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bandgie · 25 days ago

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Stuffing to Give

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, AGE GAP, reader has an asshole family, hickeys (brief mention), cumming inside, Yunho bites once, clothe tearing, no protection, size kink if you squint, Yunho says 'young pussy', stomach bulge mention

3.5k words

notes! sorry I've been gone, life or whatever. buuutttt happy holidays! this fic took me too long but for being in a drought, I'm proud of it. hope you enjoy :) (divider from @/anitalenia) tag! @desirehorizon

“You know, you should be looking for a husband. Not worrying about your classes or anything like that. No man likes a woman too smart for her own good.”

It was your mom who opened the can of worms during Thanksgiving. The air was already uncomfortable being that distant family who were more like strangers sat at the dinner table, but mentioning that you’ve been single for so long, at such an ‘old age’, made everything a thousand times worse.

You’re not even old. Some would argue being in your mid-20s was still very young.

But no matter how much you’ve tried to defend yourself. No matter how many times you said you just wanted to focus on furthering your education, your aunts and uncles pressed one and one thing only.

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started.

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore.

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room.

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you.

Her own daughter.

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling.

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous.

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight.

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…�� Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.”

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you.

What a gentleman.

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites.

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides.

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly.

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction.

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion.

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air.

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves.

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed.

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear.

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately.

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it.

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red.

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed.

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance.

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt.

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up.

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation.

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it.

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches.

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely.

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive.

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again.

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring.

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly.

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips.

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting.

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst.

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside.

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.”

You don’t have the energy to respond, but you're thinking the same thing.

#smut #atz smut #ateez smut #yunho #Yunho ateez #Yunho smut #Yunho ateez smut #Yunho atz #Yunho atz smut #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #ateez

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wandascosmic · 2 months ago

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why can't you see? (8)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part eight of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3418

tags: best friends to lovers, actual idiots to lovers, they're so cute my little babies, 3/4 of this is just reader being a little shit but she's so real like she's me when im doing work, wanda's so here for it though they're so on the same wavelength it's adorable

taglist: @reginassweetheart @rroyale-109 @marvel-posts

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

Tony suddenly feels the sensation of his jacket being pulled over his head. “Oh!” he grunts, as his eyesight his overshadowed by darkness.

“What has two thumbs and likes to bone your mom?” Hayward asks in a gross joking tone, pulling the jacket back down.

Tony turns around slowly, his eyes widening in surprise and happiness once he sees who’s surprised him. “Tyler!” Tony says excitedly before hugging the man.

“What’s up Tony, how’s it going?” Hayward says cockily. Hayward smirks as he turns to you at your desk. “What’s up, L/N, still queer?” he asks.

You give him a tight-lipped smile before going back to work, and Wanda watches you with an amused grin. Your absolute lack of ability to hide when you’re annoyed always made her laugh.

“Man, we have loads of catching up to do,” Tony tells Hayward as he starts to lead him towards his office while the two begin to engage in chatter.

You roll your eyes aggressively.

God, you hated Tyler Hayward with a burning passion.

Standing up from your desk, you grab your jacket ready to head out for lunch. But of course, you need to stop by your favourite receptionist’s desk for the fifth time today. Or maybe sixth.

“What has two thumbs and hates Tyler Hayward?” you ask her as you walk over.

Wanda smiles knowingly. “Me,” you mouth to her, pointing your index finger at yourself.

“Well,” Wanda says. “I’m always here if you need saving.”

“Please,” you respond, giving her a knowing look. “Hey, do you want anything from the sandwich shop down the street?”

“Oh! Yeah, could you get me that ham and cheese one you got me last time?”

You smile. “Sure,” you say, before heading out the door.

***

“I’m really excited to meet your mom,” you tell Wanda as you take a bite of your turkey sub.

“You are?” Wanda asks, unwrapping the sandwich you got her.

“Mhm,” you nod. “I’ve got many questions to ask her.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Wanda asks curiously with a tilt of her head.

You grin before assuming a quizzical expression. “Like this.” You shift in your seat slightly to get more into character. “As a child, did Wanda show any traits that would hint towards her future career as a receptionist?”

Wanda laughs. “I’m not sure she’ll know how to answer that question.”

***

The door opens quietly, and you smile as you see Iryna Maximoff start to slowly make her way towards her daughter. Wanda doesn’t notice, continuing to type on her computer.

Suddenly, Wanda feels a tap on her shoulder.

And turning her head, Wanda’s eyes light up once she sees who’s in front of her. Wanda’s told you how much she loves her mother, many, many times.

Iryna smiles at her daughter. “Hi,” she says, before Wanda jumps out of her chair to hug her tight.

“Mama!” Wanda exclaims, squeezing tighter.

You smile at the heartwarming exchange.

Deciding to go introduce yourself, you stand up from your chair, ready to go meet the woman who brought the most wonderful human being you’v ever known into this world.

You faintly hear Wanda begin to tell her mother all the things she’s missed the past few weeks, but your nerves have caught up to you slightly and you desperately want to make a good impression. You brush the dust off your pants slightly, and start to walk over.

Should you say hi?

How are you?

Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N?

Hi Ms. Maximoff, I’ve been in love with your daughter ever since she started working here so could you please like me?

Nope. Definitely not.

You groan, deciding to just get it over with.

Taking a deep breath, you stand at Wanda’s desk with a smile, drumming your fingers on the wood as you prepare for the two Maximoffs to turn around.

But of course, the universe had other plans.

You turn your head to the sound of the door creaking open, and your heart drops as you see Vision enter. With fucking flowers. And gel in his hair. And the most obnoxious country club outfit you’ve ever seen. It made your work clothes seem like a potato sack in comparison, and you realize that you can’t meet Wanda’s mother looking like this compared to her fiance. Plus, Vision already hated you and had his suspicions.

Regaining your composure, you eliminate any suspicion he may have had of you standing at Wanda’s desk by taking a candy from the communal dish at the front and immediately turn around to walk back to your own stupid desk.

Sitting back down, you frown slightly, but ultimately decide that you should probably get back to the papers that were giving you a headache of boredom.

All you wanted was to say hi.

After a couple seconds, you overhear Iryna greet Vision.

“Oh, there he is,” she says happily. Hey handsome, how are you?” You turn to see her greet him with a hug.

“I’m pretty good. How are you?” Vision responds, very obviously sucking up as you’ve seen his true personality on a daily basis. “You look great, Iryna.”

“Thank you very much,” Iryna responds with a smile. “So, are we ready for dinner?”

“Oh,” You hear Wanda express, a bit forlorn. “Well, you know, actually I kind of need to stall a bit, since Tony’s gonna have a small meeting at the end of the day,” she says guiltily. “But, it’s okay since I’m very used to killing time.” Wanda chuckles a bit.

“Oh, no worries,” Iryna tells her. “We’ll just wait a bit.”

“For sure,” Vision agrees. “I’ll go wait in the parking lot.” Turning to Iryna, he asks, “and, uh, what kind of tunes do you want for the ride? Country? Oldies?”

“Oh, anything is fine,” Iryna replies kindly.

“All right, well, see you soon!” Vision says before leaving the office.

And the second the door closes, you finally hear something that makes you smile.

“So which one is Y/N?” Iryna asks her daughter cheekily.

“Mama!” Wanda replies with a blush.

***

It’s the next day, and you’ve never been as bored as you feel now.

Actually, you’ve been on a boredom streak lately.

But today is the absolute worst of all.

After Vision had left, you had finally gotten the opportunity to properly greet Iryna before she left to join Vision in the parking lot, and Wanda had really seemed to enjoy the entire exchange.

But now, it’s the next day, and you want to absolutely murder the papers in front of you. Depsite your hatred for Tyler Hayward, him showing up yesterday made your day somewhat different from the rest.

Groaning loudly, you plop your forehead onto your desk and dread the day before you.

Wanda, of course, is entertained by your shenanigans and snickers as she watches you.

It was official.

You had died of boredom.

(An occurence that happens once every sixth months. Seven if Tony’s being extra insane.)

And your guys’ deal was that it was Wanda’s job to revive you.

***

“You see Sam’s coffee mug?” Wanda asks as you stand in front of her at her desk.

“Mhm,” you say, turning to look at the mug along with her.

Wanda leans slightly closer. “Sometimes when he’s not here, I try to throw stuff in it,” she whispers to you.

“No way,” you laugh.

Wanda nods at you with a sly grin, handing you a yellow piece of paper for you to crumple up into a ball.

“We should play paper basketball one day with his mug,” you tell her as you crumple the paper absentmindedly.

“No way,” Wanda shakes her head. “I’ve seen you play basketball.”

“What if I get you chicken paprikash and your favorite candies?”

“Deal.” Wanda says instantly. “Now throw, I can’t wait for Sam to drink it accidentally.”

‘Wow, I can’t believe I’ve never seen this side of you Maximoff. You might be a bigger prankster than I am.”

“You’re teasing me. I can tell,” Wanda narrows her eyes at you. “Throw the paper!”

You laugh before throwing it as instructed. “Damn it,” you say when it misses.

“I’m the only one who can keep up with your pranks, L/N. Plus, it’s fun doing them with you,” Wanda answers as she rummages through her drawers for something else for you to throw, unknowing of the fact that she just made your heart skip a beat. “Here, try paper clips.”

You take a silver clip from the small box Wanda has just placed on the ledge of her desk, about to throw, before her voice stops you.

“Oh wait,” she reaches to her side and grabs another paper, reading it over slightly. “This message, for Sam.”

“Smart, Maximoff,” you say, causing Wanda to smile at you.

Crumpling the paper, you throw it as best you can, but end up missing once more as it lands in Sam’s chair instead.

“You know, I might actually beat you whenever we play that coffee mug basketball game.”

***

“Hey, Steve,” you say, walking up to the man with a few sheets of paper in your hand. “Um, these new expense reports, do we really have to go back to last quarter?”

“Yeah, It’s a terrible system, I know,” Steve sympathises with you.

Suddenly, a board buried underneath the contents of Steve’s desk catches your eye. “Hey, what does 2005 season mean?” you ask.

“Uh, that’s–”

“No way,” you say as you pull the board out entirely. “Is this a scoreboard?” You ask, noticing the assortment of numbers written into various white boxes.

“Yes, it is,” Steve acknowledges.

“That’s so cool,” you say. “What’s it for?”

Steve sighs. “Sometimes, when Tony’s out, Bucky and I play this paper football game he got me started on.”

“Or when we’re bored,” Bucky adds from his desk next to Steve.

Inspecting the board a bit further, you see the hundreds of scores written on it. “Wait, this goes back two years! Oh my god,” you exclaim excitedly.

“We’re bored a lot,” Bucky says, already folding a piece of paper into a small triangle.

Steve turns to you. “Wanna try?”

You nod with a grin.

*** “Oh!” you exclaim as you flick the paper triangle to Bucky’s desk, making another shot. “Yes!” You high-five Steve who stands next to you.

“Fun, right?” he says.

“For sure, I really love the uh, paper triangle flicking and hitting things game.” You imitate the motion with your fingers.” It’s awesome.”

“We call it Hateball,” Bucky tells you with a whisper.

“Why?” you ask curiously.

“Because of how much Nat hates it,” Steve says, nodding over to Nat who’s deep in her work on her computer.

You look over at Nat, and you notice the hint of a smile on her face.

“I don’t hate it,” she mouthes at you through the screen separating the desks once Bucky and Steve look away.

You smile before turning back to Bucky and Steve. “Hey, do you guys have any other games?”

Bucky inches forward towards you slightly. “Ask Bruce to teach you Shield ball, trust me.”

***

“So, that’s what this sound is all day,” you exclaim with a smile as the ball hits the ceiling before passing between you and Bruce.

“Fun, isn’t it?” Bruce replies back.

“It’s awesome!”

*** After exhausting the two new games you had discovered today as much as possible, you decided it was best to let your co-workers get back to work.

Unfortunately, you had only blown off your work for about two hours, and needed to find a way to blow off the other five hours of the day.

So, you created your own games.

Something you liked to call ‘the Office Olympics.’ and you were surprisingly proud of what you could come up with.

Wanda, like the incredible, wonderful, and kind person she was, had agreed to help you in creating your new project, and had ended up making beautiful medals out of paperclips and old yogurt lids. They looked surprisingly professional, which I guess shuoldn’t surprise you since it was Wanda.

You, and the majority of the office staff stand in the kitchen, with Wanda putting up a poster that says, ‘Games of the 1st Shield Industry Olympiad.’

Humming the Olympic Anthem, you hold a candle in your hand which you had found stashed away in your desk, a lighter in the other. “This scented candle,” you start with a smile. “Which I found at the bottom of my desk drawer,” you turn on the lighter and light the candle. “Represents the eternal….” you shake your head. “Burning of competition, or something.”

“It smells like cookies,” Bruce says.

“Yes, it does,” you look at him seriously. “Yes, it does, my friend.”

“Okay, so, we’ll be competing for gold, silver, and bronze yogurt lids,” you say, holding up the medals by their paper clip chain. “Made specially by Wanda.”

Wanda grins at you.

“Let the games begin!” You lead the office staff out the kitchen with your candle above your head, all of you humming the Olympic anthem together.

***

“Alright, so, here, what you have is the national sport of Icelandic paper companies,” you explain as you point to the paper boxes that have yellow rubber bands holding the lid and the vessel together at the top and bottom of their horizontal sides. “And, I’m blanking on the name, could you help me out, Wanda?” you turn to the brunette who stands next to you.

“Y/N, they refer to it, as,” Wanda pauses. “Flonkerton.”

You hum.

“In English, ‘Box of Paper Snowshoe Racing’.”

“Fair enough,” you say. “But, I like Flonkerton.”

Wanda smiles.

“So,” you continue. “Who will be challenging Bruce in Flonkerton?”

“I’ll do it,” Jennifer says.

“Yes, Jennifer! Cousins taking on cousins,” you exclaim.

Both Jennifer and Bruce walk over to the boxes, Wanda helping Bruce with his footing while you help Jennifer.

“So, if you could put your foot right through here,” you lift up the yellow band for her to slip her foot through. “Right through the flonk.”

Once both Bruce and Jennifer were ready, the rest of the staff helped you put up the finish line at the end of the room, which was made of transparent tape.

“Alright, are you guys ready?” you ask, receiving a nod from both parties.

“Ready, set, go!”

And the office erupts in cheers as Bruce and Jennifer try to make it to the other side of the room with the boxes on their feet.

“Whoo! Go, go, go!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together.

“Dig deep!” Steve yells. “Dig deep!”

Soon, the two near the finish line, and you prepare to catch one of them in case they fall.

“Oh, they’re neck and neck!” Bucky exclaims.

“Come on!” Nat says.

“Oh!” the staff exclaims all at once, as the two finally reach the finish line, Jennifer winning by the slightest edge.

“Jennifer by a nose!” you announce. “Gold medal, in Flurnenton.”

“Flonkerton,” Wanda corrects.

“Thank you, delegate from Iceland,” you say teasingly.

***

“Nat, are you sure you don’t want to join in on any games?” Wanda asks Nat as she stands next to her by the water dispenser.

“I’m good with watching, thanks,” Nat chuckles, taking the last sip of her water.

“Come on, don’t you have any games you enjoy?”

“Well, there is one,” Nat says, throwing her cup out.

“No way, what is it?” Wanda asks excitedly.

“I call it Wanda-pong.”

Wanda stares confused. “What?” she asks with a small laugh.

“Mhm,” Nat nods. “I count how many times Y/N gets up from her desk and goes to reception to talk to you.”

Wanda pulls her head back in slight shock. “We’re friends.”

“If you say so,” Nat says with a wink before heading off.

***

“Peter! Gold medal,” you announce as the intern had correctly guessed who would be next to come up in the elevator. “Let’s move to our next destination, everyone.”

“Oh, Y/N!” Wanda runs up to you and joins you at your side with a large box in her arms.

“What’s up, Maximoff?” you ask with a laugh.

“I made something for our closing ceremonies,” she says with a huge grin.

“What?” you say with a smile, and Wanda opens up the box to show you. “Oh, my god,” you exclaim. “This is incredible!”

Wanda smiles as she looks up at you.

“When’d you have time to make it?”

“Automatic voicemail,” Wanda responds cheekily.

“”All right, Maximoff, all right,” you say, lifting up your hand and giving her a well-deserved high five.

***

It was the absolute worst time for Tony to walk in with Sam.

You were in the middle of the coffee race, seeing who could get a full mug of coffee from the coffee machine to Steve’s desk in the least amount of time.

However, the two walked in halfway through the race, catching you all in your tracks.

Now, you were back at your desk, filling out the stupid expense reports that had caused your death of boredom earlier this morning. But, in five minutes time you had gotten them done, and you had also closed two sales before the day was over.

Truthfully, it was about as productive as any other day. If not, more so.

“All done,” you tell Steve as you hand him the reports.

“Great,” Steve responds before you walk off.

You contemplate sitting down at your desk, and doing whatever you could find to do to entertain yourself, however, staring at the medal hung over your desk lamp, you think you have a better idea.

“Hey,” you say to Wanda as you greet her at her desk.

“I have 59 voicemails,” she responds with the phone to her shoulder.

“Great,” you respond. “Actually, can you ignore those and do something for me instead?”

Wanda stares at you for a moment before her face breaks out into a grin. “Sure.” She places the phone back into its holder.

“Pefect,” you respond back. “So, today, 5 o’clock, closing ceremonies,” you tell her with a small smile.

“Wait, really?” You nod. “Notify the athletes.”

“Will do,” Wanda says as she gets up from her seat.

***

Knocking on Tony’s door, you slowly enter his office, seeing him hunched over.

“Tony?”

“Y/N! Y/N, what’s going on?” he responds.

“Nothing, I just wanted to congratulate you on your condo.”

Tony furrows his brows. “How did you find out about that?”

Of course, the answer was Sam. And he had notified you all to be wary of Tony since the purchase was less than savory.

“Sam,” you nod your head in the direction of his desk.

“Of course,” Tony mutters. “But, thanks anyways.”

“No problem. Hey, would you mind coming out here for a sec? I’ve got something for you.”

“Really?” Tony asks, standing up from his chair.

Slowly leading him out, you smile at the arranged closing ceremony Wanda had put together, a wonderful stage of first, second, and third place, along with a few surprises she had only told you about.

“What’s this?” Tony asks.

“These are the closing ceremonies,” you tell him. “Step up.” You lead him to the top stage, and pull out one of Wanda’s medals from your pocket. “Congratulations to Tony, because he closed on his condo. So, gold medal.” You place the item around his neck.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Tony says. “But, thank you all, for this, I’m very grateful.”

You smile.

“And for, Sam Wilson,” you continue as Bruce leads Sam to the second highest stage. “The silver medal.” You place the award around his neck.

“And finally, for Jennifer Walters, the bronze medal.” You lead Jennifer to the final stage, as she had won most of the games of the Office Olympics.

You nod at Wanda, and she pushes the play button on the speaker, the Star-Spangled banner beginning to play.

All of you placing your hands on your heart, you begin to grin.

“Why are you playing the National Anthem?” Tony whispers to you.

“Um, because your condo’s in America.” you respond.

“Fair enough,” Tony says.

“Ready?” Wanda asks you, and you nod.

Wanda starts to pull the string linked to the pieces of paper she had folded earlier, giving you a grin.

“What is that?” Tony asks.

“Those are the doves,” you answer.

Wanda glances at you with a small smile, and you give her one in return.

She did, in fact revive you from your boredom.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wandamaximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel

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katebishopsbow · 1 year ago

Text

ENIGMA • OSCAR PIASTRI

pairing: oscar piastri x reader (18+)

summary: your best friend's brother seems to always be keeping a friendly distance from you. intrigued by how reserved and quiet he is, you devise an evil little plan to make him lose control and uncover the facade behind his polite smiles and curt greetings.

warnings: sexual content (minors dni), sub!oscar, praising, corruption kink, finger sucking, spit, handjob

word count: 3k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Oscar Piastri is an enigma, a riddle you yearn to solve.

You see him occasionally whenever you visit your best friend’s house, purposefully lingering later in the night to catch a glimpse of her brother coming home from practice. He would give you a small smile, and make some light conversations with you and his sister before excusing himself upstairs in hurried steps.

He is always so quiet, so shy and closed off, always keeping a friendly distance from you as if getting too close would burn. It intrigues you more than anything, and maybe a wicked part of you wants to unveil the secrets hiding behind that facade of polite smiles and friendly greetings. You want to see him lose control – to be the one to make him lose control.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Oscar comes home from an exhausting day of practice – muscle sore, completely starving, and in desperate need of a quiet, relaxing night. When he enters the kitchen to get some water, he’s surprised to see you there alone wearing a rather flimsy top that reveals more skin than usual, with his sister nowhere in sight. “Oh – hey,” he greets politely like he always does, shooting you a half smile as he trains his eyes on your face instead of your revealing neckline.

What a gentleman, right?

“Hey, Oscar,” you return the smile, your mind already coming up with a devious plan to break his resolve. “Is Olivia here?” he asks as he glances around the house, searching for signs of his sister since the two of you are almost always inseparable. “Something came up. She told me to wait for her here, said she’ll be back in an hour,” you say to him, to which he answers with a quick nod of his head, “Oh, okay, cool.” Classic Oscar, always so reserved and never uttering more than a few words to you. Yet this only manages to fuel your desire to discover what’s hiding underneath and watch him lose his composure.

With a friendly smile, you gesture at the tray of chocolate cupcakes on the counter in front of you and say, “I brought over some cupcakes. Try them!” Oscar’s eyes almost light up at the sight of the sugary treat. The only things he has eaten during the day are a protein shake and a turkey sandwich he packed this morning that did nothing to keep him full, so the boy immediately picks one up and gives it a huge bite, eyes widening at how delicious they are. “These are good!”

How cliche, you think as you stare at the chocolate frosting at the corner of his mouth.

“You have a little something on your…” you let out a giggle as you point at his lips, and with an embarrassed grimace, Oscar hurriedly wipes at his mouth with his hands. He’s about to bring his thumb up to his lips when you suddenly stop him, grabbing onto his wrist mid-air as he tilts his head in confusion. “Uhh – what are you…?” he questions with a puzzled look and furrowed eyebrows, and his words fall to silence when he watches you slowly bring his hand toward your face.

Oscar feels like he’s suffocating, like his head is being submerged in deep waters as your lips slowly fall open, tongue darting out to give his finger a kitten lick, just to test his reaction. He supposes he should be tugging his hand back, pushing you off of him frantically, but he feels like he physically can’t, or maybe he simply doesn’t want to.

So when he doesn’t pull away in disgust and freaks out like a part of you expects him to, you take it as a sign to continue your devious little plan. Oscar can feel his stomach drop, his breath catching in his throat like all the oxygen has left his body, especially when you smirk and envelop his entire finger into your mouth.

“What are you doing…” he asks in a breathy groan as he tries his damned hardest to recompose himself, holding back the desperate urge to moan at the way you hollow out your cheeks and suck until the tip of his finger just grazes the back of your throat. Fuck, why the fuck does this feel so good already? Something about the haze in your eye makes a chill run down his spine – dangerous and a little twisted, and it’s enough to make Oscar want to surrender himself to you in whatever ways possible, in whatever ways you’d take him.

Every rational thought inside his head is telling him to stop, screaming at him to put an end to whatever madness this is. This is insane, absolutely ridiculous, and you two really shouldn’t be doing this. His sister can be home at any minute, not to mention that he definitely shouldn’t be doing such sinful acts with his sister’s best friend. Unfortunately, his body is betraying him and the tightness in his pants is a clear enough indicator that his facade is starting to crumble. He’s losing control and he knows it, and maybe it’s about time that he realizes how utterly screwed he is.

When you finally pull off of him, a string of spit connects his finger to your glossy lips, and Oscar almost moans at the lewd sight. “Fuck…” The sigh that falls from his lips makes you smile, because while he will never admit this, you can tell that he’s secretly enjoying whatever you are doing to him.

Feeling courageous, you move closer toward the boy until your bodies press directly against each other, feeling the radiating heat from his skin through the layers of clothes he has yet to change out of. You lean in to plant a kiss on his neck, and another, and another, suckling on the delicate skin until a purplish-blue bruise begins to form when you feel Oscar wordlessly tilting his head to allow you more access. In the corner of your eye, you can see him biting down on his lips as if he’s trying his hardest to stifle his sounds, and you can’t have that, no.

You need to hear him, to listen to the way you’re affecting him while drinking in every little whine and plea of his until he comes. So you allow your hand to slide, trailing along the soft lines of his chest and abs until it reaches the hemline of his jeans. Oscar squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation, waiting for you to touch him where he needs you the most, yet that feeling never comes. “What?” he asks breathily when his eyes flutter open once again and is greeted by a grin on your face he would only describe as evil, calculative, as if you have everything planned out in your mind already – which isn’t exactly far off from the truth.

“You want me to touch you, Osc?” you say to him, voice sweet and mellow, knowing damn well what his answer is going to be. The bulge over his pants is rather prominent, and it must not have felt very nice under the confinement of his jeans, but you just want to hear him say it. You need to hear him admit it, that he wants this, that he wants you just as much as you want him – and also just to tease him a little.

Oscar nods his head, wishfully hoping that this is somehow enough since his ego won’t allow him to say anything more. To no avail, you shake your head at his silent response. “Yes or no, baby?” The nickname has him inhaling a shuddering breath, his head becoming foggy with lust and the burning need to be properly touched by you. It hurts – he’s so hard and his jeans are so tight, and all he wants is your fingers and lips around him.

All he needs to do is say the word, just say that he wants it and you will give him everything he needs and more, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, he just can’t do it. Maybe it is his headstrong personality, but Oscar doesn’t beg for anything. He never has to beg for anything that he wants, he simply works for it and gets it. Good grades, his parents’ approval, sponsorships, karting and race wins. He doesn’t beg – never has and never will – but god does he want to get on his knees and beg for you right now.

He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’s having an inner battle within himself, so you decide to be nice and give him a little… push. “Please, baby, please let me touch your cock. Let me make you feel good, Osc,” you pout your lips and look at him with the most desperate, pleading eyes ever, and he swears he is genuinely going to pass out.

Oscar likes to think he is in control most of the time, laid back and calm even in the most unpredictable times. Nothing can ever faze him, and he takes pride in that. But as he stands here before you, pushed back into the kitchen counter as you beg to jerk him off with the prettiest pair of eyes, every ounce of inhibition and self-control has suddenly evaporated from his body.

So he lets himself go, and he lets you take – whatever you want. “Please, I want it,�� he gasps out a strained whine as he returns the same pleading expression, shoving whatever “I never beg” principle he used to have to the very back of his mind and lets himself have this, lets himself have you. “Good boy.” Your words coax a breathy moan out of him, loud and unashamed and almost pornographic. You haven’t even properly touched him, and yet he already feels like he’s been completely taken apart by you, with every single part of his body humming in anticipation.

“Unbuckle your pants for me, baby.” Oscar doesn’t need to hear it twice, rushed hands fumbling with his belt to pull down his zipper, his eagerness endearingly funny. He looks at you with awaiting eyes after he’s done, trying his best to be patient as he waits for your next instructions. Placing a chaste kiss on his cheek, you slowly slip your hand into his pants, delicate fingers wrapping around the length of Oscar’s erection. Fucking finally, he thinks to himself.

His face contorts in pleasure when you begin tightening your hand, giving him a few unhurried, lazy strokes up and down his cock. “Argh… holy fucking shit…” Oscar isn’t normally much of a swearer, but he can’t seem to control himself nor the words spilling from his lips when your fingers feel so good around him.

He lets out a displeased whine when you abruptly remove your hand from his jeans, staring at you with dazed eyes as you bring it in front of his mouth. “Spit,” you order, and Oscar being the good boy that he is, immediately obliges, gathering the saliva in his mouth and letting it dribble down to your palm. “That’s my good boy.” Using Oscar’s spit as lube, your hand returns to its original placement and begins moving, this time with much firmer strokes.

Oscar’s eyes snap close at the electrifying sensation, and he feels like his brain is melting inside his head from the overbearing pleasure that envelops him. Every muscle, every bone, every fiber of his entire being tingles with nerves, and your hand feels so warm and slippery and tight and so, so fucking good. He wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’ll suddenly come to his senses and wake up from whatever fever dream this is with a sticky mess under his covers.

The thing is, you have always been gorgeous. Oscar has eyes, and he cannot lie and say that he has never ogled at you when came over to their house and had your back turned, or that he never allowed his mind to wander in the late hours at night as he thinks about you indecent ways – ways a boy should never think about his sister’s best friend. He knows how wrong this entire thing is, with your fingers around him as he moans at how good you’re making him feel, but he doesn’t ever want to stop. So he prays, ever so solemnly to whatever higher power out there that this is real, that you are real, and please please please he just needs you to stroke him faster.

“Please, faster, I need – I need more!”

Now how could you ever say no to him when he looks so good writhing in your arms like this? So you pick up the speed, pumping his cock in faster strokes and occasionally thumbing against the slit when you reach the head. “Does it feel good, Osc?” Oscar frantically nods his head at your question, gasping out strings of barely coherent curses under his breath, “Yes, yes, fuck! It feels so good, so fucking good…”

“Good boy… I bet it does,” you lean down to brush a kiss on his jaw, relishing in the whiny moans that never stop spilling from his raw, bitten lips. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Oscar nods again, eyes rolling to the back of his head whenever you draw teasing circles over his frenulum. but you want to hear him say it, to admit that he’s yours. “Say it,” you repeat yourself, purposefully slowing down the movements of your hand as you await his answer.

“I’m your good – boy!” he breathes out in a groan, wanting more than anything to be good for you. “That’s right, baby, you’re my pretty boy,” you whisper into his ear, and it’s nothing but the truth. With his hips bucking up into your hand in a desperate chase of pleasure as wonton moans never stop falling from his parted lips, Oscar has never looked prettier. Not the kind of pretty that makes you want to take him out to dinner and kiss him under the moonlight, but the kind of pretty that makes you want to take him apart and put him back together, to ruin him and make his eyes roll to the back of his head until he remembers nothing but your name.

You can tell Oscar is getting close with the way his breathing picks up and how he frantically grabs onto your hips just for something to hold onto. He’s jerked himself off before, plenty of times, but he has never felt anything like this – how you’re able to turn him into a malleable, whimpering mess with just a few deft strokes. It’s unfair how stupid-good your hands are, Oscar thinks to himself. Somehow he can’t find it in himself to be upset about it though, not when he’s too occupied with falling apart in your arms.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and come all over my fingers, Osc?” Oscar barely manages to nod, making an almost begging noise in the process, and perhaps he would be embarrassed if it isn’t for how fucking turned on and insatiable he feels. “Yeah? You’re gonna come for me and watch me swallow every drop, baby?” Fuck, he is definitely not going to last when you’re muttering straight-up filth into his ears.

When his eyes flutter close, he lets his imagination run wild the way he always does when he lies in his bed, hand stuffed into his pants while fantasizing about his sister’s best friend. He imagines you getting on your knees, opening your mouth with your tongue sticking out and waiting patiently as he spills all over you. He imagines your face covered in his come – so filthy and sinful – and you scoop them up with your fingers before sliding them inside your mouth. He imagines coming inside of you, warm and tight and so perfect for him. “I wish you were inside me instead, Osc,” you breathe into his ear, and that’s when he feels himself tipping over the edge.

Broken gasps and breathy whimpers are all Oscar can manage as his body overrides with pleasure – pure and utter euphoria that sends strikes of lighting down his spine. The pace of his hips stutters, and he thrusts up into your fingers once, twice, until his come splatters all over your hand, making a complete mess. Lines of white trickle down between your fingers, and he’s still desperately trying to catch his breath when you lift your hand and bring it to your lips. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he groans at the filthy sight of you sucking your fingers clean, lapping up his come and swallowing down everything with a teasing smirk.

You gently thumb at the streak of white that has spilled from the corner of your mouth, swipe it away and bring it to Oscar’s lips. Eager to please and obedient as ever, he parts his lips and lets you push your finger into his mouth, licking the taste of himself away. “You’re so good for me, baby,” you praise him softly, rubbing teasing circles over his glossy lips upon removing your finger. Oscar pouts, silently looking at you with eyes that say “Please kiss me” and you just have to reward him after everything, right?

Slowly, you lean in and press a kiss on his awaiting lips, feeling the way Oscar’s mouth falls open so willingly and melts into you without second thoughts. He isn’t a particularly great kisser, but it’s precisely his unskilled and inexperienced movements that make him so, so addictive. The thought of being the one to ruin him, to teach him all the ways you can make him feel good, to be the one to uncover his facade and make him lose control is exactly why you will never get enough of him. Now that you’ve seen him lose control, you don’t think you can ever stop. You can never stay away from him, and neither can he.

“Until next time, pretty boy.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri smut

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steveseddie · 2 months ago

Text

sweet as pumpkin pie

steddie | rating: t | wc: 3,1 k | cw: none | tags: dustin & steve, dustin & eddie, eddie knows how to bake, steve has a crush, getting together, first kiss, steve pov

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty-four, prompt “pumpkin”

read on ao3

Pounding at the door has Steve scrambling to his feet and hurtling towards the front door. He glances at Eddie on the couch and is relieved to find he’s still napping soundly, unbothered by the noise.

Steve doesn’t want him to wake up, not when Eddie showed up an hour earlier looking exhausted after nightmares kept him up all night. The last thing Steve wants is for Eddie to lose any more sleep because whoever is at the door grows impatient and knocks harder.

So he fumbles with the lock and swings the door open to reveal–

“Dustin?”

“Steve, we have an emergency!” Henderson shrieks, his loud volume making Steve flinch.

His annoyance is immediately replaced by worry as the kid’s words register. His body tenses up, his fingers itch for his nail bat. “An Upside Down emergency?”

“Worse!” Dustin says. Steve’s stomach churns and he feels sick. He tries to think what could be worse than an Upside Down emergency– “A baking emergency!” He finishes before Steve can spiral.

He blinks at him. “A baking–” he starts in incredulity. “Henderson! Jesus fucking Christ, man.” He reaches over and flicks his stupid Thinking Cap.

“What?” Dustin protests, swatting Steve’s hand away.

“That’s not worse than an Upside Down emergency! Nothing is worse than an Upside Down emergency!”

“Fine, but it’s up there,” Dustin argues stubbornly.

“Whatever,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wishes Eddie was awake so that they could share an exasperated look. “What’s the matter, shithead?”

“You know my mom isn’t home this week, right?”

“Yeah, she’s visiting family or something.” She told Steve as much when she called and asked him to keep an eye on her Dusty.

“Right, well, the science club is in charge of the baking sale this week and she volunteered to bring something, but she forgot it was this week!”

Steve blinks at him, failing to see what the problem is. “So? She left you money, right? Just buy some cupcakes at Melvald’s and bring those.”

Dustin gasps, affronted. “Steve, it’s a bake sale! Not a store-bought sale!”

“Things at stores were baked at some point too, butthead,” Steve argues, but Dustin keeps looking at him like he’s being stupid. “Geez, fine, what do you want me to do about it anyway?”

“I need you to bake me something, duh.”

Steve snorts. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to, except I don’t know how to bake.”

Dustin frowns. “Bullshit! You cook for us all the time!”

“Yeah, cook like actual food, not pies and shit,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the door.

“It’s the same thing!”

Steve thinks back on the time he tried to bake brownies for Nancy and how he almost burned his house down in the process. “It’s so not,” he says in a bitchy tone.

Dustin groans, scrubbing his hands down his face. “But Steve, I need a pie!”

“Sorry, kid, you’re gonna have to ask someone else. Maybe Mrs. Wheeler or–”

“I can do it.”

Both of their heads snap towards the living room entrance where Eddie stands, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Christ, he’s cute, Steve thinks, and immediately feels his cheeks heat up. He hopes Eddie is still too groggy from sleep to notice. “Do what, Eds?”

“Make Henderson a pie,” Eddie says, waving his hand at the kid.

Dustin blinks at him with wide eyes. “You know how to bake a pie?”

“Yup.”

Steve finds himself asking, “How?”

Eddie snorts amusedly. “We have ovens in the trailer park too, rich boy,” he snarks but his words lack any heat. “Though I might have to borrow yours for this, ours hasn’t worked since the turkey incident of ‘84.”

Dustin and Steve exchange a look, equally shocked by what they’re hearing.

“So,” Eddie goes on, clapping his hands together. “What kind of pie do you need, Henderson?” He asks as slides his Reeboks on, which he left by Steve’s door when he showed up. “Cherry, pumpkin, apple?”

“Uh, pumpkin?”

Eddie flashes him a dimpled grin. “My favorite,” he says, grabbing his car keys from the table at the entrance. “Let’s go then, shrimp.”

“I thought you were gonna make it here,” Steve says, confused by Eddie leaving.

“Gotta go shopping first, Stevie,” Eddie explains, van keys spinning around his finger. “And I gotta dust off the old recipe, it’s been a while since I used it.”

“Ugh, but I hate grocery shopping!” Dustin whines, earning a smack on the back of his head from Eddie.

“It’s your pie, Henderson. Suck it up.”

Dustin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie turns to Steve, batting his long eyelashes at him. “You mind cleaning the oven for me in the meantime, sweetheart?”

Steve should protest that he didn’t agree to help, but with Eddie’s big doe eyes staring at him like that and him calling him sweetheart, all he can muster is a weak, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie grins, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he grabs the back of Dustin’s neck and pushes him towards his van. “Be back in a few, honey!” He calls back to Steve. “And then we’re baking a pie!”

Steve watches them go and closes the door once the pair gets in the van.

He’s in the kitchen, ready to clean his oven for Eddie when his words register in Steve’s brain.

“Wait– we?”

***

Eddie and Dustin come back an hour later, carrying everything they need.

Dustin dumps his bags on the counter and immediately tries to retreat to the living room but Eddie moves faster. He grabs onto the handle of his backpack, pulling him to an abrupt stop, Dustin’s limbs flailing like a puppet on strings.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, tugging Henderson back into the kitchen. “I told you, it’s your pie so you’re helping.”

“But my mom never forces me to help!” He protests, trying to shrug off his backpack to escape.

Eddie wraps an arm around his neck instead.

“Yeah, well. Your mom is a saint, I’m not,” he says, letting him go once Dustin stops struggling and handing him a whisk and a list of ingredients for him to mix.

Begrudgingly, Dustin accepts them and sets off to work on making the filling while Eddie and Steve work on the crust.

Steve has to focus really hard on following Eddie’s instructions correctly. Not because the instructions are particularly complicated or anything, mostly it’s just ‘add this’ or ‘measure that’ or ‘hand me those’. It’s because Eddie is very distracting like this– with his hair tied in a messy bun, the sleeves of his flannel rolled over his forearms, flour smeared on his face.

And then there’s the familiarity with which he moves around Steve’s kitchen after spending so much time here, helping Steve cook or just keeping him company. And the confidence with which he measures, mixes, and adds ingredients, or tells Steve to do it.

Steve always had a thing for competence. It’s why he was so attracted to Nancy, whether she was getting all of her chemistry flashcard questions right or shooting monsters in the face. It’s why he started crushing on Robin after she cracked that Russian code. Steve knows that if he had been there when Eddie played the most metal concert ever, and he had seen him shredding his guitar the way Dustin describes it, he would’ve been too busy drooling over him to fight Vecna.

Eddie knowing how to make a pumpkin pie from scratch is no different– and if it weren’t for Dustin, Steve probably would’ve already pinned Eddie against the kitchen counter to sloppily make out with him.

For now, Steve tries his best to pay attention to what Eddie asks him to do and not get distracted by thoughts of kissing him or dragging him upstairs or–

He realizes he fails when Eddie has to smear flour on his nose to get his attention.

“Hey,” Steve protests weakly, going cross-eyed trying to stare at the white powder on his nose.

Eddie chuckles. “There you are, I’ve been talking to you for like, five minutes.”

“Oh.” Steve must’ve gotten distracted staring at Eddie’s arms as he expertly kneaded the dough and rolled it into balls. He glances down at the counter and realizes he’s done already. Then he glances around the kitchen and notices it’s just the two of them.

“Where’s Henderson?”

“Well, the filling is ready and we have to leave these babies in the fridge for two hours,” he says, holding up one of the dough balls. “So I sent him to pick a movie for us to watch in the meantime.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says, wondering how he could’ve been so deep in thought that he missed all of that happening. He grabs one of the dough balls while Eddie grabs the other one, following him to the fridge. “Do we need this much pie crust?” He asks as Eddie opens the door.

“I thought we could make two pies so I doubled the recipe. Henderson can take one and we can have the other,” Eddie says, sticking the dough in the fridge. “That way you can try it and I can take some back to Wayne. I don’t think we’ve had any homemade pumpkin pie since my mom died.”

Steve hums. “Is this her recipe?”

The smile Eddie gives Steve over his shoulder is a little sad. “Yeah, she taught me how to make it years ago.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” Steve says softly, knocking their shoulders together.

Eddie spins on his heels, leaning back against the fridge. “I just hope I didn’t fuck it up, it’s been a while,” he chuckles, hanging a hand from his neck.

Steve shrugs. “You can always blame me. Or Dustin.”

Eddie throws his head back, laughing. There’s a streak of flour on his neck and Steve has to fight the urge to clean it up with his tongue. “Nah, Stevie, you two are doing a great job,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin, “even the kid with his fucking attitude.”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. “Right? You’d think he’s doing us a favor.”

“Entitled little shit,” Eddie mutters, but the corners of his mouth tick up.

From the living room, Dustin yells at them, his voice dripping with annoyance. “You guys are gonna watch the movie or what?”

Steve and Eddie share a look and start laughing.

***

Two hours later the two of them are back in the kitchen, rolling out the pie crust.

Or at least, Eddie is. Steve keeps messing it up.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he screws it up again. “You know what? You do it.”

“Come on, Stevie, it’s not that hard,” Eddie says, knocking his bony hip against Steve’s.

Whatever protest Steve is about to make dies in his throat when Eddie leaves his perfectly rolled-out pie crust and moves to stand behind him, pressing his body against Steve and Steve’s body against the counter, his arms wrapping around him so he can guide his hands on the rolling pin.

“You gotta start at the center and work outwards,” Eddie says, speaking into Steve’s ear as he shows him how to do it. Steve can barely focus on anything that isn’t the entire length of Eddie’s body pressed against him. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. Eddie’s words whispered lowly into his ear are making Steve’s head swim with all kinds of ideas. It’s a good thing that Eddie seems oblivious to it.

“Now you do it,” Eddie says, letting go of Steve’s hands and holding Steve’s waist instead.

Steve’s movements are a little jerky, but he manages to finish rolling out the pie crust successfully, even with Eddie standing behind him the entire time.

“Great job, Stevie,” Eddie says, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder to look down at the counter.

Steve makes the mistake of turning his head, leaving their faces only a few inches away from each other. Steve’s breath hitches and his heart starts jackhammering against his ribcage. It feels like it might explode out of his chest when he notices Eddie’s eyes unmistakably flicker down to his lips.

And of course, that’s when Dustin comes barreling into the kitchen.

“Are you guys done?” He asks, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently.

Steve drops the rolling pin and Eddie jumps back a few steps. Dustin’s eyes dart curiously between the two.

Eddie clears his throat. “We’d be done sooner if you helped us,” he says, his voice coming out a little strangled.

Dustin gives them an innocent look, eyes wide like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. “But you're doing such a great job, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t fall for it. He snorts, throwing a kitchen cloth at his face. “Shoo, you gremlin!”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie to tell him twice, hurtling towards the living room. Steve watches in silence as Eddie carefully places the pie crust on the pan and pours the filling Dustin made.

“Now we wait?” Steve asks once both pies are inside the preheated oven.

“Now we wait,” Eddie says, smiling at Steve. His eyes catch on something and then he reaches out to wipe flour from Steve’s cheek, his thumb lingering on his cheekbone for a second too long.

His eyes flicker to Steve’s lips one last time before he goes to join Dustin in the living room.

***

“I present to you," Eddie starts, spinning around on his heels, holding the pie in his hands, “your pumpkin pie, my good sir.”

Dustin grins, letting out something between a laugh and a snort. “Dude, it looks so good!”

“I told you I could bake,” Eddie says, grinning smugly.

“Hey, we helped,” Steve says with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie sets the pie down on the counter so he can crowd Steve against it. “Oh, I know, baby, I could never have done it without you.”

Heat builds up in Steve’s cheeks. It’s a good thing that Eddie gets distracted by Dustin rounding the counter and wrapping his arms around his middle in an unexpected hug. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s curls. “You’re welcome, kid.”

Before Steve can protest once again that he helped, thank you very much, Dustin lets go of Eddie and hugs Steve too. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Of course, buddy.”

“I’ll tell Mom to have you both over for dinner when she comes back,” he says, adjusting his Thinking Cap.

“Hell yeah,” Eddie says, licking his lips like he’s already tasting Mrs. Henderson’s cooking. “You just earned yourself a drive home, mister.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no way I’m letting you ruin my–” Steve clears his throat, “ our pie by taking it home on your bike.” He grabs Dustin’s shoulders, and once the kid grabs the pie, he steers him in the direction of the front door. “I’ll come back to help you clean up,” he tells Steve over his shoulder.

“You better.”

With a wink, they disappear through the kitchen archway, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts.

And he can’t help but think about Eddie– his eyes on Steve’s lips, his thumb softly brushing over Steve’s cheekbone, his chest pressed against Steve’s back.

He forces himself to start cleaning up, just so he can stay busy and not drive himself crazy thinking about what might happen when Eddie comes back, now that Dustin won’t be here.

He’s elbow-deep in rinsing water when he hears the front door open, followed by Eddie’s whistling as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he says, waltzing in, “I told you I’d help!”

Without turning around, Steve shrugs. “Grab a cloth, you can help me dry.”

He hears a cabinet open and close as Eddie presumably looks for a clean kitchen cloth but when he appears next to Steve, he’s got a plate with a slice of pumpkin pie on it.

Steve purses his lips. “That’s not a kitchen towel,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Nope, but I couldn’t wait to try it,” he says, leaning back on the counter, facing Steve.

Steve gives the slice of pie a pointed look. “Well?”

Eddie grabs a forkful of pie and shoves it into his mouth while Steve stares expectantly at him, waiting for his reaction. It comes in the way of a sinful moan that makes Steve want to shove his head into the water to stop the heat from creeping up his cheeks.

“I- uh,” he clears his throat, “I take it we didn’t fuck it up?”

Eddie licks his lips, and Steve’s hands tighten around the bowl he was rinsing. “Nop, it’s perfect. Just like my mama used to make it.”

Steve smiles at Eddie’s smug little tilt of his head as he shoves another forkful into his mouth.

“Hey, I wanna try it too,” he says, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow.

He expects Eddie to feed him some pie since his hands are still under the rinsing water and it’s probably what Eddie intends to do, he scoops some pie up with his fork–

But then he hesitates.

His eyes dart over Stece’s face, searching for something. He either finds it or gives up, dropping the fork back onto the plate and placing it on the counter next to him.

Steve cocks his head, puppy-like, but before he can get a word out, Eddie grabs his cheeks and kisses Steve square on the lips.

He instinctively kisses back– or does his best to do so considering his hands are still in the water. He moves his lips against Eddie’s and when Eddie laps at his bottom lip, Steve opens his mouth, letting Eddie’s tongue slide inside.

He tastes like pumpkin pie, is Steve’s first coherent thought, followed by– holy shit, I’m kissing Eddie.

It’s that realization that makes Steve retrieve his hands from the sink, dripping water all over the floor, to wrap his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He kisses him more deeply, chasing after that taste of pumpkin pie, and smoke, and cinnamon, and Eddie.

They pull back when they finally need to come up for air but stay wrapped up in each other.

Steve’s eyes dip down to Eddie’s lips, red and slick with spit. He hears them moving but realizes he didn’t hear whatever Eddie said from the blood still rushing through his ears.

“Sorry, what?”

Eddie chuckles a little breathlessly. “I said, what did you think of the pie?”

“Oh, um. Good, it’s–” Steve licks his lips. “It’s good.”

Eddie’s mouth twitches with a hint of a smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mhm but, uh, I think I need– I need to give it another try, you know?” Steve stammers out, watching as Eddie’s eyes go a little dark at that. He licks his lips and Steve does his best not to let out a whine.

“Come here then, pumpkin,” Eddie says, pulling Steve forward, mashing their lips together.

Neither of them points out it would be easier for Steve to grab a forkful of pie– they’re too busy chasing after the taste of it on each other’s mouths to even try.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #for once i am Not late for this! woohoo #well technically i am because this was supposed to be for the baking prompt but i finished it until now so. pumpkin it is #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #monse writes #steddiespooktober

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sodavizz · 1 month ago

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— Christmas Won't Be The Same Without You.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Pairing: Daisuke x GN! Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff again :3

Wc: 1.3k+

Author's Note: Tadaa!! It's almost Christmas time baby! I'm super duper excited as it is already half of November!! Are you all ready to celebrate it, cause I sure am!

The snow was falling softly outside, coating the world in a blanket of white. The small town where Daisuke had grown up was quiet, the streets lined with festive lights and decorations. Inside his parents' house, however, there was nothing quiet about it. The living room was alive with the hum of Christmas music playing softly in the background, the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air, and the soft crackle of a fire burning in the hearth. It was the perfect Christmas setting, and you were sharing it with Daisuke.

“Can you believe it?” Daisuke said, his voice full of excitement as he stood beside you in the entryway. His eyes sparkled with that familiar joy you adored. “Christmas at my parents’ house. I'm sure they're just as excited you are to meeting each other!”

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through you as he took your hand, pulling you into the house. “I’m really happy to be here with you, Daisuke. This place feels so… cozy.”

His grin widened. “It’s definitely cozy. And my mom’s cooking is legendary, so get ready for some serious holiday feasting. You might not even have room for dessert by the end of the night.”

You laughed, feeling your stomach growl at the thought of what awaited. You’d heard a lot about Daisuke’s mom’s cooking, but this would be your first time tasting it. You could already smell the roast turkey and baked goods wafting from the kitchen.

The house was warm, full of life, and adorned with decorations that felt like they had been carefully placed with love. Christmas stockings hung from the mantle above the fireplace, each one bearing a name stitched in gold thread, and a grand tree stood in the corner, its branches weighed down with ornaments, tinsel, and fairy lights. The atmosphere was peaceful but bustling, with Daisuke’s parents—his mother in a festive red apron and his father pulling drinks from the fridge—filling the space with energy and laughter.

Daisuke led you to the living room where his family was already gathered. His parents, always warm and welcoming, greeted you with open arms.

“Ah, there you are, so you're the one my son keeps going on and on about!” His mother beamed as he mumbled something to her, seeming embarrassed she would expose him about that. She then stepped forward to give you a hug. “We’ve been waiting for you both. Everything’s ready for dinner, but we can always add more if you’re hungry before the big meal!”

“You must be starving after the drive!” his father added with a grin, holding out a glass of eggnog. “Don’t be shy, help yourself.”

You chuckled and accepted the drink, glancing over at Daisuke, who was practically glowing in his own way, standing close by with a proud smile.

“You must be excited to have us here,” you teased.

He nodded eagerly. “Are you kidding? I’ve been counting down the days to Christmas here with you and my family. I think I’ve spent almost every Christmas here since I was a kid, and this time it’s even better because you’re with me.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. There was something about being here, in the warmth of his family’s home, surrounded by love, that made everything feel like it was falling into place.

“I’m really happy to be here, too,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “It feels so... right.”

Daisuke grinned and reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning to his parents. “I think it’s time for us to get the party started! We still need to do the Secret Santa exchange, and I’m pretty sure everyone’s excited for that.”

His mom laughed. “Oh yes, we can’t forget about that! We all got something special this year, so I hope everyone’s ready for a little holiday fun.”

Dinner was a true feast. The table was piled high with everything you could imagine—roast turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, roasted vegetables, and an assortment of freshly baked rolls. In the center, a large cranberry sauce dish sat alongside platters of sweet potatoes and baked brussels sprouts. Daisuke’s mom had clearly outdone herself, and as you dug into your meal, you could tell that everyone was savoring each bite.

Between mouthfuls, you shared stories with Daisuke’s family, laughing and chatting about everything from your childhood traditions to more recent adventures. Daisuke’s dad was particularly fond of telling embarrassing stories about Daisuke when he was little, which had everyone in stitches. Daisuke, for his part, seemed unbothered by it all, even joining in with some of his own stories about his mischievous younger days.

But it wasn’t just the food or the laughter that made this night feel special—it was the way Daisuke kept glancing at you with that soft, affectionate look in his eyes, the way his hand would subtly brush against yours under the table, or how he’d pull you close during moments when no one was looking, as if to remind you that this was your time together.

After dinner, Daisuke insisted on taking you outside to see the backyard, which, as it turned out, had a stunning view of the town covered in snow. The Christmas lights from nearby houses reflected off the snow, creating a soft, magical glow that made the night feel like something out of a holiday movie.

“Come here,” Daisuke said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the porch. “This is one of my favorite parts of Christmas—just looking out over the snow. My family used to come out here every Christmas Eve when I was younger and just… enjoy the peace.”

You stood with him, watching the snow fall gently, the cool air brushing against your skin. His presence beside you, his warmth, was enough to make everything feel even more magical.

“I never imagined I’d get to spend Christmas like this,” you murmured, leaning into him. “It’s been perfect.”

Daisuke smiled down at you, his fingers threading through yours as he pulled you a little closer. “I’ve been looking forward to this for so long, just to share it all with you. Christmas is better when you’re with the people you love, and that’s all I want for us.”

You leaned up to kiss him, the moment soft, gentle, and full of meaning. When you pulled away, Daisuke’s face was alight with happiness, his eyes sparkling.

“Merry Christmas, the most beautiful person I've ever seen,” he said softly.

You chuckled at his compliment as you stared deeply into his eyes in an, oh such affectionate way.

“Merry Christmas, Handsome,” you whispered back.

Later, as the evening drew on, everyone gathered around the tree for the Secret Santa exchange. You’d gotten Daisuke’s mom, and after some playful teasing, she opened the gift you’d picked out—a beautiful hand-knitted scarf, which she immediately wrapped around her neck with a delighted laugh. Then, Daisuke gave you your gift, a small box wrapped with care. When you opened it, you found a delicate silver bracelet with a charm that read together, a reminder of how far you’d come and how much you meant to each other.

You blinked back tears as you hugged him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “I love it, Daisuke. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, his voice full of affection as he kissed your forehead. “This is just the beginning of our holiday together. I want to make this Christmas the best one yet.”

As the evening wound down, the two of you snuck off to a quiet corner of the living room, away from the laughter and chatter, to enjoy each other’s company in peace. With the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights surrounding you, Daisuke wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

“This is all I ever wanted,” he whispered, his voice full of love. “To be with you, here, now.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his family, the love between you, and the gentle snowfall outside, you knew he was right. It didn’t matter where you were, as long as you were together.

“Merry Christmas, Daisuke,” you whispered, kissing him again.

“Merry Christmas,” he replied, smiling softly, his heart as full as yours.

#[★—sodavizz]#mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke #daisuke mouthwashing #can you guys tell whos my favortie hehe #i love this cutie stop

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 4 months ago

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girldad!joel

Hi, it's me thinking about Sarah's dad Joel Miller again. I've been seeing the wonderful headcanons floating around and I just couldn't get all of these sweet images out of my head.

girldad!joel holding a band in between his lips as he keeps glancing down at a magazine tutorial on how to style Sarah’s hair for her first school dance. “It wouldn’t hurt if you just stopped squirming baby girl.”

girldad!joel taking the day off from work to chaperone Sarah’s class field trip to the farm. He sits on the bus, his broad body takes up a whole seat. He gives Sarah her space but she just can’t help hanging with him the whole day.

girldad!joel wrapping presents on Christmas Eve and lining them up under the tree, stepping back and being proud of how many gifts he can buy his little girl.

girldad!joel picking Beauty and the Beast to watch for movie night because he feels a lot like Maurice, a single father who would do anything for his spunky, smart daughter.

girldad!joel pouring two bowls of cereal and joining Sarah on the couch for cartoons on Saturday morning. He relishes these lazy mornings, even if Sarah almost always spills milk on the couch.

girldad!joel grocery shopping, trying to stick within his budget but allowing the splurge of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and a teeny bopper magazine for Sarah because she’s always such a big help.

girldad!joel dropping Sarah off for her first day of kindergarten, telling her she’s such a big girl and how proud he is of her. He only allows himself to feel a sense of pride that he’s taking good care of his baby girl after he steps up into his truck and is alone. A single tear wells in his eye before he starts the engine and drives to work.

girldad!joel wearing a cheap plastic tiara and not being able to fit the acrylic ring around his thick finger while sitting around the coffee table and playing Pretty Pretty Princess with Sarah.

girldad!joel taking Sarah to the hardware store to pick out the perfect color for her big girl bedroom. She sleeps in his bed that night while the paint dries, Joel stays up relishing the feel of her little, warm body against his because he knows it’ll probably be the last time he can hold his baby girl as she falls asleep.

girldad!joel letting Sarah pick the music in his truck, his cheeks turning pink when she starts to tease him that he actually *does* like the new boy band song.

girldad!joel putting the little WORLD'S BEST DAD trophy keychain Sarah bought him at the school Christmas store on his keys.

girldad!joel nervously stammering through asking Sarah if she needs any “uh… pads or… hmm… tampons” before he leaves for the store feeling slightly embarrassed at how she rolls her eyes at his embarrassment and tells him she’s good.

girldad!joel eating all of the marshmallows Sarah burns before she toasts the perfect one for her smore.

girldad!joel waking up on Saturday morning exhausted from a long week of work guzzling coffee down while he helps Sarah get ready for her soccer game.

girldad!joel looking up from all of his invoices and complimenting Sarah’s newest colored coloring page while they sit at the dining room table.

girldad!joel helping Sarah learn to ride her bike, which she easily learns. He takes a giant breath when he watches her pedal away without his help. She’s getting so big.

girldad!joel folding laundry on the couch while watching the Rangers game, he gets a little emotional thinking about how much bigger Sarah’s clothes are now. He fondly remembers folding her onesies and pajamas when he was just an overwhelmed single father of a baby.

girldad!joel wearing the BEST FLIPPIN’ DAD apron Sarah bought him while preparing Thanksgiving dinner for her and Tommy. Boxed mashed potatoes, Stove Top stuffing, jarred gravy, canned cranberries, canned yams with lots of marshmallows on top, Jiffy cornbread, and a turkey that might be a little too dry. Sarah thinks all of it is delicious and saves extra room for grocery store bakery baked pumpkin pie with extra whipped cream.

girldad!joel stuffing Easter eggs with candy and coins and hiding them all over the house while Sarah sleeps. He cheekily acts shocked when she finds the hidden golden egg with $5 stuffed inside. “Wow baby girl! That’s a lot of money!”

girldad!joel swearing to himself while putting together a Barbie Dream House for Sarah’s birthday. His frustration grows when part 3C won’t plug into wall 4A.

girldad!joel dropping Sarah off at Uncle Tommy’s for a sleepover before his first actual date in ten years. Tommy wishes him good luck as he grabs Sarah’s pink backpack from him, Joel can tell his brother’s nervous for him. He’s nervous as hell too.

girldad!joel shyly letting you know that he has a young daughter, hoping you don’t run away because he really likes you. His heart beats rapidly when you give him a warm smile and ask about her.

girldad!joel taking Sarah out for ice cream, both of them sitting on the tailgate of his truck. He sucks in a bracing breath before telling her how he’s met somebody who he really likes. She turns, mint chocolate chip green all over her mouth and smiles a wide grin telling him how excited she is and that finally he found someone who could deal with him.

Also, imagine Joel listening to "Robin" by Taylor Swift. You got the dragonflies above your bed You have a favorite spot on the swing set You have no room in your dreams for regrets You have no idea The time will arrive for the cruel and the mean You'll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline But now we'll curtail your curiosity In sweetness

#joel miller #sarah miller #joel and sarah #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fic #joel miller dad of the year

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male-readerwriter · 1 month ago

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Johnny Storm x Male Reader

Title: BURNING LOVE!!

WARNING'S: Language, FLUFF, brief sexual thoughts, headcanons for Johnny Storm falling in love with male reader in the void, Romance

M/N= Male Reader Name/ Male Name.

First and third person POV

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

You were sent to the void after being caught stealing a rare diamond from a museum worth 35 million dollars, it wasn't the first time you've gotten in trouble for stealing- this was more like the 100th or 200th.

You were an international thief, you alone were able to pull off some of the most infamous and greatest robbery's ever. You were constantly in and out of prison but after this well- turns out they were sick of you breaking into places and stealing things so they ended up sending you to the void leaving you to rot with everything else they deemed trash.

You had heard of this place while in prison so you kinda knew it was only sooner or later until you were sent here but you never expected it to be this bad , things were constantly after you as if it wasn't bad enough that there was basically no food in this shit hole you had to deal with monsters, people, and animals chasing you trying to either kill or kidnap you to take you to some women named Cassandra Nova - who the fuck was that?

After a rough day of being chased by people and monsters alike you were getting exhausted and STARVING and you were suddenly getting very dizzy and you could have sworn you saw a man covered in flames flying through the sky fighting off the things chasing you, next thing you know you passed out.

You woke up to the smell of food and when you looked around and it was suddenly night time and you were in a place you didn't recognize, it looked like some type of hideout but nobody was their at least you thought. After rushing over to the food scarfing it down almost immediately a man's voice from behind you laughed saying "look's like someone's hungry".

Who the hell could that be? And what did he want, did he want to hurt me? Dropping the food out of my hand I turned around to see a muscular man in a blue shirt with a 4 on it, my heart skipped a beat. I was still terrified thinking of what he could do to me but damn was he sexy. He took a few steps towards me with his hand outstretched and a warm smile on his face- he seems friendly.

"Hey, I'm johnny. Nice to meet you" I allow him to take my hand, shaking it in a greeting manner "I'm M/N, sorry I was hungry" I respond. Something about this guy intimidated him in a good way.

"No, help yourself we got plenty" he giggles as he lets go of my hand, the smile this guy has is so warming it's lighting up my heart. My heart is beating out of my chest "how did I get here?" I ask taking a bite out of a big turkey leg.

He tells me how he found me and fought off the things after me then took me to his hideout, he says he stays here with a few friends he met who I soon meet named Elektra, Blade, X-23, and Gambit who was my personal favorite other than Johnny. After introducing themselves they all went off doing their own thing not wanting to overwhelm me, I continue eating more food still starving but Johnny stays by my side the entire time still chatting away. There's something about this guy that I immediately wanna cling to and he's not bad looking he can definitely manhandle me any time he pleases the- sorry got off track there, he's just that good looking.

We end up talking for 3 hours straight and I realize my dumb ass has already fallen in love with this man (even though I just met him) there was something about him and he was hot literally. I found out he was able to set his entire body in flames and he could fly all he had to do was say two little words "flame on".

He ended up showing me at a later time, he and his friends explained pretty much everything I need to know about the void then they told me I could stay with them but there was one little problem...

I had to share a bed with Mr. Johnny Storm.

I had no problem with that in any way shape or form neither did Johnny it seemed, though he had kept blushing the first couple of nights I shared a bed with him, after that he started acting a little awkward he'd start smiling everytime I came around, and he started playfully flirting I assumed. After a little while I started flirting back and every time I did he'd start blushing like crazy, which was really confusing considering the way he usually acted before he started flirting with me.

His behavior screamed fuckboy yet he wasn't a bad guy, he never acted like a pig he - seemed like a typical straight guy fuck boy. But he was the most perfect guy you'd ever met and it only made you fall for him more and more.

You assumed he was straight at least but one day when you were walking back into the hideout you heard everyone talking about you so you decided to stay hidden and listen. Somehow they figured out you had feelings for Johnny and before you could even be shocked by that Elektra commented how she knew Johnny had feelings for you as well.

You were flabbergasted, he felt the same way you did and yet he never knew the things you did, everytime he asked how you got sent to the void you changed the subject.

That's when you decided to tell him the truth, you were expecting judgment but surprisingly he was completely fine with it and he didn't care what you did saying you were still a good person at heart. After telling him that you found that it was much easier to open up to him and in no time you both confessed you have feelings for one another.

You were outside going for a walk with him playfully flirting with each other as usually when suddenly Johnny became quite. "Hey, what's on your mind?" You asked and before he could come up with some lame excuse he found himself saying "I have something important to tell you". That's when he told you he had feelings for you, he didn't just have feelings for you, he loved you.

"I'm in love with you M/N, I've been in love with you since the moment I first saw you're fine ass" he said giving your ass a nice smack, and that was the fuckboy part of him coming out but you still couldn't have been happier.

He asked you to be his boyfriend and you said yes, jumping at the opportunity to be in a relationship with Johnny. You were never this kind of guy to rush into some relationship all willy nilly but Johnny was different from any guy you'd ever met before, it was hard to explain -

He was just special, he was Johnny.

The others pretty much ended up finding out we were in a relationship immediately, even though we discussed not telling them at first but it was apparently way to hard for Johnny to keep his hands off me and keep his dirty jokes to himself. So everyone found out awkwardly standing around because Johnny was bad at keep secrets.

It happened I the morning-

He was the last to wake up and the first thing he did was wrap his arms around my waist and shove his head in the crook of my neck mumbling "Mornin babe" just loud enough for everyone to hear it and look over at us shocked we actually got together.

But after about a minute they got over the shock and congratulated us saying things like "about time" or Gambit trying to be sexual and make dirty jokes about the relationship but Johnny is always able to match his freak and make the same type of jokes back. Their banter is always fun to watch.

We all stuck together when we went out incase we had a run in with Cassandra Nova and her gang (I learned she was someone not to be messed with- she's professor X's brother and she's incredibly powerful so I'm the void that basically made her the HBIC and everyone feared her) Johnny liked to act like he wasn't scared of her and he had no problem voicing his hatred for her but I know him- if he had a one on one run in with her he'd most likely end up pissing himself.

There was never much to do in the void but he still tried to do special things for you, like date nights or a walking hand in hand at night when not many people were around to bother you both.

He seems like some typical fuck boy but you knew he was so much more, he was romantic and loved the attention you gave him literally any type of attention you gave him put a big smile on his face and a pink tint to his cheeks, he's such a dork.

He loves cuddles and so do you, it's both of your favorite thing to do to pass the time, well that and sex! you both are pretty wild in the bedroom, and luckily Johnny has a lot of stamina.

Whenever your together it's like time just stops and the only thing either of you care about is each other (you're so wrapped up in each other's little bubble, it's like you were made for each other) he never judged you for who you were even tho you were pretty much polar opposites and he's a hero and you used to be a villain -kinda- but that all changed after going to the void.

In this place you never know how much time you have like you can literally all die at any second, but it doesn't matter as long as you have him by your side you'd happily live in the moment and don't even think about what tomorrow could possibly bring.

He is my world, my human torch....

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Oop.

Literally had no idea how to end this so that's why the ending is so abrupt sorry- also sorry for any spelling errors I didn't proof read.

Hope it was at least a little enjoyable, I'll be better in the future I haven't written in a bit sorry- 🤣 FEM READERS, AND MINORS DNI! go away-

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monarchberrysblog · 10 months ago

Text

𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔲𝔱

18+ Fireman! Miguel O’Hara x Chubby! Fem! Reader

Summary: After being hired into Station 29 and dealing with the fires in Nueva York, Miguel experiences soft and sweet love after saving someone from a burning building.

Trigger Warning ⚠️: Chubby! Female! Reader, soft fluff shit-- Miguel is 25, and the reader is 21 (a bit of an age gap). Mean? Dom! Miguel, words of affirmation, size difference got me like 😋. (OOC MIGUEL, JUST THROWING THAT OUT THERE)

Word Count: <1.0k words

Author’s Note: HEAR ME OUT PLS— This came to mind after chatting with a bot on character.ai. (original, I know) It makes me sad that the Miguel hype has been slowly dying down, but I will write about my husband until my obsession dies. (it's never going to die; please save me.) Also, if you see minors like this, please let me know 😗

Who knew that getting fucked into a mattress by the fireman who saved you from a burning building was the answer to all of life’s problems?

He slid his fingers out of you, then trailed said fingers up to your throat, soon lightly grasping onto your throat. The hold was firm but wasn't enough to choke anyone out. "You okay?" You glanced at him and could imagine the mess you left behind on his bedsheets. "…yeah." You gasped at him before you swallowed dryly and squirmed.

"Looks like you had some fires to put out." He chuckled, seeing the evident clear, slick against the silky bedsheets that were probably worth more than your weekly grocery shopping list. "I'm sorry." You whined to him. "No, no. It's okay, baby…" He gave your thigh a reassuring pat with his free hand. After patting your thigh, he moved his hand away from your throat and grasped onto the fat of your thigh. "Spread open for me…"

The sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants is enough to make your mouth salivate in instinct by simply hearing the metal of his belt clink. “Every time I jerk off,” He pauses momentarily, but he continues when you feel a bulbous tip lightly tap at your fluttering entrance. “I think about how you taste, and I never last.”

A barely audible moan escapes from you, arching your back against the mattress. “Shh, shh, it's okay.” Miguel slowly pushes himself into you, taking the time to savor your wet, moist, gummy walls. “My god, you're so tight. Take deep breaths for me, okay?” The stretch of his girth is enough to drive anyone wild. With a shaky breath, you nodded, laid back on the bed, and relaxed. An audible groan from the back of your throat before it became a guttural groan deep from you diaphragm. “I know it hurts, I know…” He cooed to you.

It took all of his willpower not to hump you like an animal in heat. Instead, he allowed his tip to stay in your entrance. He brought his lips to your ear, whispering sweet nothings while you felt yourself getting stuffed more than a turkey on a Thanksgiving dinner. You propped yourself up on your elbows, just to see the sight below you. “You like to see? How dirty.”

He patted your fupa lovingly before he pushed down on the soft tummy. You took in deep breaths, trying to get him to fit in. “There we go. Can you see how you're taking my cock? You're taking it well…” The sound of a small queef filled the space, interrupting Miguel, causing you to hide your face with a nearby pillow, embarrassed of the noise. “It's okay, neña. It's cute.” You slowly peeked from the pillow, and you could see Miguel fighting demons in his soul to not laugh at the flatulent noise when he sunk himself in. “It's not funny, Miguel.” You huffed, feeling embarrassed. “No, it's not,” At this point, if Miguel dared to look at you, he would have started to laugh, but he didn't.

A groan escaped, feeling the sweet, delicious burn his girth offered. “Good girl,” He groaned before he got a hold of your hand. Miguel uses his free hand to move his hand from your fupa to grab onto the bed's headboard. “Look at you, eagerly moving down already. Don't overwhelm yourself, sweetheart.” He lightly quipped before a sharp inhale between his teeth broke his words. “Slow down there, baby…” You squirmed your hips down, and the delicious burn subsided to pleasure as a loud moan escaped from you, and Miguel let out a loud groan. “Ay, I told you to slow down, baby…” Ignoring Miguel’s wishes, you continued to sink into his length, enjoying how the vein on his length brushed against your puffy clit so slowly and deliciously.

“Ya te dije,” He shoved his entire length into you, nearly slamming you against the headboard. A loud whine filled his apartment, feeling his red, angry, bulbous tip kiss at your cervix. “Ya te dije, más lento.” The man firmly demanded. “It's what I want, not what you want.”

A few shaky breaths, along with a couple of forehead kisses, had you settled down on his length and wanted to continue. A whine escaped from you while you squirmed underneath him. Your pleading wasn't contributing to the situation well. “Please…” You pleaded. “Give me a minute…” Miguel strained out, slowly moving out and pushing himself back in. “Give me a minute, baby…” It was a chore for Miguel to be dominant when you made him fold in half like a lawn chair by seeing you slowly inching down on his length with such zealous energy.

The sight of the fireman who saved you from a burning building and is significantly taller than you got weak in the knees by being knees deep in your cooch. After a couple of moments and of you fluttering against his length, he slowly sunk inside of you and started to grind his tip against your cervix. A white ring began to form attached to the base of his cock, meaning that your juices and his precum have mixed and are already dripping off his length and onto the bed sheets underneath the two of you. The grinding soon turned into him thrusting his length entirely at a steady, slow pace.

His hands moved away from the headboard and gasp onto the back of your thighs. “I'm going to push your legs back a bit. Is that okay?” He groaned, keeping his pace the same. “Yeah…” You moaned out, feeling his push down be pinned down to the bed, not allowing you to see how he was moving. You tried your best to see him moving inside of you but gave up after you couldn't. “You wanted to keep seeing? Qué cochina.”

“I'll give you a sight to see…”

If you saw any errors, no, you didn't. This is the first smut I've written in a while 😭

#miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel x you

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

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SAYING UGLY THINGS ON CHRISTMAS EVE WITH STEBE PLEASEEEEEEE

let's just pretend it's still christmas ok? hope you like it angel! — steve gets cruel when he's anxious, and with his parents coming to town, he's practically a timebomb (ditzy!fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 2.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You were only trying to help.

Really, you were.

Steve’s been stressing himself sick about his parents coming over, and you’ve been following him around with your heart in your throat, trying to help him before he totally implodes.

He’s always a ticking time bomb when his parents are in town. He doesn’t know how to be anything else when it comes to them. He doesn’t know how to be anything other than perfect because he’s terrified of his mom’s backhanded compliments and his dad’s sneering replies.

He always turns into his teenage self when he’s scared — and there’s nothing more terrifying than being a teenager again.

You know all this, so you try your best to be supportive when he gets in moods like these. When he’s on edge and fussing over every little thing. You help him dust the top of the fridge and organize the spice cabinet and wipe down all the windows — even though you know his parents won’t notice, or otherwise care, about any of it.

And then, when you finally get the buzzing ball of anxiety to cuddle up with you on the couch, you manage to screw everything up all over again.

His head is on your chest, wild hair still drying from his shower. You hear him sniff once, then twice. “What’s that smell?” he wonders, not entirely apprehensive ‘cause the TV’s got most of his attention.

“What smell?” you ask, more distracted than he is.

His weight on you is a comforting one. You pet him like a cat accordingly — one palm rubbing up and down the length of his back and the other curling in his hair. With your nose among the chestnut strands, you don’t smell anything other than his floral shampoo.

“It smells like something’s burning.”

You pull back from him and sniff hard once. It smells a bit smoky, like cooking something over a campfire. Because something is burning. Your heart plummets to your stomach at the realization.

“Oh…” you hum under your breath, blood running ice-cold.

Steve only tenses up because you do. Your warm hands on his body go suddenly rigid. His scruffy chin rubs against the chest of your sweater when he turns to look at you. His honey eyes twinkle with confusion and concern. “Oh, what?”

“I think that might be the turkey…” you answer in a tiny voice because you know what’s coming.

“The what?”

“I put it in while you were in the shower, ‘cause you were so worried it wouldn’t get done in time—”

“Shit, babe!” he blurts and pushes himself off the couch. He rushes towards the kitchen without another look your way. You follow behind him like a puppy and hopelessly try to explain yourself.

“—And then you wanted to cuddle after, so I laid down and totally forgot about it!”

“So you’re saying it’s my fault?” he scoffs and swings the door of the stove down. He flinches at the billowing gray smoke. He rises again and rummages through an adjacent drawer, in search of oven mitts.

Your face swirls with confusion. “No!”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I forgot!”

“That’s not an excuse, babe!” He grimaces as he reaches into the hot oven. The tray clatters to the stove with a smoking turkey on top. It’s not totally burnt, but it’s hard as a rock and charred all over. Neither of you are chefs, but you could probably guess it’s less than edible.

“Shit…” Steve huffs under his breath. His hands fall to his waist and he cocks a hip to the side, blinking at the molten turkey before him because he’s at a loss for what to do now.

You stand just behind him, cowering as you wring your hands together. You feel small, like a child moments away from getting scolded. “I’m sorry, Steve,” you murmur, voice wavering. “I just wanted to help—”

He laughs loud. A bitter scoff, at most. “Well, you did a great job of that, didn’t you?” he says with a sour smile on his plush pink lips.

Tears burn the backs of your eyes. You decide to blame it on the lingering smoke.

“I said I was sorry,” you insist in a tiny voice, trying your best to stand up for yourself. You fucked up. Both of you know it. Rubbing salt in the wound doesn’t help anything.

“That doesn’t fix it, baby!” he argues, hands gesticulating wildly when he turns to you. His chiseled features are sharp with anger, but you decide to count your blessings ‘cause he’s still calling you baby. He only uses your real name when he’s really upset.

“I’m gonna have to go all the way to the store and make it all over again!”

“I’ll pay for it, Stevie, it’s okay—”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“My parents are coming over tonight! And if everything’s not perfect, I will never hear the end of it,” he agonizes, voice fragile and close to breaking. His honey eyes go glassy when the red emotion slowly turns blue. “About how I can’t make it on my own, how I moved out too early— how I never should’ve moved in with you.”

His words sting a little bit, in the most literal sense. The very center of your chest starts to ache, like he’s shoved a red-hot knife into your sternum.

You try to shrug it off as best you can. “Well, who cares what your parents say?”

“I do! I have to, ‘cause I’m the one that’ll have to hear about it every goddamn day!”

His misplaced anger begins to build, like the looming shadow of a boogeyman. The weight of it starts to suffocate you. At a loss of how to make any of it better (because you’ve got a record of doing the exact opposite) you try to bring your high-strung boy down again.

“It’s just a turkey, Steve. We can make another.”

You prepare yourself for an argument, but Steve only huffs — so deep it makes his chest rise and fall. His head tips back as he rubs two wide palms over his face, down to his chin and back up again. He swipes his fingers through the still-drying strands of his unstyled hair and doesn’t say a single word.

His teeth are clenched tight. You can tell by the sudden sharpness of his jaw and the way his temples are slightly shifted. His eyes are still shut as he breathes in deep, rhythmic patterns. You can almost hear him counting to ten inside his head in attempts to calm back down again.

Steve is painfully self-aware of how hotheaded he gets when he’s anxious. Every little thing feels like the end of the world when he’s cranked up to one hundred. Problem is, he only realizes how cruel he’s being after he’s hurt someone with it.

That someone in question is you now. The sweeter-than-sugar you, the brighter-than-sunshine you, the well-meaning-but-sometimes-totally-careless you.

And Steve, on the other hand, is utterly troubled. He’s harsh, and he’s hopeless, and he loves you so much he’s not totally sure what to do with it all. Sometimes it scratches him like barbs. Maybe that’s why he confuses love and anger so often.

He thinks of his parents — how they were supposed to love him, how maybe they do, how they have a terrible way of showing it, and how he isn’t at all deserving of the way they treat him — and something inside him seethes. It burns somewhere deep within his ribcage and squirms like a feral animal trying to break free.

He feels trapped and he turns violent, like some kind of hurt dog. ‘Cause if he can’t be loved, then he might as well be feared. And sometimes he bites you, the warmhearted stranger willing to love something that doesn’t know how to love itself. And maybe that’s why he snaps at you when he’s so high-strung.

You love him the most, out of everybody in the whole entire world, and no one could understand all this quite like you do.

“You’re right,” he sighs when he comes down to earth again, arms falling to his sides when his shoulders are no longer tense.

The shades of red give way to something more golden when he looks at you. It makes his heart twist because you’re still looking at him the same way you were ten minutes ago — like you’re looking at the rest of your life in the flesh.

One more breath, and the worry slips away.

“Yeah, you’re right— it’s just a turkey— everything’s fine.”

You want to comfort him. Your wringing hands ache with the longing to hold him like you were before all this, with his cheek to your chest so your heartbeat can keep him grounded. You’re just not sure if he wants that yet.

So you linger in place and try not to implode with your yearning.

“I can get a storebought one before they come over if you want,” you offer meekly, peering at him beneath your lashes. “I don’t think they’ll know the difference if we just lie and say we made it.”

He laughs again. One snorted breath, but much more genuine this time. A grin blossoms like a pretty flower on his rose-petaled mouth. It’s impossible not to smile back at him.

“Or we can just, like, not say anything, and watch my parents pretend to like it,” he jokes.

“That’s evil,” you say, hiding your giggle behind your palm. “But then we’d probably have to eat it, too— to make it believable and everything, you know? And I don’t think I can put that in my mouth without gagging.” You snort a laugh at yourself, then grow strangely serious as you mumble, “That’s what she said.”

Steve laughs, loud and boyish. It paints the kitchen golden and makes your chest feel all sparkly. “C’mere,” he hums with a grin, throwing his arms out for you.

You gravitate towards him instantly, like he’s the sun and you’ve just suffered a terribly long winter. You hug him tight accordingly — suffocating, warm, and tender. He holds you back the same.

His arms curl around your back, wide palms spreading along the length of it. He noses at your hair and presses a gentle kiss there. “Sorry for yelling,” he apologizes, mostly muffled from where he’s holding you so intently. “You forgot. It’s okay. I overreacted.”

It’s still hard for him to apologize sometimes. Even when he’s in the wrong. Especially when he’s in the wrong. He grew up with parents who fought and then acted like nothing happened the next day. There was never any closure. Just bottled up feelings.

It feels good to be wrong — to acknowledge it and to still be loved after.

“I really was trying to help,” you mutter, burying the words into his chest.

Steve nods against you. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse—”

“You didn’t make it worse, don’t say that,” Steve interjects before the words can properly leave your mouth. He squeezes you tighter, in hopes it’ll make his words stick more. “You know I’d stress myself to death if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah. And if your parents came home to a corpse, that’d be really morbid,” you murmur gently.

Steve chuckles when he pulls away from you. He unwraps his arms from around you, just to hold your face in his hands. His palms are warm and softly calloused against your cheeks. He swipes his thumbs over the warm apple of them.

“It would be,” he concurs with a nod and a big, dumb grin. His honey eyes sparkle as they melt for you. “I’ll tell them that when they come over— that you singlehandedly saved their son. They’ll have to love you, then.”

He says it like it’s a joke, but it isn’t really. It’s true in a lot of ways. Way more than you know.

“Think they’ll still like me even if you don’t say all that?” you wonder meekly and with your nose scruched, peering up at him with a hopeful gaze.

“Oh. Yeah. Totally,” Steve scoffs without thinking twice. He shrugs like it’s obvious with his face twisted like he’s confused why you’d even ask. “They’ll fall in love with you the second they see you.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic,” you mumble, laughing under your breath.

You’re not nearly as confident as he is because you have no idea you’re made of flower petals, sunsets, and winter skies — all things delicate, tender, and impossibly loveable.

“I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to be in love with you,” Steve insists, still cradling your face in his palms. It’s easier than saying that he loves you so much that he’d follow you anywhere — or that the rest of the world could fall apart, and he wouldn’t care as long as you were standing with him.

“I think you’re biased,” you tease with a quiet smile.

“I know from firsthand experience, babe,” he argues with a rosy smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m an expert on the matter, actually.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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