ground as you try to wiggle free. Yet your flimsy protests didn’t last long as your limbs go rigid once Toji peels back your sopping folds exposing your runny, twitchy pussy hole to him.

“Tsk, see that ,mama? Only a week without my mouth on ‘er and this silly slut of a pussy forgot how to breathe. Look at her strugglin, beggin' to be resuscitated.”

Keening lustfully at his lewd accusation, you chew on your plump bottom lip as his large rough tongue takes the first slow n’ savory swipe over your soaking pussy lips.

You couldn’t hold back any longer.

“C’mon, p-please eat me daddy, To—JIIIIIIAHH!”

Your begging is cut short as Toji latches his mouth to your fat cunt, tongue diving into your pretty peach like a man starved.

Oh okay, fuck! Why were you holding yourself back from this again?!

Real nasty with it, Toji is literally gargling on the juices seeping steadily from your creamy cunt. Slurping up your arousal like a man parched, Toji is unhinged and feral as he spits your fluids it back into your pussy before lapping it all up again with a deep swirl of his tongue.

Achring instinctively, your hands flail in an attempt to push Toji's head away, but all you manage to do is tangle up your fingers in his damp raven locks. Instead of dislodging him, your efforts have him burrowing his face deeper between your thighs, smothering himself in your creamy core. Toji's thick tongue continues its prodding, flicking and stroking—mapping every inch of you as if to make sure your pussy hadn't changed in the week he'd gone without her. Releasing a deep guttural hum inside you, vibrations course through your body as his own sloppy groans of pleasure mix with your gasping cries for mercy. The sensation is overwhelming, and just as you think you can’t take any more, his fingers find your swollen clit, strumming on it in a pace too cruel that only intensifies the pleasurable ache within.

“Fahh-HAHH!”

As white edges your vision and you begin falling into the throws of ecstasy—the first orgasm you had in a week—however, you wouldn't experience the sweet nirvana you crave just yet thanks to Toji cruelly ripping it away.

Smacking his lips with a satisfied sigh like he finally had his fill from a water fountain, Toji dislodges his face from your puffy and drenching pussy. You don’t even need to see Toji's face as you can practically hear the smirk plastered across his lips, still dripping with your juices messily stained all around his mouth and flowing down his neck.

“Admit it—”

Standing, Toji taps his cock on your sticky pussy lips, hypersensitive now from the way he’d just been aggressively munching on her like full-course meal. The knob of his cockhead, flushes red and angry as it pokes into your slippery entrance. The ring of muscle slowly opening wider to accommodate the large girth that threatened to impale your pretty lil' pussy fully at any moment.

“—admit you got that short slutty as of y’ers up on that counter to test me—and I’ll put it in.”

The fact is Toji was near his limit anyway and likely would have snapped later on that night if you didn’t try to tempt him like this. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if it was intentional—but he didn’t care at this point because truth be told he’d been looking for any little excuse to bend you over like this for the past 2 days.

“NNNGHH—not fair! TojiiiiiiEEEE!”

You pout, tears on the edges of your eyes as he delivers more smack to your jiggly cheeks, enjoying the way they ripple under his hand.

“Say what I wanna hear slutty mamas… n’ m’gonna give fat ma here what she's been craving all week…”

Toji exhales sharply, his breaths uneven as he watches globs of his pearlescent pre-cum ooze indiscriminately from his tip. Toji strokes the base of his shaft tightly, a calculated effort to control himself as the mere sensations and sounds of his tip only gliding against your soft squelchy pussy lips threatens to undo him entirely.

You could almost feel the desperation radiating off of him. He wanted this just as much as you did—asshole.

Although if anything, the truth is Toji broke first. However, while a part of you wanted to fight him on that, a bigger part of you couldn’t care less. Laid up on the counter with no leverage you knew he'd turn you out into his pretty lil’ cocksleeve if you did as he asked—and you did miss him fucking you like his personal pocket pussy.

“Hnnnn—FINE!”

You glance back over your shoulder at Toji, sweat beading on your furrowed brow, your bottom lip jutting out as you say the words that you know will have him pureeing your guts as soon as you do.

“Daddy, *sniff* m’sorwy m’just a bratty slut who just wants her tiny pussy fucked—m’so horny n’ I want you s’bad… n’thats why I got on the counter to show you how much she m-missed you!”

Like the little temptress you are, you wiggle your ass up towards him as best you can with your feet dangling. Toji barks with laughter at the site.

“Heh, now was that so hard slutty mamas?”

Yet Toji couldn't delay andy longer, the little composure Toji had in the moment is lost as he thrusts himself deeply into you with a fierce snap of his hips.

The weight of him leaning into you and stretching your greedy hole that hadn’t been fucked in a week knocked all the air out of you—you couldn’t even scream. A paralyzing shiver jolts down your spine that reaches all the way down to your pussy, tightening enough it threatens to break Toji's dick in two.

“Fuuuck, mama. You’re s’tight, relax. Ngnnh—never doing this cuck ass shit again though baby….I’ll fuckin’ kill someone first.”

Toji’s voice carried a rare, almost whiny edge as he grits his teeth—muttering something along the lines of, ‘pussy gon’ kill me’.

You’re not able to think about that too hard though as Toji doesn’t remain still inside you for long. Jerking back, Toji pistons his hips into you, growling like an animal in heat.

Toji feels like a fuckin teenager again the way he's leaking precum into you. Gritting his teeth, Toji couldn't have imagained before this that a lack of pussy for 7 days would have his knees threatening to buckle.

Fuckin' hell, he wanted to cum already.

Lifting your hips up off the counter with his massive hands, your body ragdolls as Toji's sharp bullying hips completely turn your pelvis into mush. Toji's eyes dim to a dangerous forest green as he watches his cock be consumed by the thick supple lips of your pussy, disappearing deeply in your runny cunny over and over.

He'd gladly die like this if given the choice.

And you aren't fairing much better.

“HUUU, F—”

Words fail you as drool seeps from your slackened jaw, your brain being fucked completely smooth under the relentless onslaught. You can’t hold onto anything to ground you, even if the slippery marble countertop offered any kind of leverage. Toji’s thick, veined shaft scrapes mercilessly over that tender, spongy spot that has you seeing stars. When he bottoms out, slamming against your cervix, his balls slap against your swollen clit, sending bolts of white-hot electricity up your spine—like Toji’s sole intent is to shatter it and you entirely.

Your broken cries intermingle with Toji’s throaty growls, each one more primal than the last, mirroring the raw hunger driving his movements. His broad, muscular hands lift your hips effortlessly, spreading your soft flesh wide as his thumbs press insistently against the taut rim of your asshole, teasing and massaging it open.

A strangled raspy moan escapes your lips nearly choking you when his thumbs plunge inside your ass to hook and stretch it wide.

“P-Pweasee, n-not there D-Daddy—SHIIIIIIIT!”

You sob, your body trembling under the overwhelming sensations. The mix of burning desire and the relentless pressure makes you feel as though he might actually break you. It had been a while since Toji fucked you there, and you weren’t sure you’d survive the intensity of pleasure now after being dry a whole week.

Toji doesn’t answer immediately, his silence heavy and deliberate. When you finally muster the strength to glance back, your breath catches as you see him spit a thick loogie directly into your asshole. “NNNN, Tojiiiish!” Your voice pitches higher as his thumbs toy with your puckered rim, stretching it an indecent amount as he pushes it open before guiding it close again, only to repeat the process with more spit dripping into the tight opening. Before long, your ass is doused and full of his spit, just as your pussy is stuffed with his cock and pre.

Toji's other hand clamps down on your hip, gripping tightly as he uses it to drive you onto his cock, hitting your devastatingly sensitive spots with unrelenting precision. The wet, obscene squelch of your cum mixes with the sharp, rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the room filled with the sinful symphony of your high-pitched moans and his raw, gravelly grunts.

On the brink, your body coils tighter with every thrust, every teasing stretch of his thumbs violating your puckered hole. The tension builds unbearably, pushing you closer and closer to that euphoric edge.

Toji is close too—you can feel it in the erratic, almost feral rhythm of his thrusts, his desperation mounting as he hurtles toward the edge. His grip tightens, nails digging half-moons into your sweaty skin as he pounds into you with rough, unrelenting force. A frenzied energy drives Toji, as if the only release that could satisfy him lies buried deep in your slobbering cunt. His balls draw up tight, his blood boiling in his veins as his body ruts into you on pure, unthinking instinct.

A helpless groan escapes his lips, raw and unrestrained, followed by a soft, unexpected whimper—so quiet it's almost undetectable by your ears but you must have heard it because your pussy pulses at the sound. Intoxicating, Toji's desperation laid bare, every ounce of control unraveling as he chases his release.

For the first time in ages, Toji feels disconnected from himself, his body reacting before his mind. Therefore, he doesn’t even register his release until he hears you scream, your walls clamping around him like a vice as his hot seed floods into you.

Your orgasm washes over you shortly after, your squirt gushing around making more of a mess of your kitchen island as the euphoric tension boils over.

Toji lowers your hips gently onto the counter removing his thumbs from you, bracing himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. His breath is thick and swampy against your neck as he languidly rocks into you, until he pumps every drop of cum into your slutty lil pussy.

Stilling in you, Toji closes his eyes.

Fuck, he’d not cum that hard since the first time he fucked you.

Yet it's you who eventually breaks the silence.

“Y-You came before me, ‘ol man..”

Wearing a lopsided smirk, you lay exhausted and completely spent on the counter, appreciating how cool marble always stayed in this moment basking in your victory. You moan softly as Toji grumbles, getting up and pulling out of you causing your still sensitive walls to push out his plug of cum from your pussy— and you can feel it flowing down your shapely thighs.

“...so what I said earlier means fuck all, you know you technically lost No Nut November first huh, Daddy?”

You're radiantly smug, yet your victory was short-lived.

“Heh, you think we’re done? Don’t ya think I’m owed a lil’ more?”

Toji's voice, low and gravelly, sprouts goosebumps racing across your sticky skin. His cock, drowned in the mingled evidence of your arousals, swipes along the curve of your ass. His tip feels even more engorged than before as it presses insistently against your rear hole—that's still fluttering helplessly in the absence of his fingers.

Yet not leaving for long, his thumbs return to trail possessively over the taut ring of muscle, spreading it open a lil' wider to stuff his girthy fat cockhead in.

“Now mamas, ya know I’m a gamblin’ man. Best two outta, three..."

A smirk curls on Toji’s lips, as he can feel the shudder convulse all the way down your spine, puckering your ass tigher around his cockhead.

"...I didn’t spend all that time spreadin' this cute lil’ stink hole back here for my own amusement, eh?”

𝐚/𝐧: next 12/14, 6:00 a.m. PST queued ryomen sukuna toji daddy is a big pushover for your holes<3 lmk what you think! reblogs and comments make my ass tingle all nice <3

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darknight3904 · 21 days ago

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buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #romance #joel miller smut #Tommy miller

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katsu28 · 1 month ago

Text

through the years

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: a few glimpses into lando's journey of being in love with his best friend's sister. (5.9k) see request here!

a/n: r is three years older than max and lando. this has been a work in progress for months and was truly so so fun to write <3

sixteen

Lando’s tucking his helmet back into its protective case when he hears someone say your name.

He straightens up like he’s been electrocuted, nearly hitting his head on the shelf above him at how fast he looks up. If he had ears like a dog, they’d be perked.

His eyes land on you chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.

See, Lando has a massive crush on you, probably since before he knew what a crush was. All he knows is that you’re a few years older, his best friend’s sister, and the most perfect person he’s ever known. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen in love with you the moment he met you at one of Max’s and his races.

But at only sixteen (nearly seventeen) years old, did he even know what love felt like?

Not really, but if Lando was being completely honest, he imagines it was the same feeling he got whenever he climbed into a kart—thrilling, exciting, a little bit of fear that he might puke.

He hasn’t seen you in a while though. You’ve been off at university for a year now, somewhere far off, but Max had said something (read: complained) about you being home for summer break.

Lando thinks he might be more happy about it than your own brother is.

“Hey!” Lando calls, raising a hand in greeting. You lift your sunglasses at the sound of another voice, squinting in the bright sunlight to see who’s shouting at you now. When your eyes land on him, you smile, waving back. Lando grins, one that only grows bigger as you start to make your way over to him.

“Looked good out there today, Lan. You’re getting pretty quick on the straights,” You say on approach.

He’s had a little bit of a growth spurt this past year, so he’s no longer craning his neck to look at you, but you’ve still got quite a bit of height on him as you reach out to ruffle his hair playfully.

“Thanks! Have you, erm, have you been here the whole time?” Lando’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, mortifying him, but luckily you don’t seem to notice. You’re too occupied looking around the track for something, or someone.

“Nah, I just got here, like twenty minutes ago? Mum told me to give Max a lift home.” You shrug. Lando fights the urge to let out a relieved sigh. Thank god you weren’t here to see him nearly spin out into the gravel on the last corner. That would’ve been embarrassing. “Have you seen him, by the way? I need to wring his neck.”

A surprised honk of laughter splutters from Lando’s mouth. “What did he do now?”

“Little shit broke one of mum’s good dinner plates and blamed it on me! S’why I’m here playing chauffeur,” You sigh, shaking your head. “Grounded during summer holidays, can you believe it? I’m basically Max’s personal shuttle, so it looks like you’re going to be seeing quite a bit of me for a while. Nightmare, innit?”

“Not really. It’d be nice to see you around more again.”

“You’re sweet, Lan. The punishment might be worth it to see your cute face all the time.” You wink at him, pinching his cheek gently.

He knows you don’t mean it in the way he wants you to mean it. You still see him as just your little brother’s best friend, still a kid. But he’s older now, more mature. His voice is starting to drop, and he’s going places in his racing career by this point. He wonders if you know he’s joining McLaren’s Young Driver Programme next year. He wonders if you’d be impressed by it.

“Hang on. I’ve got to take this, it’s my mum. Probably demanding I stop off at the shops on the way home,” You sigh, holding up your buzzing phone. “Do me a favor, be a darling and go find my idiot brother, would you?” You answered the call before he could nod, walking a ways away to talk to your mum.

Lando remains rooted in place, watching you pace back and forth.

“What’re you looking at?” Max pops up next to him out of the blue, bumping his shoulder rather roughly. It doesn’t phase him though, because he’s used to Max’s antics at this point.

Instead, he sighs. “D’you think she’d ever like me?”

“Who?”

Lando nods his head in your direction, looking rather wistful. Max follows his friend’s line of sight until his gaze lands on you, on the phone, looking less than pleased.

“Are you fucking with me? Please tell me you’re fucking with me,” He asks, wrinkling his nose at Lando. Even though you’re three years older than him, Max was wildly overprotective over you. Lando shakes his head. He is most definitely serious. “Mate, that’s my sister.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Lando scoffs, giving Max a shove. “You’re disgusting.”

“So you’re telling me that every time you’ve asked me where she’s been, what she’s been up to, it’s ‘cause you fancy her?”

“Maybe. Yeah. I think she’s amazing.”

“I’m gonna throw up. I’m actually going to throw up, oh my god.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Lando rolls his eyes, picking up his things.

“You’re hot for my sister, how am I being dramatic? I think I’m being quite calm about this.”

“It’s nothing, really. She probably won't ever see me as anything but a little kid.”

“Oh, you never know. You’re getting bigger, mate. Stacking on the height, packing on the muscle.” He fakes two punches to Lando’s torso, grunting overdramatically when Lando pushes him away with another roll of his eyes. “Soon enough you won’t be able to keep the ladies off you, ya stud.”

“Thanks? You do know we’re still talking about your sister, right?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, still gross.”

“Oi, Max. Let’s go or mum’ll have my head if we don’t get home by dinner,” You grumble, reappearing behind Max and shoving him upside the head. Your gaze softens when it turns on Lando. “Bye, Lan. See you soon.”

Lando manages to get out a goodbye without his voice cracking again, thank god. He wants to go in for a hug, because part of him thinks it might lift your spirits, but knows Max would never let him hear the end of it. So he just settles for a slightly awkward wave before you turn on your heel and head for the car.

Max rolls his eyes. Then he smiles deviously, pointing at your retreating figure with one hand and Lando with the other, before smashing them both together, all while making overexaggerated kissy noises. He seems to have forgotten his previous disgust quite easily.

“Fuck off!” Lando hisses, flipping off his friend.

“I’ll leave you behind, Maximillian!” You warn, not even turning around to threaten your brother. Max rolls his eyes again, but doesn't hesitate in hurrying after you so you won't leave him stranded at the track.

Lando manages to catch your eye once as you’re pulling out of the car park and he waves again, trying but probably failing to stifle the goofy grin spreading across his face at the wave you gave him back.

God, he’s so down bad for you.

That year, however, the months went on, Lando found himself noticing that you came home less and less often, and not even for school breaks the following year. Max wouldn’t talk about it, but it was obvious it was somewhat of a sore subject, so Lando never pushed.

He’d always wondered what happened, but soon enough, his life became far too hectic to sit around thinking about all the what if’s and the why not’s. All he could do was hope you were doing okay.

-------

twenty

It’s hard to believe Max is turning twenty-one.

So will Lando, later in the year, but for now he remains a very youthful looking twenty years old.

Max invites a handful of people to a quiet dinner, nothing too flashy, nothing too fancy. Just a nice dinner with close friends and good food. His birthday sits right between race weeks, so Lando is fortunate enough to be able to carve out an evening for his best friend.

Now he’s sitting at the end of a long table, sipping a lemon sparkling water as the first few of their friends start to trickle in. He’d arrived unfashionably early under the guise of offering to help Max iron out last minute details, set up, things like that.

In reality, the reason why he’d turned up so early was you.

Lando doesn’t know if Max invited you, and if he did, he doesn’t know if you’d actually come. But on the off chance that you do choose to make an appearance, Lando wants to be the first one to see you.

Naturally, he spots you the second you walk in, and he’s instantly transported back to when he was an awkward teenager, pathetically pining over his best friend’s sister with absolutely no shot.

Hell, he’s still pining over you. He thought whatever feelings he had for you would’ve faded over the years, but one look at you and everything comes rushing back.

He thought he’d prepared himself for this, for seeing you again, but one thing that rises above all the other thoughts flooding his brain is that he’s not over you. Not by a long shot.

He watches you make your way over to your brother and hug him. You lean in close to say something into his ear, and suddenly you’re both looking directly at him.

Lando startles, nearly spilling his drink, but he manages to compose himself quickly. That swoopy feeling he used to get whenever you made your way over to him is back in full swing again. He scrambles to his feet.

“Hey, Lan!” You greet him keenly, wrapping him in a warm hug. Your perfume washes over him as you do, and he fights the urge to sigh happily. You still wear the same one you always did. He remembers because he’d more or less conditioned himself to associate the nice scent with you. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Lando chuckles breathlessly, praying you’re not able to feel how fast his heart is beating through his shirt. “Too long.”

You pull away, holding him at arms’ length, studying him with bright eyes. “You’re taller than me now.”

“I’d hope so. M’not sixteen anymore.”

“No, you’re not. You look good though, ” You say. You look like you mean it truthfully.

“How’ve you been?”

“Been better, but I’m…getting by, all things considered.” You shrug, sliding into the chair next to him.

Both of you swing sideways to face each other at the same time, knees knocking into each other as you do. You share an apologetic smile. Your hand blankets his where it rests on the table, squeezing a few times as your eyes light up with excitement.

You aren’t aware of just how much that one little move affects Lando.

“But what about you, McLaren’s newest Formula One driver? That’s so amazing. Seriously. I’m proud of you.”

He’s heard the compliment loads during his rookie year, but hearing it come from you makes his cheeks flush pink. He can feel the comfort of your words spreading from his face into his chest, tendrils of warmth wrapping around his rib cage. You’re proud of him, and it feels like he’s just won the world championship.

“Thank you,” He squeaks.

“I always knew you’d do great things.”

“You’ve been keeping up with my career?”

“‘Course I have,” You say warmly, nodding like it’s obvious. “It’s not everyday you can say you’ve known one of the up and coming talents of Formula 1 since you were kids.”

“We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?”

“You, yeah. Me…well, let’s just say I’m still trying to figure things out.”

“You’re doing the best you can, aren’t you? Shouldn’t that be all that matters?”

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Lan. I needed to hear that.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, and Lando feels the need to break it.

“Y’know, I didn't know if you’d come. Since…y’know, whatever’s been going on all this time.” He doesn’t mean to prod, doesn’t mean it as anything other than him drawing a huge blank about why you haven’t been around.

Your expression still grows somber, brows creasing ever so slightly. “Max hasn’t told you anything?”

“Seemed like a sore subject, so I never pushed.”

“You must have a lot of questions then.” You murmur, tracing an idle finger over the pristine white table cloth. “About why I’ve been basically nonexistent for years.”

“I don't need to know. You’re here now, that's all that matters.”

“Y’know, you’ve always been so thoughtful, Lando. When we were all kids and Max was being…well, Max, you were always looking out for me, even though you didn’t have to.”

“I cared about you. Still do.”

It’s true. Lando cares about you in more ways than one, in more ways than just your little brother’s best friend should, but it isn’t something that he can help. You’ve still got him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it.

“So sweet.” You smile, squeezing his hand appreciatively, and Lando feels like he’s just been shown a new purpose. He wants to be the one to make you smile like this all the time, something he’s known in his heart for years. “So, tell me more about you. What’s it like in the big leagues?”

You wind up spending all night glued to each other’s side, filling one another in on what’s been going on in your lives since the last time you saw each other. Granted, it’s a bit more of him doing most of the talking with you on the listening end, but he gets the sense you’d rather have it that way.

He’ll gladly talk for hours if it meant you looking at him with the pride in your eyes you’ve had the whole night.

Eventually, the party rolls to an end, as all good nights unfortunately do. Lando wants to stay here, stay with you, but he can’t. He’s got an early morning and a day full of training tomorrow, so he’ll settle for walking you to your car after you’ve both said goodbye to Max.

You’ve got your arm looped through his as you make your way out of the restaurant with the rest of the dinner guests.

“This one’s me.” You jut your chin at the car coming up. If Lando isn’t mistaken, you almost sound kind of sad, but maybe he’s just looking too much into things because he doesn't want to leave. You leave his side, putting a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Thank you for keeping me company all night, Lando. It was really nice to see you again.”

“Likewise. I’ve…” He trails off into an airy chuckle, shoulders creeping towards his shoulders instinctively. For a moment, he wonders if he should even say anything. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” You say softly, giving him a small smile. Lando feels his chest tighten at the sincerity in your tone. Then you step forward and wrap your arms around his neck in a hug and suddenly he’s just about ready to melt as his arms slide around you to return the embrace.

He isn’t expecting your lips against his cheek, or the way they linger a little longer than to be expected before you step away again. Heat blooms where you kiss him, zipping through his veins like the thrill of pushing the highest speed down the home straight towards the checkered flag.

“Don’t forget about me when you get to be a big hot shot in the racing world,” You say, only slightly teasing.

“Don’t think I could.”

He watches you get into your car and drive away, hands in his pockets, wishing he was brave enough to tell you how he feels about you. Some other time, maybe. One day he’ll muster up the confidence to say something.

-------

twenty four

No matter how many times Lando comes home to race at Silverstone, the feeling never goes away.

A mix of joy, pride, the unmistakable vice-like grip of anxiety. Lando is excited, no doubt, but all he wants to do is make his home crowd proud. His family is here, his friends are here. Everyone is counting on him to do something amazing.

He’s got a hundred things to do before he has to head down to the garage to gear up, a methodical mental checklist to get through in not a lot of time.

Buzzing with nervous energy, he paces the top level of the motorhome, amping himself up while also trying to calm himself down. He’s barely managed to eat anything all day, as evident by the basically untouched chicken wrap sitting on the table next to him.

Sure, he’s raced at Silverstone before, but this is the first year he actually has a shot at winning the whole thing. The car has proved to be a speed demon, and he’s been killing it this season, but neither of those help his nerves.

It makes his stomach twist more than anything. It’s one thing to not win because he doesn't have the facilities to do it, it's entirely worse to know he can win and still let everyone down.

“Well, if it isn’t little Lando Norris.”

He freezes at the unexpected voice. Your voice.

His mind flashes back to the last time he saw you, at Max’s birthday party. How you talked all night, and kissed him on the cheek before you parted ways.

It’s been three years since then, and you’ve stayed in close touch with each other, but you haven’t seen each other in person since that night. It isn’t either of your faults—life got in the way and neither of yours lined up. Nonetheless, he’s grown closer to you these past few years than he ever has, which definitely doesn’t help the massive crush he still has on you.

Part of him thinks he really needs to move on—he’s been in love with you for so many years he doesn’t even remember the exact number, but his feelings remain the same. Any relationship he’s tried to have, just to see if he could ever love someone else, has never lasted.

Lando thinks he might be stuck on you his whole life, if the entirety of his teenage years and first few of his young adult years have been any indication.

He’s very prone to wanting things he can’t have, it seems.

Lando gives his head a shake because it couldn’t be you. You couldn’t be here, because last he heard from Max, you were somewhere out of the country on a work trip and wouldn’t be able to make it to Silverstone for the race. It’s a bummer for sure, but Lando knows you would've come if you could. Max told him you sounded downright upset about it on your check in call earlier in the week to break the news.

He turns slowly, hesitantly. Hopefully. His fingers tighten on the water bottle he’s got clutched in his hands.

There you are, looking back at him like something straight out of his dreams.

You’re older now, as he is too, but there’s something different about you. About how you hold yourself. Like you've finally settled into the person you were meant to be. It isn’t something he could’ve clocked in on through texts and grainy video calls, but he sees it now, clear as day.

“Hi.”

“You’re here,” He breathes, disbelieving. He isn’t able to stop himself from rushing forward, bringing you into a very tight, very excited hug that lifts you off your feet.

You let out a surprised noise at his enthusiasm, barely managing to hook an arm over around his shoulders so you wouldn’t go flailing as he spins you around.

He puts you down soon after, still beaming as he takes you in. “How are you here? I thought—Max said you were on a work trip!”

“I asked him to keep it a secret,” You chuckle, spreading a palm across his chest to steady yourself. “Wanted to surprise you for your home race. Hope that’s okay?”

“More than okay! It’s so good to see you again,” He insists, folding you into another, albeit much quicker hug. He holds you at arm's length right after. “You look really good.”

“I feel good,” You say sincerely. “Think I’m finally getting the hang of this whole life thing.”

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you for pushing through, sticking it out,” Lando murmurs, just as genuine. There’s nothing better than seeing you finally find a good place, happy with where you are and what you’re doing. It’s all he’s ever wanted for you.

“Thank you. But oh my god, look at you!” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. You pinch his cheeks the same way you used to do, but the way you’re looking at him feels much different than before.

There’s something that isn’t quite the same, like something about what you think of him has changed. The thought burrows its way deeper into his brain when one hand slides down to his chest for a few beats.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit again, haven’t you?”

He laughs, a little high pitched and a little breathless. “Yeah well, you know what they say about second puberty.”

“Still got the same cute laugh though.” You smile at him brightly, and it's like the sun has just poked its way through the dreary British fog for the first time in ages. His heart does an involuntary tap dance against his ribcage. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry if I, like, disturbed your pre-race rituals or anything, I just wanted to pop in and say hi before things get crazy.”

“No, no, I’m glad you did. I think I needed to see a familiar face. Between you and me, I’m kinda freaking out.”

“Oh, Lan,” You sigh, squeezing his hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Hope so.”

“You will,” You insist firmly. “Don’t think about the people, don’t think about the crowd. Just trust your gut, and drive like hell.”

Lando didn’t know it before, but your words are exactly the thing he needs right now. He sighs deeply, letting his shoulders relax just the slightest bit.

“Anyways, I better go. Max is probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.”

He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake. “Yeah, I should—I probably need to get going as well.”

“Good luck, be safe, all that. I’ll be the loudest one cheering you on.”

Lando hears himself call out your name when you’re a few steps away from the door. You turn back to him, and he knows this is the moment. He’s about to do something he’s never had the balls to do before, never in the nine years he’s been in love with you. Only today, right here, he’s never felt more sure of himself.

He’s trusting his gut.

“Would you wanna grab a drink tonight? Dinner too, if you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, ‘course! I’ll text my brother, see if he’s free.”

“No,” He blurts. You arch a surprised brow at his sudden outburst. “Sorry, I just—I meant like, maybe just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, and it feels like the longest couple seconds of his life. But then you nod, breaking into a big grin. “I’d really like that.”

Lando doesn’t want to get his hopes up in fear of possibly jinxing it, but it feels like maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance with you. After all these years, he’s no longer just a little kid to you, no longer just your little brother’s best friend.

The thought of that pumps him up better than a race in front of his home crowd ever could.

-------

twenty five

He’s done it.

Lando's just won in Abu Dhabi, gotten his fourth win of his career—his fourth win of the season. McLaren has just won the constructor’s championship for the first time in twenty six years, and Lando’s been an instrumental part in making it happen.

The moment he steps out onto the front of the car, hears the crowd cheering for him, he can barely even believe it. It doesn’t feel real at all.

He wants to find you. He knows you’re here somewhere, probably with his family in the garage. He also knows he doesn’t have the time to find you, not until after he’s taken care of his post race duties.

Lando doesn't see you until he returns to the pit lane in front of the McLaren garage.

The whole team is gathered there, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. He can feel the energy buzzing through the atmosphere, the pure excitement and joy of a long awaited championship not only for everyone here, but the whole team of papaya back at the factory too.

This is their time as much as it is his, if not even more. They’re the reason he’s able to live this dream every single day, and for that, he’ll never be able to say enough thank yous.

Instead, he’ll work even harder next season, keep pushing and honing his craft until he’s able to truly show his gratitude towards them.

But for now, he’ll celebrate. After a long, grueling (but fulfilling) season, he’s earned that.

He breaks into a jog towards the huddle, breaking into a face-splitting grin as he jumps into the team celebrations happily. Person after person clap him on the back on his way to his place beside the giant papaya sign, even after the team photo is taken and he gets doused by champagne from all sides.

Lando feels like a million bucks. This feeling has been a long time coming, a long time needed. If he could bottle it up and save it forever, he would.

There’s only one thing that could make this moment even better.

He turns to the crowd behind the barriers, searching, searching, searching for his loved ones until—

There you are, standing with his family just as he’d thought you’d be, cheering so hard he thinks you might even be crying.

Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. You’ve both been busy the past few weeks, him with this triple header and you with your job. You’d barely made it to this race, but he’s happy you’re here. Even happier you were here to see him win.

He makes his way towards you all, doling out hugs to everyone, not able to wipe the smile from his face as he chats with each of them.

His parents, his sister, and finally…you.

You’re beaming just as big as he is when he stops in front of you, flinging your arms around his neck in the tightest hug. He lets out a sigh of content, lifting you off your feet a bit in a hug just as tight, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he does so.

“Hi, baby,” He breathes, running his hands down from your shoulders to your forearms as soon as he puts you down again. “What’d you think?”

“What do I think?” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. “I think you did amazing! I think I’ve cried, like, four times already since the race ended, honestly.”

He laughs, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “I made you cry?”

“Yeah, you made me cry, you muppet! I’m so fucking proud of you,” You tell him, sounding nothing but truly sincere. There’s tears in your eyes again, happy tears for him, and he feels a surge of adoration bloom in his chest. “Congratulations, Lan. You’re destined for so much greatness, I know it.”

He’s sweaty, sticky, and doused in champagne, but he still feels on top of the world at the joy in your eyes.

“I love you,” He blurts. He couldn’t have stopped the words spilling from his mouth even if he tried.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s knowing there’s no better time than the present, but it’s out there now. The past five months you’ve been dating have been absolutely mint, but Lando doesn’t think he could’ve gone another moment without telling you.

You let out a watery sort of chuckle, sliding a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and bringing him in for a kiss.

You’ve kissed before—a lot, actually—but this one feels different. Better. The giant secret that he’s been holding in from you for years and years is finally out, and it’s like a weight lifted off his chest.

“I love you too, Lan,” You murmur, words pressed against his lips like they're something reserved only for him. “God, I love you.”

There goes his heart right then, the last piece of his heart that he’d saved for the day he wasn’t sure would ever come. The last piece of his heart that belonged to him now belongs to you, and in this moment, you’ve got all of it.

All of Lando’s heart is now yours.

Lando didn’t think this day could get any better, but now there’s this. The woman of his dreams, the one he’s been in love with since you were both kids, finally loves him back.

He’s not sure what heaven is like, but Lando imagines it might be something like this.

Here, under the Abu Dhabi sky, he’s gotten the championship, he’s finally gotten his girl. To him, there’s nothing better than it.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#requested!#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris x fewtrell!reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x fem!reader #ln4 x fewtrell!reader #lando norris fluff #ln4 x fem!reader

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drchucktingle · 1 year ago

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From Chuck Tingle, author of the USA Today bestselling Camp Damascus, comes a new heart-pounding story about what it takes to succeed in a world that wants you dead. Misha is a jaded scriptwriter who has been working in Hollywood for years, and has just been nominated for his first Oscar. But when he's pressured by his producers to kill off a gay character in the upcoming season finale―"for the algorithm"―Misha discovers that it's not that simple. As he is haunted by his past, and past mistakes, Misha must risk everything to find a way to do what's right―before it's too late.

----

BURY YOUR GAYS cover has been released today and theres something TRULY INCREDIBLE about it, something that bends timelines and melts away the edges of the void and brings tears to my eyes. can you see it? let me explain in a thread as you PREORDER NOW...

for nearly ten years i have been publishing my stories despite pushback that they are too odd. us buckaroos are the outsiders, but this community has kicked open the door for art that is sincere and strange and beautifully unique. that is my trot and that is OUR trot as buds

we came out of nowhere and made CAMP DAMASCUS a usa today bestseller. every step of the way that book overperformed. buds were CONFUSED that a book from ‘silly meme erotica author’ could take flight. but us buckaroos knew it was inevitable because we know the power of love

i still recall the question ‘are you SURE you do not want a new horror pen name?’ HECK NO i am proud of the tingleverse. i am not ashamed of these queer erotic stories i drag up from bottom of my heart and spill with raw sincerity across irony poisoned timelines

i have been mocked my whole life as author that is ‘ridiculous no-content meme’ by those who have never read it. that my work is ‘not real’. i have been mocked for my autism and queerness and told THIS WOULD NEVER WORK. which brings me back to cover of my new book BURY YOUR GAYS

looks like the name chuck tingle is NOT a liability for the mainstream. all devils who doubted can gaze upon this cover and see bold CHUCK TINGLE staring back at them PROUDLY from the shelf in all its queer autistic glory... HOVERING ABOVE THE TITLE AND JUST AS BIG AND PROUD

thank you nightfire and chucks manager and chucks agent for believing in me. these buds have always had my back. thanks to BUCKAROO COMMUNITY who have always supported my way, this next step in our trot is not just about me IT IS ABOUT US. we kick open these doors together

so heres to making this world a little more unique and strange for those of us who are, ourselves, unique and strange. heres to bending timelines to us, instead of us bending to them. heres to name CHUCK TINGLE big and bold ABOVE the title on a big five traditional published book

and remember the best way to support an author, especially someone on outside pushing their way in, is to PREORDER THEIR BOOK. because of publishing business model it is SO IMPORTANT so if you would like to support chuck then PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS NOW

#bury your gays #tingleverse #chuck tingle #love is real #queer #horror #lgbtqia #actually autistic #misha #buckaroo lifestyle #lets trot #queer horror

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shadow4-1 · 9 months ago

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I'm just imagining using a secluded space on base to do some yoga away from the 141, only to realize Ghost's been watching disapprovingly the whole time.

Like, what you lack in raw strength compared to the boys, you have in agility. You're not nearly as rigid. You're flexible, and it's only because you take the time to work on it. You have several methods but dancing and yoga are by far your favorite.

Neither hobby you can enjoy on base much, because well...you always get stared at. So, you take it upon yourself to clear out part of old studio space used for storage. It's kind of crappy, with cracked tile and dust bunnies galore, but it'll do. You play some music in your earbuds and do your beginning stretches on your mat.

When you're in the zone you're in the zone. You end up in a place far away and yet still within yourself. The burning stretch from some of your maneuvers feels so good you nearly groan. You get lost in the personal meditation. One certain position uses a specific pair of muscles in your lower back. It takes you a moment to realize why it makes you gasp. You bite your lip and decide to take a short break.

As you untangle your body you feel something's off. You're physically fine, but your heart starts to race. Your stomach lurches. You move to stand, suddenly startled by seemingly nothing.

"Yer doing it wrong."

And just like that Ghost makes himself known from behind a shelf. He's in his workout clothes, which isn't much but some slinky basketball shorts and a tank top. Black of course. His mask is the soft one he uses when he's not on the field.

You scoff at him, still feeling on edge but also relieved at no immediate threat.

"You do yoga?" You ask incredulously. "Fine, big guy. Show me how it's done."

He rolls out a mat and gestures for you to copy him. It's a simple move, one you've perfected. And yet he still shakes his head at your form. You try it again. Wrong. Again. Wrong.

"Where am I going wrong?"

You don't expect him to reach over and grab your back leg. He pulls it out further. You stumble and he rights you with the same arm. He tuts at you, but he's the reason you're off balance.

"Lift your back. No. Higher. Your hip should be down."

Next thing you know he's behind you, his large hands making your body twist and bend. You end up in the same position as you'd been in earlier, but this time you can really feel the stretch. Maybe he was right, you were doing it wrong.

You tilt your back up and feel the familiar stretch. It's better than you've ever been able to get it on your own. You can't help the soft groan that leaves your lips. The last time those muscles had been used was before you joined the 141, when you'd still had a boyfrie-

Two hands grab at those spots. Large thumbs work circles into the areas. Despite yourself, you moan. This was going a bit too far but...

The more he kneads the more you fall to your knees. You can't hold the position with your back up anymore. You practically collapse onto the mat, ass up, Ghost knelt over you.

He still doesn't let up. His thumbs dig into those circles hard enough it should hurt but instead you only feel bliss. You bite your lip, it feels so fucking good. Eventually he relents, and stops digging into you. You whine at the absence.

"That feels so good." You groan, voice sounding way too needy for what just occurred.

"M' glad." Ghost huffs amusement evident in his tone.

Ghost grabs you and flips you over onto your back. He grabs one of your legs and pushes it as far forward towards your head as he can without hurting you. He does the same to the other. It's a weird position, but it's not far off from some of the other ones you're used to. It burns but it also feels good. Considering you're flat on your back, you feel supported.

You smile up at him, a little breathless but also happy that he's willing to help you out. Yoga did not seem like something any where near his wheelhouse.

"I didn't know you liked yoga. How did you learn about this stuff?" You ask, using your own arms to hold your legs in position as Ghost gets up higher on his knees.

Ghost huffs behind his mask as he looks down at you. He narrows his eyes, his head blocking out the white light of the overhead flourescents. You feel a hand slide between the material of your shorts and the curve of your ass.

"The Kama Sutra."

#cod imagines #mw2 #call of duty #mw2 headcanons #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader

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ssahotchnerr · 6 months ago

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HI HONEY!! I have a fic request! Based on Aaron and his love for calling the reader sweet girl/his sweet girl. Where that’s his favorite nickname for her and she loves is sm and he loves it sm AND THEYRE JUST IN LOVE. I think that would be so cute!

endearments

i'm putting a (slightly) drunk aaron take on this 🤭 cw; fem!reader, mentions of drinking, soft drunk!aaron, vague suggestion, a lot of fluff <3

You had been on the brink of dozing off, but had fought against your heavy eyelids until Aaron returned home safely. It had been guys night out; aka Dave dragging him to some top-shelf fancy bar, or whatever establishment the David Rossi enjoyed to frequent.

The slower than normal pace echoed from down the hallway - locking the door, putting his coat away, a quick check on Jack; his usual night rounds. Finally he made his way into your shared bedroom, dropping soundly onto the bed beside you with a heavy exhale. His aim, however, a bit off - he landed nearly on top of you.

You could smell the small aroma of bourbon on his breath. He always drank just enough to be tipsy, smart and conscious of avoiding a brutal hangover, or an alert tending to.

"My sweet girl."

His voice was heavenly deep, softer and smoother in its inebriated manner. It paralleled his actions: drunk Aaron meant clingy Aaron. His immediate tight hold solidified such.

"Hey," You adjusted yourself, laying more so on your side, facing him. Your voice was laced with your drowsiness; tone relaxed, content, making Aaron wonder why he didn't just stay home with you all night. "Have fun?"

"Yeah, it was nice." Your hand cupped his cheek momentarily, moving towards the nape of his neck. His glassy eyes admired you.

"Dave find any new wives?"

Aaron snorted gently, "Not this time."

You hummed in response, fingers running through the back of his hair. You switched between brushing through the short strands, and gently scratching his scalp. Aaron could've groaned at the feeling (he may have, he honestly couldn't recall if he did.) "Poor wing-manning on your end, then."

"Always next time." His head dropped into your neck, immediately pressing a gentle kiss into your skin. Then another, and another. His words were muffled when he spoke, "I missed you though, sweet girl. Wished you were with me the whole time."

You immediately flushed. While Aaron supplied you with multiple terms of endearment, this was without a doubt your favorite. It simply made you feel loved within its purest state. Adored.

Whereas Aaron loved the way it rolled off his tongue. It fit, just like the way his hand fit perfectly into yours, or the way your body molded perfectly into his - just like now. Not only that, he loved your reaction - the pet name turned you into a flustered, shy mess within seconds.

But now, in his drunken state, he wasn't saying so to fluster you, but it was the natural affection you caused him to possess, only elevated. His words rushed out effortlessly, freely. More insistent.

"You're blushing."

You scoffed lightly, all in amusement. "How do you know?"

"Because you're my sweet girl." His words slurred slightly, flowing together. If you didn't know any better, he was also falling asleep. He leaned up to kiss your lips, before his head dropped hastily back down onto your chest. "I know what I'm saying.

"You're drunk. Do you really?" You teased, your eyes narrowing with a small smile on your face.

"How dare you question otherwise."

You laughed softly, sitting up from your lying position, causing Aaron to whine as he slid off, breaking contact. "Let's get you out of these clothes."

Despite the shadows on half his face, half illuminated by the glow of the lap, you could see his lips tugging into a mischievous smirk.

"Wipe that look off your face Hotchner."

He allowed it to linger for just a playful moment longer, before his facial features relaxed, allowing you to pull off his clothes. You tossed them onto the ground carelessly - they could be dealt with in the morning. You tossed him yet another lighthearted glare at the second smirk that followed when you reached his belt buckle.

As tempting as it was, now wasn't the time.

In just his boxers and tee, his arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you as close as he could possibly get you. His face, right back into the crook of your neck. "My sweet girl."

His repetitive words left him in a sigh, quiet enough you wouldn't have known he mumbled them if it weren't him speaking directly into your skin, or for them vibrating into you.

You wiggled your hand out from his hold, draping it over his forearm and lazily tracing your fingertips along the veins his arms possessed.

"I love it, you know." You mumbled into the darkness, scooting back against him, burying your head into your pillow. Confirming the proximity, you almost couldn't be any closer. "Being yours."

He was fading fast, but still awake and aware enough to respond, "Can't imagine anything else."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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lambilegs · 19 days ago

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I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

#WROTE THIS IN A RUSH BC I'M HEADING OUT SOON BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY HEHE #not proofread I'm sorryyyy #s.writing #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

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Good Vibrations Part One

Hello, it's me, back at it again with another Steddie AU.

Anyway, if I were tagging this AU, these would be the most important ones: Deaf Steve Harrington; Tooth-rotting Fluff; Getting Together

If you wanna be tagged in future parts, just let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve has blown through three pairs of hearing aids in the past year. The first pair had lasted a few years and needed replacement because of normal wear and tear. The second pair was sacrificed during that fight with Jonathan. He hadn't been wearing them, but they'd been in Steve's pocket, and he'd landed at just the right angle to feel them shatter. The third pair was taken by the Russians because, despite Robin's shouting and cursing at them for being dumbasses (and this was before she actually knew what they were for), they accused him of recording their kidnapping and torture.

Honestly, he wouldn't recommend fighting Russians and Billy and Mind Flayers and driving while nearly totally deaf.

The funniest part of it all, though, is that Steve doesn't even use hearing aids regularly. He normally only wears them at home. The pair lost to Jonathan were present because, well, that whole day had been a lot for Steve, and he needed the comfort of knowing he could stop reading lips the moment it became too exhausting for him. The pair lost to the Russians was because he'd been getting ready to tell Robin about being deaf. She'd already clocked the weird things he does (well, weird to her, normal to Steve), and he figured letting her in on the big secret would bring them a little closer.

Of course, that didn't go the way he expected. Robin thought he was confessing love and decided to beat him to the punch. That's how he learned Robin is a lesbian, and Steve couldn't let her be the only one admitting to something like that, so he told her about being bi and his long-standing, hopeless crush. And being deaf. But the bi with a crush thing seemed more important in the moment. She took it in stride, it brought them closer, and then Robin asked if Steve could teach her sign language.

Which meant that Steve had to learn sign language because he never had. Between not wanting to feel even more different than he already did and trying to convince his parents that, really, everything was fine and he didn't need to go to a special school for deaf and hard-of-hearing kids, he'd never learned. Learning it had somehow felt like an admission of weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted. But he learned for Robin, and they stumbled through sign language together, creating new signs only they knew.

But that's all in the past now, and Steve is working his ass off at Family Video to afford a new pair because he refuses to ask his parents for money. If he asks them, they'll come back, and that's the last thing he wants. They don't need to have all their worries confirmed that Steve is helpless, and he doesn't want them anywhere near Hawkins "Hellscape" Indiana.

So. Working his ass off, taking extra shifts, and babysitting the kids as much as he can to make up for the whole Friends and Family Discount he gives their parents. He's exhausted, but he gets to recharge somewhat during his lunch break.

About a ten-minute walk from the Family Video is a record store, which Steve has started visiting daily to just breathe. The lone worker in the store is usually too busy listening to her own music to pay Steve any attention, letting him wander and try to determine which records will best serve him.

Steve drifts over to the rock and heavy metal section, hoping to find a new album but unsurprised when he doesn't. He browses through them anyway, moving past Metallica and Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. He already has all of these albums on his shelf at home. He has the cassette tapes for them, too.

But he really wants something new. He likes the novelty of experiencing unfamiliar vibrations through the speaker, letting them thrum through his fingertips and into his bones. It's fun and relaxing, and after all the bullshit he's been through lately, he probably deserves something relaxing.

After glancing over a few more familiar albums, Steve sighs and glances at the counter by the door. The lone worker is standing there, headphones over her ears, and idly flipping through a magazine. She's chewing gum, and Steve braces himself for the sheer hell of trying to read her lips without making it obvious he's reading her lips while she's got something in her mouth to disrupt the normal shape of words and sounds.

But he has to try. Steve takes one more deep breath before walking over, shoving his hands into his pockets when he comes to a stop at the counter. The girl raises a hand, motioning for him to wait, so he stays quiet as she finishes reading her page. She flips to the next one before looking up, not making any move to pull her headphones off.

"Hi. Do you have any new rock or metal albums coming in soon," Steve asks, feeling the vibrations of speech in his throat and hoping his words aren't too loud.

They don't seem to be. The girl doesn't flinch or pull back. She just looks him up and down, taking in the polo shirt and the nice khakis and the Family Video vest he forgot to take off before leaving. Finally, her neck and shoulders jerk slightly, and Steve knows she's huffed in annoyance. "No," she says, the word clear enough in the shape of her lips for Steve to know it immediately.

He frowns slightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. Steve wouldn't mind just leaving now, but something keeps him there. He just...he really wants new music. He needs something new. "Are there gonna be any shows nearby?" he asks.

The girl rolls her eyes and says something, her mouth distorted by gum-chewing. Steve can barely make out the words "you" and "check" from her response. Thankfully, it's accompanied by a vague gesture at something behind him. Steve looks over his shoulder to see a bulletin board with flyers plastered across it.

"Right. Thanks," he says, nodding to her before walking over. The flyers are all different colors with various fonts that scream for Steve's attention. Some of them are for bands, some are advertisements of garage sales or instruments in need of a new home, and others are just business flyers from stores nearby.

He's seen the bulletin board before, but he's never actually paid attention to it. Steve has always been laser-focused on browsing the records. But now, Steve carefully reviews each flyer advertising shows. Some are for comedy shows, which he immediately dismisses. One seems promising, but then he sees how far it is, and Steve definitely can't do an overnight trip like that.

Finally, Steve sees a flyer advertising a show at the Hideout later that week. It's close enough that he won't be out overnight. The place is kind of seedy, but Steve figures he can find some corner near the stage to hide. Or he can bring Robin and let her help him navigate any potential social situations. He tugs the flyer off the board, gaze lingering on the "Corroded Coffin" emblazoned across the top.

He knows the band. Of course, he knows the band. He's extremely familiar with their singer. From a distance. Honestly, Eddie Munson probably doesn't have the best impression of him, but Steve's heart never really cared about that. Because Eddie is like everything Steve wants to be: he's loud and unafraid of being so, he doesn't care about his image and how others perceive him, and he looks like his laugh sounds beautiful. Steve wouldn't know if he's actually right about that last point, but Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, eyes crinkled and hand over his stomach like his muscles ache.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, but he's also filled with unprecedented courage. Steve has graduated (barely), and that means a significantly lower chance of running into Eddie during the day if watching the show somehow goes wrong.

Steve folds the flyer into quarters and stuffs it into his back pocket. He'll be overly aware of it being there until Robin starts her shift and he can show it to her, but that's okay. He throws a quick thanks over his shoulder as he leaves the shop, glancing up at the bell he can't hear that signals the door's opening. He vaguely remembers what bells are supposed to sound like (he'd heard a few before losing the ability to hear them), but he doesn't let himself dwell on it.

Instead, he focuses on the trip back to Family Video, keeping an eye on the road to watch for any cars he wouldn't notice otherwise.

----

When the final bell rings, Eddie Munson can't get out of class fast enough. He'd been packed for the last five minutes, and he slid out of his seat the moment that first peal rang out. He has a gig to prepare for, and every second counts. At least, each second counts until he notices something (or someone) that could prove entertaining for a while.

He spots Dustin alone near one of the exits, and Eddie decides to relieve the kid of his isolation. He waits until he's behind Dustin to shout, "Henderson!" and throw his arm over the kid's shoulders, ignoring the way he jumps like he'd been expecting an attack.

"Holy shit!" Dustin shrieks, jerking back to look up at Eddie. "Don't do that, man, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

Eddie snorts, waving away Dustin's concern as he continues toward the exit. The general flow of students trying to get out helps him along, and Dustin doesn't seem to realize they're actually moving until they've gotten into direct sunlight. "You're fine," Eddie says, "Anyway, whatcha doing all alone, Henderson? Lose your way?"

"No, I have...stuff to do today," Dustin says, shrugging as he blinks to acclimate to the sunlight.

Oh, yeah, way too cryptic for Eddie to not dig for more. "Stuff? What kinda stuff? Got a hot date? Going shopping with your mom?" he asks, and then he gasps dramatically and moves to stand in Dustin's way. He puts both hands on his shoulders and very seriously says, "Be honest, Henderson, you're seeing another DM, aren't you?"

Dustin stares at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and shrugging his hands off. "Who else in this town DMs?" he asks, "Other than Will, I guess, but he's still working on a campaign."

"Fair," Eddie concedes, "so, whatcha really doing?"

After a few seconds of getting nudged by the students around them, Dustin sighs and says, "I have chores, okay? But that doesn't sound cool to say, does it?"

Fair. Eddie nods in agreement and moves out of Dustin's way, continuing to follow him. "So, what, your mom picking you up today?" he asks.

"No, Steve."

"Oh, the famous Steve."

Dustin nods, looking over the parking lot before pointing to one end. "Yeah, he's awesome," Dustin says as Eddie follows the direction of his finger.

And standing there, leaning against the hood of his car and looking to the side where a group of trees is swaying in the breeze, is Steve Harrington. Steve "The Hair" Harrington. King Steve. The worst thing, Eddie thinks, is that Steve looks good. His hair is still perfect, of course, and his stupid little striped shirt is pulling against his biceps and riding up just enough for Eddie to see a tiny sliver of tanned skin above his jeans. He looks a little tense, but Eddie chalks that up to him being back on the campus after already graduating.

"Harrington? You've been talking about Steve Harrington this whole time?" Eddie asks, his voice a little strained, "How the fuck do you know Steve Harrington?"

"He's my babysitter," Dustin says, his voice implying that much should have been obvious, but Eddie wants to grab his shoulders and shake until his head rolls off.

Steve Harrington doesn't babysit. He doesn't know nerds that talk about D&D. He doesn't drive nerds around. At least, he never did in high school. Granted, Eddie never actually talked to Steve, but everybody knew that Steve Harrington was too cool for, well, anything that wasn't the typical jock and popular guy shit.

As he's thinking about the last time he saw Steve Harrington (in the halls, while the guy had bruises and looked worse for wear), they get within shouting distance. And Eddie has zero impulse control when Wayne isn't around, so he doesn't think before shouting, "Hey, Harrington!"

Next to him, Dustin whips his head to glare at Eddie. And Steve Harrington doesn't fucking react. He just keeps staring at that group of trees like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Dude," Dustin says, grabbing Eddie's arm and yanking harshly, "don't shout like that."

Eddie frowns, anger beginning to simmer in his stomach at the complete lack of acknowledgment. "Why are you upset with me?" he asks, gesturing at Steve as he continues, "I'm not the one being a douchebag here."

Dustin opens his mouth, about to say something, only to snap it shut once more. He frowns like he's just realized he can't say something, and huffs with frustration. "Just...just don't do that," he finally says, keeping a hand on Eddie's arm and dragging him across the parking lot. And, yeah, something is definitely weird here.

Instead of just walking up to Steve, they make a large arch until they're within Steve's line of sight.

Eddie watches as Steve notices them, seeing Dustin first and pushing off the car. He relaxes for a split second until he sees Eddie and his shoulders tense again.

Great.

Once they're close enough for Eddie to count the moles above the collar of Steve's shirt, Dustin grins and says, "Hey, Steve." But it's odd, because Eddie has never heard Dustin talk this slow or this carefully, like he's doing his best to enunciate his words.

Steve flashes a grin and ruffles Dustin's hair. "Hey, twerp, you're late," he says. He then glances at Eddie, his grin becoming a little smaller, and says, "Hey, Munson."

Wait. Steve Harrington knows Eddie's name? And he called him by it? He said Munson, not Freak. Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds before nodding. "Harrington," he says, "how the fuck did you become a babysitter?"

Is he just imagining things, or is Steve looking at his mouth? Like, really intensely. He's definitely not, because Steve looks up after a few seconds with a raised eyebrow. "I needed some extra cash. Also, don't swear around Dustin. I'm the one who gets in trouble when he curses in front of his mom."

Something about the words makes Eddie grin. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he'd be talking to Steve Harrington. And he would have laughed you into Mordor itself if you suggested their conversation would be about Dustin Henderson swearing in front of his mother. "What's his mom do when he swears?" he asks.

Because he can feel the conversation veering into something potentially embarrassing for him, Dustin lets go of Eddie and starts pushing Steve toward the driver's side of his car. "Okay, we gotta go. So many chores, so little time," he says, his voice back to that normal speed and enunciation.

Steve frowns slightly, looking down at Dustin and tilting his head just slightly. "What?" he asks. Instead of actually answering, Dustin just makes some vague gesture with his hand and looks at the car. "Oh, right. Go ahead and get in the car. And, uh, see you later, Munson."

"Is that a promise?" Eddie asks before he can think better of it.

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie's mouth with a slight scrunch to his nose. He seems to be considering something as Dustin scrambles into the passenger seat, watching them with narrowed eyes. Honestly, Eddie is surprised he's not blasting the horn to hurry Steve up. Finally, Steve comes to a decision and meets Eddie's eyes again. "Your band has a show tonight, right? At the Hideout? I was planning to go. So, yeah, I'll see you then, I guess."

And with that, like he hasn't just fucking rocked Eddie's world, Steve Harrington gets into his car. He makes sure Dustin is buckled before waving at Eddie and pulling out of the parking spot.

Eddie finds himself waving back, staring dumbly at the car as it pulls onto the street. It only hits him a few seconds later that Steve Harrington is coming to his show. At the Hideout. His metal show. A Corroded Coffin gig at the Hideout.

Holy. Shit.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #deaf steve harrington #Good Vibrations Steddie #that's the tag for this one lmao #it's all fluff i swear #I hope you guys have as much fun reading it that I have writing it!

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angelltheninth · 26 days ago

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Which Genshin boy loves thigh high stockings?

Well lets find out together.

Pairing: Kaeya, Itto, Al-Haitham, Scaramouche, Dottore, Childe, Wriothesley, Dainsleif, Sethos, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, thigh kissing, biting, possessiveness, flirting, grinding, tearing clothes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I could never wear thigh highs. Not cause my thighs aren't thick, they actually are, but thigh highs aren't for me. Real pretty on other people though!

Kaeya has always had a fondness for looking at you but he seems very interested in you when you wear thigh highs. At first he was only looking, complimenting, saying they look cute on you. It wasn't long until he started running his hands up and down, feeling the soft material. Commenting on how silky smooth your legs are with and without them, but they're was a certain charm that they bring.

Itto nearly walked into the wall when he noticed what you were wearing. He'd often seen other women wear these but only you have been able to unlock this new urge within him. From the moment he saw you in them he knew what he wanted, to bite your thighs. And now just anywhere, in the exact spot where the thigh highs end so his bite mark is always visible, maybe just a tiny bit covered up.

Al-Haitham was the one who bought them for you, it was a gift he got on one of your dates. Honestly he didn't expect you to wear them right away, nor did he expect how distracted he would be when you did. As he kept staring at you he noticed he was having trouble focusing on his work. So he politely asked you to only wear these at home, that way it won't matter how distracted he is.

Scaramouche didn't want you to know he was paying attention to your new addition of attire. He did notice of course, he had perfectly working eyes and so did other people. Which was a whole other problem, he kept glaring at every other man and woman who looked at you with the same look he did. This didn't sit too well with him but he also didn't want to ask you not to wear them, he likes them a lot.

Dottore joked about you waring them during work and you took it seriously. As soon as you began noticing him looking you began to tease him by walking by him slowly, reaching up to a high shelf, smirking at him. It wasn't long before he reached his breaking point. He pinned you against the first clean table and urged you to wrap your legs around him and grind and to not take the thigh highs off.

Childe noticed as soon as you walked out and asking him to spar. Too bad he couldn't focus on anything properly, he was too busy noticing how nicely the thigh highs hug your legs, and how they're just a bit tight on you. Instead of sparing he manages to tackle you down and throw your legs over his shoulders. A smirk plays on his lips as he slowly starts kissing your thighs as you throw your head back.

Wriothesley doesn't stop looking at your legs for the entire day. He will do it very shamessly too, glaring at you with no intention of hiding what that specific clothing does to him. At the end of the day it's no surprise that you find yourself in his office, on his desk, legs spread open by his strong hands and his eyes almost feral looking. What he would do to be able to spend the whole day like this.

Dainsleif tries to be a gentleman and help you put them on and take them off every morning. Yet his hands and fingers linger more and more with each passing day. Soon he can hardly pull away from you without leaning in for a deep kiss and caressing your legs up and down as you moan his name. Eventually he does help you put them on, but not before taking them off before then.

Sethos knows it gets really hot out in the sandy desert and assumes that's why you put them on. However it soon becomes obvious to him that the real reason is to get him to look your way more often. Not that he doesn't look at you already, but now he tends to do it a lot more. Before he never thought that something so simple as thigh highs would be so captivating, it seems he was very wrong.

Zhongli appreciates all beautiful things in life, and yes, that includes the way your legs look in thigh highs. He likes to lay his head on your lap when he's feeling tired and catch even a few minutes of rest with your hands running through his care. The only downside to those moments is that sometimes his fangs catch on and rip the delicate material. Since then he's been a lot more careful.

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princesssmars · 6 months ago

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teasing abby not on purpose but kind of on purpose… nsfw.

you knew as soon as your sink started acting weird you were gonna be screwed. it was only a matter of time until the stupid thing broke, and then you’d have to call your annoying ass landlord to call an even more annoying maintenance company to come fix it.

which you knew they never would. for some reason they loved to schedule people to come fix things in the middle of the day when you had to go to work, then blaming you for being five minutes late like you didn’t cause three traffic accidents just to get over there.

but now, as your broken sink is spouting water like a fire hydrant and you’re soaked from head to toe, you find yourself with only two choices. and you choose the hotter one.

you hadn't been seeing abby for long, only officially dating for around a few weeks at this point. but she was sweet, strong, and exceptionally good with her hands. she'd offered to help build a mounted shelf you were looking at on amazon last week, so you figured she had to have at least some experience with fixing things, right?

you only start to realize the mental jump you took when she's laughing at you over the phone, telling you she doesn't have much plumbing experience but she'll do what she can. really, its no problem, she's right down the street.

until you heard a knock at your door less than four minutes later while you were trying to take every towel you had to put on the floor, hoping to avoid an altercation with your neighbor below you for flooding her and her four secret cats.

so that's the only reason you open the door and give abby a view of you with a soaked-through tank top and no bra. truly, the only reason.

it's not like anyone can blame you when you get her reaction. she's notoriously not subtle at anything, and its intensity is dialed up to a twenty-five as she stared at the wet fabric barely hiding your nipples, only brought out of it when you snap your fingers and loudly clear your throat to bring her attention to how shes supposed to be helping you with your problem.

she was really selling herself short, setting herself in front of the sink and fixing whatever the problem was in less than ten minutes. it’s funny how her eyes keep darting to you when she reaches for some tools, wondering why on earth you hadn’t changed yet because there was no way you were going to suffer in a tiny cold shirt just to rile her up, right?

wrong. we’re you discreetly shivering when she would turn away and start doing her thing again? yes. was it worth it just to see the way her arms flexed as she tightened and pulled and how the muscles in her back showed through her ridiculously tight top…

once she finishes she helps you with cleaning up the mess, mopping up any excess water and removing any towels that have been soaked through, piling them in your washer and starting the cycle. when she comes back to your room she feels like her heart is going to leap out of her chest because you’re still wearing the damn shirt.

“seriously?” she raises her brow, crossing her arms and fighting off the urge to smirk when she notices how your eyes track them.

“what? i like this shirt, has a nice neckline.”

you’re smiling, and then she’s smiling, and then she’s crossing the room in a second and pushing you down on the bed-

but it’s obvious that she agreed with you - it was a cute shirt. which is why she only pushes the neckline down to suck and bite at your chest until you’re nearly crying and begging for her instead of taking the whole thing off.

“what’s the matter? you were teasing me so much, can’t i return the favor?” her words are mumbled as she bites into the side of your breast, laugh reverberating in her chest at your gasp and the jerk of your leg held under her hand.

but luckily for you abby was sweet and way too pent up, so it wasn’t long before she was shoving her hand into your pants and stuffing her fingers inside you, face still planted in your boobs as she brought you to a strong orgasm. and then another. and then another.

yeah. you were glad you didn’t call your landlord.

horny work daydreams are not a game

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby #tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson smut #tlou x reader

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darknight3904 · 2 months ago

Text

𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘰

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘖𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥…

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024).

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.9𝘬

𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘚𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

It was an understatement to say Logan Howlett was good-looking. Every day waking up next to him was like an episode of America's, or well, Canada's next top model.

If there was a god up there, you wanted to thank them for whatever was in Logan's genetics, Even now, with messy hair and half awake, he was giving you butterflies.

"Quit starin', bub." Logan huffs as he brushes by you to get to the coffee maker.

You swore he was some alien from another planet. Seriously, how was he this hot?

Even at work, you found yourself daydreaming about him.

"Y'know, you're not paid to slack off." Matt huffed as he rearranged a shelf that some kid had messed up.

Your coworker's words had you groaning in annoyance. How could he be so inconsiderate? Interrupting your thoughts like that?

"The shop is literally empty!" You huff looking around at the little bookstore.

"Well, if I don't have a hot boyfriend to dream about, I don't see why you should get the privilege to." Matt grinned

"Whatever." You roll your eyes, "Not my fault he's the whole package."

Nearly a week had passed since you had gotten to have real alone time with Logan. Between work, running Laura around, and Wade's impromptu visits to your shared apartment, you and Logan hadn't seen much of each other.

Normally, you'd be able to accept this, after all life was busy. But, today it was like someone had lit a fire under you and the only way to put it out was with Logan in between your thighs.

Perhaps it was just because it was ovulation week, but all you could think about was getting home and pulling Logan into bed with you. God, you missed him so much...you were a ball of hormones and want as your mind wandered, imagining little versions of you and Logan running around the apartment, terrorizing Laura and Wade when he visited.

Friday night was often filled with stress, usually, you were sitting on uncomfortable metal bleachers, watching Laura's soccer games. But, this week was different, the game had been rained out and Laura had convinced you and Logan that she could sleep over at a friend's house.

The soft clink of keys had you turning towards the front door. Finally, Logan was home.

"I'm back." He announced as your cat, Jingle jumped from your lap to greet the man.

"Missed you." You smile as he plops down on the couch next to you, pressing his lips to your forehead briefly

"Wade kept me out longer than I thought he would." Logan says, "His fucking mouth is going to get him killed one day."

"If he could die." You snort

Logan lets out an amused scoff as he pulls you into his lap, eagerly pressing a kiss to your neck. His hands are a welcome weight as they settle on your hips, squeezing at the soft flesh there.

"Laura at her friends?" He asks with a coy smile

"Mmhm. Dropped her off myself." You say, wiggling your hips a bit in anticipation.

" Gonna take a shower," He says, "Meet me in the bedroom?"

You giggle and smile at the mischievous look on his face.

"Make it quick." You press a kiss on his cheek.

The scent of Logan's shampoo wafts down the hallway as you shimmy into something you've been keeping a secret for a few weeks. A lacy blue babydoll lingerie dress sits on your body as you quickly step into the matching thong it came with. You stand in front of the full-length mirror Logan hung on the back of the door to your shared bedroom.

You mess around with your hair, trying to find the perfect look, and then swipe on a strawberry-flavored gloss, one of Logan's favorites. You can't help but feel a bit giddy as you take in your appearance. Messy hair, shiny lips, and the perfect little number on your frame, you're sure to drive Logan even crazier than he already was for you.

The squeaking of the bathroom door's hinge's have you whirling around, unsure if you should lay on the bed, or perhaps sit on the edge.

You don't get a chance to make up your mind as Logan pushes the bedroom door open. A deep green towel is wrapped around his waist as your eyes greedily roam his perfect torso.

Logan sucks in a breath as he crosses the room to be closer to you. A big hand runs up your side, ghosting over your chest and then back down to land on your waist.

"Where'd you get this?" He smiles, eyes anywhere but your face.

"bought it a couple of weeks ago." You softly say, suddenly shy under his gaze, "Do you like it?"

"Love it." Logan smiles, meeting your eyes and letting the towel drop from his waist.

You let him push you down into the soft sheets of your shared bed, moaning a bit when his hands begin to wander.

Warm lips press against your neck, and then your collarbone, and then they begin to trail down to your chest. Logan's hands push the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders and his mouth begins to softly tease one of your nipples while one hand delivers feather-light touches over your panties to the mess between your legs.

Logan's mouth leaves your chest as he pulls you to the edge of the bed, letting his knees hit the ground as he gently pushes your legs apart. His hands pull your panties down and you hear a deep groan when the wet fabric finally hits the floor.

"Missed her," Logan says, pressing a miss to your upper thigh

You roll your eyes at his comment, he had recently taken up talking to your cunt, referring to it as her.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he buries his head between your thighs, licking up your slit and gently sucking at your clit.

"Ugh, Logan..." You groan, you're extra sensitive after a week apart.

Your hips jump off the bed when he slips two fingers into you, pressing at the spongy part that only he can reach.

"Fuck-" You gasp as he sucks at your clit again, this time rougher than the last.

Finally, this is what you needed, you groaned again as you pictured what was coming next. Your stomach tightened with need for release as your cunt wept and ruined the sheets below you. You were desperate for his cock, craving the way you knew it'd stretch you out, putting an end to the past week of torture.

Logan pushes your hips back down as your body goes taut and your orgasm takes over. Your hands tug at his soft brown hair as your chest heaves.

Logan presses a kiss to your clit one more time before sitting back, his eyes looking up at you.

"Not bad." You sigh, a dopey smile on your face

Logan lets out a scoff as he stands up and pulls you further up the bed with him. You greedily run your hands down his chest, admiring the way his muscles tense as your fingertips tease them.

"Greedy," Logan comments as you pull him on top of you

"Can't help it." You sigh, "I've missed you."

"I can tell. She's like a fucking waterpark down there." Logan laughs as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"You're gross." You comment as you feel your face heat up

"Only for you," Logan says

You suppose you might've had a clever retort but the push of the cock that you had craved all week long has you shutting your mouth.

Logan's hips gently meet yours as he sets a slow pace. A quiet moan leaves his lips as you wiggle below him. The stretch of him is as good as you remember but you need more.

"Harder." You groan as he looks down at you

"Don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart," Logan says worriedly

You a frustrated breath tumbles from your lips as you wiggle your hips unhappily. Logan was always so considerate and gentle with you. Always taking his time and making sure you were okay. He was truly ethereal in the bedroom. But, right now he was driving you nuts.

Logan lets out a loud oof as you push him off you and down onto the bed. You can tell he's confused as you settle yourself into his lap and reach into the bedside drawer.

A smirk plays on his lips as a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs come into his line of sight.

"Those for you?" He asks, "Want me to tie you up, bub?"

You roll your eyes as he plays with the thin strap of the lingerie that had fallen off your shoulders.

"They're for you." You smile as you grab his wrists, pulling them behind his head so he's stuck to your bed frame.

Logan's smile falters a bit but he lets you maneuver his arms anyway, "I can break these, easily."

"But you won't." You whisper into his ear and bite at the flesh there

"But I won't." Logan softly says, his eyes following your figure

Warm butterflies swim in his stomach as you line him up with your cunt again. He's never tried this position with you before, fearing it might be too much, after all, he wasn't the smallest guy around.

A soft groan leaves your lips as you sink down on him again. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders a bit as his head falls back a bit.

"New position?" He asks, regaining his confidence when he sees you're not in pain

"Mmhm." You say, focused on moving your hips

Logan's eyes widen as he lets you take what you want. The soft fuzz on the handcuffs tickles his skin as he itches to run his hands up and down your pretty body.

"Careful," He cautions you as you roughly move your hips above him

"Logan..." You groan, your eyes squeezed shut

He groans, as your pace quickens. The lust that clouds his brain is a tough fog that he can barely think through. He's worried that you're going to hurt yourself like this.

"M-Missed you so much." You confess, "Been thinking about you all damn week."

"Yeah?" Logan smiles and presses a kiss to your collarbone

"Yeah..." You sigh, "I've been so fucking horny lately."

Perhaps it's your admission or the lacy little thing that has yet to come off your body, or the new position, Logan's not entirely sure, but something in him snaps. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so worried about treating you like some delicate little flower.

The handcuffs don't stand a chance as he frees himself, from them. His hands come up and he quickly pulls out of you. A loud frustrated whine leaves your lips as you let him manhandle you.

"Logan I want to-"

He cuts you off as he spins you around and presses your chest down into the bed. You can feel the way he towers over you as he palms your ass, clearly liking the way it's on display for him.

"Have you ever tried this one?" His deep voice crowds your mind as he pushes into you again. A long moan leaves your lips as he chuckles at your submission.

A wonton cry leaves your lips below him as he finally moves his hips, cock hitting all the right places inside you.

Finally, you were getting what you wanted.

Not me disappearing into the void and then coming back and deciding it's the perfect time to write a bunch of smut...

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1K notes · View notes

occamstfs · 9 months ago

Text

No Need to Apply

Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam

Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.

It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.

Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.

Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.

In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air.

He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.”

Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”

Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”

It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.

He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears.

Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.

Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole.

He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right?

He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control.

Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.

The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom.

His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view.

He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.

He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.

He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.

Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent.

Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.

Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?

He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at.

Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.

If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #muscle tf #jockification #reality change #musk tf

928 notes · View notes

megwritesriddles · 3 months ago

Text

Redhanded ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 5 - Spanking. Reader is caught in the restricted section after curfew by none other than Head Boy Tom Riddle, notorious for his harsh punishments. But he has something else in mind, just for her.

Tags: Spanking, Impact play, Fingering, Dubious consent, Abuse of power, Head boy Riddle, Punishment, Under-negotiated kink, Degradation, Praise kink, Spit kink, Dom!Riddle, Sub!Reader, Teasing, Kinda fluffy right at the end.

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 2.8k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I went with my original idea for the plot of this one, meaning I'm still not sure what the plot for blackmail (day 15, also tom) will be!! I've had a few suggestions but I'm still open to more, send 'em in if you have them!! I personally found this one very hot, fingers crossed you agree!! Hope you like it mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The night felt darker than usual, the moon and stars covered by a thick blanket of clouds. An early October chill ran throughout the castle, nothing unbearable, just enough to make you shiver periodically. Your fingers traced the spines of various old tomes, your lips pursed as you searched intently. In an attempt to counter the oppressive darkness, you squint to try and read the titles. Call it academic curiosity, that had led you into the restricted section in the middle of the night, but there might have been a little more than that behind it. You rounded the end of a row of bookshelves, continuing your search on the other side. You couldn’t seem to find what you were looking for, but it had to be here, it seemed incredibly unlikely that it would have been taken out by another student. Passes to the restricted section were handed out incredibly scarcely, and permission to borrow a book, to take it elsewhere in the castle where a younger student might come across it, was even more rare. You were lucky, the enchanted rope guarding the section didn’t have a concept of time, which they really should have realised by now. Using the pass that Slughorn had given you for your extra credit project you were able to get in semi-legitimately. Sure, you weren’t supposed to be here after curfew, but at least you did technically have permission to be here, just some other time.

Several other books pique your interest as you search, but you still can’t find exactly the book you came for. You sigh quietly in frustration, watching the puff of air that comes from your mouth displace some dust on the shelf in front of you, rattling a nearby cobweb. Drumming your fingers against the dusty shelf and staring out of the filthy window, you try to think if you’ve missed anything. You’ve searched every related section up and down, even checking the small fiction section for the author’s name, just in case it was somehow incorrectly categorised, then you had tried the history section, wondering if the book was so old that it had been put there. No such luck, of course. What bothered you the most was the lack of any noticeable gaps anywhere in the shelves, suggesting that it shouldn’t be missing either. Had they removed it from the library? Why would they have? You’d come across several books that were more controversial or more out of date during your search. Why would they–?

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the sudden voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Your blood runs cold, your whole body tenses painfully and you let out a little squeak. You whip around to find the owner of the voice, glaring. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“Are you trying to kill me?” you hiss, too high on adrenaline to assess if this was a good move. The owner of the voice, Tom Riddle, smirks ever so slightly at that before his face turns neutral again.

“My apologies, but you are breaking the rules quite callously, Miss,” he answers smoothly. He stands tall, hands clasped neatly behind his back, looking nothing short of unamused. In the dim lighting, he almost looks black and white, his Head Boy badge glinting on his chest. You frown at him.

“I’m allowed to be here,” you answer stupidly, because, no, you’re not actually and he knows it too. He raises a brow.

“You are, are you?” the corners of his lips twitch up. “And who, pray tell, gave you this permission?” he taunts, taking a measured step toward you. With a sigh, you present the permission slip from Slughorn to him. His hand comes from behind his back to take it from you, his fingers long and elegant. He inspects the pass. “There’s no stipulation here about nighttime visits,” he hums.

“Perhaps I misread,” you laugh anxiously. He gives you a look, telling you he isn’t buying this.

“We both know you’re too intelligent for that,” he drawls. You can’t help the slight smile that flashes over your face at the acknowledgement of your intelligence. He smiles too, but his smile feels predatory. The two of you don’t know each other well, never sharing classes or friendship circles. You’re peripherally aware of one another, having been in the same year group for the last seven years. Of course, these days, you’re more aware of him through his position as Head Boy. His patrols, his occasional speeches at dinners and his overall use as an example by many professors made it impossible to only be vaguely aware of him anymore. It flattered you slightly to realise he knew anything about you at all since he likely would have had to seek this information out on purpose. He hands you the slip back. “I’ll have to come to Slughorn about getting that slip taken from you, but as it is, I don’t have the authority to take it from you without his permission,” he talks slowly, you can tell he seems annoyed that he can not strip you of these privileges. “In the meantime, I can dish out punishment for being out after curfew, unless you have another permission slip you’d like to produce,”

“No,” you sigh and he smiles, nodding.

“Good girl,” he purrs. You glare at him for his condescending language, but neither of you misses the blush that blossoms on your cheeks. He just smiles. “Now, punishments…” he taps his chin mockingly. “Any suggestions?” you roll your eyes. Riddle was known among the student body for being fairly harsh in his punishments for those he didn’t wish to keep friendly with, usually only for networking reasons. You’d never been caught misbehaving by him before, you didn’t tend to misbehave much at all, just your luck that the one time you do, it’s him who catches you. You doubted strongly that he considered you a friend, and you didn’t have much to offer in the way of connections. You just purse your lips in annoyance, waiting for him to reveal how many hours you’d be doing in detention. He looks you up and down for a moment. “Do you like the idea of detention?” he asks, his voice low.

“No, obviously not,” you scoff. He inches closer.

“What if I came up with an alternative punishment? A special one just for you…” He whispers, towering above you, you feel his breath fanning over your forehead. You wish you didn’t have to give him the satisfaction of tipping your head back to meet his eyes. You scrutinise him for a moment, taking in his subtle smirk.

“Like what?”

“So many questions,” he tuts. “Yes or no? You can have your ten hours of detention if you really like,” he grins. Ten hours? That was just ridiculous, but you knew he wasn’t bluffing. He would find a way to write you up for that many hours if he really wanted to. You knew it was a trap, even as you walked right in.

“Yes, fine, alternative punishment,” you sigh in defeat. He takes ahold of one of your wrists, making you jolt slightly. He’s dragging you out of the library before your brain can catch up. He strides confidently through the halls, not a care in the world about being caught leading you around for whatever nefarious purposes he had. You discern after a little while that you’re being led to the Head’s dormitories. “Where are we going?” you try, but he ignores you, pulling you up to the portrait. He whispers something to it, too quiet for you to hear, and the portrait swings open. You don’t have much time to register your unfamiliar surroundings before he’s yanking you through the small common room down a hall and then into what you can only imagine is his bedroom. It’s quite large, especially for only one person. It’s about the size of the dorm that you have to share between five, with it’s own attached bathroom. You take a moment to take the room in when he lets go of your wrist, sitting himself on the edge of his bed and loosening his tie. There should have been loud alarm bells ringing in your mind, your feet should have been carrying you out of there, but your eyes are glued in awe on the crest carved into the wood of his door instead.

“Over my knee,” he commands lowly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“What?!” you gawk at him in shock. He grins.

“Over my knee, darling,” he repeats smoothly, eyes dark. You shake your head, your mouth opening and shutting in bewilderment. “Don’t make me drag you over here, this will be humiliating enough for you,”

“What- what about the Head Girl?” you squeak lamely, glancing back at the door. You feel a little tingle in your abdomen as his dark eyes remained fixed on you, promising to carry out this punishment.

“Hospital wing,” he answers simply, rubbing his thigh. You gawp again and he rolls his eyes. “Not my doing, honestly darling, what do you think I am?” he scoffs, although there's a discomforting glint in his eye. “Now, come here,” he growls. You don’t understand why you comply, walking over to him and hesitating before lowering yourself down over his thighs. You flush deeply at the realisation of what’s happening. He pushes your hair to the side, tilting your head so you’re looking up at him. “Aren’t you a good girl?” he coos, mockingly touching your overheated cheek. Your eyes are wide and worried, his thumb rubs your cheek just under your eye. “It’ll be over before you know it, darling,” His hand moves, wrapping around the back of your thigh, his thumb brushing the underside of your rear. You gasp. He chuckles, letting your head fall back down, your forehead hitting the mattress. He flips up your skirt and you squirm, blushing brightly. His fingertip traces the edge of your plain cotton underwear, light pink. “Cute, very like you,” he hums. You grumble shyly. His hand smooths over the swell of your ass, making you shiver. His other arm wraps around your shoulders to secure you. “Let’s do fifteen, shall we?” he doesn’t wait for an answer.

His hand collides with your rear with a loud smack, jolting you forward slightly. You whimper at the pain but find oddly that there’s a sensation blooming in the pit of your stomach, a pleasant incessant feeling as he delivers a couple more smacks. He pauses for a moment, rubbing his hand gently over you, feeling the warmth that blooms where he’s hit, gripping greedily at your flesh. You find yourself moaning softly. Thwack, thwack, thwack. He delivers a few more. With each one, the feeling is more pleasant, your skin tingling under his ministrations. He takes a moment, gently rubbing up and down your back, almost like he’s soothing you. He feels you rising and falling with your sharp breaths under his hand. He administers a few more spanks again, a little harder now, but you don’t mind much. You’re mortified at how much you’re liking this. This should be painful and humiliating, and it is, yet you’re loving it. His hand rests on your backside lightly for a moment and find yourself keening and pushing yourself back into his hand. He laughs in disbelief.

“Oh darling, you’re liking this aren’t you?” he taunts, smacking you once more. He shifts slightly and then chuckles deeper, noticing a dark wet patch on your underwear. “You’re really liking this,” his hand settles between your cheeks, rubbing at your clothed heat. You whimper and arch your back. “You’re soaking darling,” he coos. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re a whimpering mess,” he moves his hand up to pull down your underwear, it peels slowly away from your core, the cool air hitting your wetness and making you shiver. He uses both hands to grip you, spreading you gently open for his eyes. You whine and grip the sheets. “Naughty girl…” he purrs, watching as you twitch. “So needy,” he spits onto your cunt, making you shiver as the cool spit trickles down you. “I always had a feeling you’d like this, but darling, I could have never guessed what dirty girl you are,” you moan at his words, hating how true they are. His fingertip comes to gently tease against your folds. You push back against him desperately. He withdraws his hand and gives you another firm smack as a punishment. “Needy little whore can’t even wait a second, can she?” he chastises, gripping the flesh of your ass harshly. You sob in desperation, you’ve never felt so needy in your life. You’re willing to beg. You’ve never felt like this before.

“Please, please, need your fingers,” you pant like you’re in heat. For a moment, nothing happens, and you let out another sob. But then, like mercy from God, his middle finger laves through your folds once more. It simply strokes up and down for a little while, focusing fleetingly on your sensitive nub before tracing around your entrance, making you whimper desperately. After he’s satisfied that you’re about to tear up with desperation, he slowly eases his finger in. You mewl, arching your back, your entire face flushed. He drags the tip of his finger against your inner walls, mapping you out, getting to know all your favourite spots. His finger pumps slowly in and out, making soft squelches. He breathes raggedly above moving his free hand to press against your burning cheek, cupping your chin gently. You look up at him, your eyes glazed over with need and he looks pleased.

“You’re beautiful, naughty girl,” he exhales, carefully pressing his ring finger into you as well, starting to pump a bit faster, watching as your lips part with soft wanton noises. “You’ve taken your punishment so well,” he soothes, the heel of his palm smacking against you as he fucks you on his fingers. You whine in response, eyes locked on his. The sight of him looking at you so lustfully drives you crazy, bringing your orgasm closer by the second. He rubs his thumb against your lips as you jolt back and forth with the force of his thrusts. He presses the pad of it against your bottom lip and you take the cue, drawing him into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking on his thumb, moaning desperately around it. “Perfect obedient little slut,” he growls, his fingers moving faster inside you. Slick noises fill the room along with your muffled moans. Your eyes roll back. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Give in to me,”

“Tom!” you gasp around his thumb, your whole body shaking with the force of your orgasm, white-hot heat exploding in your belly. You pulse around his fingers and he grins, working you through it slowly. Your eyes slip shut and you lean heavily against his hand that cups your cheek, struggling for breath. He withdraws his fingers slowly, making you whine softly. He turns you over slightly, pressing his slick fingers into your mouth. You flush, accepting them onto your tongue and tasting yourself, looking up at him with big vulnerable eyes. He withdraws his fingers, pressing them into his own mouth, sucking them clean with a pop, smirking down at you. The shame is washing over you as you lie there, realising what you’ve done, how you’ve acted. You feel mortified, but Riddle is manoeuvring you to sit on his lap, bringing his lips to yours. Your rear stings as you settle onto his lap, but he kisses you affectionately, exchanging the taste of you between your mouths.

“You’ll stay here tonight, you’re bound to get caught if you head out at this hour,” he mumbles between kisses. You pull back, tilting your head questioningly. “You don’t want another punishment, do you, naughty girl?” he teases, his hands settling onto your waist. “Other people’s punishments may not be as fun as mine,” you blush and scoff a small laugh, looking down at the ground. He brushes his knuckle against your still-flushed cheek. “Well… Did my punishment work? Are you going to be breaking the rules again?” he teases, pulling you down to lie on the bed with him. You’re surprised by this softer side of him, you’d caught a few glimpses of it as he’d been pleasuring you, but you’ve never seen him like this before. It’s like he likes you, and he never likes anyone.

“Only if I know it’ll be you catching me,” you whisper shyly, unsure how he’ll react. He just chuckles, pulling you into his embrace.

“Oh, I will make sure no one else ever catches you again, darling,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

Suggestions here! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

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andvys · 5 months ago

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty five ⭐︎ Who could stay? You could stay

Warnings: none really, just a lot of fluff, a bittersweet ending, lots of love and tooth rotting sweetness

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve take another step and move into a whole new chapter.

Word count: 8.5k

Author's note: this is it, guys. this is the last chapter, all we got is an epilogue coming and thats it, the story is nearly over! It's been six months of dwoht!!!! six months of plotting and writing with @hellfire--cult ily roe, thank you for doing this with me ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

Moving boxes litter your entire house, some are in the hallway, the kitchen and the living room, some already emptied, some of them are still unopened, sealed with duct tape. Most boxes are in your bedroom though, yours and Steve’s bedroom.

David Bowie’s voice sounds through the speakers, the wind that blows through your open window touches your bare skin, you are only wearing a t-shirt of his, your hair is pulled up in a scrunchie that he picked out for you when you went shopping together, your knees dig into the soft carpet beneath you as you sort through his movie and comic collection, taking them out of the box and stacking them up on your shelf where you had already made space for him. You were honestly a little surprised to find the Captain America comic books in one of his drawers back at his house, he never mentioned them nor did you see him ever holding a comic book in his hand but apparently he only liked them when he was a kid and he grew out of his ‘nerdy’ phase when he turned thirteen. Sure. He told you not to pack them, he told you he doesn’t need them anymore but you saw the look in his eyes, the comfort that teenage boy got from getting lost in a world of superheroes, so you packed them into the box and now they’re finding home on your shelf, ready for him to reach whenever.

You don’t feel his eyes on you at this moment, you are too focused on the memories he packed, on the pictures you find next, of the teens, of Robin and Eddie, of his parents and some of his from his childhood, pictures of you.

Steve had never felt more at peace than he does now, standing in your now shared bedroom, he is sorting through his clothes, placing them on the hangers and into your closet, he is sneaking glances at you, wearing the biggest smile on his face. Your hair is falling out of the scrunchie, his shirt is riding up on your thighs, a soft look resides in your eyes and on your lips as you flip through the pictures he took to his new home. His heart skips strongly as he looks at you, he’s got everything he ever wanted, absolutely everything.

When you asked him to move in with you after only two weeks of dating, he didn’t waste a second to say ‘yes’, perhaps he even sounded a little too desperate when that word left his lips but he couldn’t help it. He hated to be away from you, even more so than before, when you weren’t dating yet. He didn’t want to spend a second without you, and neither did you. You clung to each other from the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend, not a single night was spent without the other. You ate breakfast, lunch and dinner together, you showered together and cuddled on the couch in front of the tv, every night. You never went to sleep without one another, so ‘why wait?’, you said before you asked him.

He had no trouble leaving his house, it was only ever home because of you and he felt more at home here than he ever did back there. He felt no sadness to leave it behind, only excitement and happiness to enter this chapter of your life together.

Steve looks at the polaroid camera next to your bed, feeling the urge to keep this moment not only in his memory but also in a picture. He places his yellow sweater into your closet before he makes his way over to the nightstand, he picks up the camera and turns it on, removing the cap leans, he tip toes closer to you and kneels down, squinting one eye shut as he aims the camera at you and he captures a perfect moment.

A look of surprise flashes in your features, your brows are pulled up, your lips parted as you stare at the notes in your hand, the notes that fell out of the little notebook that you can only assume to be from his days at school. You didn’t mean to open it or even look inside, it could be a diary, after all. But the notes fell out when you took it out of the box.

You blink, once, twice. You feel as though your eyes are betraying you as you read the words on the white paper. The ink is a little faded, but you can still see every letter clearly.

Your heart is skipping in your chest.

What are you looking at perv?

Your handwriting.

Your note.

You remember that day, you remember how you caught him staring at you, throughout the whole class, the hopeless girl in you was blushing but… the teenage you was annoyed, thinking that he was just messing with you, thinking that he somehow found out about your crush on him and decided to tease you, to play with you.

You put the note down on your lap and read the other.

Very funny, are you running out of girls to flirt with, King Steve?

You don’t even hear the clicking sound of the camera, you pay no mind to the flash going off either. You are too surprised by what you see as you keep flipping through the notes that he kept, the ones he kept for years, back when he didn’t even like you.

You flinch in surprise when you feel a pair of arms around your waist but quickly relax and melt into him, into his embrace, into his warm touch. Your lips curl into a smile when his own press soft kisses to your neck, whispering into your skin.

“King Steve was an idiot, wasn’t he? He couldn’t throw away these notes but still kept acting like a dick to you.”

The thought of him struggling to throw your notes into the trash, makes your chest swell with warmth.

You tilt your head back to face your boyfriend, you place the notes down and wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Did… you keep them on purpose?” You ask as for a moment, you thought that he might’ve forgotten them.

“I did, my heart just didn’t allow me to throw them away.”

You chuckle at his words and shake your head, “yeah, sure.”

“It’s true, honey!” He exclaims, squeezing your waist.

You flinch in surprise, a giggle falling from your lips as you hold his wrists tighter.

“It always knew who it belonged to.” He whispers with no humor in his voice, just genuine honesty, because it’s true, his heart knew, it always knew.

“You’re such a sap, Steve Harrington,” you say, though with nothing but a wide smile on your lips.

“Yeah, I’m your sap,” he grins, clinging tighter to your waist, he nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing you in and kissing you there, feeling his heart swelling in excitement, in love as he thinks of his future now, a future he thought he would only ever dream of, a future you both want, with one another. He will get to wake beside you every morning, with you in his arms, greeted by your soft touch, by your sweet kisses, he will get to sit at the breakfast table with you, write the grocery list with you while you enjoy your morning coffee, he will kiss you before leaving for work and he will come home, not to an empty house like he used to, no, he will come to you, his home.

You cup the side of his face when you tilt your head back, chasing his lips with your own, you both giggle when your noses bump together before your mouths touch and you both get lost in the sweet kiss you can never get enough of.

His feelings grow stronger and stronger, each passing second, they get bigger and brighter, evolving into something he never thought was even possible to feel, something bigger than love, something he can’t even describe with words, even if he tried to but he feels like the happiest man in the world – in the fucking universe.

He feels bonded to you, he belongs to you and you to him.

He pulls away from the kiss with an even bigger smile on his face than before, he caresses your cheek and looks into your eyes, “I think… no, I know,” he corrects himself, pressing his lips to yours once more, “you’re my soulmate.”

A soft giggle escapes you, you tilt your head to the side and move closer to him. Staring at the loving look in his hazel eyes, the relaxed and happy smile he now constantly wears.

“You really think–”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, “I know so,” he whispers against your mouth, “my heart knows, I know.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper and wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck, crawling into his lap, he happily pulls you tighter against him. “I love the sound of that.”

“I chose you.”

“Oh, did you?” You giggle. “We weren’t made for each other? You just chose me? That’s how it works?”

Steve squeezes your waist, moving one hand up your body, he cradles your face again and tucks your hair behind your ear, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “oh honey, I think we were made with each other, but I still chose you,” he whispers in confidence, though struggling to word his feelings, his beliefs correctly.

You gaze into his eyes, trying to make sense of his words, though your mind can follow, your heart understands.

“Well, I chose you back, Steve Harrington.”

He smiles and he can’t hold back from kissing you again, kissing the love of his life, kissing you until he can no longer breathe.

Neither of you heard the car pull up into your driveway, or the slam of the front door, or the loud ‘hello’. You are too caught up in each other, in the kiss, in the perfect touches.

“Guys?” Eddie’s voice sounds through the house, “I brought food!”

You are the first to pull away, giggling when he frowns at you and chases after your lips, pecking them once more.

“He brought food.”

“Mhmm, I’d rather eat something else right now,” he murmurs and trails his kisses down to your neck, holding your waist tighter when you try to move away.

Your stomach flips, skin growing warm beneath his hands and his lips, “l-later, Stevie…” You stutter, trying to control your breathing when his lips find that one spot.

“Guys, stop fucking or I swear to Ozzy, I’m gonna come upstairs and–”

“Alright, alright!” Your boyfriend yells out to him, chuckling, “we’re coming!”

“We so are coming,” you giggle into his ear, kissing his cheek before you pull away from him, amused by the groan that falls from his lips, “later.”

His hands fall from your waist as you stand up and walk over to your dresser to grab a pair of shorts to wear, not wanting to flash your best friend by accident.

Steve gets up as well, though his eyes never leave your form, they’re glued on your butt. He licks his lips as he watches you bend over, those silky pink panties look so perfect to rip off… later. He nearly groans again when you pull your black shorts over them. Coming up from behind, he grabs a handful of your ass, earning a squeal from you that only makes him grin when you look back at him.

“You’re obsessed,” you snort and swat his hand away weakly.

“With you? Yes, I am,” he smiles proudly as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and starts leading you out into the hallway.

“No, with my ass.”

At that, he grabs your ass again, giving it a squeeze, “that too.”

Your giggle echoes through the hallway, and your best friend instantly looks up at the sound of that, standing in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by Steve’s boxes, with two bags of takeout and a confused frown on his face.

“Hey guys.”

“Hi Eds,” you smile at your best friend.

Steve greets him happily, a big smile resting on his face, Eddie isn’t sure if he has ever seen him like this but ever since you two started dating, Steve hasn’t stopped smiling and you are just the same, you’re basically skipping down the stairs, your eyes are shining, your skin is glowing, you are the happiest you have ever been.

You and Steve found each other.

Two pieces that always belonged together.

Two pieces that became one.

Eddie’s eyes move back to all the boxes in your hallway, the handwriting on them is unmistakably Steve’s.

“So uh, what’s all this?” He asks, he has an idea of what this is but a part of him believes that he is just mistaking something.

You and Steve glance at each other, eyes lighting up even more, lips curling into even bigger smiles. You bite your lip and turn back to Eddie.

“Steve is moving in!”

Eddie’s brown eyes grow wide, his lips part in surprise and he nearly drops both bags of takeout, he stares between you two with an expression on his face that nearly makes you both laugh.

He looks around again, catching a glimpse of Steve’s favorite armchair now standing in your living room, along with an opened box, a blanket falling out of it, the one that always decorated the big couch in the living room back at his house.

Clearly, you aren’t joking.

He squints his eyes as he looks back at the two of you, watching the way your boyfriend pulls you back into his chest, his arms slowly moving around your waist.

“Uh, aren’t you guys moving a little too quickly?” He asks, looking between you both bewildered.

You and Steve turn to face one another, you both smile, gazing into each other’s eyes for a moment. His flash with… mischief as his hand begins to travel south, settling on your lower belly.

You both turn back to the metalhead.

“Nah,” you speak in unison.

Eddie blinks, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Steve.

“We uh… sort of cooked a little nugget… a little too soon,” Steve explains, biting back his laugh.

You press your lips together as you stare at your best friend. You place your hand over Steve’s and lean your head back on his shoulder, melting into him when he kisses your temple.

If Eddie’s eyes could grow any wider, they would. He blinks a few times before he closes his eyes completely, shaking his head, his curls bounce. He furrows his brows so strongly, he looks as though he is in pain. He opens his eyes again and takes a deep breath, he looks at your serious face, at his and then at Steve’s large hand covering your stomach protectively.

Little nugget.

You and Steve wait patiently for his reaction.

“Jesus Christ! You horny fuckers don’t know how to use protection!?” He exclaims, raising his arms up, the paper bags in his hands rustle. You’re surprised they didn’t rip yet with the way he is flailing his arms around. “A little nugget!? What the– I need to sit down.”

Steve snorts quietly, amused by the shock on his face.

“Oh, this is crazy,” Eddie sighs, like a shocked father whose teenage girl just revealed her accidental pregnancy.

You can no longer hold it in, bursting into laughter, you infect Steve with it too. His arms tighten around you as you laugh at your best friend.

Eddie’s eyebrows rise up now, his jaw dropping slightly as he finally catches on.

“You really fell for it,” you giggle, blinking back the tears of amusement.

“Can you blame me!?” Eddie nearly yells, pointing at you and Steve, “you’re at it like some goddamn rabbits! Besides, we all know about his breeding kink!”

Your giggles might not ever die down today, Steve’s red cheeks make this moment even better.

“Dude,” he groans.

“It’s true,” Eddie snorts as he relaxes again, coming down from the shock.

“It is,” you nod.

Eddie opens his mouth again, though his smile quickly falls and he scrunches his nose when he looks between you both, a smirk now pulling at Steve’s lips.

“Oh… okay, yeah uh, let’s change the topic,” he shakes his head again, holding up his hand as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Alright, well, there are no nuggets on the way yet, so you can relax.”

Eddie nods, chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, so uh… are you guys hungry?”

You look down at the bags in his hand, only now registering the smell of fries, your mouth waters and your stomach feels empty, all of a sudden.

You nod and open your mouth, but before you or Steve can respond, a knock on the door interrupts you.

Eddie turns to the door before he looks back at you, brown eyes flicking back and forth between yours and your boyfriends, “are you expecting anyone?” He asks, placing the takeout bags on the dresser.

You and Steve both shrug.

“Not really,” you mumble.

Eddie steps forward and opens the door, stepping aside to let you see who is standing on the other side.

“Oh, hello ladies,” Eddie grins, waving at the little girl in Max’s arms.

Your eyes light up in excitement, a warm smile graces your face when you see your niece who is babbling away, waving with her little arms and tugging at Max’s hair who doesn’t even flinch.

“Oh my god,” you nearly squeal, leaving your boyfriend’s embrace, you make your way over to the two girls, “hi! Come here, princess!” You grin, lifting your arms up, giggling when Francine squeaks at the sight of you, making grabby hands before you take her from Max’s arms.

“I missed you so much, Francis!” You whisper and tickle her side, kissing her chubby cheek.

Steve’s heart flutters, a sweet smile tugs at his lips, his cheeks turn rosy and he feels warm all over. Every time he sees you holding your niece, he can’t help but picture you with your own little family. He takes a few steps forward, wrapping his arm around you and taking Francine’s tiny hand, “hi angel,” he whispers, cooing at her when she gets jumpy in your arms, excited to see him. He tickles her belly, making the little girl giggle, “you got so much bigger since the last time!”

Max furrows her brows, not knowing about the day you and Steve babysat Francine together. She chuckles when your niece clasps her tiny hand around his finger.

“Hi guys!” Your sister finally catches up, walking into the house, car keys in one hand and pizza boxes in the other. She stops next to Max, and nudges her shoulder against hers, “I ran into Max downtown when I stopped by to get some pizza!” She explains, placing the boxes on the dresser next to Eddie’s takeout bags, “oh, you got takeout already.”

“Yep, I got some fries and burgers for Blondie and boyfriend over here,” Eddie grins teasingly, knowing that you haven’t introduced him as your boyfriend to her in person yet, you didn’t get the chance to until now, she only just came back from her vacation.

Max snickers at your flustered expression, her and Eddie share a look, both amused by the way you’re trying to hide your face in Steve’s chest which only prompts Francine to grab a handful of his shirt, making him chuckle.

“Oh right,” your sister grins, looking between you two as she makes her way over to you, already opening her arms so she can greet you properly.

Steve lets go of you but Francine doesn’t let him step away, she still holds his finger tightly, making both him and Eddie chuckle when she stares up at him with her big eyes, babbling away.

“She’s just like her auntie,” Eddie comments, laughing when you shoot him a playful glare over your sister’s shoulder.

“How are you, Daisy?” Your sister smiles, squeezing you tightly before pulling away.

You see the teasing look in her eyes when she glances at your boyfriend behind you.

“I’m good,” you reply, unable to do it without a smile, something that makes the look in your sister’s eyes soften because it’s the first genuine ‘I’m good’ that she heard from you in years. You always lied to her about your true feelings, never letting her in, never giving her the words she wanted to hear from you, you kept it all to yourself, not wanting to ‘share’ your misery with the people around you.

She never got through to you, no matter how hard she tried, she never succeeded, but the people in this room did – Eddie and Max did, they gave you back that smile that she missed seeing on your face, they broke you out of that little shell, you were so comfortable in for the past years.

And Steve, he… gave you everything.

You are more than just good. You are happy, happy in a way you have never been before. The walls around you have crumbled completely, the look in your eyes is one of love and contentment, your skin is glowing, your eyes are shining, you are just… happy.

“So… are you gonna introduce me to your boyfriend properly this time?” She teases, only having heard from you about it all on the phone.

Your cheeks grow hot, you know how long she had been waiting for this moment, always teasing and hoping for you to finally fall in love – as though you weren’t hopeless for years already, she was pointing out cute guys for you to date, not knowing that there was only one you had your eyes set on.

“Twinkie–”

“You know that’s not my name,” your sister interrupts you with a glare, making you and Max chuckle.

“Fine,” you snort, saying her real name this time as Steve wraps his arm back around you again, pulling you into him, he grins excitedly as he stretches his hand out to your sister, like it’s their first time meeting, like she didn’t walk in on you and him cuddling on your couch with baby Francine in his arms. She takes his hand with an amused smile.

Max and Eddie share a look, amused by this little introduction.

“That’s my boyfriend Steve,” you say with a giggle, feeling your heart burst with happiness. Francine squeals in your arms, like she’s happy to hear those words, as well, making everyone laugh in the room.

“Steve, that’s my sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Twinkie,” Steve chuckles, earning a glare from her.

You lean your head on his shoulder, adjusting your baby niece on your hip. Steve lets go of your sister’s hand and wraps his arm back around you again, kissing your temple.

“I meant to say that I will kick your ass if you hurt her but I think that Max might beat me to it.”

“You’re right,” Max nods at your sister, crossing her arms over her chest, she gives Steve a pointed look, “he’ll wake up in Billy’s car again if he ever does anything stupid.”

Steve’s eyes widen, he shakes his head at her, holding his hand up slightly with Francine’s hand still wrapped around his finger, “no way, Mayfield.”

Eddie smirks as he throws his arm around Max’s shoulder, grinning at the redhead, “don’t worry, Steve. She’s getting driving lessons from me now.”

You snort.

“That’s even worse, Munson,” Steve scoffs, pointing at Max, “a maniac getting driving lessons from another maniac? Yeah, no goddamn way, you’re getting driving lessons from me now.”

Eddie looks a little offended by his words, he places his hand over his heart, “I’m a good driver.”

“Yeah, besides I’m good enough to drive by myself, I don’t need an instructor, I watched and learned from Billy.”

“Great, another maniac,” Steve sighs.

Your sister laughs at the interaction, she looks around, finally noticing all the boxes though she doesn’t say anything, even as her brows furrow and a curious, confused look flashes in her eyes. It doesn’t take her long to figure out what this means, it’s obvious, even more so with the clear excitement in both yours and his eyes.

You look away from your friends and your boyfriend, drowning out the conversation as you look back at your sister, noticing the look in her eyes and the way she stares at the boxes. You grow a little nervous, not knowing what she thinks of this, what she will say about this but when she meets your eyes, she only shakes her head at you with a smile on her face.

She takes a step closer, placing her hand on her daughter's back as she leans in to whisper in your ear, “when you know you know, and you always knew.”

You nod with a smile on your face, feeling the heat of his body against yours, feeling his loving touch on your shoulder, feeling safe in his embrace.

“Yeah, I did.”

You knew it from the very start.

You were ruined for anyone else, before he even touched you.

And when his lips touched yours for the first time, you knew you were done for, you thought it was over for you, that you would never find happiness after that but now you’re here, he is here, he is all yours and sometimes you are still in disbelief about it all, no matter how many weeks have passed, you still can’t wrap your head around it all, about how lucky you are, just like him.

But there is someone else who is still in disbelief, Dustin. He was so convinced that you were dating Eddie, he just couldn’t understand how it all went by him that you and Steve had been a thing for months already, that you weren’t Eddie’s girl but Steve’s girl.

He is even more in shock now as he is in your living room, taking in the sight of Steve’s belongings in your house, all the moving boxes.

You invited all your friends over after the surprise visits you had already gotten, the amount of food Eddie and your sister brought was way too much anyways, so Steve made a call and invited all your friends over, well, most of them.

Argyle went back to California. Jonathan who declined both college acceptance offers to Lenora Hills Community college and Emerson, made his dream come true of going to NYU, after a long and honest talk with Nancy, they decided to follow their own dreams, but still sticking together, even with a distance between them. Boston and New York aren’t that far apart, after all.

So, after a little goodbye party at the hideout where Eddie and his band played, they all left Hawkins after a wild night filled with booze and weed – from both Argyle and Eddie.

Robin and Vickie went on a trip to Chicago before the latter leaves for College as well, but Robin knew all about Steve’s moving plans, he called her right away to tell her the news.

Everyone is entering a new chapter and this time, it’s all, only positive changes, only ones you all look forward to, ones that you don’t step into nervously and with uncertainty, no, for once, you are all at peace, you are all happy, all excited for the future.

Your living room is filled with friends, with family, it’s filled with laughter and smiles, something that has been lacking in the past few years. A house that was once just filled with sadness and a grayish glow, is now filled with life, the golden sun that shines inside, reflect the emotions in you now.

Steve who is sitting on the couch, is holding your niece in his arms, she is sitting on his lap, happily. Babbling and giggling more than she did before, she is waving her arms around, giggling louder every time he makes a funny face or tickles her belly.

Eddie sits beside him, cooing at the little girl every time a giggle escapes her, “oh, a fairy was born,” he tells her after each giggle from her.

Steve gives her tiny hand a kiss when she places it on his cheek, which only prompts her to laugh again.

“Oh, and another,” Eddie chuckles and taps her nose.

A loving smile stays on your lips as you watch your boyfriend with your niece, adoring the mesmerized look on his face. He chuckles every time she turns to Eddie and looks at him with her big eyes before she turns her attention back to him, squealing and waving her arms around.

Your sister sits beside you, looking stunned, “huh, he is a natural.”

“Mhmm, he is,” you nod.

Lucas and Dustin sit on the floor, bickering about something as always, while Max rolls her eyes at them every few seconds or so, cursing at them when Dustin throws one of the pillows at his friend.

“Hey!” Steve shakes his head at him, giving them a disapproving look, “stop that! How old are you two? Francine over here is maturer than you two,” he grumbles, gesturing to the little girl in his arms who looks back and forth between Dustin and Lucas with a curious look on her face.

Eddie chuckles beside him, nodding.

“You really got yourself a dad boyfriend,” your sister whispers into your ear, snickering as she sips on her coke.

You giggle and nod your head. You love this side of him and you love how he looks with a baby in his arms.

Steve catches you staring at him, and the scowl he previously looked at the teens with, quickly vanishes, a smile appears on his face and he tilts his head at you, beckoning you to him.

You put your drink down on the table, pushing aside your empty plate from before, you get up and make your way over to your boyfriend.

“Can I hold her?” Eddie asks, holding Francine’s tiny hand in his, smiling at the little girl.

“Oh, now you wanna hold her?” Your sister chuckles, teasing him. “Thought you were scared of babies, Eddie.”

“Only when they poop.”

“You are such a child, man.” Lucas snorts at him.

“Hey, you’re not the one who was chased down with a diaper full of poop!” He exclaims, glaring at Max who only giggles in response.

“You chased him down with a dirty diaper?” Lucas asks his girlfriend, who nods with a smirk on his face.

He starts laughing and raises his hand at her, high fiving his girlfriend.

Eddie shakes his head at the two, rolling his eyes before he looks back at Francine, reaching his hands out to her, she looks at him curiously, grasping his thumb, she holds it tightly.

“Come here, princess,” Eddie whispers as he carefully takes her from Steve’s hands, lifting her into his arms, he cradles the back of her head even though she doesn’t even need the support anymore. “Holy shit, she’s so light.”

“Language,” Steve glares at him as he relaxes back in his seat once Eddie leans back with her in his arms. The metalhead ignores him, too mesmerized by your niece in his arms, who stares up at him, curiously and with big eyes.

Your boyfriend reaches for your hand, not letting you sit beside him, he pulls you onto his lap instead, wrapping his arms around your waist, he takes you into his embrace, kissing your shoulder once you’re settled on top of him.

“Hey, keep it pg in here, there’s kids and a baby in this room,” your best friend teases your boyfriend, smirking at him.

“We’re not kids anymore,” Lucas scoffs.

“Yeah, bet Max and Lucas meet up at Skull Rock to kiss–”

“Dude!” “Dustin!”

Lucas and Max yell in unison, glaring at their friend with flustered faces, causing you all to laugh at them.

“It’s the truth,” Dustin smirks, shrugging – and that is how all the bickering starts again, though this time, Max joins.

Shaking your head at them, you turn away to watch your niece instead, laying your head on Steve’s shoulder, your heart flutters in your chest when he tightens his hold on you and kisses your temple, rubbing circles into your hip, he whispers the softest I love you into your ear.

“Oh my god,” your best friend whispers in awe, watching your niece falling asleep in his arms, tiny hand still gripping his finger, face nuzzled into his chest comfortably. Eddie looks around, shushing at the teens.

You and Steve look at each other in surprise, not even five minutes have passed since Eddie took Francine from Steve’s arms, and she is already fast asleep in his arms.

“Well now we know who can babysit her,” your sister jokes, also stunned by how fast she passed out in the metalheads arms.

“Yeah, and our future kids too,” you say without thinking, completely unaware of the feelings those words cause inside of Steve.

He blushes a deep red, warmth spreads inside of him and he shifts with you on his lap, gripping you tighter and clearing his throat when your best friend smirks at his reaction.

That shuts the teens up, their bickering coming to a stop the moment they realize what you just said, they all share a look before they turn to you and Steve.

While Lucas smirks and wiggles his brows at Steve, Max is giggling at his blushing cheeks but Dustin, he only raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, not in disapproval though.

He raises his hands up, closing his eyes for a moment, “you guys gotta give me a moment, I’m still trying to get used to this,” he wiggles his fingers between you both.

“What do you mean?” Your sister chuckles, cocking her head to the side.

Dustin blinks at her, gesturing to you once more, “them being a couple, I mean have you seen them before!? They were constantly at each other’s throats!”

“Yeah, cause Steve was an idiot,” Lucas laughs.

Steve gives him a pointed look, but doesn’t fight him on that, he calls himself that, all the time, for everything that happened between you in the past.

“I thought she was with Eddie!”

Your sister laughs with a confused look on her face, shaking her head, “why, because they’re always together?”

Steve rolls his eyes at Dustin, holding you a little tighter.

“Yeah! And like I said, they were always fighting!”

“Mhmm, and suddenly they didn’t, I wonder why,” Lucas smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you both again.

“He really wanted them together, by the way,” Max tells your sister, pointing her finger at her boyfriend.

“From day one,” he nods proudly, “and now they’re together, moving in together! I always knew what’s up. I mean, I always knew about Steve’s little crush on her, a guy just knows it.”

Dustin looks at him confused, he frowns and blinks at your boyfriend, staring at him for a long moment, he looks at you and then back at him before his eyes widen and he jumps up, “that is why you gave me the shittiest advice ever! You told me chicks dig it when guys are mean to them!”

“The key with girls is acting like you don’t care,” Lucas and Max mock him, giggling with each other.

Steve groans and throws his head back when you turn to face him with an amused smile, “wow, that’s some good advice, babe.”

“Well, it clearly worked,” Eddie snorts, glancing at you briefly as he adjusts Francine in his arms.

Dustin grins at Steve, “oh, that’s why you were so mean to her! Bet you expected her to fall at your feet but instead she was mean to you too! That’s why you didn’t stop there and just kept going because you wanted her attention – oh, now I understand!” He laughs, shaking his head as he stares in disbelief, like he uncovered something groundbreaking.

“You know what, Henderson?” Steve mumbles, straightening his back, he leans closer to you, pressing his chest against your back, he leans his chin on your shoulder, “you’re right.” He admits after a long pause, despite hating to boost that boy’s ego, he admits it.

He is right.

Steve was always infatuated with you, he just never wanted to admit it, not even to himself, not even when he kept those notes that you had found earlier. He ignored what he desired, who his heart desired, because that teenage boy in him, was too proud to admit that he liked someone who didn’t like him back but he also couldn’t fight those feelings, they irritated him, they made him mean.

So yeah, Dustin was right but so was Lucas.

And now they continue to tease him about it all, while you sit back and watch in amusement, enjoying the redness that covers your boyfriend's cheeks while he holds you in his arms and plays with your hands, toying with your ring finger the way he always does, he tries to hide the smile on his face but fails to do so when your eyes meet his and he sees the joy in them, the one that has been there since the night he confessed his love for you.

He loves you so much, he can’t even think of a moment when he didn’t – it’s impossible to think of one.

You adjust on top of him, turning and twisting your body until you can lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him, not caring about anything around you, about the vulnerability, the softness, the affectionate side of you, you’re displaying so casually – something you would have never done before.

Steve’s heart could burst at this very moment.

He knows how much you struggled to show your true feelings and emotions, how you hid from the world, for years. How you never let anyone see the real side of you, how closed up and sheltered you were, how you dug yourself a hole and stayed in there for the longest time, thinking that you were better off in hiding, thinking that you had to stay in the void forever, all alone, all by yourself, with fears and a feeling of deep sorrow, you just couldn’t let go of.

But through the darkness, through the pain that the upside down had brought you, had dragged you into, you found a family, just like he did.

Eddie stepped into your life, a best friend you never thought you would have again after you lost both Billy and Chrissy so tragically. You didn’t want to let him in, you feared that the curse upon you that you believed you had, would take him from you too, that it was only a matter of time until the darkness would drag him away from you as well, just like it had dragged away everyone else that you have loved. But he didn’t allow you to push him away, he didn’t let you believe for a second that any of what happened was your fault, he stuck to your side, from the day at skull rock, he stuck to your side in the upside down and after, he stayed, no matter how hard you tried to deny that bond between you, he stayed.

Max, the stubborn girl that refused to ever leave your side, who never once stepped away from you, who sees you as her big sister, just like Lucas. The two teens had to be forced out of your hospital room after what Jason did to you, they never left without a fight.

And through the darkness, through the worst days, you and Steve have found each other, through monsters and pain, through bloodshed and tears, you finally found your way to each other – neither of you are surrounded by sadness any longer, by emptiness and a longing for love you could only ever find in each other.

This room that was once filled with silence and sadness, an emptiness, a dark cloud that always hung over your home is now gone. You are no longer alone, you’re surrounded by people who decided that you are worth loving, worth staying for, you both are.

You have found home in each other, and you found a family.

That night, when you are back in your bedroom, you sit on your floor next to each other, surrounded by candlelight, two glasses of wine on each side of you, a bag of your favorite candy before you and a bunch of pictures all across your floor, surrounding the corkboard that lies on the carpet. Your TV is on but neither of you pay attention to the movie playing on the screen. The smell of fresh bed sheets lingers in the room, along with the scent of his and your body wash, your hair is still wet from your shower together.

Your giggles sound through the room as he laughs at the silly picture he took of Dustin earlier, unable to stop as he stares at the face the teen made.

“We’re definitely putting that picture up,” Steve snickers as he pins it to the corkboard – the corkboard that was his idea, to put up pictures of your favorite memories, of the people that mean the most to you.

“I think we’ll need a second corkboard,” you chuckle as you look at all the pictures that have taken up the entire space of the board.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks down at the pictures on your lap, he reaches for the one of you and Eddie, that one was taken in his backyard, both yours and his eyes are bloodshot, lazy smiles are on your faces, your hair is wild and all over the place, Eddie is wearing two pigtails, his arm is thrown over your shoulder, a joint sticking between his fingers, Steve remembers that night, the way you all got drunk and high and played hide and seek in Eddie’s backyard, like a group of kids – it wasn’t long after you and Steve made your little arrangement. That night, he pulled you behind one of the high bushes and kissed you breathless while your friends were looking for you. He was the reason for your messy hair and your puffy lips.

Steve takes the picture with a grin on his face, taking up one of the last spots on the board, he pins it.

“Really? This one?” You question and tilt your head back to look at him, “why?”

“Cause you look adorable,” he whispers and leans in to peck your lips, “with your hair all messed up from my hands,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you once more.

“Making out in the bushes was definitely something,” you giggle, nuzzling your nose into his.

He cradles your cheeks and nods, smiling as he leans his forehead against yours. You sigh in contentment as his lips brush against yours, his warm touch sends sparks through your body, he is melting into you the way you melt into him. You look into his hazel eyes, into his loving gaze, a breathy, sweet chuckle escapes him before he closes his eyes and kisses you deeply.

Your lips move slowly against his, you savor every second of each kiss, you both do, even though you know you have the rest of your life to do this with each other. You taste the wine on his lips and the candy, you feel his protective, soft touch, his thumb caressing your cheek as his tongue slips past your lips, clashing against your own.

His heart flutters in his chest when you whimper into the kiss, when you throw your arms around his neck and press yourself against him, crawling into his lap with his help.

Steve holds you tightly, his hand travels to the back of your neck, running his fingers through your wet hair, he runs his fingers up and down your spine before he cradles your cheek again. His free hand pats the space around him, touching the carpet as he searches for the polaroid camera, sighing and moaning into the kiss when you press yourself tighter against him and deepen the kiss, running your fingers through his messy hair.

The flash of the camera doesn’t even make you flinch, it only makes you giggle as you pull away from your boyfriend, your eyes flashing with amusement when he opens his own and meets you with a grin.

“You’re so sneaky, Stevie,” you whisper as you glance at the polaroid camera in his hand.

Steve laughs and steals another kiss from you, he puts the camera down after you pick out the picture.

You look down at the still developing picture, waiting for the reveal. You press your lips together, sighing when he kisses your neck.

“I’m so happy, baby, I hope you know that,” Steve whispers against your skin, slipping his hand underneath your shirt as he hugs you against his chest. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmurs adoringly, the sight of your smile, of the joy in your eyes makes his heart swell so strongly.

Many months ago, he told you to get yourself a boyfriend and stop getting on his nerves — you don’t know why this moment flashes in your mind now, why this takes you back to that day at Family Video but the memory makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks, amused.

“You told me to get myself a boyfriend… and I did.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side, he purses his lips as his hazel eyes gaze into yours, they widen and a huff leaves his mouth before he chuckles.

“Yeah, and I fucking love it, baby. I’m your boyfriend,” he says, proudly, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Well, I love to be your girlfriend, Stevie.”

His heart will always flutter at these words, at the way you look at him, at the way you touch him, like he’s something perfect.

“You caught me,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours strongly, “and I caught you.”

You hold onto his neck, running your fingers through his hair, you refuse to look away from him.

“And I’m never letting you go,” he promises, “you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Your cheeks nearly hurt from how hard you’re smiling, and it only gets worse when he leans in to pepper your face in kisses, “my girlfriend.” Kiss. “My beautiful, gorgeous girl.” Kiss. “My future wife.” Kiss. “My stars.” Kiss. “My sun and my moon.” Kiss. “My whole galaxy.” Kiss.

You can’t stop giggling, your eyes tear up from all the laughter that falls from your lips and when you lean your head back, it only turns out to be a mistake when Steve latches his mouth onto your neck, tickling you with the stubble on his cheeks.

“Steve!”

His chuckles vibrate against you, he buries his face in your neck and breathes in your scent, “I’m so in love with you.”

He reminds you of that, all day, when he doesn’t whisper those words into your ear, he lets you feel it, with touches, with small gestures, leaving notes around the house or by waking you with coffee every morning when you’re not the one beating him to it.

Steve pushes you down on the carpet and crawls on top of you, pressing one hand on the carpet beneath you, he looks away from you for a moment, taking the fully developed polaroid picture, he smiles at it as he pins it into the middle of the corkboard.

You admire him, raising your hand to cup his cheek, you brush your fingers through his hair, it got so much longer but you love it like this, how it covers his forehead, how it curls on the nape of his neck, how messy it looks.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” He whispers as he reaches for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, he looks down at you with loving eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”

These words always feel like a warm and comforting embrace. There is so much love that he holds in his heart for you, he can’t even put it into words just how strong it is, not even if he tried to.

You trace his features with your fingers, touching him softly and carefully, making him melt into your touch as a smile graces his face, he slowly leans in, closer and closer until your lips are brushing against each other.

“Forever?” He asks you, gazing into your starry eyes.

You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling when he presses himself against you, staring at you in a way that makes all your insides tingle.

“Forever and ever!” You grin before he slams his lips back on yours, kissing you deeply and feverishly, smiling happily against your lips as his hands make their way under your shirt while yours get lost in his hair.

“Forever and ever,” he murmurs against your lips, opening his eyes, they basically sparkle with stars. “My darling, forever and ever, I fucking love the sound of that.” He whispers and kisses your cheek. “I love you.”

You pinch his chin between your fingers and kiss his lips, smiling brightly at your man, the golden light in your room makes him look so ethereal. His hazel eyes shine so golden, his skin inviting your lips, his hands lay on your body so perfectly, like a touch of an angel, perhaps he is one, he is yours.

You went through the storm, the one you have always been so afraid of, you went through it, through the darkest of storms, through ones you didn’t even think existed and you didn’t come out unscathed, you were knocked off your feet and you were harmed, you took scars with you, on your body and in your heart but even through that, you came out alright – because he was always there, he always reached his hand out to you, he always waited on the other side, he was always there, even when you both didn’t realize just how close he always was, just how ready he always was to fight for you the way you always fought for him.

You both went through so much, you both suffered greatly.

But now you are here, with each other, where you both belong.

Steve leans his forehead against yours, he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, he kisses your ring finger, making that smile on your face bigger and brighter.

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” you whisper back before you melt into each other, yet again. Getting lost in the kiss, one of endless to come.

Hell was the journey but it brought you both to heaven.

Hands tied,

♡

well, it's over, this is the end :') (actually there's still gonna be the epilogue so I'm gonna save my sappy comment for that one)

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @thecreelhouse @maroon-cardigan @corrodedcorpses @moon-flowerrs @munson-mjstan @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht -- chapter twenty five #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

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pure-smut · 5 months ago

Text

iron wall.

featuring: Takanobu Aone x f!reader

contains: some angst to fluff to smut, happy ending!!, tattoo artist!Aone, social anxiety!reader, thigh riding, fingering(ish), missionary, NOT an accurate representation of getting a tattoo (call it creative liberties)

word count: 3.7k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

Masterlist

a/n: I'm sorry, I love Aone so much, he's so babygirl!! I'm a sucker for a gentle giant so I needed to get this story down I love him

You’re so excited for your first tattoo. So excited you could throw up, in fact. Oh wait, no, you’re terrified.

The tattoo studio does nothing to soothe your nerves. It’s a small space, seeming all the more cramped for artwork covering every inch of wall and shelf space. You try your hardest not to shrink into yourself.

And then your tattoo artist steps out and a year of social aversion therapy dwindles into nothing.

Takanobu Aone is one of the best artists in the country and you’ve been so, so lucky to get a spot with him. You researched hard, not trusting your first tattoo in the hands of anyone less than perfect. When you saw Aone’s portfolio online, you knew he was the one. Beautiful linework and sweeping designs that seemed to mould to the person’s body. You fell in love with his art.

But his portfolio didn’t have any pictures of him. So when he steps out and greets you with a silent nod, you nearly shrivel up on the spot.

Aone is scary. He’s tall, broad, and – unsurprisingly – coated in tattoos. A seemingly permanent frown is etched on his face, his ice blonde hair cut short. But it’s his eyes – it’s like he’s glaring at you.

“Sorry,” you squeak out before internally scolding yourself.

Sorry?? What are you apologising for? No one’s said anything yet!

If Aone’s confused, he doesn’t show it. He only gestures to an intimidating-looking chair, fitted with an overhead lamp.

Your hands shake so you clench them into fists. You can do this, you tell yourself. This was the whole point of your tattoo. On wobbly legs, you make your way over to the chair and sit down.

Aone looks down at you. You look back up at him. When neither of you says anything, he twirls his finger in the air.

“Oh!”

Idiot, you think to yourself. It’s a back tattoo – he needs to see my back.

You turn around, your chest pressed against the back of the chair, as Aone sits behind you. Even without seeing him, his presence is so large that you feel it. You take a shuddering breath as you hear the buzz of the needle and squeeze your eyes shut.

The tattoo hurts, like a relentless, stinging scratch against your skin. But honestly? You thought it would be worse. Still, the nerves haven’t dissipated yet, and nausea swirls in your stomach. Especially when you feel Aone’s hands on your skin, resting against your back as he works.

“You’re doing well.”

Aone’s voice is so sudden and unexpected that you nearly jump. It takes a second for you to register what he’s said but when you do, warmth rushes to your cheeks.

“Th-thanks,” you stammer out.

“Will music help you to relax?”

His voice is deep and smooth. You’re glad you’re facing away from him because you don’t want him to see the blush in your cheeks just from listening to him speak.

You tell him your favourite songs and he sets up a playlist. By the time he starts up the tattoo again, you are feeling more relaxed. It helps that you don’t need to look him in the face, that you don’t need to mould your reactions to what you think is right. Every so often, Aone will let you know how well you’re sitting for him and each time, it makes your body feel like it’s on fire.

By the time he’s finished, you’re nearly dizzy.

Aone must notice because he offers his hand to help you stand. You take it, gratefully, but keep your eyes averted, too embarrassed to look him in the face.

“First tattoos are hard,” he says solemnly and you’re glad he thinks it’s the tattoo that’s had an effect on you and not him.

Aone hands you his card as you pay up. It has a list of tattoo care instructions as well as his phone number and socials.

“Any problems, contact me,” he says.

You finally look up at him. What you had thought had been a glare before now looks completely different. Aone’s eyes are sharp but they’re kind, his face serious but concerned. Under the intensity of his gaze, you find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You want to thank him, to tell him you’ll be happy to contact him if anything comes up. To say anything normal at all.

But an iron wall wraps around your chest. You don’t want to say anything stupid or embarrassing. So you give a short nod and leave without saying anything at all.

It’s only a few days before your tattoo starts to itch. You diligently cream it as Aone’s card instructed you but the position of the tattoo means you can’t reach all of it. There’s a patch in the middle that’s neglected and so, so goddamn itchy.

After all the research, effort and money spent, you desperately don’t want your new tattoo to heal badly. But you have no one to ask for help. It’s your own fault, you know. You’ve spent the years since you left home for college isolating yourself from everyone. Too worried about saying the wrong thing or doing something embarrassing. Too concerned over whether people are laughing at you instead of with you.

And now you’re stuck with an itchy tattoo that you can’t fully reach.

Aone’s card sits innocently on your desk, almost taunting you. It takes another two days before you gather up the courage to tap out a message to Aone.

He responds within minutes with instructions to come to the studio.

That’s how you end up back in the chair, your favourite songs playing again, too embarrassed to look behind you at Aone.

“The itch is worse than the pain,” he says, rubbing cool, soothing cream gently over your tattoo.

Despite yourself, you smile. Maybe it’s your favourite music in the background, maybe it’s the fact you don’t need to look at him. Maybe it’s the feel of his gloved fingers being so gentle on your skin. For once, you don’t overthink before you speak.

“The pain wasn’t so bad after a while,” you say quietly. “But the itching goes on forever.”

Aone chuckles. It catches you off guard – you wonder what he looks like when he’s smiling.

You sit in comfortable silence for a while.

“This is so embarrassing…” you mumble to yourself.

“What is?”

You startle, not realising he heard you. Your cheeks burn.

“O-oh… just… y’know, all of this,” you say clumsily.

“All of what?”

“I-” A lump appears in your throat. You realise how stupid you sound. “I can’t reach my tattoo.”

A puff of air escapes Aone’s nose.

“Not embarrassing,” he says. “I fainted during my first tattoo. That is embarrassing.”

The image of Aone – broad, muscled, serious-faced Aone – fainting during a tattoo is so unexpected you snort with laughter.

“You didn’t!”

“I did,” he says gravely. “I was too nervous to eat breakfast so my blood sugar was low.”

Aone withdraws his hands to lean in close. You can feel the warmth radiating off him on the back of your neck and shoulder. When he speaks, his breath tickles your cheek.

“They had to give me a lollipop.”

You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth. Aone chuckles and stands, snapping his gloves off. You rise with him, still giggling, and get a glimpse of his smile for the first time.

It’s small, just an uptick at the corner of his mouth, but you can’t stop looking.

“Next time you feel embarrassed, remember the lollipop,” Aone says with a firm nod.

You grin, meeting his eyes. Inside you, a small chip skitters down the iron wall.

A crack.

Aone tells you to come back every day at the same time for a week, until your tattoo heals. You find yourself looking forward to it and you end up chatting long after he’s finishing creaming your back. You wonder if this is it – you’ve beaten the insecure demon inside your head.

Until one day you don’t.

It’s the last day you’re scheduled to visit Aone’s studio. Maybe that’s the reason why a stab of icy fear lodges itself in your heart every time you try and open the door to leave.

You stand at your front door, key in the lock, but your hand is frozen. Your breathing turns ragged and your vision swims. You can’t turn the key. You can’t leave your home. Your sanctuary. The only safe space you know.

Except Aone’s studio.

Except Aone.

You know you’re going to be late but still, you can’t bring yourself to leave. With shaking hands, you message Aone, apologising and saying you won’t make it. He messages back instantly.

Are you okay?

You don’t know what prompts you to respond honestly. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from fighting the anxiety in your head. Maybe it’s because Aone has always been sincere with you. Maybe it’s because you don’t have to look at him when you respond.

Maybe the iron wall is breaking.

No, you type back.

He asks for your address, saying he’ll come to you. After chewing your thumbnail down to the quick, you give it and throw your phone onto the other side of the bed.

You barely have the energy to drag yourself from your bed when the doorbell rings. You know you should feel embarrassed opening the door in your pyjamas, hair unbrushed and eyes puffy with no sleep. But when Aone steps in, face serious, and pulls out a lollipop, the only thing you feel is relief.

You burst into tears as Aone pulls you into his arms, pressing you against his chest. He’s firm and warm and holds you tight. He doesn’t say anything. He lets you soak the front of his shirt with your tears.

When you’ve cried yourself dry, your sobs dwindling into sniffles, Aone pulls back to peer down at you.

“Food?”

You spend the day with takeout, watching movies together on your laptop in bed. You sneak glances at him every so often, admiring his profile, and have to quickly look away every time he notices. It should be embarrassing… but you know he’s looking at you too. You can feel his intense gaze when you’re watching the movie, can feel him watching you when you get up to go to the bathroom.

When you return, instead of lying side-by-side, you turn your back to him, pulling the laptop in front of you. Aone turns to spoon you, wrapping one large arm around your stomach. You melt into him, immediately relaxed.

It reminds you of being in his chair, faced away from him but knowing he’s there.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice nearly drowned out by the movie. “I know I get too nervous and say weird stuff.”

“What weird stuff?” You can’t see him but you can hear the frown in his voice.

“Like…” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “Like when I first met you, I didn’t even say hi. I said sorry, for some weird reason.”

Your mouth goes dry as you recall your first embarrassing memory with Aone. The one that still keeps you up at night as you replay it, thinking about how awkward you looked and how weird he must think you are.

“That wasn’t weird,” Aone says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “People think I’m scary. They don’t sit next to me on the train and they apologise when they meet me.”

You blink at the laptop, twisting slightly so you can look at Aone. He looks back at you.

“They do?”

He nods.

“You’re not weird. You’re normal.”

Aone says it with absolute sincerity. You think on this for a moment before fully turning, facing him. Aone settles his hand on your waist, his sharp eyes locked on yours.

You’re normal.

A rush of relief floods through you and your eyes water, nearly bursting into tears again. Aone notices because he tightens his grip on you, his hand on standby to brush away any tears.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m okay.”

And it’s true. It’s the most okay you’ve felt in a long time. A flood of affection clouds your mind and you look up at him to smile.

“Thank you for rescuing me today,” you tell him.

“Always,” Aone says seriously.

It’s only one word but it steals your breath. You feel like you’re falling. You grip onto the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself.

One word and your iron wall crumbles.

You tilt your head up until Aone’s face is only inches from yours. You’re offering yourself up, offering your heart on a platter, open and vulnerable. You close your eyes and wait, blood rushing in your ears.

Aone moves his hand up from your waist to cup your face. His skin is hot against yours and you can feel his heart beating through his chest.

“Always,” he whispers once more before he closes the gap between you.

Aone presses his lips softly against yours. Your hands snake around his torso, feeling the hard muscle of his back. His lips part yours gently, cautiously, wary not to pressure you too much. You let him, meeting his tongue with your own and melting into him.

Aone uses one arm to wrap around your back, pulling your body flush to him as his other hand grips your thigh. He tugs your leg over his, nestling his thick thigh between your legs, and pressing against your mound. You gasp lightly into his mouth.

Aone pulls back, eyes opening.

“Is this okay?” he asks, searching your face for any sign you’re uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “It’s… it feels good.”

You try hard not to grind against his thigh but when he leans down to kiss you again, you find your hips moving on their own. His firm muscle pressed against your clothed pussy makes your clit throb with need. You haven’t felt this turned on by anyone in a long time, your sex drive long since evaporated. But Aone is awakening something inside you, a heat in your stomach unfurling.

You hold onto his shoulder, solid as a rock, and grind against his thigh.

Aone trails his hand down to your hip, his grip gentle but firm.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs against your lips, reluctant to break the kiss.

“Mhmm.” You catch his bottom lip lightly between your teeth. “I’m sure.”

Aone hardens his grip on your hip, guiding you as you rub your clothed pussy against his thigh. The friction is delicious, sending little sparks up through your body and soaking the crotch of your panties and pyjama shorts. You’re forced to break the kiss to bury your face in his chest, whimpering.

He’s bringing you close to the edge, so, so close. But it’s not enough.

“More,” you practically beg him. “I need more. Please.”

Aone grunts and rolls you onto your back, slotting himself between your legs. He’s large enough that you’re spread lewdly beneath him, thighs open. It would normally make you flustered – embarrassed – but it doesn’t.

Because it’s okay. It’s Aone.

He looks at your with stars in his eyes as his hand reaches down, sliding under the waistband of your shorts and panties. Your hips buck as his fingers find your swollen clit, slippery with your arousal. He traces small, featherlight touches around your sensitive bud. Aone knows his own strength and he’s always cautious of being too rough. He watches your face carefully to see your reaction, applying slightly more pressure until your nails sink into his biceps.

“There!” you gasp. “Fuck, right there. I’m so close.”

Aone listens, his cock straining against his jeans. You would normally feel your cheeks burn under the intensity of anyone’s gaze, let alone Aone’s, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure he’s giving you to care. His fingers are relentless, keeping up a steady pace, no faster or slower than exactly what you need.

When your back arches and your mouth falls open, Aone dips his head to swallow your moan, kissing you deeply through your orgasm, his fingers never stopping. It’s only when you pull away, too sensitive to continue, that he withdraws his hand.

But he can’t stop kissing you. Your soft lips and the taste of the lollipop he brought you still on your tongue. Aone knows you’ve opened yourself to him, he knows you’ve summoned every ounce of courage you have. He feels like he has a baby bird in his hands and he’s scared to hold you too tight. To crush the precious thing you’ve given him.

So when you come down from your high, he makes to roll off you, not thinking of himself or his throbbing cock.

You stop him, hands on his biceps and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“I want you,” you whisper, voice hoarse from moaning. “All of you.”

Aone searches your face for any uncertainty. He only sees your eyes alight, holding his gaze firmly. He thinks back to your first arrival in his studio, when he couldn’t even tell what your face really looked like, you kept your eyes so averted. The corner of his mouth upticks with pride.

You reach up to wrap one hand around the nape of his neck, carding your fingers through his short, white-blonde hair as your other hand reaches down to his jeans. He helps you unbutton them, tugging them down along with his boxers and throwing them both off the side of the bed. Aone straightens to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. Tattoos decorate his thick torso, artwork following the curves and dips of his body. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, not even hiding how absolutely, completely attracted to him you are.

Aone’s expression doesn’t change much but his eyes glint and you know he’s pleased by your reaction. He reaches down, hooking his thumbs under the hem of your pyjama top and tugging it off. He gazes down at you, face soft, his eyes tracing over your body.

You’d normally be fighting the urge to cover yourself but you don’t feel the need to do that with Aone. You want him to look at you.

Aone leans down to pepper soft kisses down your neck, to your breasts. One large hand massages your tit, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s like your nipple is directly connected to your clit, making it throb with every touch. Aone sucks your other nipple, mouth hot against your skin as his teeth lightly graze you. It’s electrifying. You can feel yourself getting wetter, a scorching heat between your legs.

You need him inside you.

You tug on the roots of his hair gently, pulling his face back up to yours. Aone kisses you deep and slow, one hand reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance. You can feel the fat mushroom tip nudging between your folds. You pull your knees up, wrapping your legs around his hips to give him better access.

Aone pulls back from the kiss. You chase his lips with your own but he cups your cheek, holding you away.

“I want to see your face,” he says.

He locks eyes with you and pushes himself inside.

Your mouth falls open and your brows scrunch in the middle as Aone slides his cock into your tight hole. You’re more than wet enough for him but his cock is as thick as the rest of him, stretching you with a burn that’s half pleasure, half pain. You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as Aone shallowly pumps himself inside you, going a little deeper each time. Each stroke of his cock sets your nerves on fire, sparks running through your whole body to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“Holy shit,” you grit out. “You’re – ah! – You’re so b-big.”

“Are you okay?” Aone stops still. “Are you in pain?”

You shake your head, wrapping your legs tighter around him.

“Don’t stop,” you beg him.

He gives a short nod and keeps going, slowly working himself deeper until he’s bottomed out. Aone waits there for a while, letting you adjust to the size of him. You’re desperate for more friction, your pussy clenching him tight.

“You…” He collapses onto his forearms, burying his face in your neck.

His hand tangles in your hair at the back of your head, holding you to him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. “You’re doing so well.”

Aone’s praise sends a thrill up your spine, so reminiscent of the first time you met. He presses his mouth against the shell of your ear.

“I’m going to move, okay?” His voice is hoarse.

You nod and he starts to pull back, keeping his body pressed against yours. It should feel smothering, his large body covering yours, but instead it feels safe. Secure.

Aone keeps a steady pace, not pulling out all the way before thrusting back into you. Your greedy pussy pulling him back in every time, your plush walls squeezing him, not wanting to let him go. His cock rubs against the sensitive spot inside you, the trimmed hair at the base stroking delicious friction against your clit. The combination is indescribable. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to roll back again, your orgasm building faster than you can register.

Aone can feel it. The way your tight pussy gets even tighter, the whimpers you make from the back of your throat, the way your thighs squeeze his hips. He can’t get enough of it. He wants to last as long as possible so he can stay here forever. Stay with you, like this, forever. But the way you’re gripping him, milking his cock, makes it impossible.

“I’m gonna cum, angel,” he groans. “Cum with me.”

His words are enough to tip you over the edge. Stars burst behind your eyes. You cry out his name as your thighs tremble and your toes curl, creaming on his cock. Aone grunts, half-moaning, as buries his cock inside you, thick ropes of cum coating your walls.

You hold him close, not wanting him to leave even as his cock softens inside you. Aone stays where he is, wanting to prolong this moment as long as he can. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, hugging you close to him.

“You’re perfect,” he mumbles in between kisses. “Thank you.”

You smile and catch his lips with your own.

“Always,” you whisper back.

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