#velcro wrap roll

[screampied]

C*M RIGHT ON ME, I MEAN CAMARADERIE ☆

☆ sum. what’s bed chem? where they like to finish inside, when you both arrive at the same time, and the thermostat’s set at six-nine. toji, nanami, choso, gojo, sukuna.

warnings. fem! reader, established relationships, unprotected, premature ejac, lots of cúmplay, ōral (m! receiving), praise, dirty talk, overstim, impact play, squírting, bōob job, manhandling, size kink, spít, brēeding kink.

☆ NANAMI KENTO - TUMMY.

nanami was a gentleman—he didn’t mind filling you up, but he’d rather prefer to paint your tummy instead. he’d always have you in missionary too, giving you deep passionate strokes whilst he’s buried nose deep near the crook of your neck. “sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good,” he softly rasps as blond tresses of hair glue against his perspiring skin. with just how close he was—you feel his husky pants ghost against your skin, nearly tasting his loud rosemary cologne scent. “mmh, missed you all day at work. had a boner in my meeting ‘n everything.”

“y- yeah?” you pant right with him, weak arms wrapping around his broad narrow shoulders. nanami’s so slow that it’s almost painful, trying to make every thrust count. you’re slathering his entire cock with nothing but your slippery slick, hearing the weeping sloshes purr from beneath your folds. he was hitting you good, and the back of your ankles find themselves running down his chiseled back. with a sheepish smile—you meet his mahogany-eyed gaze, moaning put sweet nothings. “you weren’t thinkin’ about me in your meeting, were you ‘ken?”

“ah,” he grunts, “you know i was, sweetheart,” and he’s staring at you with the most warmest expression. his soft fawn eyes linger on you the entire time and he brings a tender kiss near the twitching corner of your mouth. “all i think about is you,” he kisses near underneath your chin. “only you,” and you moan once he sneaks a hand down between your sprawled open thighs, giving your stuffed pussy a loving pat. “and of course her.”

nanami’s pace slowly accelerated as he moved— you can’t help but drag your nails down his back, clinging onto him for dear life. “fuck,” your head falls back against the cushioned pillow that’s laid directly behind you. his hips, they were delicious.

nanami pounds into you in such a romantic way, and yet his thrusts were far more crude. he knew how to fuck, and he knew how to hit all the right spots to make you gasp. “kento, ohmygod,” you’d whine out his name constantly in sweet repeated syllables. “faster, ‘s okay, fuck me. fuck m- me.”

“such a naughty mouth my wife has,” he whispers, and his voice pitches—growing a bit raspy. he’s driving fat inches into you, jaggedly crashing his hips into you again and again. you moan, feeling strands of his hair tickle against your forehead. “oughta clean it,” his voice goes even lower, and the bass that lives on his tone makes you throb. he feels it—your spongy insides desperately convulsing around him. nanami cups your chin, pressing a wet chaste kiss against your lips. “faster, hm? ‘s that what you want, my love?”

as your eyes start to flicker back, rolling toward the very depths of your cranium—you whimper, babbling out pathetic whiny cries by this point. “y- yes, faster please ‘ken. need it, fuck me.”

his body sticks against yours practically - skin against skin, and he’s attached to you like velcro.

your cunt’s soaking him fully and it makes him bite the inside of his hollow cheek. nanami reaches onto the wooden-made headboard with a single burly arm, and you moan at the sight of his bulging muscles flexing from his grasp. “i see you checking me out, honey,” he chuckles, his hips bucking even quicker. you whimper once his cock kisses up against your clit. it scratches such a carnal itch in your brain that makes your thighs almost collapse. fuck, he found the spot, he found that spot and now you were sure your brain was short-circuiting. fuzziness coils at your brain before you cutely try to paw your hands at his arms. “go ‘head. feel me up, sweetheart. these muscles belong all to you.”

as your hands feel against his brick hard muscles, nanami’s blond brows contort into a furrow once he feels a sudden familiar strain. “oh, god,” and you feel this pace gradually slow down. he bites his lip, still holding onto the headboard while another hand grips your waist. “honey, you’re gonna make a mess out of me again, fuck.”

nanami rarely swears—but when he does, it makes you throb. he tries not to, but whenever he’s stuffed deep inside of your cunt, he can’t help it. you’re clinging onto him with your pretty thighs wrapped around his slim waist. “cum, ‘ken.” you moan, flimsy arms wrapping around his tense shoulders. nanami’s weight hovers over you completely, and he feels your finger twirl against his faint blond chest hair. he huskily groans, giving you those last final deep strokes before shooting complete blanks.

with quickness, nanami pulls his cock out— and he sprays globs of satiny ribbons right on your bare tummy. he groans as his pink lips purse together and he’s shaking. your pussy’s so soaked, and he only imagined what would happen if he came inside. the thought purged his mind—flooding his thoughts, and he takes a few seconds before collapsing right on your chest.

“are you alright?” he pants, resting his chin between your breasts. for a faint moment, you see him pouting and you kiss his forehead. a sheepish grin spreads against his lips before you feel him softly pressing down on your tummy. “i wasn’t too harsh, was i?”

“again, kento,” you playfully coo, and he’s taken by surprise once you suddenly get up, lightly shoving him on his back. landing with a quiet ‘oof,’ nanami falls back against the bed with a timid look in his eyes, allowing you to straddle his lap. “this time, inside though.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies in a cheeky tone, still sweating as he brings his broad bare hands toward your waist. “let’s see if you can handle me, sweetheart,” and you moan once he abruptly spanks your ass, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “your move.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO - TITS.

“get on your knees,” choso mumbles, remembering you wanted him to be a bit more rough whenever it came to intimate activities. he’s got the biggest pout though as he’s stroking himself awkwardly, a pout twisting against his pink lips. “…please,” he murmurs quietly, watching as you got down on your knees, reaching an arm behind you to unclasp your bra. choso’s already panting as he gawks, swollen round thumb grazing up against his veiny bulging cock. “good girl, good.”

“you remember what to do next, baby?” you sweetly hum, cupping each of your springy tits. god, you looked so pretty. choso loved finishing on your chest. after you demonstrated to him what a ‘boob job’ was, he became obsessed. sure, he liked finishing inside too but he always preferred this—spraying creamy ropes near your breasts, and his favorite part was to always shove his cock in between them.

you taught him a lot, and maybe he was far dirtier than you expected.

with a nod, he continues to pump his cock into his hand before groaning out a, “mhm,” and he kisses his teeth. already, he was close. you drove him crazy - you and him both knew that, and it makes him get harder at realizing how big of a mess he’s about to make - on you.

choso’s cock was so pretty — it’s long, and stands tall right before your eyes. your eyes rove at how it’s got a slight left lazy curve due to how heavy it was, as well as having a prodding vein running down the middle of his shaft. you can’t help but lean in, lapping your tongue against the vein as you bounce your doughy twin mounds with the palm of your hands. “f- fuck, baby you’re teasin’ me,” he moans, a hand of his grabbing onto the top of your head. dewy eyes of yours slowly glance up at him and you hum, licking a long playful stripe right down from his swollen tip until you reach his shaven base. “ah, you don’t wanna wait, do you? should i just—”

“go ‘head, ‘cho,” you coo, twiddling your thumbs against the sensitive nubs of your nipples. doing so, you make yourself twitch between your legs and you moan, giving his achy tip a quick kiss.

“o- okay,” he swallows thickly, and his breaths become more and more shallow. choso’s abs tighten and clench and you watch how a single drop of sweat races down the very center. he’s got the prettiest expressions. his lip quivers before he gnaws on it, letting off a soft whine at the tightening pressure that’s arising against his cock. “baby, tell me if it’s too much,” he mumbles with pouty lips, and that’s when he aligns his shaft in between your jiggling breasts. a perfect fit, he moans immediately once you sit up with a teasing smile, circling your tits around repeatedly. “fuck, keep doin’ that. touch yourself, uh huh.”

as your hands cling onto your plump breasts, he’s slowly thrusting his dick in between your tits. you feel that same prodding vein that runs against his shaft against your skin and you sigh. “cum, choso. give it t’ me.” you softly utter, never breaking eye contact. choso practically had heart eyes — only you could talk to him like that and make him entirely weak. he lets off a sweet elongated moan, watching with saucer-wide eyes as his hardened dick’s gradually disappearing in between the valley of your breasts.

“ngh, ‘m cumming,” he groans in a low voice, inhaling his final sharp breath. as choso’s nostrils flare up, it’s only then that he abruptly cums on your chest, painting the upper part of your frame with his creamy white color. “mmh, shit,” his head tosses back, and his dick finally grows flaccid. choso’s soft now, and his tip’s still the same rosy white, streams and streams of speedily dribbling from the sides. he’s huffing as a bit of it plops on your cheek and you swipe a thumb against it, lapping it right up. “baby, you’re s- so dirty.”

“for you,” you reply in a honeyed tone, leaning in more to slowly swirl your tongue around his throbbing crowned tip. foaming minuscule bubbles ooze from the reddened head of his cock and he groans, still feeling the euphoric after effects of his body. the sensitivity of it all feels good, and it leaves an unforgettable sweet taste in his mouth. you’re still on your knees and as he’s coated the entire parts of your tits with spurts of hot dripping cum. you lick your lips, giving his tip one more kiss. “you did so good, baby. good boy.”

with his dick still in hand, his eyes widen at your praise and it’s so cute—he’s got literal heart eyes forming before his pout returns.

“… say that again,” he gruffs, a thumb delicately smearing against your glossed lips. you were covered in his mess, and he only wanted to do it more. “please, say that again.”

with a sheepish smile, you hum. “good boy?”

“mm,” he moans from just your words, and you gasp once he suddenly lifts you up. choso’s panting, and you realize he’s leading you toward the bedroom. “i- i need to show you just how much of a ‘good boy’ i can be. h-heh.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO - INSIDE.

“fuuckk, dunno who’s the bigger slut right now, baby girl. you or these. damn. hips.” toji groans, enunciating each virile thrust.

raven shaggy strands block his semi-blurred eyesight as his own sculptured hips continue to punctuate each hit against your very core. you’re moaning until the cords in your throat goes strained—he’s got you laid flat on the bed. ass up, face down.

his favorite, toji loved his doggystyle.

not only did he love it though, he was fucking mean. each jackhammering clap of his hips sends you whiplash as multiple breaths snatch out from your throat. “yeaaahhh, take it. fuckin’ take it. move that ass against me, don’t be lazy,” he grunts, verdant eyes peering at the doughy globes of your rear jerk and toss back against him. with a swatting hand going towards your left ass cheek, he grabs your hip with another. “oh, c’mon. you can move quicker than that big girl. thought you could take me.”

“hngh, i can,” you mewl out, hearing your own cunt retaliate against his teasing. he’s buried so deep that the crown of his cock’s just sloppily making out with your cervix. so big, the crooked stretch of his dick always makes you drool, aching for more within each pivotal stroke. you feel a scarred thumb of his caress down the juncture of your jittery waist as your cheek smushes up against your pillow. “toji, you’re jus’ fuckin’ big.”

“watch that mouth,” he swats a palm against your ass again, making you moan. the bed beneath you both wails out a plethora of groans, sounding as if it the headboard was about to shatter into a million pieces. the cocky authority in his low deep voice makes your cunt twitch — and oh, does he feel it. “cute, strugglin’ ‘ta take me ‘n yet your pussy’s tellin’ me something else,” and once he leans further in, his chest brushing up against your back, he’s even deeper. toji’s swollen fat crown massages through your walls and you whimper, feeling his hand softly wrap around your throat. “you’re soaking me, you know that? ‘n you said you weren’t even that wet, liar. .”

your eyes gradually droop once he creeps his hand up toward your face, popping two fingers into your mouth. “put that bratty fuckin’ mouth to use,” a husky voice whispers against the shell of your ear. you happily take his two digits, swirling your tongue around the thickness of them both whilst he’s still ruthlessly pounding you. your ass sticks up in the air and he groans, continuing to hump his hips achingly against your backside. “fuck, good girl. get my fingers wet. gonna shove ‘em right in this sloppy pussy later,” and he hears you let off a sweet needy coo. spanking your cunt with his free hand, he licks near your neck. “oh? you’d like that, huh doll?”

shamelessly, you nod at his words and he darkly chuckles. cute, even with your throat being stuffed with his fingers. and you’re nothing but a mess too. strings of spit drizzle down the inner crevices of your mouth as your tongue curls around his fingers. “shit, y’er gonna make me cum,” his breath grows shaky, and he hears your pussy starting to whine out airy moans of itself. gummy flesh sticks against each other from each thrust and it’s hard. both gripping mounds of skin clash amongst each other at full force and the impact rings through your ears. toji groans, feeling his full base starting to tighten and his jaw clenches. “gotta make this tummy plump again, just … gotta,” and his hips dramatically buck, plummeting every length inch inside of your sopping sweet cunt. “f- fuck!”

toji gets humbled by his own release before he cums—and he groans. that final merciless shimmy of his hips rigidly sealing the deal. within seconds, he’s cumming—emitting out masses of thick slimy ropes that quickly sprays the inner lining of your pussy. your mouth’s still full of his fingers and your lashes flap, eyelids becoming insignificantly heavy. you weakly grind your hips back on him and toji’s loudly grunting. “god, i need .. a minute,” and a drop of sweat races down his sculpted v-line. a hand combs through his shaggy unkempt hair as he’s still pumping you with such salacious virility. “ugh. gonna get ya pregnant at this rate. swollen all u-up,” and his voice falters once his cock finally finishes it’s sloppy spurts.

you felt warm, a few remnants of cum tear and ooze down the undersides of your thighs—he came that much, and you only wanted more. whenever toji came inside, he’d always think about making your tummy round ‘n plump again.

“t- tojiii,” you whine, his fingers popping out of your mouth. he slowly scissors his fingers together, glancing at the glistening trail of saliva you’ve gifted his digits before he gradually pulls his cock out. your thighs were sprawled open and you could just feel his dangerous eyes bore into your back. “fuck, ‘m full.”

“good,” he rasps, smearing a fat thumb down your drooling clit. velvety ropes of cum—globs of it leak out from your folds and you’re just stupidly smothered into the pillows - fucked entirely stupid. toji’s chest heaves in and out before he brings his thumb up to his scarred lips, getting a taste for himself. “hn. not bad. now roll that ass over, baby. ‘m not done givin’ you a good fill.”

�� SUKUNA RYŌMEN - ASS.

sukuna rarely pulls out but when he does, he likes to finish on your ass.

he loves more than anything to spank you until you’re whining from the swatting stings, constantly moaning out his name until your voice wears itself thin.

“your pussy’s always so weak,” he snarls, submissively having you on all fours. his chambers were quiet - minus the loud smacks of bodies clapping against each other every few thrusts.

his hips were maddened—he’s got you face down, fat cheek shoved into the silky made sheets with your tongue lolled out of your mouth. “ ‘s a shame, thought i trained it well,” the demon tsks, and your tummy curls once you feel his turgid tip swivel around your spongy insides. riiiight there, he hits every spot, feeling you slather all nth inches of his dick with your honeyed slick.

crimson red eyes peer at how well his dick continues to disappear within your walls—over and over, you’re gripping down on him like a vice and it makes him hiss. “there we go. there’s that pathetic squeeze,” and you moan, feeling him reach down to maneuver evil circles against your cunt. so sensitive, you writhe back against his hips and his forked tongue licks against the inside of your neck. “aw, someone’s pussy needed some lovin’ too, huh,” and as his warm breath ghosts against your skin, his thrusts grow sloppier. you shudder, feeling beads of sweat race down the cracked valley of your ass.

“suku—”

“quiet, woman,” he shushes you, a sharp nail softly grazing down your skin. you moan, taking in every lengthy inch until your toes curled. sukuna’s hips were just downright brutal—you were gasping as he moved, his pace growing completely crazed and relentless. you could barely keep up, and although he’d never say it aloud because his pride wouldn’t let him, he found it adorable. as his hands continue to toy against your stuffed squelching cunt, he groans against your ear. “hear that?” he purrs against your skin, each saturated slosh getting louder than the next, a wolffish grin curls against his lips. “you wait your turn to speak, right now it’s hers.”

your eyes were already starting to roll back, he’s hitting you deep, and that crooked curve of his cock makes you salivate everytime. “o- ooh,” you’d whimper out, feeling the fabric of his kimono tickle against your skin from each swift movement he makes. his angry tip smacks against your clit and it’s just so rude - hitting and slapping away repeatedly until your brain’s complete mush. he was right though - you were incredibly wet. your pussy was more of a crybaby than you were. the sloshing sounds pour out from your cunt bounce off the regal walls of his royal chambers and that’s when you shriek. “ ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum ‘kuna—fuck.”

“thought i told ya to keep quiet, princess,” bruising your pulsating clit continuously until you’re seeing nothing but stars. your vision glimmers, and you can see the entire galaxy, all from his deep, deep thrusts. “but, fine,” and the curse groans, knowing he was reaching his monumental high too. sukuna’s giving you his all, his pace was insanity, insane—just like he was.

his skin glues against yours after each hard ferocious thrust, sharp smacks swatting against your skin. “fuck, better take it,” and you moan once he spanks your ass again. “i didn’t tell you to stop arching, little girl. keep up.”

you moan, his swollen fat ridge of his cock continuing to drag in and out of your dripping cunt, screaming out cute squelching ‘pop’s until you’ve just about had it. here it comes, you prepare a long breath before you end up squirting right down on his cock. you’re squeezing around him tightly, clamping against him and he grunts before shortly following your lead. sukuna’s hips get sloppy, and by this point he’s just humping you from behind.

“k- kuna, fuck,” you whimper, growing quiet once clods of frothy white cum start to bubble down the sides of his thick shaft. veins prod from each sides as he’s filling you up, and it’s so much. you’re salivating, feeling his hands claw up and down your body — a wordless indication that you’re his and his alone. both of you groan in unison and as you finish gushing out on him, sukuna grunts.

“good,” he murmurs, glancing down at the translucent ring that starts to form around his full base. you’re sopping wet, so much that it’s almost pathetic. even more now that he’s gave you his cum, and sukuna watched as you bawl your empty hands into the ivory colored sheets, making a cute attempt at trying to crawl away.

“runnin’ away so soon? get back here,” he purrs, and you moan once he drags you back with his hips, a low chuckle leaving from his lips. sukuna licks down your spine before a wide thumb smears against your cunt. your folds still ooze with sultry cum before he playfully bites against your neck. “you’re still weak. pussy needs more training,” and you gasp once he leans further in, pulling your hips back down once you tried to sit up.

“now, arch girl.”

☆ GOJO SATORU - MOUTH.

whenever you go down on satoru, he’s just so pretty.

leave it to him to always make the most sluttiest facial expressions, while moaning out even sluttier moans. his long, slender fingers grip against your hair, tugging at your scalp lightly as your head continues to bobble.

“oh, fuck. that’s it baby. god, you ‘n that mouth,” he huffs, and you can hear his tone shake once you teasingly skim your tongue down the side of his cock. streams of saliva pour past the corners of your lips as he’s encouraging you to go faster and faster. thin snowy brows compress together and he even bites down on his bottom lip, flexing his perfectly chiseled muscles all because of you. satoru’s right thigh starts to bounce and he grunts, hearing the sloshing wet sounds—the way you take him fully in your mouth. his flushed tip continues to thwack back against your uvula and he hears you moaning yourself, despite it being muffled. “mhm, use that tongue. don’t be shy, wanna see you do that thing again, b- baby. spit on it.”

departing your lips from his dick, you take a second to breathe—satoru watches with dilated pupils and needy eyes, cupping your chin. “go on,” his bottom lip quivers, and although he’s trying to keep up his tough dominate act, he’s already pouting. you have a smug smile, positioning your spit-slick lips toward his crimson tip, before gathering up a nice amount of saliva. lustrous strings tug from your lips, landing on the head of his cock and he grunts—you go back to sucking him off again with a few croaking sounds leaving the back of your throat. his tip’s fat, his girth even fatter. it reaches all the way inside of your mouth, until your pretty cheeks were all puffed and full. “god, you’re so fuckin’ nasty, baby,” he starts to whine, and he can feel himself getting close - too close. with low half lidded eyes, he watches as you use a hand to stroke up and down his length, sliding your tongue all around his twitching veins that print on his hardened cock.

satoru’s legs were about to collapse—he felt it. there’s a lump growing in the back of his throat as he watches you, sloppily thrusting his hips into your mouth. “talk s- so much, all you needed was dick ‘ta keep you fed, huh?” and even his dirty talk’s becoming whiny. you had him weak, he’s feeling himself tighten and he groans once your eyes meet his. you’re so smug, he hates it - but it secretly turns him on. your pace grows relentless. as he continues to have a big hand gripped on the back of your head, making you go even further down—he lets off a gasping wheeze. “shit, ‘m gonna cum. ugh, gonna cum baby,” and as his breath starts to grow more shallow, he uses another hand to stroke your cheek. “c- can i fill up this mouth again, angel? pretty please?”

“mmph,” you nod, finding your own hand creeping down between your legs to touch yourself. you were soaked, briefly drooling from the crevices of your thighs with slick. satoru’s breath hitches before his weak pumps inside of your throat starts to get slower and slower.

the second he cums—he lets off a maddened growl. it’s cute, it shoots out in thick ropes that paint all over your tongue. it was a lot too, his poor swollen tip’s all red as you’re letting him fill your mouth with such bittersweet heaps of cum. he perfectly paints near the roof of your mouth too. satoru’s face twists as he’s dumping everything out—he’s got the cutest expression, but with the way he’s panting and moaning loudly, it’s even more lewd.

his brows furrow and he’s still trying to pump his flaccid dick into you, he wraps a hand around it before letting off a shivering groan. “that’s a g- good girl,” he says through clenched teeth, slowly dragging his cock away from your lips. he loved seeing you like this, on your knees with your lips all swollen and plump. “hah, don’t swallow yet baby. let ‘toru get a good look first.”

as your knees bury into the soft minuscule fibers that make up the carpet floor, he cups a hand under your chin. your cheeks were still full and round, storing such amounts of his candied seed before he leans down. “say ah,” he demands in a shaky tone, watching as you immediately pry open your mouth. satoru feels his dick twitch at the sight of how he poured so much down your throat, tiny velvety bubbles bubbling all around. “good. . good girl,” and he finally tells you to swallow, ogling once you take in, savoring every bittersweet drop. a thumb briskly swipes against your damp lips slowly before he inhales a sharp breath, lowering himself to your head level. “now gimme a kiss. don’t be g- greedy, i want a taste too.”

once you lean in to kiss him—he moans right inside your mouth, luxuriating in the taste of himself lingering on his tongue. satoru tastes minty, a coolly mint taste forevermore stays on his tastebuds. “fuck,” he groans between sloppy kisses, and you feel his hands slither around your waist. they go toward your ass, giving it a nice squeeze and hearing you cutely gasp. once your mouth opens just a bit more, he delves his long tongue down your throat. satoru keeps moaning in your mouth, and that’s when you feel him starting to grind himself against you. his cock that now hangs was so soft, tears of dried cum pathetically leaking from the sides. with loud lips and teeth clashing amongst each other, he abruptly stands up again, wrapping a hand around his cock. “ngh, tongue. stick it out again, baby.”

you do, lolling it out and he whispers out a ‘fuck,’ once he sees your own drool streaming down your chin, landing on your tits. such a tease, satoru scoffs with a pout before bringing his achy cock up to your lips. “s- still hungry?” the white haired man asks with a quivering lip, smacking his tip against your tongue. you moan, the loud echoey slaps from his dick slapping on your tongue. you give him a nod and he’s got a sleazy grin, staring at your cute attempts to try and suck him off again. “heh, ‘course you are. such a cock drunk baby,” and with one more smack against your twitching tongue with his swollen tip, he starts to ease his way down your tight throat again. groaning, he huffs.

“n- now open niiiiice ‘n wide, baby. ‘m gonna give you that full, all you can eat, f- fuck.”

[theresascove]

tryna say goodbye but it’s hot & heavy ₊ ⊹

ellie williams x f!reader

Ellie has to leave again, knowing so—the both of you can’t get enough of each other

tw: smut, not proofread, established relationship, strap (r receiving), Ellie calls it her dick once, oral (e receiving), allusions to more sex at the end, fluff, grinding, making out, love confessions, the title is from the Britney Spears song

wc ✎ 1.2k

It was often that she had to leave for amother run for supplies. Another day where she has that coat strewn across her shoulders so she could withstand the cold that lived just outside the door just a bit better. When you first started dating Ellie, you usually just said your goodbye with a long kiss—one that composed all your love and care for her. But since it’s been some time, it’s common for you two to get tangled in bed—bodies wrapped right around each other. It just happened.

Knowing that she would be gone for a few hours, sometimes a few days was enough to have the two of you act like velcro strips. Clingy and desperate to feel one another, to touch each other’s skin.

That time had rolled around again, the news hanging over the two of you. She had to leave in two hours from now. That was what you mulled over as you laid beside her, eyes looking at hers. She had a hand on your cheek, brushing the area ever so gently.

The mood was sweet, the feeling in the air was romantic before it changed all too quickly. Her body laid over you, lips chasing yours and pushing your head further into the pillow beneath you.

“Fuck—” she breathed, forehead resting on yours as she fumbles around. She gets herself situation, jeans pressing so nicely against your core. The feeling of it makes you gasp, tugging at her hair. You circle your hips and whine, back arched on the bedding.

“Els—oh my, please. Need you.”

She was on you, leaning down again to kiss you dizzily. A hand moved its way down, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them along your legs until they were thrown somewhere in the room.

“Hey, open,” she asks, tapping your leg so you understand further. Once they’re spread as far as they can, she’s kissing the inside of your thigh.

She wastes no time teasing after, reaching to settle the harness of her strap around her waist. You dig your nails into her shoulder when you feel her push through, the size of her making you feel like you’re loosing the air in your lungs. The second her lips find yours again it’s like you can breathe, relax.

“Shh, shh,” she hushes you, “breathe.”

You squirm at the feeling, gasping when it moves her inside you, “fuck, Els—!”

“I know, I know,” she adjusts her positioning, “I got you.”

Not long before she sets a pace, one that makes you see stars. Her length spreading you wide, pushing and pressing on spots that make you feel so good. You grip at her back, holding onto her shirt so tightly she wonders if you may actually rip it.

The old bed you two were sleeping on together creaks due to the old wood, each thrust emphasized by that sound and how wet you are around her. At first you would grow embarrassed by them, but now it causes you to drip just a bit more.

Ellie herself was in the same boat. Your first time felt a tad awkward. Shy smiles exchanged and silly laughs when you bumped noses or if you hit the headboard—but now you’ve grown out of that. The only thing on either of your minds was to feel the other, especially before they left.

“Ah, ah, shit—“ you huff, pushing back when she finds that specific spot. She knows she’s found it, a cocky feeling spreading in her yet again. It doesn’t take her long to find that spot now.

“Want it, huh? Want this dick? Tell me.”

You cry, “please, please oleasepleadepwlase—ah! I need it.”

She keeps her steady rhythm, only adding her thumb to rub against your clit. Her lips brush yours, a smile on them seeing how beautiful you looked beneath her. You were getting louder, moans more pronounced and emphasized and she knew that you were close.

She kissed you then, deep and rough as you came down from your high. The bed rocking coming to a stop as she rests inside you, letting you rest. You look up at her with darkened eyes, chest risks and falling in deep recessions.

She doesn’t need to ask. She knows. After doing this a few couple of times, she knows what that look means. She almost laughs, one deep in her chest and playful as she removes the strap from her waist.

You slide over her, kissing her sweetly before sensually moving your way down—sliding your tits down her body until your mouth aligned atop her cunt. You kissed her clit and smiled at the way she moved to shut her thighs around your head. You anticipated it, a hand pushing back against her thigh.

“Gonna miss you,” you whisper before kissing her straight on her sensitive clit. She wraps a hand onto your head, sighing as to deal with the onslaught of pleasure.

“Gonna miss you too—shit!”

You gave her no warning when you pushed your tongue through her folds, collecting the wetness and moaning at the taste. You made the theatric show of smelling loud enough for her to hear, her reaction made you laugh. She kicked her leg onto your back, groaning and mumbling under her breath how annoying you can be.

You laugh, continuing your ministrations. The way your tongue moved was skilled, practiced. It weaved its way around, pressing, licking, and pushing where needed. It was all exactly what she needed and she came entirely too quickly—an arm laying over her face as she pants, coming down from her high.

Again, you crawl up her body—holding yourself above her. She slides her arm down, leaving it to lay above her head as she looks at you. A mess is what you were, but so was she. You both had articles of clothing on, but they were wrinkled and hanging on for dear life. Lips were red, swollen. Her hair was a mess, laying around her face like a messy mane. It was the most beautiful thing you’ve laid eyes on.

“I love you.”

No matter the fact you hear this daily, and have for a month now—it never ceased to make you feel special, happy, loved, warm…

“I love you too.”

You pressed a few kisses around her face, enjoying laying in the aftermath of everything with her. Her hands were laid on your waist, laughing slightly from time to time when you kissed a spot that was a bit ticklish. She’d only be gone for a short time, but the thought of not knowing if this goodbye would be your final goodbye to one another was enough to keep you up at night—treating every goodbye like it was the last.

You notice how her eyes glance at something behind you—so out of curiosity you looked as well—finding the clock on your night stand. It read 9:42. You look back to her with a sly smile, leaning closer to her ear.

“We have an hour if—“

She was quick to throw you onto your back.

[itsmrshamilton]

Happy birthday! | LH44

summary: baby hamilton celebrates Roscoe's birthday for the first time

a/n: a fic in celebration of my stepson's 12th🪅

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

You rolled the last sock over the chubby foot then slipped the small shoe on and pressed down the velcro strap.

"Okay, you're all dressed. Look at how handsome you look!" You cood at your baby boy. He smiled and kicked his feet in delight.

You lifted him into your arms and walked out of the nursery, bouncing him as you went.

"Dada, dada, dada." He babbled. You smiled at him in pride. Cameron wasn't speaking full sentences yet but was learning words pretty quickly. However, the difference between your accent and Lewis' accent was making it hard for your son to pick up words.

"You want dada, my sweets?" He nodded, big brown eyes looking up at you. "Dada's out picking up Roscoe and his friends, yeah? So we'll stay here and set up for the party."

"Pah- tee." He uttered, chubby cheeks working hard to move around the word. You giggled at his effort and kissed his big forehead.

"Yes! Party. Mummy's going to put you down here so she can get the bowls out." You set him down on his play mat in the living room. He immediately crawled towards his squeaky toys and talking teddies. A true lover of loud noises, like his father. You set about finding dog bowls and filling them with treats, water, and fruits, then organising party packs with chew toys and 'thank you' cards. When you heard the gate roll open, you left the kitchen to go open the front door. Your curious boy abandoned his toys to turn towards the door, eager to see what was going on.

As you opened, 5 energetic dogs frantically pushed their way in, dragging a chuckling Lewis behind them. He was tangled in the mess the leashes made. Cam squealed in delight at the sight before him.

"Oh, my! Look at Dada and all the dogs, sweetie!" You exclaimed. Cam clapped his small hands and grabbed his feet in excitement. You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. Watching this small being react to everything in wonderment and awe was the best part of being a parent.

"Woah, guys. Let's get these leashes off, and then everyone can explore to their hearts' delight, yeah?" Lewis kneeled and let the dogs loose before standing up to kiss you. "Hello, love." You smiled bashfully and wrapped your arms around his neck.

A loud squeal forced you apart, and you turned to see your boy giggling loudly as the dogs sniffed and licked at him. They were all well trained and friendly pups, so you weren't worried about them hurting him. Cam didn't seem worried either as he waved his arms, trying to get the dogs to stop tickling him.

Roscoe managed to push through the crowd of 4-legged baby lovers to get to the center and barked at the others to back off and find other interests in the house. He gently nudged his face into your son's arms for some snuggles and pats.

"Osco!" Yelled your son. He couldn't roll R's yet, so this was the best he could do. The first time he mumbled the bulldog's name, Lewis nearly collapsed from extreme joy. It was Cam's second word after Dada, which stung a little for you but couldn't beat the pride you felt overall. Roscoe was the first member of both of your families to meet your son. He adjusted very quickly and learned to be gentle and quiet around the baby. Refusing to sleep anywhere but the nursery at night, growling at anyone who dared to go near the baby in the first months and barking menacingly at anyone who raised their voice when the baby was asleep. Now that your boy is getting older, Roscoe allows him to use his body to balance when he tries to stand, he carries over his chew toys to share and he promptly cleans up any bits of food thrown off the high chair. They were best friends. The cutest duo you'd ever seen. And now you got to include your son in Roscoe's birthday celebration.

Despite Roscoe being very gentle with him, your baby was still learning to be the same with Roscoe. You watched as Cam lifted Roscoe's ear to put the hairy tip into his mouth. Lewis swooped in quickly and lifted him.

"Hey, buddy. We don't bite Roscoe's ears, okay?"

"Osco!" Came the reply, barely registering his dad and reaching down to his furry sibling.

"Is dada just wasting his breath?" You smiled in amusement at your favourite boys. Side by side, they looked alike a lot. Same big eyes, small lips, and chubby cheeks. Your son had light tufts of hair, but you saw the potential for it to be thick like yours one day.

Lewis began to entertain the guests and his sons, so you went back to the kitchen to prepare human food for lunch.

As the day went on, the human guests arrived bearing gifts and drinks. The party was coming to life. The dogs ran wildly in the large yard, your son was passed around like a trophy and the birthday boy was treated to all the belly rubs and pats he could ask for. As the sun began to set, Lewis brought out the giant cake that was designed to look like Roscoe's favourite food - a watermelon. The cake was vegan friendly and pet friendly. Lewis proudly placed it in front of his firstborn and began the birthday song.

Everyone joined in and took pictures while Roscoe sat proudly and smiled for every camera. He waited til everyone cheered and then dug into the cake. His friends joined in, and together, they did their best to clear the plate. Lewis helped you hand out slices of the cake suitable for humans. As you took a plate for yourself, you realised your boy wasn't where you left him.

"Y/n, do you have Cam?" He turned to ask you but froze when he saw your panicked face.

"No! I thought you might have him." You began to panic some more. You saw Lewis' eyes widen a bit, and he put his plate down to pull you closer. You continued to look around over his shoulder. No one else seemed to notice your baby was gone.

"Don't panic. There's a lot of people, he coul-"

"Bloody hell!" You yelled. "Lewis, look at your son! Cameron!" You pulled out of your husband's grasp to stare in shock. "Cameron!"

Lewis jumped and turned around to see.

Amongst the dogs ravashing the vegan cake was the little boy, seated next to Roscoe and shoving fistfulls into his small mouth. You could feel the grey hairs growing in. Lewis, on the other hand, couldn't be happier to see his best boys bonding.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

I suck at ending stories, man.

Thanks for reading this far. Be sure to interact before you leave! Do not alter, copy or repost my work anywhere else.

[mockerycrow]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a one shot with gn!reader who gets hurt in a mission trying to save Ghost and as he feels bad for it, so he gets reader a small plushie (kinda like those for the key chain) and when reader wakes up doesn't know it was ghost how gave it to them

💙

KEYCHAIN (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — 1.3k words

authors note; it’s your local author criticizing their writing non stop again!!!!!! i feel like i could’ve written this better idk i’m sorry, anon! i wrote this whilst focusing on other projects </3

[WARNINGS; violence, descriptions of stabbing and choking, gore, hospital settings, fluff at the end.]

Ghost did not expect you to do what you did. Someone somehow managed to get the jump on Ghost from behind, wrapping their arms around the man’s neck with a knife in their hand. It was right in the middle of Ghost claiming he cleared a building; in his defense, he had cleared the entire building of every hostile for the exception of one. You heard him grunt and choke before going radio silent, you decided that you were on your way to his location the second something sounded wrong.

Ghost gasps for air and reaches for a knife of his own, trying to stomp his foot down on the man’s foot, but the man grunts and laughs when Ghost discovers he’s wearing steel-toed shoes. Ghost struggles against the man, his head beginning to swim—when is the last time he’s been overpowered like this?—and Ghost manages to grab one of his knives, taking it out of the sheath—

Ghost’s vision goes white for a moment when he feels the man’s blade sink into his abdomen, the man shushing him in his ear. “It’ll be over soon, big boy.” The man hisses, carelessly ripping the knife out of Ghost’s gut, making his legs buckle. Ghost must have blacked out for a moment because the next time his vision and hearing work, he’s on the ground in immense pain, witnessing a figure fighting off the strong, armored man. Ghost hears someone cry out—is that you??—but his vision won’t focus just yet.

His ears are ringing as he puts a forearm against the ground, a groan leaving Ghost as his other hand goes to his gut, and he winces as he applies pressure to his stab wound, hot thick blood trickling between his fingers and onto the ground. Ghost’s throat aches terribly, so he clears it as his vision finally focuses and it’s you fighting off a man that’s bigger than him. His eyes widen as he shouts your name, his voice hoarse and broken, laced with panic.

There’s blood staining your uniform as Ghost lets go of his stab wound, and he groans loudly as he leans down and grabs his handgun out of his ankle holster. Ghost inhales through his teeth and he shakily aims his handgun, and holds his breath to steady his aim, and he pulls the trigger.

The bullet ripples through the air and rips through the man’s temple, causing him to stumble for a second before crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll. Unfortunately, you follow suit, a loud pained gasp leaving you as you land on your side. Ghost holsters his handgun and he calls your name again, fighting through the pain to quickly crawl over to you, blood trailing him. “Oi, oi—“ Ghost hisses, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to roll onto your back.

There’s blood caking your uniform so horribly he doesn’t know where your wounds begin. It’s smeared against your neck and face, your eyelids fluttering from the pain. Your lips part and shut multiple times as your mind tries to comprehend what just happened. Ghost calls your name, a loud noise of pain leaving him, one hand pressing against his own wound whilst the other grabs your jaw to keep your head still.

Ghost hears Price shout your name through comms in an angry and panicked tone. “Ghost?? Fuckin’ hell, someone come in!” Ghost pants before he begins to tear the velcro straps off of your vest as he needs to know where you got hurt. He moves his hand off of his own stab wound—he is a bit lightheaded—and he presses down on his radio. “Ghost to Price, we’re both injured. One SW for me, I’m not sure how many for them.” Ghost croaks into the radio, trying to multitask.

“Bloody—where are you two?” Price demands through the radio, sounding a bit breathless. Ghost inhales sharply as he leans over, his body bending the wrong way as he grabs the front of your vent and he grunts loudly as he drags it off of you with one hand. He’s lost a bit of strength with the blood he’s lost. You gasp and grab for Ghost’s wrist as he begins to press down on one of your multiple stab wounds near your vital organs. “Building two, third floor.” Ghost responds with a strained voice. He notices your head rolling back, and you barely hear Ghost yelling.

Don’t let this be the end.

You ended up passing out from pain and blood loss, despite Ghost’s best efforts of keeping you awake. You slowly awakened in a plush setting, slight pain humming through your veins, your throat dry and aching. You twitch, your muscles heavy from not being used for a bit. You hear a monitor or two, which gives you an indication you’re in the hospital. Your eyelids fluttered open and luckily, the overhead light in your hospital room was not on. The curtains were drawn open, and the light streamed into the room.

You glanced around, seeing Soap with his journal in his hand, sketching something. It gives you a warm feeling in your gut and you glance over to your other side, seeing Gaz sitting there, holding.. your keys with a little fuzzy thing?

“What’s that?” You croak, causing both Gaz and Soap’s heads to snap to look at you. “Aye, look who’s awake!” Soap exclaims, grinning. He closes his journal and puts it on the ground next to his chair before he grabs a foam cup. Soap brings it to your lips, and you realize it’s water so you greedily gulp it down, the water soothing your throat. Gaz lets out a breath before he scoots closer, the crease in his eyebrows finally relaxing. “It’s nice to see you awake.” Gaz murmurs with a soft smile of his own.

Soap pulls away the cup and sets it back down. “How long was I out?” You question. “What even happened? It’s in sections for me..”

Soap and Gaz share a look before Gaz fiddles with the fuzzy thing in his fingers, your keys clinking around. “You saved Ghost. He was being overpowered and you found him, but uh..” Gaz winces a bit, causing your eyebrows to furrow as bits and pieces begin to flood back to memory. “—But you got injured yourself. Luckily lil’ ol’ LT got off with one stab wound. You? Ya got off with six.”

You blink for a moment. “Oh.” You utter, taking a moment to process that. “You had to have surgery which is why your throat aches so much, the tube.” Gaz explains, putting your keys and the fuzzy thing in your lap. “They said everything should heal normally, but you'll be out of commission for a while.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and you nod, your hand reaching out and grabbing your keys. “And Ghost?” You ask, your tone tight, expecting the worst. “He’s alright,” Soap assures, causing you to look at him now with a look of relief. “He just left a bit ago to get some rest, since he can’t stay and lay hunched over.” Gaz chuckles and you can’t help the smile that appears on your face. You finally look down at the fuzzy thing attached to your keys; it’s a little keychain plushie of a black and white cat. You let out a soft “aww” before looking at Gaz, and then Soap. “Who gave me this?” You ask.

Soap and Gaz share a knowing look—a glance you can’t quite yet decipher—before they shrug and mutter stuff like “i don’t know..” and “no idea” when in fact they watched Ghost, in a wheelchair, wheel himself into the room and grunt for your keys. Soap had wordlessly handed them to the man, and they watched him put on the kitty keychain and made them promise to not tell them he gave it to you.

[whump-imagines]

Backup

Jay x reader

Wc: 920

Reader is in intelligence and goes to talk to a suspect alone. Kind of inspired by the episode when Erin gets held hostage. Also Connor didn't leave. Because it's my fic and I can do what I want.

---

As soon as the suspect pulled the knife out of his pocket, you heard Jay’s words echo in your head 'just wait for me to get there'.

You had just assured him you could handle one interview on your own.

The knife swung towards you and you managed to dodge it and throw a punch. Then you were in an all out brawl trying to disarm this suspect without getting stabbed.

You heard the door crash open followed by Jay shouting your name.

In the moment of distraction, the knife suddenly connected across your abdomen. You curled into yourself and then lost your balance as you dodged another blow.

From your back on the ground you kicked at the suspect trying to regain control of the situation. Kicking and trying to roll out from below him, he managed to slice once more across your thigh just above your knee.

“Drop the knife!” Jay shouted from the doorway. The guy hesitated and Jay tried again. “Drop it and put your hands up!”

“Okay!” The guy bent like he was going to comply but then straightened and took off running out the back door.

“Suspect is on foot out the back door. He is armed,” Jay relayed into his radio.

You heard Adam and Kevin confirm they had eyes on him and were in pursuit.

Knowing they would catch him, you relaxed onto the floor exhausted from fighting. You knew you should assess your injuries but you just wanted a moment.

Next thing you knew, Jay was kneeling beside you. “Shit, shit,” he cursed. He grabbed a dish towel from the counter before speaking into his radio again as he pressed the towel to your abdomen. “I have an officer down. Deep laceration to the femoral artery.” He ripped off his belt and wrapped it around your leg and tightened it.

“It's fine. It doesn't even hurt.” You tried to stop him from fully tightening his belt.

“It's not fine. You already lost too much blood, you're in shock.” He managed to tighten the belt enough to slow the blood flow causing you to scream in pain. He pulled the towel away from the second cut and sighed in relief. “That one doesn't look too deep.”

You just nodded. Suddenly everything hurt and you were cold. “I'm tired.”

He gently tapped your cheek and forced your eyes to meet his. “You stay awake. Medics will be here any second.”

“Jay?” You hear Sylvie shout from towards the front of the house.

“Back here!” Jay answers. Then he turns his focus to you. “You hear that? Sylvie and Violet are here. They'll get you to Med and we'll get you all patched up.”

“Hey,” Violet greets as she kneels down beside you. “What happened?”

“Knife wounds,” Jay explained. “She needs a better tourniquet on her leg. Belt slowed it but it's not enough. She's also got a shallow one across her stomach.”

“BP is low and she's tachy,” Sylvie added. “We should go.”

“This is going to hurt,” Violet told you before horrible pain shot through your leg. You heard velcro and then the jingle of Jay’s belt buckle as it was removed from your leg.

Sylvie handed an IV bag to Jay and then leaned so you could see her. “I'm going to give you something for the pain and then we'll get you to Med. How's that sound?”

“Sounds good.”

By the time they were loading you into the ambulance you were struggling to stay awake. Soon after the doors closed you lost that fight.

You hear Jay talking. Why is he talking so loud when you're trying to sleep? You groan, hoping he will get the message and be quieter.

“Y/N?” Jay is closer now. “Are you awake?”

Groaning again, you shake your head. “Shh.”

He chuckles. “No, shh. I need you to open your eyes for me, sweetheart.”

You hear the hiss of air and then something is squeezing your arm. Confusion finally makes you crack open your eyes. As soon as you look around, you realize you're in the hospital and then you remember the fight and the knife.

“Hi.” He runs his hand over your head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “How're you feeling?”

“Hi,” you croak and then cough. Jay grabs a cup of water for you to sip. Clearing your throat you try again. “Hi. Um, I feel okay. Tired. Maybe a little dizzy.”

He nods. “Any pain?”

You take a moment to access. You shift slightly, testing. There's a slight burn as the gown shifts over your stomach and a bit of an ache in your leg. “Nothing unbearable.”

Just then, the door opens and Connor enters. “Hey, glad you're awake.”

“Yeah. Can I go back to sleep now?” you asked. “Better yet, can I go home?”

“No. You'll be here until tomorrow at a minimum,” he explained. “I need you off that leg for now.” He moves the blanket and checks your stitches then moves to check the pulse in your foot. “Everything looks good. Get some rest.”

“Thanks, man,” Jay walks over to shake Connor's hand.

“Yeah, thanks!” you add before he can leave the room.

You yawn as the door closes. Jay takes your hand in his and peppers kisses to your knuckles. “Do me a favor…”

“Hmm?” You hum trying to stay awake.

He presses one more kiss to the back of your hand. “Next time, don't go in without backup.”

You snort. “Yeah, deal.”

[runraerun]

ao3 • 6.1k • @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt: “Where did you find that costume?” • beta: @netflixandchilis 🧡🖤

Summary:

“This is not a sex costume.” Steve rolls his eyes, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a clown and you guys would accuse me of—”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows afterward.

His entire cop costume is suddenly off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson.

Or, unbeknownst to Steve, he shows up to Eddie’s Halloween party dressed as a stripper.

*Knock knock knock*

Steve steps back from Eddie’s front door, then rocks back on the heels of his boots that he hasn’t fully broken in yet. He knows that technically, he could just stroll into the trailer—he’s done it before after all, but sue him; he’s feeling playful tonight. And if there’s one night a year you’re allowed to embarrass yourself a little in the name of shits and giggles, it’s Halloween, right?

Steve had drawn the short straw between the four of them and was saddled with babysitting duty earlier tonight. As usual, Steve thinks with an amused sort of bitterness. Always the goddamn babysitter…

He’d just finished dropping the kids all off at Henderson’s house for a sleepover, but this was after they had forced him to trail after the lot of them for what felt like an eternity while they filled their pillow cases up with sugary garbage. Steve’s fucking exhausted.

When no one answers the door, Steve steps forward again, delivering three sharp knocks in quick succession.

“Hawkins PD, open up,” he bellows, giving what he considers is a fairly decent Hopper impression.

Steve’s skin prickles against a sudden cool breeze. He hooks his thumbs into his belt and waits on the creaky front porch, trying not to squirm against the wedgie that this outfit seems determined to give him.

Cheap ass costume…

The front door swings open, and Steve is suddenly bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the trailer’s interior. Robin, who has a football helmet on, along with some kind of orange jumpsuit with tubes wrapped around her torso, looks him up and down.

Before she can even say a single word though, Steve cuts her off, playing at arrogance.

“Got a couple of noise complaints, ma’am. Are your folks home? I’m gonna need—”

Robin holds her hands up with barely contained glee, “Wait wait, hold on! Just stay right there.”

The door slams shut in his face, leaving Steve in the darkness of the porch again. Through the door, Steve hears Robin yell for Eddie, but can’t make out much of the muffled voices after that.

Left on the porch with nothing but his thoughts Steve can’t help but wonder if Robin even recognized him. The fake stache wasn’t that convincing… was it?

“Man, c’mon…” Steve sighs, stepping forward and knocking again, this time with more force. He’s very quickly regretting his decision to ham it up as opposed to just walking in, kicking off the uncomfortable boots he’d been wearing all evening, and plopping down on Eddie’s lumpy, yet deceptively comfy sofa.

“C’mon, open up, Hawkins Police.” Steve calls again, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his voice.

In a blink, the door swings open again. Steve makes the extra effort to push his shoulders back and puff out his chest. This time, instead of Robin being the one haloed in the dingy light illuminating the trailer, it’s Eddie. A very confused, shockingly pale, cape-wearing Eddie.

Steve tilts his head back and peers down through his dark aviators at his friend, trying to maintain a stern, authoritative demeanor. His lip itches from underneath the stupid fake facial hair he’s got taped to his face. He can’t wait to rip the damn thing off.

Eddie grips the edge of the doorway, apparently stunned into silence.

“Sir, did you or anyone in this household place a call to 911 this evening?” Steve barks, trying his best to lean into his power-tripping asshole persona he’s decided to adopt.

“What the–” Eddie starts, but doesn’t seem to have any words to follow. His wide, dark eyes roam over the uniform and his twitching smile says enough.

Steve’s putting on a good show, it seems.

“Because it’s a criminal offense to prank call an emergency hotline, sir.” Steve leans forward, hoping for intimidation, “I could have you arrested.”

Steve suddenly becomes aware of Nancy and Robin both snickering in the background, watching the interaction with seemingly great interest. Eddie, for the most part, appears frozen at the door. It’s an odd bunch of reactions if Steve is being honest—he’s just dicking around, after all. Was he really being that out of pocket?

“Shteve, where in the fresh hell…?” A bewildered looking Eddie begins, his words slightly slurred, almost as if he has a lisp. Then Steve spots them; the sharp toothed plastic tray of vampire teeth that Eddie’s got stuffed into his mouth, making his lips pucker out just a bit. He looks ridiculous. If anyone should be laughing, it should be Steve. But instead of waiting for everyone to get their shit together, Steve forges on. He makes a show of sniffing the air. He slowly pulls the aviators down his nose to shoot Eddie a look. “Is that marijuana I smell, son? You kids smoking the devil’s lettuce in there?”

Robin sounds like she’s choking on something, Nancy’s all but retreated back into the trailer, unable to contain herself. Was it really that funny? Steve knows he can get the girls laughing on occasion, but he’s not like, a comedian or anything. And this cop bit he’s doing wasn’t even all that funny, even he can admit that. It’s just dorky fun. But Eddie’s shoulders are shaking and he’s giggling hard enough that he’s gone all quiet. Steve briefly wonders if he has something on his face…? Besides the stache, of course.

A particularly cool breeze hits his side, and he can physically feel himself break character as he brings his shoulders up to his ears in an attempt to brace against it. This cheap fucking costume does absolutely dick all to keep the cold out.

“Alright alright, jokes over, just let me in already.” But when Steve takes a step to pass through the door, Eddie quickly holds a hand to Steve’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. With his other free hand, he noisily pulls the vampire teeth from his mouth, a string of spit connecting the two until Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.

“Slow your roll, Sargent Cinnamon,” Eddie exclaims, barely able to contain his laughter to get the words out, “Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re gonna get the actual cops called on us.”

Sargent Cinnamon?

Steve takes off his aviators, perplexed. “What? Why?”

“Just—just turn around for me for a minute.” Eddie says. His hand falls from Steve’s chest as Steve begrudgingly takes a step back.

“Yeah, give us a spin, Steve.” Robin calls from the kitchenette, and Eddie gives a noisy laugh through his nose in what looks like a failed attempt to withhold a full on fucking belly laugh from escaping.

“Why?” Steve makes a face as he asks again, defenses up.

“We just have to confirm something.” Eddie says, playing coy.

Now that Steve’s really looking at him, he can see Eddie’s clearly dressed as a vampire. He’s all in black, though most of him is covered up by the long, heavy looking cape that’s tied around his shoulders and draping down his back. The collar of it looks stiff, its points reach damn near up to his cheekbones. His eyes are rimmed with dark makeup, making them pop even more than they usually do. Most striking of all though, is the white makeup that’s smeared all over his face, down his neck, and even over his mouth. It makes for a shock when he speaks or laughs, the deep red of the inside of his mouth contrasting sharply with the undead paleness of the rest of his face.

He looks… good. Spooky, but good. Especially now that those chunky fake fangs are out. Maybe Steve should have dressed as something spooky too…

“C’mon, just let me in. I don’t wanna spin.” Steve frowns. He does not pout. His lip may or may not jut out the tiniest of amounts. But Steve Harrington does not pout.

Eddie’s brows pinch together in mock sympathy, “oh, I’m so sorry Officer, but in that case, we’re gonna need you to come back with a warrant.”

Steve sighs. He’s cold, annoyed, and he’s pretty sure there’s two big watery blisters on the backs of his heels that’ll need patching up before the night is out. “Dude–”

Eddie holds out a finger, silencing Steve, “ah ah ah. You don’t get to show up here dressed like that and not put on a show.”

Steve’s brain stutters to a halt. “...I’m just dressed as a cop. What’s the big deal? Why’re you guys acting so weird?”

“Less yapping, more spinning, Deputy.” Eddie smiles wide, tilting his head. Despite being a total shithead at the moment, that smile never seems to fail at making Eddie look strangely endearing. It’s like a trap—one Steve always seems to be tumbling into as of late.

He gives a noisy groan of frustration to show exactly how ridiculous he thinks this whole thing is, before he complies and slowly turns around on the spot. Steve puts out his arms in defeat, suppressing yet another urge to dig at the wedgie now firmly up his ass. “There. Happy? Any more questions or demands?”

“Yeah, just the one,” Eddie says, seeming no less entertained than if Steve had just burped the whole alphabet backwards while simultaneously juggling a set of kitchen knives. “Where did you find that costume?”

Steve feels his neck go red, then his ears. He stuffs his hands under his armpits to try and warm them up, then shrugs defensively, not fully knowing why he is so embarrassed, only that he is. “Just a regular costume store.”

“What store exactly?” Robin calls from behind Eddie while she nurses a beer, “was there, oh, I don’t know, lingerie in the window of this costume store?”

And with that, there’s simply no helping it; Steve’s face goes scarlet. “No! It was just that pop-up Halloween store—the one next to Family Video. Robin, you went there too, what’s the big deal?”

“Did you happen to have crossed a beaded doorway in order to get to this costume by any chance?” Eddie asks in mock curiosity, barely withholding more of his obnoxiously loud laughter.

Steve opens his mouth to deny the downright weird accusation but… thinking back on it, he may have hit some beads at a certain point while he was in that shop.

Oh God…

“There’s that lightbulb,” Eddie gives a smarmy type of smile, “knew it would turn on eventually.”

Steve casts a glare between Eddie and Robin. They’re just poking fun at him, surely. If he’s being honest, he’s sort of sick of them ganging up on him lately. It’s like, all of the sudden, Eddie and Robin had just decided to become besties. They were always whispering and sharing these weird, heated looks between the two of them, ones Steve could never interpret. Like they suddenly had a whole slew of inside jokes that they refused to let Steve in on. It was infuriating!

If he didn’t know for a fact that there was no possibility of a romance between the two of them he would think they were hooking up. But no, apparently they’ve just bonded over their shared love of torturing ex-jocks. It’s like fucking Revenge of the Nerds out here.

“This is not a sex costume.” he growls, bunching his shoulders up just a little in an attempt to keep the breeze away from his neck.

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice goes soft, as if he’s opting to break the news to Steve gently, “you’re dressed as a stripper, man.”

“No, I’m not!” Steve shouts before he thinks better of it. He reels it in, but only a little, “It’s just… I’m just a cop. Okay, maybe it’s a sexy cop, but it’s just a stupid joke costume! It’s not my fault the outfit looks good on me, alright? That doesn’t make it a stripper outfit.”

Eddie nods empathetically, “right right, sure.”

“It’s true!”

“Totally, yeah.”

“I’m being serious!”

“Oh, I know you are.”

“It’s just a little tight is all.”

“I’ll say.”

Steve huffs, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a goddamn clown and you guys would accuse me of–”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows directly afterward.

The entire front of his cop costume is off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson. And without the support of the front piece, Steve feels the entire back half of his costume follow suit, slipping down and off of his shoulders. Humiliatingly, the only reason it doesn’t hit the ground altogether is because the fabric is so securely lodged in between Steve’s ass cheeks.

Either way, he’s standing there, on the Munson’s front porch, in front of Eddie, in nothing more than his bright red boxers that he put on this morning, his uncomfortable fucking boots, his fake stache, and the octagonal police cap he’s got resting atop his head.

Eddie takes a deep breath, not even bothering to try and hide the way he’s basking in Steve’s utter humiliation. “Well well well. Looks like Christmas came early this year, huh?”

Robin at least has done him the good favor of collapsing somewhere in the living room, shrieking in laughter.

“Wh–Why would you do that!?” Steve clumsily grabs for the cap atop his head before holding it to his crotch in a flimsy attempt to preserve at least some of his dignity.

“Honestly? Because I don’t have a lot of impulse control,” Eddie admits truthfully, “but mostly I did it to prove to you that you did, in fact, show up to my party dressed as a stripper.”

Steve’s had enough. He grumbles out every single curse word he knows and shoulders his way into the trailer, yanking the remainder of the costume off of his body and out of his ass as he goes. If Steve was cold before, he’s freezing now. His nipples could cut fucking glass.

“Don’t tell me you took the kids out trick or treating in this.” Eddie says, motioning towards him with the bundle of thin fabric that had been, up until a few seconds ago, Steve’s costume.

Steve snatches the dark blue remains of his outfit, suddenly furious. He’s sure his face matches the red of his boxers at this point. Boxers that are now on display for all to see, apparently!

He reaches up to angrily tear off the mustache from his upper lip, and has to bite back an honest to god scream as it tears away, taking some of his actual lip hair with it. It was like a fucking wax strip!

“You did.” Eddie gasps, all but clutching his damn pearls, utterly scandalized. “You really went around and gave the good folks of Hawkin’s a free fucking show tonight, huh? Jesus Christ, Harrington, you probably sent some poor fucker out there into cardiac arrest!”

“No, I–” Steve sputters, “well, yes, I wore the cop costume while I took the kids around a couple of neighborhoods, but there wasn’t any kind of show.”

“Were the mothers especially kind to you, Stevie?” Robin asks from her position on the sofa beside Nancy, one sandy brown brow arched. “Did they give you extra candy?”

“One, I didn’t go trick-or-treating, so I didn’t get any candy at all,” Steve says, suddenly reluctant about taking his boots off, wary of losing any more of his clothing. As he speaks, he shuffles behind the countertop in the kitchen area instead, hiding at least his lower half from further attention. Everyone had already seen his hairy chest plenty of times, but still. It was the indignity of it all! “And two, I didn’t know it was a stripper costume. And three, screw all of you.”

Thank Christ the kids seemed oblivious to that sort of thing still. Steve’s as relieved at preserving their innocence as he is grateful they didn’t bear witness to his great blunder.

“Didn’t it feel weird when you had to velcro the sides shut..?” Nancy asks, sheer amusement playing across her features.

“Well, in hindsight… yes.” Steve has to stop speaking because all three of his so-called friends dissolve in further fits of laughter. He has to shout to be heard over their cackling, “but I just thought it was because the costume was cheap!”

“Oh, Steve.” Nancy shakes her head, still giggling. She sounded a little drunk.

“Sweet, naive Dingus.” Robin adds, as if she were finishing her girlfriend's thoughts.

So now Nancy and Robin were ganging up on him too. And after Steve gave Robin his blessing to date his ex-girlfriend! Traitors, all of ‘em, Steve thinks haughtily as he crosses his arms and glares.

“C’mon big boy, you can borrow something of mine.” Eddie says, finally deciding to take pity on Steve. “Unless, of course, you want me to help velcro your ass back into that little number..?”

That’s the absolute last thing he wants. So, with an angry grumble, Steve accepts Eddie’s offer for clothes and follows him down the narrow hallway, into his bedroom. Steve all but collapses on the end of Eddie’s unmade bed, snatching a pillow and holding it to his lap as he watches Eddie dig around his dresser drawers.

Steve notices that Eddie’s oddly quiet now that they’re alone.

Steve was sort of used to Eddie’s constant prattling on when they were together—so much so, that the lack of it seems unnatural in its own sort of way. It’s damn near unsettling to be near Eddie and not have him chewing his ear off.

Eddie pulls some soft, gray clothing from his drawers, attempts to discreetly give it the cautionary sniff test, then turns to offer them up to Steve. “Here, these, uh, they should fit you. Elastic waistband.”

“Thanks.” Steve mumbles, still a little pissed at Eddie for the whole tearing him out of his clothes thing. To be fair, Steve would have probably returned the favor if the roles had been reversed and would have laughed just as hard. Maybe harder.

He shoves the shirt on, then discards the pillow in order to stand and attempt to rid himself of the godforsaken boots from hell... Steve is unnervingly aware that the red of his underwear stands out like a fucking fire engine.

Eddie turns his painted face away, suddenly very interested in the various posters on his wall.

“Oh, sure, now you’re shy.” Steve snorts, but when he steps on the backs of his heels in an effort to toe off his boots, he sucks in a sharp breath and wobbles back onto the bed, cursing. The sharp stinging pain from the blisters is enough to cut his breath. “Shit, shit, shit–”

“What is it? What happened?” Eddie’s full attention is back on Steve, and Steve’s insides squirm a little at the intensity of it. He kind of loves that about Eddie; how he can be flighty and erratic one minute, but wholly and completely laser focused on something the next.

And Steve is man enough to admit that he sort of likes it when that undivided attention lands on him. Admittedly, he likes it when anyone pays attention to him, but… it’s different with Eddie. Even Steve’s not entirely sure why. It just makes him feel… seen, maybe. Special. Understood?

Steve doesn’t fucking know. He gives his head a shake.

“It’s just these stupid boots. I’ve only worn them a few times and they always give me blisters. I shouldn’t have worn them tonight but I just thought they went good with the outfit...” Steve explains, as if it’s a confession. The price of vanity, he thinks bitterly. Steve lifts one of his feet until it’s propped up his opposite knee and begins working the boot off, flinching as he goes, “they’re just stinging a little, it’s fine.”

“I’ll get some band-aids.” Eddie mutters as he darts out of the room, nearly tripping over something in his haste. Steve can hear him digging through the cupboard in the bathroom through the paper-thin walls of the trailer. Eddie sounds like a goddamn tornado. But hey, what’s new? Dude is tornado incarnate.

By the time Eddie’s back, armed with a battered box of band-aids and a tube of Neosporin, Steve’s already managed to work off a boot and peel away one of his socks. He’s poking the painful, fluid-filled blister with a grimace.

“Here.” Eddie awkwardly passes both of the items to Steve. He practically shoves them into his hands. Steve accepts them all with a quick thanks and gets to work. He half expects Eddie to go and just leave Steve to it, but he doesn’t. Instead, Eddie just stands there, hovering in the middle of his bedroom, staring like a weirdo.

Which sounds harsh even in Steve’s own mind, but there really was no mistaking it; Eddie most definitely is a full-blown, bonafide, one-of-a-kind weirdo. But as time’s gone on, and the further Steve’s gotten away from high school, the more he’s realized that his favorite people in the whole world—the ones he’d lay down his life for any day of the fucking week—are all freaks and weirdos. And maybe that made him a weirdo freak right alongside them. And hey, if all the best people were weird, shouldn’t he be proud to be counted among them?

Steve finds he doesn’t entirely hate the concept.

“You must think I’m a moron, huh?” Steve mutters as he smears some of the antiseptic cream over the blister, then a band-aid overtop, flinching the whole way through.

“For getting a blister? Or for accidentally cosplaying as a sex worker?” Eddie asks, grinning. Knows he’s being a cheeky little shit.

Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes, “it could’ve happened to anyone, y’know. The costume thing, I mean.”

He settles his bare foot on the ground and starts on his next boot.

“Maybe. But it’s funny because it happened to you.” Eddie aims a set of finger guns at him. Steve, despite himself, chuckles a little under his breath. It was sort of funny.

“I don’t, though, by the way.” The couple of words tumble out of Eddie’s mouth. Steve knows by now that when he isn’t following Eddie, all he usually needs to do is wait a few seconds. Eddie never seems to mind taking the time to further explain himself to Steve, unlike most other people. So, Steve just spares him a glance and waits. “Think you’re a moron, I mean. You’re just… more of a do first, think later kinda guy. It doesn’t make you dumb. Maybe a little foolhardy, is all.”

“Foolhardy?” Steve’s hands stop what they’re doing as he looks up at Eddie. Steve’s pretty sure he knows what it means, but who the hell throws around digs like that?

Well, come to think of it, Eddie Munson would. Between writing his own songs and making up those D&D campaigns, Eddie’s inner voice probably speaks to him in sonnets and soliloquies.

“It’s a good thing—well, it is when I say it…” Eddie rushes to explain, but seems to abandon a few trains of thoughts before shaking his head, “whatever, nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“I know what foolhardy means I just–” Steve doesn’t have any fight in him though, too focused on how fucking painful this blister is compared to the last. The sharp sting was enough to make his eyes embarrassingly prickle. “Fuuuuuck…” he groans as he pulls.

“Stop, stop, just–” Eddie kneels, taking a knee, before he grabs Steve’s boot.

“No no, Eddie, don’t–!” Steve shrieks, suddenly terrified of Eddie’s jumpy, erratic movements he’s known for. His foot can’t fucking take it…

“Calm down, I’ll pull it off slow. I’ll even give you a countdown. You just–just relax, alright?” Eddie says, looking downright ridiculous in his costume. And yet, despite how crazy he looks, Munson seems sincere. He liked to poke fun at Steve, sure, but Eddie wouldn’t hurt him. Steve knows that. And when Eddie’s fingers curl around the back of his calf, the touch is gentle. Steve’s skin heats underneath Eddie’s hold. It’s enough to make his head go a little fuzzy.

Trying to follow Eddie’s instruction, Steve hesitantly leans back on the heels of his hands, allowing his leg to go slack in Eddie’s grip. “Relax. Right. Okay.”

“Alright. My safe word’s Ronald Reagan, but you can borrow it for tonight if you want me to stop, cool?” Eddie looks up at him through his lashes. The liner around his eyes was really something else… And his hair looked especially poofy tonight. Like Steve’s hands could get lost in there. Were those plastic spiders in his hair? God, Steve hoped they were plastic spiders…

A beat passes before Steve’s brain catches up with him. “Why the hell is Ronald Reagan your safe word?”

“Because nothing kills my boner faster than thinking about that dickwad. Duh.” Eddie explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, but Steve wasn’t exactly experienced with things like safe words and… well, the things that normally go along with safe words.

He feels himself shift anxiously at the idea. He wondered if Eddie was just making a joke or if he actually…

“Ready?” Eddie interrupts and utterly derails that particular train of thought. He’s cradling Steve’s booted foot, one hand low on Steve’s calf, the other gripping the bottom of the boot. Real comforting like.

Steve takes a quick breath before giving a sharp nod. “Ready.”

“3, 2, 1, deep breaths everyone!” Eddie says, and true to his word, he pulls off slowly, trying to angle the boot away from Steve’s heel as best he can. Steve clenches his teeth through the whole thing, determined not to utter the president's name. “Aaaaand we’re done!” Eddie says triumphantly.

Steve sighs, and lets himself fall onto the bed in relief. He’s built up a bit of a tolerance for pain over the past few years (purely out of necessity), but he still fucking hates it. Even if it’s something small like this. Call him a pussy for it, whatever. Steve doesn’t care.

When he feels Eddie begin peeling off his sock though, Steve bolts upright, returning to his seated position. “Y-you don’t gotta do that part–”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly and continues peeling away the sock. “It’s okay, I wanna help.”

“My feet probably fucking reek, dude. I’ve been wearing those all day.” Steve wrinkles his nose. The idea that Eddie could possibly be repulsed by him in some way just doesn’t sit right with Steve. “You don’t–... I-I can do this part.”

“I told you, I don’t care.” Eddie says as he peels away Steve’s sweaty, ripe sock before sticking it into the no doubt equally sweaty, ripe boot.

Eddie's now kneeling in front of a pantless and sockless Steve—to say he felt exposed would be an understatement. He watches as Eddie takes the tube of Neosporin in hand and squeezes out a glob onto his finger and lines it up with Steve’s heel.

“Unless,” Eddie halts, as if an idea had just occurred to him, “unless you don’t want me to.”

The two of them just stare at one another for a few seconds, as if they’re both just realizing that they don’t really know the limits of their friendship yet. Both of them seem to be asking the other for permission to cross some kind of a line that they don’t know even exists or not. It should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t. It’s a little uncomfortable, sure, but… exciting, in a weird way.

Steve swallows, “no, I want you to. I mean, if you want to, of course. I—”

I like it when you touch me.

The thought hits Steve with such a sudden and sharp clarity that for a second he’s not sure if he’s said it out loud or not.

But if Eddie somehow heard it, he doesn’t let on.

Instead, the sides of his mouth twitch into a tentative grin, but then Eddie ducks his head before Steve can watch it blossom fully into a smile, though he can tell by the way his cheeks rise near his eyes that it indeed does.

Eddie smears the antiseptic cream on Steve’s blister with guitar string scarred fingers, with more care than most people bother using when they reach for Steve. Then he wipes his hands on his own bed sheets before unpeeling a bandaid from its wrapping and laying it overtop of everything. He smooths a finger overtop of it, once, then twice for good measure. Why Eddie runs his finger over the band-aid a third time, Steve hasn’t got a clue.

There’s something about the way Eddie so can flip the switch from being a loud, boisterous, all out terror of a human being, to this sincere, gentle… almost sweet person. It’s hard for Steve to wrap his head around. Especially since Eddie doesn’t show the second side nearly as often as the first–and only to a lucky handful of people. Steve’s one of those happy few.

It’s like a secret Eddie.

Steve briefly wonders if there’s a secret Steve, but if there is, not even he knows about him. Steve has a feeling he’s more of a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda guy. Hopefully, that doesn’t mean he’s shallow.

And just when Steve thinks Eddie’s done with him, the guy spins around and rummages in his top drawer for a few seconds before turning back with a rolled up set of fresh socks for Steve. Without a word, he kneels and begins putting them on Steve’s foot for him.

Which…

Honestly, Steve doesn’t know how to feel about it. Good, obviously. That much, at least, is crystal fucking clear. But there’s more. Like the fluttery sort of warmth that comes specifically when someone brings you a bowl of hot soup when you’re sick, or cares enough to hold your hair back for you while you puke your guts out after drinking too much. It’s that same sort of feeling. Only more.

“Thanks, man.” Steve says, utterly relieved his voice comes out sounding steadier than he’s feeling. Because… Well, because no one takes care of Steve, except Steve. It’s been that way since he was old enough to tie his own shoes. He’s always on his own. Self-sufficient. Steve takes a sort of pride in it.

But here’s Eddie, on his knees, tending to him, even though Steve can do it perfectly fine on his own. He’s still doing it for Steve, and for the hell of him, Steve can’t wrap his head around why. And all of it over some stupid blisters. It makes Steve’s chest ache, fixing to burst.

“No problem, Officer. Just doing my civic duty.” Eddie’s tone is soft when he flicks his eyes up briefly, paired with a grin. He finishes putting the fresh set of socks on Steve’s feet, careful to avoid the blisters. The socks are pilled, and scratchy, as if neither Wayne nor Eddie bothers with fabric softener, but they’re comfortable enough and blissfully warm.

“Well the city of Hawkins thanks you too, Mr. Munson.” Steve replies with a two fingers salute, attempting to match Eddie’s energy, but the words sound so deeply stupid when they’re strung together like that, that it has them both chuckling.

“Christ, you’re cute.” Eddie mutters, dragging a knuckle under his eye to clear away the stray tear that had formed from all of the laughing he’s done tonight. Then Steve watches as that easy smile that he had just been so admiring quickly fall away as Eddie seems to realize what he’d just said.

Eddie thinks he’s cute?

The question of what kind of cute he was referring to bombards Steve's brain. Cute could mean a hell of a lot of things—from puppies with big wet eyes to Michelle Pfeiffer in a skin tight leotard. Or maybe Eddie didn’t mean to say cute at all. Yeah, maybe it just slipped out. Hell, maybe Eddie’s just high. He does get a little extra tactile and emotional when he’s high. And Eddie definitely smells like weed, but—well, Eddie always smells like weed.

“Here’s your–” Eddie suddenly stands, cape fluttering behind him, and tosses the sweatpants from earlier back at Steve who catches it with ease, despite the newly unmoored feeling he’s got in his gut. Steve suspects Eddie’s blushing by the way he’s holding himself, but because of all the makeup, Steve can’t be sure. Eddie anxiously twists his rings around his fingers muttering a quiet, “sorry, man.”

It’s said so timidly that Steve almost misses the tacked-on apology entirely. Now, timid isn’t usually something that Steve would associate with Eddie Munson but, well, there it is. And despite their playful back and forth with one another, Steve can tell this is wholly different. He doesn’t—can’t leave Eddie standing there with egg on his face.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not—it’s whatever, dude.” Steve says, forever baffled at how the English language, the only language he even knows and is apparently fluent in, still manages to sound like knotted garbage when it comes out of his mouth. He shoves his legs through the sweatpants, yanking them up to his waist.

Eddie seems to get it though, thankfully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve says, quick, casual-like.

Eddie chews on his lip. “I didn’t make it weird?”

At this, Steve barks out a laugh. Because, yeah but… well, if Eddie started going around apologizing every time he did something weird the guy would never stop apologizing.

And Steve likes Eddie’s flavor of weird anyway.

“Hey, I’m the one who showed up to your house dressed as a stripper, didn’t I? If anyone’s made it weird tonight, it’s me.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, briefly concerned about how the stupid hat probably left an embarrassing indent where it was sitting.

Eddie’s wide smile is back, the one that lines his face and makes his eyes do that starlight thing. “That’s true.” He chuckles.

“I like your costume though.” Steve grins, feeling that fluttery feeling in his chest when he gets Eddie smiling like that. “Vampire, right?”

If possible, Eddie’s eyes widen further, giving him a manic look. He hastily pats his various pockets before finding his fake fangs and shoving them into his mouth. They look terrible, but admittedly, they sort of complete the overall look.

“That’s Count Dracula to you, foolish mortal.” Eddie says with a truly terrible Transylvanian accent as he dramatically swishes his cape over one of his arms, then positions it underneath his kohl-rimmed eyes.

Steve pretends to cower, but he’s always been kind of a shitty actor so he just ends up snorting and shaking his head. “Terrifying. If you hadn’t torn it off me earlier, I’m sure I would have shivered right out of my uniform.”

And again, it’s enough for Eddie to break character and bark out a laugh around his plastic fangs. He recovers quickly though, a smile still pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“C’mon, the girlsh have probably put the movie on without ush.” Eddie says with a very distinct lisp. It’s sort of adorable.

It’s profoundly less adorable after Steve hears how Eddie needs to suck back the spit trapped between his teeth and the tray so he doesn't drool all over himself.

Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t end up wearing the fake fangs for the whole movie, especially not after Nancy demands their removal after two or three noisy, spit-retrieving sucks. There’s some petty back and forth that lasts a couple of seconds, but it’s settled quickly and amicably, as most of their squabbles are.

Steve and Eddie spend the majority of the horror flick pressed up against one another, from shoulder to knee. Steve’s not entirely sure what the hell is happening between them, but whatever it is… it’s nice.

And when there’s a particularly scary bit that makes Steve nearly jump out of his skin, Eddie teases him and slaps a patronizing hand to his knee just to further torment him, but it’s the damnedest thing. Even after the joke’s over, and their collective focus is back (in theory) on the movie, Eddie just… doesn’t take his hand back. Neither one of them seems keen on addressing it either, afraid to spook whatever it is away.

They stay that way for the rest of the movie. He doesn’t risk putting his hand over top of Eddie’s—he can’t. Not yet, at least. But Steve will think about little else besides the feeling of Eddie’s warm hand curled around the top of his knee, searing into him like a brand, for many nights to come.

It’s hands down the most embarrassing Halloween Steve’s ever had—but it’s also kinda the best, thanks to Eddie.

[superblysubpar]

steve harrington x you

2,390 words

warnings: nothing much, steve's got shaved hair as per the request for today, some kissing, some ednancy/dad eddie, you're eddie's best friend

A/N: thanks so much for your patience as I work on getting all of these posted that were missed. I hope you enjoy them, it's been great to get back into writing after a couple of really hectic weeks

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event

Your lips purse around the neon green straw as your hips sway in time to Hanson booming out of the shitty speakers. The soles of your boots like velcro against the sticky cement while thuds of dart meeting board echo as you pass. Rum and cherry sweet on your tongue and warming you from the inside out as you look up and down the crowded bar.

A blue polished finger startles you as it crosses your vision and pokes your forehead.

“Dude, relax,” Robin laughs, leaning against the old wood top. Despite already having a drink in her hand, she hasn’t strayed far from the bar tonight. The bartender in a jersey serving up cocktails and beers with a red lipped smile and a musical laugh to blame you were sure. “He’ll be here. He’s probably just stuck in traffic. Or they stopped at their hotel before coming.”

“Right,” you blow a breath out of your nose and look over at the stairs that led to the bouncer, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Robin’s blue eyes sparkle under glittered lids, a dimple forming on her freckled cheek. “Hold on, can you say that one more time, a little louder? Where’s Steve, I need him to hear this.”

Your eyes roll just as brown fizzy soda sloshes over the side of your cup before it met your lips, narrowly avoiding a landing place down the front of your shirt as hands squeeze at your ribs, startling you with an accompanied:

“Boo!”

“Eddie!” The shriek loud and drawing the attention of most of the bar as you turn to face the menace behind your jump scare. You swat at your best friend’s chest. “Asshole.”

Eddie’s cheeks dimple, shorter curls bouncing across his forehead as he knocks a ringed knuckle under your chin. “I missed you too.”

Your arms wrap around his waist, his around your back in a tight squeeze, the kind of hug only old friends can share.

“I did miss you,” you murmur, drawing back to take in all the ways he’d changed and all the ways he hadn’t. He still had a faded band tee, the laundry detergent clinging to it new but mixed nicely with the familiar spice of his cologne. Ripped holes in the knees of well worn black jeans, but his hair shorter, broader shoulders. A smile that still lit up any room though you could see the sleep and stress heavy under his eyes. “You look like crap.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as he squeezes Robin and kisses her temple, murmuring something about scoring the digits of the cutie behind the bar yet, before he turns to you with a theatrical pout of his lips.

“You know, that’s a real shitty thing to say to your best friend who you haven’t seen in months that you know is dealing with a three year old who doesn’t understand the concept of quiet time when the baby is napping.”

Your snort is only slightly muffled into the rim of your cup, “Oh my god, you’re such an old man.”

Eddie grabs a beer from Robin’s hand offering it up without looking away from the bartender chatting with her. He smiles at them, then you again as you drop the act and tug on his wrist and whine, “Where’s the pictures I was promised? Does Amelia know how to say her favorite Aunt’s name yet?”

He laughs, “Not yet. Although yesterday she said ‘tuc’ when a big school bus drove by, so like, no big deal, but my baby’s a genius.” He takes a sip, shrugging his shoulders like it was a joke, but you know it’s not. He nods his head towards the entrance, “Nance has the pictures.”

“She didn’t come in with you?” Your frown disappears and melts into a smile when you see her talking animatedly with her hands while descending the stairs.

“Speak of the devil,” Eddie looks around and leans down to whisper in your ear, timing perfect with the wrinkled nose of Nancy as she looks around the shitty dive bar, “She’s gonna hate this place.”

Your smile widens as Nancy mumbles something to the man entering with her, honeyed eyes roaming over the crowd as he laughs at whatever she said. Steve’s still dressed in his work clothes, a blue sweater and a gray peacoat, dark wash jeans that fit him just right and have you distracted already.

Eddie whistles, nudging your shoulder. “Christ babe, these shoes are new and here you are drooling all over them. I get enough of that at home.”

Your hand pinches his side, his yelp drawing the attention of his wife and Steve. He smiles at you, hand waving a little before it adjusts the black cap still sitting on his head.

Eddie sighs deeply next to your ear and grumbles, “Can you two just fucking, like, do the damn thing already? My god, just go up and-“

“Nancy!” Your yell overly loud and too enthusiastic as you dig a heel into Eddie’s toes and he snorts a half laugh, half grunt of pain.

Your arms envelope her and the two of you rock back and forth and squeal like girls after a Summer break of not seeing each other every day of school. Over Nancy’s shoulder, Steve places a large hand on the back of Robin’s shoulder and whispers something in her ear. She pokes at his beanie that he quickly tugs down further with a scowl. A paranoid glance around before his gaze meets yours and a timid smile forms on his lips before he turns back to Robin.

Nancy’s quick to whip out the photos from her little clutch when you ask and Robin squeals, the pair of you look over her shoulder and coo at their perfect kids. Brown curls and bright blue eyes and dimples worthy of her dad smile up at you in a photo of their toddler holding up a drawing she made.

“Oh shit,” Eddie pats at his jeans, “Beth told me…” he frowns as he searches his pockets, “Sweetheart, where’d-“

Nancy’s already pulling something out of her purse, a neatly folded triangle with your name written in Nancy’s neat penmanship, with a crudely drawn heart around it.

“For me?” You swoon as you grab it and hold the little piece up to your chest when Robin frowns.

“Wow, they’re so not getting good Christmas presents from Aunt Rob-“

Nancy holds up another triangle, cutting her off.

“They can have whatever they want. Do hey have college funds set up yet?”

Nancy and Eddie laugh, a puzzle piece fitting with another as his arms wrap around her waist and her hand reaches up and caresses his chin that hooks over his shoulder.

He kisses her neck, “Want your usual?”

“Yes please,” she kisses his temple before he untangles his arms, squeezing her hips gently before he heads over to the bar.

The interaction makes something in your chest ache, something deep inside of you yearning for a connection that just works like they do. Knowing you don’t need it, but it’d be nice to have someone grab your usual, to hold and ground you when life gets a little crazy.

Nancy’s whisper is all knowing, her blue eyes cutting into yours just as much. “It’ll happen.”

“What?” Something stuck in your throat that you clear away, thumbs brushing over your drawing as you avoid her stare.

“I’m just saying it’ll happen, I know it sucks waiting for your person, but they’re probably closer than you think.”

The searching glance up isn’t intentional, but you’re startled to find Steve staring at you already. Your body flushes when he smiles at you from the bar next to Eddie.

“Oh,” Robin laughs, tucking her drawing into her lavender blazer pocket, “They’re close alright.”

Nancy looks at her then you, finding you glaring at Robin. Your mouth opens to tell her to shut hers, when a drink appears in front of you.

You’re expecting to see silver rings around the cup, but all you find is a gold class band and you swallow, looking up to see Steve offering it to you.

“Extra cherries, right?”

The words come out of plush pink lips surrounded by a dusting of dark scruff and it may as well have been a question asking you to take off your underwear from the way your body heats up.

“Ye-yeah,” you stumble over the word as your fingers meet his, “Thanks.”

“Oh,” Nancy hums, “That is close.”

“Told ya,” Robin snickers into her cup.

“What?” Steve blinks at them, gold and green disappearing with fluttering lashes each time he does.

Nancy points at the bar, “Oh, Eddie, what’s? Yup.”

She disappears quickly with her obvious fake call from Eddie.

Robin doesn’t even attempt to be subtle, she just smiles at Steve, winks at you, and turns away.

Steve watches her go with a frown, then looks at you. “Do I wanna know-“

“No,” you shake your head, tight smile. It warps into a real one when you look down at the piece of paper though. You hold up your drawing, “Did you see what Beth made me?”

He smiles at the drawing that is so clearly you and her on a face time phone call, “Wow, a real Beth Munson artwork. I’m jealous. I must have it. What’s your price?”

Your laugh is effortless around Steve, and you hold it close to your chest, playing along. “Sorry sir, this item is not for sale. Nothing you offer could ever convince me to part with it.”

The freckles next to Steve’s eyes disappear when his smile makes the laugh lines there crease. His two on his cheek lift as he grabs at your elbow, gently nudging you over to the wall to avoid a group of rowdy boys entering the bar. He has to lean in when they all whoop and whistle, hitting backs and shouting about teams winning. His lips brush your ear with each word.

“Everything is for sale. Come on, name it. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

The words invite a shiver to trickle down your spine, something loosening in your shoulders, like someone cracked an egg on the top of your head and it’s leaking into every nerve you have. Your brain feels fuzzy from the way he smiles. Your tongue too heavy in your mouth, but somehow you swallow down butterflies that seek to escape through your throat and say:

“How about a date?”

Steve’s hand does a poor job of hiding his smile, his chin dips down in defeat, but he clears his throat. His eyes melt like brown sugar and butter right in front of you as they hold your stare. “Sure, but I was already going to take you on one, so I feel like I’m practically stealing this original, one of a kind artwork. Anything else you want?”

His head tilts with the question, and the tip of his shoes tap yours, a hand squeezes at your waist, grounding you as the room spins from how dizzy his lips being so close to yours is making you feel.

“I’m,” you suck in a breath as you lean in, the Backstreet Boys crooning overhead in an ironic soundtrack to the moment as you shake your head, “I can’t think of anything. What’d you have in mind?”

Steve’s hand moves from your hip to your lower back, gently nudging you closer. His adam’s apple bobs before he asks, “A kiss?”

Your answer is a nod that bumps your already too close lips together. Steve catches your bottom one with his, gently parting your mouth as his hand slides up your spine.

It’s a dizzying kiss, one that makes your stomach flip and your feet press up onto your toes to chase him more. One that melts and flows into more than one kiss, your hand with your drink and drawing resting against his hip while your other clings to his neck. Steve’s nose bumps against yours as he deepens it. Tongue tracing your lips before it meets yours and he’s gasping for a deeper breath against your mouth, but unwilling to part from it.

Your hand slides up the nape of his neck, pushing at the beanie as your smile breaks the kiss when loud cheers echo through the bar. Steve shakes his head no at the sound, smiling too, but still refusing to part from your kiss until your hand pushes under his hat and you gasp.

“No, no, don’t-“ Steve’s already laughing at your look of pure joy, admiring the way your face is brighter and lips shinier from his kissing, so he doesn’t even try to stop you when you rip the hat off.

“Holy shit!” Robin’s voice is louder than anything in the bar when you reveal that Steve’s hair is shaved. “What happened? I mean why?”

Robin, Eddie and Nancy rejoin your group, wide smiles at you that you roll your eyes at. Steve gently takes the cap back from you and puts it back on with a frown.

“I work in an elementary school, what do you think happened?”

“Oh no,” Nancy laughs, covering her smile with fingers polished ballet slipper pink as Eddie shakes his head.

“It looks good,” you murmur, fingers reaching forward with a mind of their own and brushing along the base of the cap behind his ear.

“Yeah?” He asks, leaning in again, smile and eyes only for you as you nod.

His nose bumps yours but he stops just shy of your lips when Robin groans loudly.

“Thank god you’re moving back, I don’t think I could stomach this alone.”

Your head whips over to the trio, Nancy and Eddie smiling at your shocked expression.

Eddie waves his hands next to his sides like he’s a magician saying ‘ta-da’.

“Surprise!”

Your drink spills to the ground as you leap towards them both, shouting about how excited you are as you all hug and cry and you pester them with accusations and too many questions on the level of an interrogation.

Steve’s hand rests on your lower back the whole time, thumb soothing brushes up and down your spine. Eventually he whispers something about grabbing you another drink before he kisses your cheek and disappears with a promise of being right back.

[hyperactively-me]

boots

He sensed your weariness, gently adjusting his position to allow you to lean against him for support. His strong arms wrap around you, providing a comforting embrace you gladly welcomed. Your fists bunch up his shirt as you hug him, pressing your cheek against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed you, your eyes growing heavy with sleep.

you’re in a secret relationship with ghost, and its after hours after a long day of training and a mission, you’re super tired, so he helps you undress.

warnings: none

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. You felt like you could fall asleep standing up. The day's intense training alongside a somewhat “easy” mission had taken its toll on your body and mind. You were up before dawn, training in the few hours before the mission was set to take place. From there, you had immediately changed into your gear, and it had remained on all day. It’s now well past midnight, you’re still carrying all your gear on your person. You had immediately gone back to your room the moment you touched down back at the base, not bothering to take off any of your gear. Seeing your bed had you nearly teary eyed. You let yourself fall back on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, eyes closing as sleep nearly had its hold on you. 

A quiet knock had startled you from your sleepy state, your reflexes still sharp. You sit up immediately and groan, rolling your eyes as you stand up. God, you just wanted, needed, to sleep. You trudge to the door reluctantly, dragging your feet with every step. When you had slipped your door open, you were greeted by Ghost. 

You immediately tear up at the sight of him, tired out of your mind, frustrated that you still had to undress and put everything away. 

“Simon,” you nearly whimper, pressing yourself against him. You hated the way your gear was digging into you, creating unnecessary space between you and Ghost.

He sensed your weariness, gently adjusting his position to allow you to lean against him for support. His strong arms wrap around you, providing a comforting embrace you gladly welcomed. Your fists bunch up his shirt as you hug him, pressing your cheek against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed you, your eyes growing heavy with sleep.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, love,” he whispers, ushering you towards your bed. He helps you sit on the edge of your bed, your frame hunched over.

“It's been a long day,” Ghost whispered, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

An appreciative grin pulled at the edges of your lips as he drew closer to you, feeling safe in his company. He bends down on one knee, hands reaching to untie your combat boots with a gentleness he reserved only for you. He slips both of your boots off your feet, then rolls down your socks, slipping them off. Next, he reaches for your hands, slipping your gloves delicately off your hands. He rubs the flesh of your palm, massaging it slightly. Finally, he reaches up to remove the heaviest part of your outfit, your tac vest. You shift your arms slightly, allowing him to reach behind you as he releases the velcro, the removal of the weight of the vest already having an astronomical effect on your body. You sigh in relief as the weight is removed, rolling out your shoulders with a groan. 

Immediately you let yourself fall backwards on your bed, hands coming up to rub your heavy eyes.

“Simon,” you whisper. He stills for a moment before standing up to lay down right next to you. 

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting the silence of the room swallow him. 

“Your support means the world to me,” you mutter, turning on your side to face him. 

He’s still staring up at the ceiling, his hands crossed over his chest. He takes a breath, then turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment, hand coming up to gently trace your cheek.

“We're in this together," he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering sincerity.

The weight of his words make you feel at ease, and you pull him into you. You rake your hands through his hair slowly, lethargically. 

His head comes up to rest against your chest, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing pressing against you as your fingers continue to trace soothing patterns through his hair.

“I love you,” you murmur.

Ghost looks up at you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. “I love you," he replied, his voice genuine.

You were immediately pulled into sleep’s sweet embrace, clutching onto your love like a lifeline. He pulls you closer as he succumbs to sleep, pulling you into him like nothing else in the world matters.

[foreverisntenough]

i would love a cute blurb about teddy’s first day at nursery school 🥹🥹🤍🤍

Hi <3 I know you asked this ages ago but I was on holiday and then took a minute to write but Ta Da! for youuuu! I loved this idea so tysm for messaging. I hope you like it!

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

'Brave for Dada' - 1.5k words |

↳ It was an emotional first day of nursery school for Trent and your daughter, Teddy.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

“Mama no.” Teddy sobbed as you got her dressed for her first day of nursery school. To say that she was not excited would be an understatement. “Don’t wanna go any more, tay? No tanks, mama. Wanna be with you.” She hiccuped while you slicked her hair back with a bristle brush tight into a low bun. Despite her pleas, you got her in some white Dior trousers, a navy Dior cable knit jumper, white and navy Golden Goose velcro trainers, a Stoney Clover backpack, one of many you had but this color matched her look for the day with her ‘TAA’ initials on it. As a special little surprise you had gotten her royal blue Burberry keychain that was bear wrapped in a blanket. She, as expected, thought it was adorable. It made her smile momentarily through her tears as you helped her clip it on the bag. 

“Daddy, want to come see our little Teddy bear all ready for school?” You cooed for Trent who was currently in your room to come to hers to see her all dressed ready to go. Tears still rolling. She stood there sniffling but she looked adorable. 

“Look at my gorgeous big girl! You look so beautiful, baby. I love your outfit! Did you help mummy pick it out?” He asked her. Teddy nodded. She was being particularly quiet today given her nerves.

“Are you going to be a big girl and go to school, baby bear?” Trent cooed once you got her downstairs. Teddy clung to him in the foyer at your front door. “You’re my brave girl, yeah? I know you’ll have the most fun and you have to promise the second I come home from training you have to tell me all the fun things you did, okays?” He squatted down to her level. Her hands wrapped around his neck as his big hand rubbed up and down her back consoling her.

“Tay, dada. Can you come with mes?” She sniffled through her words. The tears that had been falling all morning continued. He wiped a few escapees off her cheeks and kissed her frowny pout. 

“Oh baby, I wish I could. Daddy’s got training. It's just like school but for footie. Did you know that?” He asked her and she shook her head no. “Yeah, Ted. I get nervous sometimes too but I go and I get to meet new friends and learn all sorts of new things, I get snacks, and the best part is that when I’m done having fun there I get to come be with you and mummy right after! But you know why your school is even better?” Teddy gave him a still hesitant shake of the head ‘no’ but this time not as stern, she wasn’t completely rejecting his persuasion. “I don’t get to look as pretty as my baby bear does. You look like the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Prettiest girl in the whole school and the bravest too. So promise me you’ll at least try and be brave for dada, okay?." Teddy's bottom lip quivered. "If you get nervous that's okay too, sweetheart but know daddy does sometimes too. You can do it. Mummy and I believe in you so much and you should too. Pinky promise you’ll try?” He sympathetically smiled at her sticking his much larger hand out. She sheepishly raised her hand and interlocked her tiny pinky around his promising. He kissed her little pout. “I almost forget, Ted!” Trent yelped. He hadn't; he just wanted one last thing to hopefully make her smile before he had to get out the door. “I know you’re a tiny nervous, baby and you know how you’re our little bear right? Well, daddy got you a little something so in case you start to miss mummy and daddy when you’re at school to make you smile. Can I put it on you?” He gently spoke to her. You sat yourself on the hardwood floor next to them. She nodded through tears. He clasped a small gold charm bracelet with three enamel teddy bears on it around her tiny wrist. “How many bears are there? Can you count?” Trent smiled. 

“One, twos, and erm, three, dada.” She smiled identically mirroring his. It was stupidly ornate to send a child with jewelry of that caliber to school but that was Trent’s way.

 “Good girl! So it’s just like us three, okay? You will have mummy and I with you the whole time. I’m so proud of you. I love you, baby.” He kissed her forehead and stood up. 

“Mama look! Bringing dada and mama bears to school with mes!” Teddy excitedly told you, shoving her bracelet clad wrist in your face. Naively unaware she was sporting a comfortable three thousand pound piece of jewelry to nursery school.

“Wow, that’s so special! Daddy must love you a whole lot.” You smiled as you kissed over the bracelet three times. “And mummy does too.” You kissed her nose pulling her down into a hug. 

“Mama!” Teddy sobbed, breaking free from the school teacher who was holding her hand on the pavement. She sprinted to you. You crouched down and wrapped her in the tightest embrace feeling like you wanted to cry just like she was. 

“Hi my big girl! I missed you so much.” You cooed, kissing her hair as she clung to you crying more. You stood up keeping Teddy in your arms. You smiled at the teacher who handed her little backpack over to you.

“She’s tired but we had a good day. Lots to show your mummy, huh?” The kind woman gently asked Teddy, rubbing her arm tenderly. She had packed away plenty of drawing’s and little things Teddy had done during the day into her bag for you.

“Want mama.” Teddy continued to wail. It was breaking your heart to see her so upset but you kind of anticipated this. It wasn't exactly a secret that she was fairly attached to you. 

“I’m right here. Mummy’s got you. I think you're just tired, huh? Almost time for our nap, yeah?” You cooed attempting to soothe her but very aware that it was about 15 minutes till when she typically went down for a nap which was likely fueling this emotional reunion. “I bet you had so much fun though so you have to tell me all about it on the way home.”  You kissed her forehead. 

“Nooo mummy.” She sniffled, wrapping her arms even tighter around your neck.  

“Okay, okay. How about we call daddy in the car. Will you tell him?” You asked her and she hiccuped in a breath almost forgetting what she was sad about by the idea of getting to talk to Trent. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the teacher who nodded unphased by probably the umpteenth toddler she had handed over crying this afternoon after the first day of nursery school came to a close. Teddy began to calm a little bit. “Yeah? I know he can’t wait to hear about your first day. Daddy and I are so proud of you. Let's go, my Teddy girl.” You bounced her on your hip walking back to your car, kissing her temple. To your dismay when you called Trent, he didn’t answer. You roughly knew his schedule so you decided that even though the sniffly little girl in your backseat whose eyes were fighting to stay open you’d take a different route home. “Come on.” You grunted picking a sleepy Teddy up out of her carseat. “Do you see where we are?” You smiled putting Teddy down onto the ground before you  extended your hand for her to hold as she inspected her surroundings. You watched her get more and more excited as you walked through the car park and in through the big doors, down the corridor and back outside into the bright sun on the other side of the building. 

“My dada!” Teddy squealed, pointing her arm through the fence out to the pitch at AXA where Trent had already spotted her and had begun to run over to you. 

“Is that my brave baby bear?” Trent cooed, immediately scooping Teddy up and lifting her up over the fence. She started to cry clinging to him like she did to you before. “Didn’t know that my beautiful girls were coming here.” Trent smiled, kissing Teddy’s forehead, running his hand over her hair before he leaned over the fence to kiss you. 

“We needed to see daddy right after school, huh? Just couldn’t wait.”  You laughed a little seeing Teddy smush herself against him. You cupped Trent’s slightly sweaty cheek stoking your thumb over his glowing skin. 

“I couldn’t wait to see my baby bear either. Want to come play some some footie with me?” Trent kissed the inside of your wrist as he asked Teddy. His training was done. It was a rehabilitation day for him anyway but instead of calling it he’d spend the next hour chasing after Teddy as you sat on the side of the pitch. You were relieved to see Teddy giggling away again as opposed to crying but you sighed remembering you had to do it all again tomorrow. 

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough work here!

[diazsdimples]

"Can you show me where it hurts?" Buddie

I'm crediting @hippolotamus for the idea for this cause she sent me a WHOLE FUCKING FICLET when I asked for ideas. Thanks my love, you're so appreciated.

"Can you show me where it hurts?" Buck pleades as he kneels next to the couch. His hands hover over Eddie's curled up form on the couch, afraid to touch but desperate to comfort, to sooth his hands over his best friend's sides and ease the hurt that Eddie's clearly in. "Please, Eds, let me help you."

Eddie curls further into himself, bringing his knees up to his chest and he wraps his arms around them, hugging himself close. An ugly sob rips from his throat and Buck's heart shatters into a million pieces. If he could shield Eddie (and Chris, for that matter) from all the pain in the world, take the bullets for them, he would, and the fact that he can't protect Eddie from... this - it's causing him physical pain.

"Baby, please," Buck begs again, the pet name falling from his lips without him even noticing. It feels as natural as breathing, as normal as waking up in the morning and going to sleep at night that he doesn't even think twice, but Eddie recoils violently.

"Don't," he rasps, his voice rough and frayed from crying. Eddie pushes himself up the couch, away from Buck's hands. He looks absolutely wrecked and Buck just wants to hold him close, to kiss it all better but he knows he can't. They're not like that.

"I'm sorry I just - Eddie please tell me what's going on," he implores instead. "I want to help."

Eddie sniffs and wipes his nose with his sleeve. He looks Buck up and down, his expression guarded as though he's protecting himself, and lets out a long, shaky sigh.

"You want to know where it hurts?"

Buck nods vehemently. There's nothing he wants more than to fix whatever's going on. When he'd walked in to see Eddie curled up on the couch, shaking with sobs, his immediate thought had been some kind of abdominal trauma, or appendicitis. The closer he'd gotten though, and the more he heard Eddie's throat-shredding sobs, the more he'd begun to realise that this wasn't a physical type pain.

Eddie seems to steel himself before slowly reaching out and circling his arm around Buck's wrist. He guides Buck's hand until is settled on his breastbone, right over his heart. Buck can very faintly feel the thump thump of Eddie's heart beneath his fingertips.

"Right here," Eddie whispers, his voice breaking ever so slightly as he chokes back another sob. "Always here."

His hand covers Buck's, linking their fingers together, and everything suddenly clicks together. Why Eddie had been acting weird since they'd sat down and properly talked about the Will. Why Eddie had been pulling back, hardly touching Buck and never hugging him when they were usually attached like Velcro.

And oh. Because that changes everything. Because if this is what Buck thinks it is, if Eddie loves him, then holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

Buck tenderly cups Eddie's face, his thumb stroking over his cheekbone and brushing away the tears. Eddie doesn't flinch away, instead he lets out a small whine and sinks into Buck's touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

Another tear rolls down Eddie's cheek and Buck can't help himself. He leans forward and brushes his lips against the soft skin, the salty liquid collecting against his tongue when he pulls away. Eddie looks up at him with pleading eyes and Buck kisses his other cheek, the tip of his nose, his forehead, the space between his eyebrows, and finally comes to rest with their foreheads pressed together.

"Can I -" he whispers, licking his lips as his mouth suddenly dies. "Can I kiss it better?"

Eddie nods and the tips of their noses brush. "Please."

The first brush of their lips is hesitant, soft, as though neither of them quite believe what's happening. Eddie's lips are soft and taste like his tears, and Buck tenderly licks them off as Eddie whines into his mouth.

Their lips slot together like they were made to fit each other, like Buck's entire life has been leading to this moment, to the taste of Eddie on his tongue. To the feeling of Eddie's fingers sinking into the hair at the base of his neck and pulling him in impossibly closer.

It's perfect, it's everything, it's everything he never knew he wanted, everything he'd never dared to dream for. And it's real. It's happening.

When they break apart, both breathing heavily, their lips are kiss swollen and glistening. Eddie's cheeks are pink and his eyelashes are wet, and Buck can't stop himself from leaning back in and capturing his lips in a brief kiss.

"Is this real?" Eddie whispers. He's still crying but now Buck senses it's because he's overwhelmingly happy (or so he hopes) and Buck wants to wrap him in his arms and never let him go.

He kisses Eddie again and again, revelling in the way Eddie melts into his touch.

"Yeah baby, it's real."

Send me a ship and a sentence and I'll finish it!!

(Also gonna cheekily tag some friends who might be interested? Idk)

@theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @spotsandsocks @neverevan @wikiangela

@wildlife4life @loveyouanyway @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @cal-daisies-and-briars

[darlingmbappe]

Revenge Gift | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

— Click here for part 2! —

Summary: When Kylian leaves you high and dry, you decide on a leaving him a little revenge gift.

Warnings: Making out, sexy pictures, teasing, cussing, English is not my first language

Kylian was so happy to see you when you came over today. His face lit up the second he saw you, pulling you in for a long and deep kiss. You both had the afternoon off — a rare occurrence for your never ending clashing schedules — and these past couple of weeks have been especially busy. Working on a project in its preproduction stage comes a lot of late nights and even later mornings. Kylian turns in early and is up at the ass crack of dawn.

Besides the cheeky texts you’ve been sending back and forth, you two hadn’t had a chance to be intimate in a while. Quality time has been at an all time low, probably three weeks had passed since you’ve touched each other in that way. So, imagine how eager you two were when you quickly made it up to his bedroom.

“I fucking miss you,” he breathes between kisses on your exposed neck. You hum in response, too lost in feeling his bare chest against your skin to properly tell him you fucking miss him too. “You drive me crazy when you send me those sexy pictures.” Your hips grind against him while you sat on his lap, earning huffs and low moans from your boyfriend.

He played with the straps of your bra before losing them, following with a trail of kisses on your shoulder.

You huff out a laugh. “How do you think I feel when you send me thirst traps from the locker room, huh?”

Any other time he would deny that they were thirst traps and that you were just thirsty for him, but he only has one thing in mind right now. He reaches behind your back and begins playing with the clasp of your bra, a part he (shamefully) always struggles with. “Why don’t they use Velcro for these things?” He grumbled.

You giggle at him, reaching back to do it yourself. He sits back on the bed and prepares himself to just watch you, his eyes dark with lust and need. Just before you were able to unhook it, his phone starts ringing.

“Shit, sorry.” He reached for it on the nightstand. “Thought I turned that off.” Kylian looks at the caller ID and winces, looking up at you with I’m sorry eyes.

You shrug and drop your arms from your back, disappointed but understanding. “Go ahead, take it.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats before sliding the answer button, immediately sounding annoyed with the caller. You crawl off his lap and make yourself comfortable on the open side of the bed, waiting for him to do something about the throbbing in your core. “What? Today?” He exclaims, jumping out of the bed and begins looking for his something to put on. “I thought it was next week, why didn’t you text me?” He pulls the phone down from his mouth and mouths another ‘I’m sorry’ before putting his clothes back on.

He ends the call with frustration, turning to you with the face of the guiltiest man alive. You roll your eyes and huff, but ultimately realize that this is something he has to do, or else he sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving you alone in his bed right before you were about to get naked. “Go.” You force a little grin out for both your sakes.

“You know I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to—”

“I know, Ky. It’s okay, go.” You’re used to forcing the good sport attitude. It was a package deal while dating someone like Kylian.

“Please be here when I come back.” He begs, putting a baseball cap on and a T-shirt.

You stand up, trudging over to him and wrapping a loose hug around his waist. “If you’re back before six…”

He hugs you back, kissing you sweetly. “I’ll try my best, amour.”

You kiss him quickly before shoving him toward the door, his gaze lingered on your bare body for a long second, tutting and cursing under his breath, then forcing himself out of the house.

Once he left, you put on some comfy clothes, made some tea, and began watching a movie in his living room. It wasn’t even two hours later when you phone binged — a message from Kylian.

Kyks <3: what’s the latest you can stay over?

You immediately respond back

You: No later than 6:15

You watched the three bubbles appear before his response.

Kyks <3: fuuuuuuuucccckkk :,(

You frown, realizing that your day with Kylian wasn’t happening.

Kyks <3: I’m sorry amour, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.

Kyks <3: I love you

You: I know you will

You: and I love you too

With a long huff, you stand up and decide to just grab your things and go to your place before you had to head out to work, maybe change into a less itchy bra.

As you walked around kylians room to double check that you grabbed everything, a small black and white object on his dresser caught your eye — his Polaroid camera.

Interesting.

He was obsessed with it for a couple weeks before completly forgetting about it, leaving it to collect dust in his room. Picking it up, you saw he had three photos left in it, and you had a plan brewing. A small form of payback, if you will.

Shuffling back out of your clothes, you propped yourself on his bed, the camera lying next to you. Kylian had yet to see this set in full, so you might as well let him know what he walked out on.

With a quick reposition, you laid down on his silk pillows, squeezed your boobs together to create more cleavage, putting your hand lazily near your mouth.

Snap!

Next, you sat up on your knees, opening your thighs slightly to give him a better view of the black lace that was sewn on mesh at the middle, angling the lens downward at your body.

Snap!

With only one more left in the roll, you decide to show him a little more skin. Taking off your bra, you toss it aside, covering your nipples with your arm. Once you figure out the pose, you snap the last picture.

You put the developing pictures next to each other and shuffle back into your sweatpants and tank top.

Damn, you thought when they were funny developed. You looked so hot. You displayed them nearly on top of his pillow. Now that your satisfied with your teasing revenge, you gather your things and head home.

Around 8:30, the writers room was very unproductive. Everyone had all hit a wall and was out of ideas for the time being. Bouncing off one another felt pointless and everyone was a little frustrated. Usually while at work, your phone was on focus mode so you didn’t get off track, but you had resorted to playing a racing game while hoping inspiration for the script would drop from the sky. Just when you were about to beat your high score, you got a buzz in your phone with a message from your boyfriend. Then another. And another…

Kyks <3: you cannot do this to me right now baby

Kyks <3: you’re evil

Kyks <3: fuuuuccckk bebe I need you to come over right now

Kyks <3: I’m serious. U fucking tease

You bit back a laugh, wishing you could see his reaction in person.

You: I take it you like the pictures?

Kyks <3: I will pay you double whatever you make today if you leave work right now

This time you giggle out loud, catching the attention of your co-writers.

“Sorry,” you said through blushing cheeks. As you were about to put your phone down, you got another buzz. Though you thought about ignoring it, you decided to take a quick peek.

Holy shit.

Your extremely sexy boyfriend had taken a photo for you and you had to physically stop yourself from drooling, your face flushing with color as you took in the picture on your screen. The phone was now held close to your chest just in case anyone was peaking over your shoulder and saw the filthy shot.

His abs we’re on full display — he snapped the shot from his perspective as he laid down in his bed, a white towel hung low on his hips. Your Polaroids were splayed out across his covered leg and his hand covered his groin, large fingers wrapped around his covered member, showing off his perfect outline.

Kyks <3: I’m I gonna have to take care of myself? :(

Without thinking, you wrote back.

You: don’t you dare.

“You guys don’t need me tonight, right?” Your voice cracked. None of your coworkers said anything, just looked at you with a face that screamed ‘seriously?’ “Pleeease, you guys? I swear I’ll come in on Monday with donuts from Azúcar.”

That promise was enough for them to be okay with you leaving early. You texted Kylian back as soon as you gathered your things.

You: be there in 20

He took no time replying.

Kyks <3: counting down the seconds

—Requests are open for Kylian Mbappé!—

[wol-fica]

-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤 [ℕ𝕆ℕ ℂ𝔸ℕ𝕆ℕ] ℙ𝕋𝟚-

parings - wednesdayaddams x gp!reader

summary - nes has been feeling quite, peckish, if you had to ask her

warnings - bondage, sensory deprivation, p in v sex, aggressive sex, nes is terrifying in this

an - thank you to the awesome anon who requested this omgggg

—————————

A pitiful whine exited your mouth, muffled by the blood red ball gag set between your teeth. The velcro straps were around your neck and the back of your head, tightly pulling the toy into your lips.

Ropes were around your wrists, arms, and ankles, keeping you confined to the uncomfortable wooden chair that was stationed in front of the kitchen island. A black silk blindfold was wrapped around your eyes, depriving you of any ability to see your wife.

Wednesday was nearby, watching you writhe and whimper from the cold air wafting onto your already-hard penis. Her mouth watered at the sight, a wave of arousal passing over her as she studied you.

She did this to you, proposing the idea over dinner and taking action as soon as your back was turned on her. She had put you in a subtle headlock, kissing your cheek as she told you what she was going to do; you didn’t complain, you would never be scared.

Another whine came from your mouth, spit slowly slipping past the ball gag as you struggled. Veins throbbed on your cock, causing Wednesday to break her restraint and come forward to you.

Her hand gently took your jaw, pulling your face up so she could could get a good look at you. She loved this, seeing you so submissive and dumb, like she had so much control over you.

“How are you feeling, mí amor?” She murmured, rubbing her thumb on your jaw.

You whimpered, pulling forward to her in an attempt to touch her but the ropes kept you down. Wednesday smiled at that, seeing you tied down did something to her.

“Let’s see what we get done, shall we?”

Fortunately, she had already discarded her own clothes, seeing as she obviously didn’t need them. Grabbing a black collar and leash, she clipped the item onto you and pulled at your neck as she dropped into your lap.

Your cock rubbed against her thigh, the friction doing wonders for you as she settled herself. Her lips pressed against your forehead, causing you to whine in an upset tone.

“Don’t do that, I’ll take however much time I want with you.” Wednesday said, lifting her hips up, “I get to do whatever I please.”

She slowly lowered herself onto you, the head of your penis spreading her pussy open easily. She was wet, drenched even, but you were going to satisfy the itch she developed.

A soft sigh came from her, her breath hot and heavy right by your ear. She stretched around you, rolling her hips down onto you as she took you in. Her velvet walls welcomed you, keeping you snug and warm as she nestled you between her thighs.

“Cara mía..” She moaned, tugging on the leash as she began to ride you.

Now you were not sure when Wednesday became so good at riding you, but you were definitely not going to complain. The way she squeezed and jerked her hips around felt so incredibly pleasurable to you.

You wanted to feel her, to touch her so bad. You wanted to grab her plush thighs and feel her soft skin as she spelled your name with her thick hips. You cried out, the sound muffled by the gag but pronounced enough to get her attention

Her hand pressed against your abdomen, feeling your abs under her fingertips as you twitched your hips up into her.

“What’s wrong Y/N.” She asked breathlessly, clearly aggravated that you interrupted her.

You tried to move forward to her, the restricting rope keeping you tied back and stuck just far enough away from Wednesday.

“You wanna be closer?” She asked, pressing the ball gag into your mouth so you gagged.

You nodded frantically, desperate to feel her skin on yours. She hummed, pulling you forward by the leash. Your face instantly went for her neck, burying yourself there for comfort as she began to ride you again.

Her hips moved aggressively, thrusting back and forth as she took you so so well. Her warm, wet walls keeping your cock snug and tended to. You gaggidly moaned, feeling your impending release building fast inside of you.

Wednesday seemed to notice as well, as she sped up her movements and tightly clamped herself on you. Her hand wound itself into your hair as she coaxed you on, dirty whispers leaving her mouth to help you chase your high.

Your orgasm came harder than expected, the coil snapping to quick as you released yourself inside of Wednesday, your cum pumping into her as she kept rolling her hips against you.

Overstimulation soon washed over you, tears being absorbed by the blindfold as Wednesday went after her own orgasm. She clenched and rode, the desperation to reach her high overpowering her awareness of your sensitivity.

“Oh cariño!” Wednesday mewled, her pussy fluttering erratically as she finally came.

She rocked herself against you, slowly calming down from her orgasm. Her hands held you, rubbing your skin gently while you both relaxed. You snuggled your face closer to her neck, gag covered in drool and the blindfold was tear coated.

“Nes...” You tired to say, the gag completely muffling your voice.

“I’m here, i’m here.” She replied, unclipping the velcro on the gag ball so she could take it off of you.

As soon as your mouth was free, you sucked in a few breaths and coughed, letting your jaw untense and relax. Wednesday kissed your cheek repeatedly, mumbling about how good and well behaved you were as she coaxed you down.

“I’m thoroughly impressed, you were so obedient to me.” She said, nipping your earlobe with her teeth, “Te quiero, amor.”

You shivered, wincing slightly when her walls squeezed you teasingly. Wednesday moved in you lap, trying to get off of you but you quickly wrapped your arms around her and pulled her to you, an annoyed growl leaving your throat.

“What’s wrong my beloved?” She questioned, pulling you face up and removing the blindfold so she could look at you properly.

“Don’t go…” You whispered, tears in your eyes from the previous overstimulation.

Wednesday’s eyes darkened, her thumb coming up to brush one of your tears away. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to your in a deep kiss as she arched her body into you. She pulled away briefly to drag her tongue along your jaw, licking your sweat coated skin.

“It’s incredibly attractive when you cry, tú seductor pequeño la cosa.”

————————

weednesday

taglist:

@crystal-lily-101 @i984 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @cursedchar @thenextdawn @alexkolax @fall-08 @annalestern @efectoangel @tundra1029 @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten

[manicrouge]

Liar

[𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 29/12/23

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Keegan lies to you the night you meet yet you remain oblivious to it until you bring it up to him again.

[𝙲𝚠]: angst i guess but it's not that bad.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 4,533

[𝙰/𝙽]: I had plans for this but I really don't have the motivation to finish it, but considering it's quite a few words I didn't want it to go to waste- there's no smut, apologies, but smut isn't really something I'm overly passionate about so I hope that this fluff is good enough to suffice !!

ENJOY !!

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

There's something about him and you're not sure if you should really speak on it because then, ultimately, your delusion is in the real world and not confined to your head. It's torture though, it really is, the constant headache of worrying about how you look and what you're doing when you're around him, and still, you can't seem to snap about it. 

There's a limit to love, you've agreed to that inwardly. Some things you do in the name of love are okay: buying them something just because it reminds you of them, getting them something when they're too busy to get it for themselves, asking them out and asking them if they would like to accompany you on a date somewhere in the city. 

That's normal for love, it something you imagine most people do. 

But then there's your tricky little mind and it seems to kick and scream at the thought of doing something sane in the name of love. You don't want to do any of those things, you don't want to be nice. It's obvious, at least, you think it is. 

He makes you a violent person. 

Perhaps its because you want to show off, you want to him to see you and admire that you did everything he wants from you and much more. When you were just a rookie, you're quite sure you were close to being kicked out, being forced to resume life the way you had prior to them finding you on the side of the road after ODIN had been attacked.

The very thought, even to this day, makes you nauseous. Facing the unbearable heat, soldiers and starvation is a recipe for disaster, and after going without food for however long you did, you had sworn you weren't going to let anything compromise that. But things were overwhelming and you were essentially a burden during the first few months of your training; you couldn't do anything right. 

But he saw you at your lowest, and he didn't let that happen. In fact, you're quite sure he saved you when you met that night. 

'Crying won't get you anywhere, kid.'

If there was one thing about Keegan, he was absolutely right about everything. Including that. 

Pushing your head up from out of your lap, you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you catch a set of blue eyes staring at you. He was unlike anyone you had ever seen before, a mask covering his features, beanie atop his head as he approaches you, kicking a stone beside you. You turn your head away from him and watch as the little rock rolls down the edge of the hill in the direction of the track. 

'You were supposed to be asleep an hour ago,' he adds, taking a seat beside you. You keep your eyes trained on the direction the stone had slipped, keeping your arms wrapped around your knees before resting your chin upon them. 'You'd get into trouble if one of the superiors caught you outside.'

'I'm no good anyway,' you said, 'better going out this way than any other way.'

Your tone was bleak as you contemplated throwing yourself down the hill. It wouldn't have killed you, but it would free you from the shame of having to speak to the man sitting beside you. 'They're gonna get rid of me soon, throw me to the wolves.'

There wasn't a reply from the man sitting beside you for a while as he shifted where he was sitting. You hear the tear of velcro and finally decided to turn your head to see him holding a box of cigarettes in his hand.

'When I was first starting out,' he began, 'couldn't shoot a sniper for the fuckin' life of me,' he continued, plucking a cigarette from the carton. Bringing his hand up, he hooked his fingers under the edges of his mask, pulling it up, revealing his jaw and lips. 

Much to your surprise, you spied black stubble around his mouth and trailing his jawline. Placing a cigarette between his lips, he grabbed the lighter from the box. Cupping his hand around his mouth, It took a moment, the item in his hand spluttering before eventually spitting a full enough flame for him to light his cigarette. 'I could shoot every other gun okayish, but I wasn't the asset they needed me to be.'

'Don't believe you,' you mumble, looking at the pattern on his mask. You recalled the white markings to belong to a particular unit that even the General had trouble addressing. They did their own thing, stayed out of everyone else's way. 'You're a Ghost, aren't you? Best of the best.'

You don't look at a Ghost unless they talk to you. 

'The mask?' he asked, 'part of the branding, forget I have it on half the time,' he admits, taking a puff from his cigarette. 'Everyone has to start somewhere, kid.'

'I've been here for months and I'm still awful at everything,' you confessed, 'I can't shoot a gun for the fuckin' life of me; my aim is off and I can never seem to focus.'

'If you think about it too much, you'll struggle,' he said. 

'A- And, I can't do close combat- I've been to the infirmary more times than I can count... whenever I go to the nurse now, she doesn't even speak to me,' you rambled, running your hand through your hair. Your throat starts to clog up as you continued to pour your heart out to the man sitting beside you. You couldn't really seem to help it; he was there, and from what you could tell, he wasn't discouraging your fury.

Rules had it that your hair was supposed to be slicked back out of your face and tied up, but after the day you had had, you couldn't muster the strength to keep it tied up. So, after you had had a shower, you kept it out to keep the dull ache in your head away for as long as you could.

You were surprised the man beside you hadn't said anything to you about it. Only, when it's out of your way, you found it easier to keep your hands from plucking and picking at your scalp whenever the anxiety got too much and you were scared you were going to drown in a well of your own tears.

'You're too stressed about everything,' he said, 'if you overthink it, like I said, you're gonna fuck it up. What's got you so stressed, kid?' he asked, looking at you. Your eyes water as you turn your head away from him, letting out a shaky exhale. 

A better question would have been what wasn't stressing you out. 

'Hey, don't shut down on me, tell me what's wrong... can't promise I'll be much help, but it's good to have someone to talk to,'  he said, 'talk at me, tell me what's wrong,' he demanded, as though he was some form of saviour.

Only, in that moment, he was.

'They're gonna throw me out if I can't be what they want me to be,' you were much too choked up to fight against the urge of spilling your guts to the Ghost, your grip around your knees growing tighter as you began to shake. 'And I can't go back out there; if I go back out there, 'm gonna die, I know I am,' you sniffled, 'a- and I can't die, especially not out there with those monsters I can't but I'm going to if I don't get better but I don't think I can get better and- and—'

A firm hand was placed on your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you as he pulled you to his side.

You were startled at first, feeling his gloved hand on your shoulder, being pulled close enough for your senses to be flooded with his cologne. Ghost's weren't supposed to be like this, they were supposed to be aloof, transparent, careless. Yet, as he held you, you found your trembling nerves were soothed with his efforts.

The cigarette on his breath stained the moment, and when you opened your eyes, you found that he had tossed the cigarette down the same hill that the little rock he had kicked had rolled down, the red hue of the burning tip settling into the darkness while winking at you.

'You're not gonna get thrown out, kid,' he quietly said, 'it's been a tough change, I know it has been, but you can't let it get to you because, if you do, the stress is gonna kill you before anything beyond this base gets to you, hm?' he asked, looking at you.

You looked back at him, thinking back to that morning where you had pulled out a small clump of hair from the your head. You'd spent the next hour crying over it, and whittled yourself so far down that you'd convinced yourself you were going to die.

Everything lead to the thought of death with you. You couldn't escape it. The devil caged you and he trapped you, laughing in your face as he dangled your very livelihood before you.

And still you failed.

'How do you know that?' you asked, 'you think some sort of miracles going to happen?' you continued.

'I'm going to teach you,' he said, 'I'll give you a helping hand; wanna see if you're as useless as you're saying you are or if you're just overcomplicating everything.'

'You don't have the time to do that, at this point I'm gonna be 90 but the time I manage to land a hit on someone in training.'

'And how do you know that?' he asked, 'you my Captain?'

You stared at him, the sudden shift in his tone causing your face to heat up.

'You'd be wasting you time with me,' you said, shaking your head, attempting to pull away from him, all for his grip on you to tighten.

He wasn't going to let you pull away from him, especially while in the state you were in. You'd curse him if you didn't feel so secure in his arms, so, you simply give in to the urge of staying close to him, not allowing your ego to destroy the first ounce of comfort you had gotten since arriving on the base.

'Wasting time here with you now; could be in bed,' he stated simply, 'I'll speak to someone, get you put under my supervision until I'm sure you'll be fine returning to your brigade.'

'Are you allowed to do that?' you asked.

'Captains in your department barely look at me, kid,' he chuckled, ''scared I'm gonna bash the brains in with the butt of my gun or somethin'. They won't turn down my request- especially if you're as much as a burden as you're sayin' you are; they'd be happy to get you off their hands if that's the case, not that they'd refuse me in the first place.'

He spoke to you as though you were a friend, but you regarded his support as treating you most likely as a lesson; the men your department had little interest in showing a woman how to fight, perhaps that was why you were struggling so much. No one really wanted to give you the time of day, and in a path where it was either sink or swim, you found their actions were taxing.

It was blatant that the men you worked with had little interest in you, and you're clued up enough now to know that. Yet, deep down, you're sure you've always been conscious to their biases towards male soldiers, only, now, you say it without fear of being reprimanded for your supposed 'accusation'. They can't do shit to you anymore and you're thankful for it, because, in the end, if they even look in your direction, you'd have no issue bashing their brains in with the butt of the pistol in the holster on your thigh.

Recently, you find you've been going back to that night where you had been in tears, mostly while by yourself, whether it be at the base or elsewhere, you were focused on that pesky little memory which lead to your stomach pulsing in a sickly manner as you recall the feel of his hand resting on your shoulder and the smell of his cologne.

Little has changed- if anything.

Only, he's a little taller than he was when you first started training together. His height has him towering over you now, and you always laugh about it to yourself whenever your sparring with each other- especially when you're able to put him on his ass.

There's confusion surrounding the memory in your mind, you have mostly forgotten about it until one day, it reappeared. You're unsure what triggered the memories resurgence, and you review it with a sinful glint in your eyes, even with the lack of suggestiveness about the scene.

There's something there that makes you want to scream, that makes you want to cover the world in blood, and you have been fighting with yourself attempting to unwind the memory, unwrap the secrecy of its meaning which it is rejoicing in while you're suffering.

—

The next op leads you to No Mans Land, Elias has sent his sons there with the intent of helping you track down Ajax. You're familiar with the tactics and intent between sending his two boys out there, though none of you really comment or acknowledge the possibility of your squad growing with two members, and supposedly a dog. You're happy to do the work he assigned his boys with yourself; it would be nothing but a quick in and out, especially with the looming time between Ajax's kidnapping and where you find yourself right now.

It's been weeks and you're still no closer to getting him back and you find, while peering through your scope, searching for any sign of the Walker boys, you're gritting your teeth as you contemplate the damage it's doing to Keegan. Both of them are good friends, been together since day one.

But there's nothing you can do; one wrong move and Ajax will be gone forever, and you're not selfish enough to put the life of a friend on the line. You'd put yours on the line before you even dare to put someone else's out for your own greedy intent.

The Federation are like dogs, and as soon as they catch a whiff of Ghost blood, they'll have their feral little backs up, huffing, puffing and growing, impersonating that of a wolf, when, in reality, they're nothing of the sorts. Instead, the puny little pups who cower at the sight of their own shadow... or Rorke. But neither of them are very different from one another.

'You catch anything, kid?' Keegan calls through coms.

Looking down from your position, you catch the man standing below you, Merrick surveying the surrounding area as you hold your sniper up, keeping your eyes on the terrain surrounding you.

You're a fair distance away from where the Walker boys were sent by Elias, ensuring the area is clean for when they eventually make their way to the meet up spot.

'Negative,' you respond, pulling your scope away from your face, 'clear,' you say, 'they're all hauled up at the camp the Walker boys are goin' to- that's my bet anyway,' you say, hooking your arm through the strap on your sniper, carefully making your way down from the tree.

Setting on a curve in the tree, you look down at the ground, shuffling off while keeping hold of a branch. With a grunt, you push yourself off of it, landing on the ground with ease.

'Stalker-Six, this is Viking Actual, we are en route to the target location, how copy?' you perk your ears up, while you busy yourself with grabbing your canteen off of your belt, frowning when you're greeted with a distinct lightness. During the walk up to the scope point, you're quite sure you were only sipping at it. 'We are en route to target location location, how copy?'

A step closer to getting Ajax back.

Hooking you canteen back onto your vest, you lift your head to see Keegan holding his own out to you, 'you drink like it's goin' out of fuckin' fashion, kid,' he remarks, letting go of it as you grab it out of his hands. Unscrewing the lid, he watches you, 'just don't finish it all; can't drink any of the water around here and we don't know how long they're going to be.'

'Solid copy, viking,' Merrick responds, 'be advised, recent reports indicate a lot of enemy movement in that area. We're on a schedule here, so get that intel and get out fast,' he continues. Both you and Keegan listen, and you take two sips of water from his canteen with his narrowed gaze on you before relenting, giving him the bottle back. 'See?'

'Roger that.'

'You're the one with an empty canteen, princess,' he answers, snatching it off of you, putting it back onto his belt. 'We best continue to move up from this position; we're too far out to meet them,' he says, looking to Merrick who hums, 'we're clear to proceed—'

He's crudely cut off by a distant rumble, the shudder resulting in the wind picking up pace, a crows cried out in the distance.

The collateral damage done to the world since ODIN was ripped from the States has been catastrophic, and every now and again, you observe your surroundings with a reservation set for when you make it back to the base; you don't have time to contemplate and wallow in your sorrows, rather, you simply have to get on with it, just as Keegan does as he opens his mouth to speak again.

'Whole place is gonna be swallowed soon,' he sighs, turning to look down the path.

Merrick proceeds forward without another word, intent on keeping on the schedule he has planned out since hearing word from Elias requesting you're there to meet the boys for the information.

Keegan takes a small step before stopping looking over his shoulder at you, 'c'mon, kid, burning daylight,' he says, motioning his head in the direction of Merrick who has already began to trail the path down, 'and water too,' he chuckles, picking up the pace.

It takes a moment to realise why he's suddenly hot on his feet, his sudden shift in mood causing your heart to murmur as you finally see some form of happiness on his face.

You're a second away from smiling at him, and then his comment strikes you like a blunt blade and you grumble out a curse, following after the two men with a huffing breath and curse

—

'Stalker Six, we got something here, looks like they're digging through some sort of wreckage.'

After a few minutes of silence and trivesing through the remains of the wild life in the rotting area, you're greeted with the voice of the same Walker boy who has been doing all the talking.

You're familiar with his name, Hesh. Although, as you're walking beside Keegan, you find the name of the other one escapes you. It doesn't help that he certainly is not one for words.

The comment he makes has all three of you sharing a look, unable to muster any form of response. Despite the urge to speak, you remain quiet, watching as Merrick's brow furrows, rubbing his masked mouth with his hand. 'What do you mean? What kind of wreckage?'

It could be anything and you've learned, over the years, that nothing should surprise you anymore. Hell, even if aliens greet the remnants of Earth tomorrow, you're convinced you'll barely bat an eye to it; it's simply just another day on the job.

'Not sure. It's guarded, but we're gonna push through.'

It's good to know the boys share the same determination as their father, though, the mysterious wreckage works to cause your brow to wrinkle as you contemplate what exactly they're up to now. 'Do they ever have a fuckin' off day?' you ask.

'Negative,' Merrick retorts, 'enemy always has to be doin' something, was the same in the Second World War and it's the same in this one too. You let the enemy loose for a moment of shut eye, they'll dig your grave and put you in it by the time you wake up again,' he continues, his tone gruff as you watch his back.

It's difficult to miss the gunshots the further the Walker boys push into No Man's Land, and you find your hand hovering about the pistol in your holster just to make sure nothing and no one will pounce on you.

While proceeding to the meet up spot, you busy yourself with the thought of Merrick's words, while keeping a watchful eye out for any signs of moment. Nothing is going to get past you, and if it does, you're thankful you have the watchful eye of Keegan located at your side.

It's difficult to even think of him never being as capable as he is today, and when you glance at him, you find your mind falling back to the night once again.

There's something in your chest that flutters at the thought of his care towards you from the night you met all away to right in this moment; Keegan always has your back.

And you always have his... only because of his training, of course.

He catches your look almost immediately and you catch his face shifting beneath his mask.

'What?' he asks, 'something on my face?' he asks, clearly amused.

You say nothing for a moment, looking in Merrick's direction to see the man is a fair distance away from the pair of you.

'You remember how we met, right?' you ask, to which he nods his head, keeping his eyes surveying the area. 'When we met, you said you were a shit shot and—'

You stop when you catch Merrick looking at Keegan with a raised eyebrow. Typically, the man kept his nose out of the conversations the pair of you have; there's nothing in there for him to really understand, only bothering to join the debate when it is of importance.

In fact, he remarked that, before meeting you, Keegan was quiet- and he still is, in your humble opinion, yet, apparently his short and witty replies to your comments render all the Ghosts shocked.

The pair of them share a look, and you catch it. It's subtle, you'll give them that, but it's notable enough for you to let out a short laugh.

'What?' you slowly say.

Keegan takes a breath, turning his attention to you. He's grinning beneath the mask.

'You wanna know the truth?' he asks.

Your eyes narrow.

'What truth?'

'I lied to you when we first met,' he says.

It's as though a bullet is fired into your stomach as you look at the man in front of you. He's unmoved by his confession, carrying on as though he has said nothing to you.

'You lied to me? About what?' you ask.

Maybe it was about the fact that he really wanted to take you under his wing, maybe he was full of shit about that- what if it was a funny dare or something? You'd take the pistol out of the holster and blow your brains out if such is the case.

His calmness is insulting as he looks at you.

'Saying I was a shit shot, I'm a liar,' he says, and despite the match, you can see him smiling under it, 'was one of the best in my squad, that's how I got the attention of Elias in the first place.'

'W- Why would you lie about that?' you ask.

Your entire life seems to be a lie in a moment of overdramatic reflection.

'Because you looked like you needed someone to relate to,' he shrugs, as though it's something that means little. 'I didn't want to make you feel like you had no one there,' he says, 'the people in the squad you were in when I met were unforgiving to you, kid; they expected perfection from the minute you joined and you were capable of that because you need help and—'

'I needed you,' you state, not caring for any excuse he'd muster up.

Beneath his mask, you note the smile on his face as he nods his head.

'You said it yourself,' he chuckles.

'Didn't think you'd risk your own price to do somethin' nice,' Merrick butts in, 'suppose you did the right thing though, got one of the strongest fighters on our squad through a lie.'

Your cheeks redden at the compliment and you rub your face with your gloved hand.

'Was all worth it in the end,' Keegan shrugs.

As you push forward, per the command of Merrick, your heartbeat is ringing in your ears- it's pathetic really; you feel like a fucking high schooler as your thoughts are swarmed with the very thought that, even upon meeting you, he cared enough about you to lie to you.

You know him well enough to know that despite his quiet nature in the face of opposition and those who he doesn't know, he's a prideful man and he takes pride in his work and abilities. His confidence, while at times annoying, is something you wouldn't change in the world. His confidence keeps you alive and his confidence is the very reason you're standing beside him and fighting beside him.

After a while of silence, you look at him and nudge him with your elbow.

'Thanks for lying to me,' you say.

'You're welcome,' he answers, looking at you, 'all you needed to have was a little bit a of help- somethin' they weren't ever going to give you.'

'Why did you even approach me in the first place?'

He turns away from you for a moment, sucking in a breath. That glowing confidence seems to disappear for a moment, but after a brief second of collecting himself, he turns back to you.

'I thought you were pretty.'

You're winded, and not by the walk.

'I was a crying, snotty mess,' you blurt out, to which he rolls his eyes.

'I'd seen you around the base, and you only started crying when I starting talking to you properly. But, even if you're a crying snotty mess or not, it doesn't matter to me, kid,' he says, 'you looked pretty.'

You bite your lip, turning away from him. Unfortunately, you lack what he has in abundance. He doesn't say anything further as the you proceed to the meeting spot, instead, he slips his hand into yours, tightly squeezing it.

It's short and brief as he soon lets go at the sound of a barking dogs, although, before the pair of you jump back into action, you both offer. each other a knowing look as you prepare to paint the world red; you know his eyes are on you.

We'll talk about this later.

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @iizx7y @phantomreadsandreblogs

[serenpedac]

For that 'seeking physical affection' post, I would love to see how you think the members of Unit Bravo would do this with one another!

I’ve been thinking of this ask ever since getting it! Thank you so much, this was great fun!

A note: these are all written from the perspective of the person offering the physical affection, because I figured they would be able to more clearly observe what the other is doing. (The only exception is the one for Farah, because, well, you’ll see ^^) The downside is that it doesn’t show what the person needing the affection feels, but I hope the effect still comes across.

Also, this got kind of long, no obligation to read it all!

Words: ~1900 Rating: Teen and up Relationship: All of UB, the friendship edition Warnings: None

Ava and Nat

The hallway echoes with the sound of a training dummy being pummelled. Nat winces at a crack. The silence that follows it is broken again by the time she reaches the training room. On the other side of it is Ava, the muscles in her arms and shoulders working as she hits the dummy again and again.

Hands shoved into her pockets, Nat leans against the doorway. Ava has noticed her, of that she is certain, and will acknowledge her presence in time.

Two, three more strikes pass before Ava turns to her, panting. Her face is flushed and several strands of hair have escaped her ponytail, a detail that would make her look soft it it weren’t for her eyebrows knitted together. Undeterred by the expression, Nat crosses the training room, the floor giving ever so slightly underneath her feet.  

“I could hear you all the way from my room.”

Ava’s gaze flickers to the arm of the training dummy that is dangling at its side, and back to Nat, crossing her arms before her chest as if daring Nat to say anything about the crippled object. Nat leans back on her heels instead, raising an eyebrow at Ava’s knuckles which are chafed raw and red.  

When Ava realises what she’s looking at, her frown smoothes out. Wordlessly, she gets the plain white wrap from where it’s stored and hands the rolls over.

Just as quietly, Nat slips the loop around Ava’s thumb and begins wrapping. Around and under, between the thumb and forefinger and over the knuckles, covering skin that has already started to heal. With each wrapping, Ava’s breathing becomes steadier, her heartbeat slowing down.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nat says as she pulls the fabric between each of Ava’s fingers.

With all her years of experience, Ava must know it to be true. They had been given insufficient information, not enough time to prepare. Despite that, the hand Nat is holding twitches.

“Still,” Ava murmurs before letting out a sigh.

With a final tug, Nat fastens the velcro at the end. She gives a light squeeze, brushing the unwrapped skin of Ava’s fingers before letting go.

Ava wiggles her fingers, but doesn’t otherwise move out of the bubble of their mingled breaths and shared body heat. “Thank you.”

There’s a softness in those jade stone eyes, a vulnerability that only a rare few ever get to see. Nat counts herself lucky to number among those few.

“Always, old friend.”

*~*~*~*~*

Mason and Felix

“Again?!”

Felix’s head shoots up from putting on his socks to find Mason holding one of his purple hoodies. His very favourite hoodie, in fact. 

“Awesome timing, I just needed that one.” He jumps up to walk over in time with the beat of the music to take it from Mason’s outstretched hand. He pulls it over his head. His grin when he emerges is answered with a scowl. “Someone got out of bed with the wrong leg.” That’s not quite it, is it? Was it foot? Nope, that doesn’t sound right either. He shakes his head.

Mason, meanwhile, is still standing there, glaring at him. Definitely not in a good mood, but there’s more to it than that. He would have left otherwise.

“Did you already have breakfast?” 

Mason shrugs. That’s a no, then. Meaning he’s waiting for the rest of them so they can have it together or he’s trying to avoid the boost fresh blood will give to his senses. Considering his mood, Felix is more than willing to bet it’s not the former. So, that leaves the only other option: a night—or nights—filled with nightmares that have left Mason on edge. 

“Want to hang out here?” Felix asks as he turns off the music on his phone.

There’s another shrug, this one meaning yes—really, Felix is becoming a master at interpreting them.

“I’ll be right back.” Felix dashes out of his bedroom and, setting a new record, is back before Mason has wandered off.

Pushing a straw through the plastic bag, he sits down at his desk, debating what to do. There are a thousand things he could talk about, but that would be the last thing Mason, leaning against the wall with his shoulders drawn up and arms crossed, needs right now. No, he needs it to be quiet, but not so boring that he will notice the way those nightmares left his body stressed and frazzled.

After drinking the last drops of blood, Felix tosses the package into the bin, and takes out some paper and his drawing supplies. Crayons, because they don’t scratch as harshly as pencils do, and because they smell waxy smooth, much like the lines they draw across the paper.

While he is gathered his stuff, Mason went over to the beanbag in the corner to slump down on it. 

As Felix continues to blend layers of colour together, the atmosphere of the room changes, he can tell. His short strokes from the start turn into longer, slower ones, the crayons gliding across the paper. When he next looks over at Mason, he is lying with his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes closed. His chest is slowly rising and falling. Not asleep, but close to it.

The sight makes Felix smile, a soft glow blooming in his chest. And if the drawing takes a little—a lot—longer than it really should, well, Mason doesn’t know anything about art anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Nate and Adam

“Would you mind if I joined you?” Nate’s low voice pulls Adam out of his research. 

The muscles in Adam’s shoulders tighten at the note of tension in his voice. After the brightness of the screen, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness and discern the tightness drawn across Nate’s face. The attempted smile as he draws near lacks his usual warmth, but it is enough to make Adam lean back in his chair and nod at the seat beside him. “Not at all.” 

It is when he leans over to turn on the light beside the desk that he notices it: a thickness to the air, the build-up of charge in inevitable anticipation.

A storm is coming.

Nate sits down and places the book he had brought on the desk. It’s one of the older books, hints of vanilla filling the air. Adam catches golden lettering on the cover when he turns on the desk lamp, though he doesn’t manage to read the title before Nate opens it.

There have been many storms they endured together, but it hasn’t always been like this. Those early years had been worse, Nate often locking himself away, and by the time he would finally open the door, his eyes would be shot through with red, his entire body hunched in on himself. Though there is little he can do, it is better to endure nights like these together, Adam thinks, and he is grateful Nate has come to that same conclusion.

The first raindrops patter against the window, followed by a gust of wind wailing around the warehouse walls. A shudder runs through Nate, the echo reverberating through the spot where Adam’s shoulder is touching his. He shifts his seat closer, until he can easily let his knee rest against Nate’s.

Shoulder-to-shoulder and leg-to-leg, they sit together, Nate’s eyes trained on the yellowed pages of his book, while the screen before Adam is filled with starker black on white. Nate does not read, the rhythm with which he turns the pages too irregular for that. Likewise, the research Adam had been working on progresses little. Not that he is worried, but it would be remiss of him not to pay attention to how a member of his team and his oldest friend is feeling.

As the storm howls outside, Nathaniel leans more of his weight against him, or maybe he is the one who has moved closer. The warmth of skin seeps through layers of clothes, their arms now pressed together tight enough for Adam to feel the tightening of muscles when lightning strikes some spot nearby, the air crackling and sharp with ozone.

Nate lets out a short breath and Adam nudges his shoulder. It’s alright, my friend.

Mercifully, the storm passes fast.

The book is closed with a dull thud, but before Nate can rise, Adam puts his hand on his shoulder. 

“Do get some sleep.”

The corners of Nate’s mouth curve with a glimmer of a smile, and he casts a conspicuous look at the laptop screen. “I would say something about a pot and a kettle, if I though it would be of any use.”

A huff escapes him, more out of amusement and relief, than annoyance. “I am almost done. Besides, I hardly need the sleep.”

“But you need the rest.” Nate places his own hand on his, the inside of his palm slightly sticky with sweat, and says, softer, “Please, let me help tomorrow.” After a brief moment, Adam nods. As if he had been waiting for that signal, Nate rises then and offers him a smile, one that is small but true. “Good night, Adam.”

*~*~*~*~*

Farah and all of UB

“Did you all miss me?” The last part of Farah’s question is muffled against Nate’s shoulder as she hugs him tight. He smells nice, the scent of his favourite soap hanging around him, together with that of the leather of his jacket, but this close, he mostly smells of himself.

Without hesitation, he returns her hug, long arms wrapping around her. “We certainly did.”

“Knew it!” With that, she’s off to the next person: Morgan, who is standing with her arms crossed as if that would keep Farah from hugging her. Pffft, as if!

Moving slower and squeezing not quite as much, Farah puts her arms around her.

“I sure as hell did not miss getting my ears blasted out,” Morgan grumbles, letting her arms drop to her sides to relax within Farah’s hold. That counts as a win, for sure.

It leaves only one other person: Adam. He looks about as excited as Morgan at the prospect of a hug. 

“You really could do with showing some more enthusiasm.” Farah pauses to give him a once-over. “Think about morale, team spirit. Look at Nate, for example. He made me feel like you missed me and were happy that I’m back.”

Nate gives her a warm smile, proving her point, while Adam frowns, proving her point even more.

“Of course I am glad that you are back. You’re an integral part of our team.”

Farah purses her lips, considering. “You mean that without me, you would be hopelessly lost and all would fall apart?” She claps her hands together. “I’ll take that.” 

She encloses him in a hug before he can do something like asking her for a debrief of the mission or, even worse, remember the supply of blood bags she forgot to put in the fridge last time she was at the warehouse. It only takes about a second for Adam to hug her back. He’s a good hugger, if he wants to be, holding her firm but never too tight.

When he lets go, she just manages to catch the dimples in his cheeks before his Commanding Agent mask slips back into place. He really is happy that she’s back. Farah knew that, of course, but it’s still nice to have it confirmed like this.

She looks around at her three teammates—friends—and smiles wide and bright. It’s good to be back home.

*~*~*~*~*

End notes

The one for Mason and Felix is a very broad interpretation of the prompt. It’s not that I think M would never seek out physical affection, but.. Okay, this is where my thoughts get a bit incoherent, but I was thinking about how M turns to sex (and cigarettes) as a way of overstimulating their senses so that the smaller things are drowned out. This is however not them wanting affection. It made me wonder: is there a different, more subtle way they would go for when they are searching for this?

With how strong their senses are, I figured that merely being close to someone, for example being in the same room, would already have a physical affect on them. So, that’s what I was going for here.

Also, I don't think they would be aware they're looking for affection, so it's a good thing F is this sensitive to other people's emotions!

[wri0thesley]

I think about cuddly harbingers alot. Like capitano holding you so gently but firmly, you aren’t squeezes but you are tightly held, a loving embrace to show that he seeks to protect you even when he is unconscious.

Dottore who will deny that he is cuddly but everytime you sleep in the same room he wraps himself around you like velcro. Good luck getting him off to go to the bathroom.

Pierro in my eyes is a gentle cuddler. A gentle embrace, likely not even asleep. He enjoys just admiring how peaceful you look slumbering with your face to his chest and a faint smile of comfort and contentment on your lips.

Pantalone rarely sleeps at a reasonable hour much less the same ned time as you but when he does he’s taking his spot next to you and moving you to your side so he can wrap his arms around you.

And ofc Tartaglia who is the cuddliest mf ever. He just likes feeling you against him! He likes using your body as his pillow, or when you use him as a pillow like sleeping on his arm (even if it cuts off circulation he won’t back down). He cannot last a second awake when you’re the big spoon however. Your arms around him, your presence engulfing his nose and mind, it just alleviates all tension and thoughts from his brain. If you play with his hair he’ll be lulled even quicker. He tries to stay awake! He wants each second to count but oh you’re so warm and he’s so tired and comfy like this.

arlecchino who holds you tighter than you thought she would; you’d had the impression she would be rather hands-off, protective of her own space . . . but she clings to you like the web of a spider, arms wrapped right about you, so that you have to wake her up if you so much as want to roll over (and heaven knows you can’t make it to the bathroom without her following you, waiting for you to return to the snuggle).

cuddly harbingers…..

[cinemastyles-blog]

Come On, You Got It.

Summary: an anon request on Wattpad - "Personal trainer Harry???"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, unprotected sex, oral (both), finishing in readers mouth, fingering, squirting, hair pulling, choking, filth

BOXER HARRY

"Come on, love. Give me a few more then we can take a break." Harry says as he leans around the punching bag, "You got it. Just a few more, please."

You sigh and drops your glove covered hands to your sides, "I'm tired, Harry."

He chuckles at your whining and shakes his head, "Fine. Go get some water."

You smirk as you undo the Velcro with your teeth and it makes Harry's eyebrow twitch. He runs his hand over his face as he walks over to grab his white boxing gloves off of the bench.

You walk over, sitting down as you grab your water bottle. Your eyes stay on him as he moves over to in front of you, "Can you wrap my hands?"

You know damn well Harry can wrap his own hands, but you don't argue. You grab the wrap from his grasp and move his hand to how you want it.

You've been training with Harry for months now, and you kinda of have a thing for him, so you know exactly how he likes it done.

"You're a fast learner." He jokes as his eyes follow your hands. You glance up at him and his eyes meet yours, "Only been doing this for how long."

He smirks as he brings his wrapped hand up, inspecting it, "Damn near perfect."

You scoff, "That is perfect."

"I know." Harry hands you his gloves to help him get them on, "I just like getting you riled up." He winks and you can feel your face get warmer, "Shut up."

"Make me."

Your head snaps upward and you sigh, "I could kick your ass any day." You squeeze your water bottle, squirting water in your mouth.

He watches as water dribbles down your chin and he quickly wipes it away with his thumb, "I'd like to see you try."

——

"Come on, y/n." Harry walks around the bag, admiring your punches, "You got it. Jab cross, jab cross cross." He nods in approval and grabs the bag, holding it still.

You step back, wiping sweat from your forehead onto your arm, "How was that?" He leans out around and smirks, "Good, that was good. But.."

You tilt your head as you take your gloves off, "What?"

He steps out from behind the bag and crosses his arms, "Still don't think you can beat me."

You raise your eyebrows, "Mm. I see."

"What?" He laughs as you walk to grab your water, "Come on. Loser buys dinner."

You turn to look at him before putting your gloves back on, "You are so on, Styles."

He grabs his gloves, putting them back and walking over to the mat, "C'mon." You smirk as you walk over, standing infront of him, "Ready to lose?"

He tilts his head and shrugs, "I should be asking you that."

You both get ready, moving around in a circle as you wait for your moment to strike. You used the combos that you learned today and end up popping him right in the nose.

By total accident.

"Oh my god.. are you okay?" You rest your glove over your lips as you step towards a doubled over Harry, "Hey I'm so- whoa!" You let out a slight scream as Harry flips you, pinning you to the ground.

His body is slightly pressing against yours and you look at him from over your shoulder, "Hey now."

He rolls you over onto your back and pins your arms down by your biceps, "Hey now." He says in a mocking tone which makes you laugh.

His eyes move over your face as he licks his lips and smiles, "So whats for dinner?"

"A knuckle sandwich if you don't let me up." You fight back a smirk but fail as he helps you stand up. You take your gloves off and unwrap your hands as you think, "Whatever you want is fine with me."

He nods, "I'll think about that while I shower."

You bite your lip and nod as you bend down to grab your bag, "Alright." You look at him with a smile before you disappear into the locker room to shower.

The whole time, the thought of you and Harry being the only ones in the gym settles into your mind.

You push them away but each time they come back, they're stronger and dirtier than the last.

You walk out, drying your hair off with a towel.

"About time." Harry says with an over exaggerated groan, "I'm starving out here." You laugh, "Sorry. I wanted to make sure I didn't stink like sweat."

He laughs, "Girls and their long ass showers."

"Hey. Can't hate it if you haven't tried it."

"What? A shower with you?" He raises his eyebrows and it causes you to stumble over your words, "Wh- no i di- not what I meant, Harry."

"Again. I just like to get you going." He chuckles and throws his bag over his shoulder, "I just have to stop over here at my office quick, so just give me a sec."

I nod and follow him over, watching as he sits down at his desk. His fingers tap the top as he tries to remember why he went in there.

"What are you looking for?" You ask as you lean against the door frame. He blows out air and leans back in his chair, "Come here."

Your heart starts beating fast as you step in and walk over to him, "What's up?"

He bites his lips and looks up at you, "So.." he laughs slightly and shakes his head, "Nothing, we can, uh. We can just go get dinner."

He stands up and you put your hand on his chest, "No. Finish what you were going to say."

He looks down at your hand planted flat on his chest and back up to you, "I want you."

His words make you freeze for a moment, but only because you were sure if he'd ever go for you, he is your trainer and all.

"Really?" You bite your lip and slowly slide your hand down his chest, slipping your fingers into the band of his shorts, "Because I want you, too."

In a quick motion, he spins you and sets you on his desk, "Glad we feel the same." He pulls your shorts and panties to the side, slowly slipping two fingers into you as he watches your face scrunch up with pleasure.

He slides his other hand up and grabs the back of your neck, "You're so fucking hot." He crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing your moans as he thrusts his fingers in and out quickly.

"Fuck, fuck. Yes yes yes." You whine out as you push your chest forward.

"Fuckin' hell. Thats it, baby." Harry groans as he watches the liquid drip from his hand and off your body onto the floor, "Never had anyone do that before."

He looks at you with a proud expression, "That was fucking perfect." His lips find their way to yours but he quickly kisses down your next and drops to his knees with a grunt, "need to see if you taste as sweet as you look."

He hooks his arms under your thighs, holding your shorts and panties to the side as he just goes for it. You throw your head back, moaning as you rest your hand on the back of his head, "Fuck, Harry."

He hums as he works his tongue in and out of your pussy, causing you to gasp and move your hips forward, "Shit, h-Harry."

Your legs lock over his shoulders and he has a tight grasp on your thighs keeping them spread as he devours you.

"I'm gonna cum.." you announce in a breathless whisper, "Shi-" you let out a loud moan, knocking stuff over as you grasp the edge of the desk.

Harry continues to eat you out through the high of your orgasm, causing your legs to shake and jolt with each time his nose bumps your clit.

He leans back, looking up at you as he continues to grip your thighs, "You taste heavenly, baby."

He moves one leg off your shoulder, kissing up to your knee as he sets it down and he gives your other leg the same treatment before standing up.

He slips his shirt off, now, you've seen Harry shirtless multiple times, but it never fails to take your breath away.

You lick your lips, still panting from the tap orgasms back to back, "You are so fucking hot."

He smirks as he pushes his sweats down, "Yeah?"

You nod and reach out for him to come closer. He smiles and moves in, resting his thumb and pointer on your chin, "Pretty sexy yourself, love."

You slip your fingers into the band of his boxers as he kisses you. You slowly pull them down and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping slowly as you make out.

"Gonna get it wet for me?" He asks smirking against your lips. You smirk back and nod, "Of course."

He steps back, helping you down off the desk before he  rests against the desk. You kiss down his chest, over his torso, and down the one v-line until your chin rests on his cock.

You plant little kisses from the base of his cock to the tip and wrap your lips around. Harry is in awe watching you so what you're doing, he doesn't say another word.

He just moans, slightly loud as you start bobbing your head in a steady rhythm. His hand rests gently on the back of your head, but pushes every so often to tell you he wants you to take him all in.

You take a deep breath through your nose and relax as much as you can before sinking your head all the way down on him.

"F-fuck, thats.." he groans and tilts his head back, "That's it."

You pull off, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock from your bottom lip. He looks down, bringing his hand around to swipe it away, "Up."

You move to your feet and he pulls you into him, kissing you roughly as he spins you around, planting you on the edge of his desk, "Thought about this the moment I seen you throwing those punches."

You smile and bring one foot up to rest on the desk, "Mm." He pushes your shorts and panties to the side and nods, "You're a fucking natural out there."

His compliment makes you blush slightly but that's quickly forget as he slips the head of his cock past your folds and into you. You gasp, digging your nails into his shoulder, "Harry."

He licks his lips before parting them, watching as his cock disappears inside of you fully. Your eyes roll shut and you moan out at him stretching you, "So big."

He smirks and grabs a handful of your hair, "You like that, huh?"

You try to nod, but the grip Harry has makes you unable to, "So fucking much."

He pulls his cock out slowly before thrusting back in, quickly building up to a harsh, but very pleasurable speed.

"Fuck." Harry groans and grips your throat with his other hand and pushes his cock fully into you, "You're going to make me cum."

That comment makes you feel incredible.

He shakes his head, smiling as he leans down to kiss you. His hand that's holding your hair, moves to hook under your thigh, bringing it up to his bicep.

He starts thrusting again, squeezing your throat slowly as he watches your face, "Does that feel good?" He rests his forehead against your temple and you whimper out a quiet, "Mhm."

"Where do you want me to cum?" He leans back, letting go of your neck, "I'm close." His thrusts slow down a little and you lay a hand on his arm that's holding your leg, "Mouth."

He moans as he pictures you on your knees, cum on your tongue and he pulls out, "Fuck, okay. Okay."

You move down to the floor, resting on your calves as you stick your tongue out, waiting for him. He jerks his cock a few times, moaning out as he watches it pool onto your tongue, sliding back towards your throat.

"Such a pretty girl." He breathes out and taps his cock on your lips as you close them to swallow. He stares down at you, smirking as you stick your tongue back out to show him that it's gone.

"Dirty girl, too." He smirks and rubs your cheek with his thumb, "Come on. I'll buy dinner tonight." He winks and helps you stand up.

He pulls you in by your waist and kisses you. You smile and laugh slightly against his lips, "Before we do that, I need to change."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckle, "Why's that?"

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder gently, "You know exactly why, Mr. Styles." You walk over and grab your bag, shuffling through to grab a new pair of panties and shorts, "Could have just taken them off."

He shrugs, "I'll take them off next time."

——

Thank you for the request and thank you for being so patient. Hope you liked it!