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andvys · 8 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twelve ⭐︎ When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, mutual pining, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of cheating (not on reader), mentions of past stancy, jealous!Steve, slightly mean!Steve (kinda?), smut smut smut, bathroom sex, car sex, fingering, squirting. I like to picture Jacob as Drew Starkey hehe

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve had never handled his jealousy very well, but being jealous over you, brings out a new side in him. He would do anything to keep you, anything.

Word count: 17.4k+

Author's note: I've been waiting for this chapter since forever, jealous men are always my jam, and @hellfire--cult took these ideas to a whole new level, enjoy this filthy chapter. This one is for all my Steve girlies who haven't given up on me after my last story ♡ Roe, I should grant you a thousand wishes at this point, you keep me so hyped for this story. Also this chapter wouldn't have been this good without you, don't even try to fight me

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Nancy’s brows are furrowed in concentration, her pink lips pursed as she looks through the many dresses to find the perfect one, her curly hair is pulled up into a bun, held together by a white scrunchie with pink polka dots, she’s wearing one of the outfits she had gotten on your last shopping trip together, this is only your second time, but it’s fun, you like hanging out with her.

You drove to Indianapolis since Hawkins doesn’t have all too many clothing stores, especially after the ‘fire’ at the mall, you prefer it here anyways, the big city has much more to offer than the small town.

“What do you think of this one?” Nancy asks as she shows you the yellow sundress.

You tilt your head, pressing your lips together as you eye it, not quite liking the way too bright color. You walk around the clothing rack to get to the other side, holding the clothing items that you threw over your forearm a little tighter as you take in the different colors of the dress she’s still holding up.

“Mmm… No, maybe the blue one, Nancy?” You ask, as you point your finger at the baby blue color, when your eyes widen as you catch sight of the purple one, “or, the purple one! That one would look cute, it matches the color of your eyeshadow!”

She smiles at you, nodding excitedly. She puts the yellow dress on the rack, and looks through the purple ones to find her size.

“But you should go for the yellow one if you like it more.”

She shakes her head, looking back at you, “no, I trust your judgment,” she smiles and picks out the dress, “besides, this color is way cuter.”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips, “yeah, it’ll look amazing on you.”

Her dimples show and her eyes light up a little.

Nancy has been nothing but kind and sweet to you, and you can’t help but feel guilt and regret growing inside of you for the way you once felt about her.

You weren’t only jealous of her because she had Steve, you also hated her for having him, and you’d spent your shared classes with her, staring at her and comparing yourself to the girl he loved so dearly – the girl he still loves. You were never rude to her or mean, you never glared at her or threw comments at her the way other girls did, after Steve had humiliated her in front of the whole town, despite your feelings for him, you did feel disappointed for what he had done, even when you didn’t even like her, at that time.

“You should try this one on!” Nancy pulls you out of your thoughts, a grin on her face as she holds up a black dress – a daring black dress. It’s short and flowy, the straps are thin, it’s low cut with a dainty bow on the front, the back very exposed. “You could wear this one to Vickie’s party.”

A smile tugs at your lips, you step forward and slowly reach your hands out to take it from her.

“You will look hot in it,” Nancy wiggles her eyebrows at you, nudging her shoulder against yours as she brushes past you to look for more dresses, “I’m sure I won’t be the only one who thinks that,” she says in a sing-song voice.

Nancy had been very persistent in trying to get you to go on dates. The last time you went out together, the Barista at your local coffee shop had put his number on your takeaway cup after giving you the order for free. She tried to convince you to give him a call, gushing over how sweet he was to you and how he looked at you, and yeah, he was sweet, he was very good looking too, and maybe you would’ve given him a call if things were still the same they were months before this. Yeah, you would’ve definitely given him a call, but only to forget about the certain someone who woke up in your bed this morning. Whose bed you will go to sleep in tonight.

As you stare at the dress, all that you can think about is Steve, and how he will react to seeing you in this.

Will he think that you’re pretty?

Will you look irresistible to him?

Will he want to tear it off of you?

After all, he does like your dresses, your sundresses especially, you see the way his eyes darken whenever you step into his house with a new one on your body, like he is ready to rip it to shreds and devour you for the next few hours or so, and he usually does, sometimes he doesn’t even take it off, and only pushes it aside, bunching it around your waist.

This sundress is by far more revealing than any of the other ones you have worn before. Excitement bubbles in your stomach as you think of his reaction to it.

You are definitely getting it.

After taking forever to pick out what clothes to keep in the dressing room, you both make your way out of the store with full bags, stuffed with new summer clothes. You stroll around town for a while, looking for new jewelry and shoes to go with the dresses you both bought.

You never realized just how much you missed having a girl friend to do these things with, until you sit down at a cute café to eat some late lunch. It’s something you always used to do with your childhood best friend, that you always try not to think of, too painful are the memories of Chrissy and how you couldn’t be there for her, how you couldn’t save her. You always wondered if things would have gone differently had you both not drifted apart the way you did when you both went separate ways.

But it’s no use to overthink about it, you won’t ever find out.

“Funny how we’re shopping for clothes, when a few weeks back we were fighting for our lives against something the whole world doesn’t even know about,” Nancy says as she looks over the menu.

“Yeah,” you nod with wide eyes, glancing up from your own menu to look at her, you realize that you never asked how she got involved in all of it, in the first place.

You clear your throat, “I never asked… how did you get involved?”

She raises her brows at your question, taking a deep breath before she puts down the menu.

“I–It was when Barb went missing, right after Will… What the police said about her wasn’t right, I knew my Barb, so I looked into it all, and I dragged Jonathan in with me because he was looking for his brother, only to find out that my brother and all of his friends were in it too…” She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips.

You laugh a little, shaking your head.

A shiver runs down your spine as you think of how long it had all been going on in the shadows, how long you had been unaware of the Upside Down and the existence of monsters, how children were involved in something they shouldn’t have been.

“And then, poor Steve… He showed up at Jonathan’s place when we tried to lure in the Demogorgon, he almost ran off… but he came right back to fight him with us.”

You know all about it, Steve told you how he fought the Demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan, how he had been dragged into it all by accident, how he helped Dustin find Dart, how he protected the kids and climbed into the tunnel after getting beaten by Billy.

You know most of what happened, not only from Steve, but also from Robin, but you feel intrigued, you want to know more… from her.

Something flashes in her eyes, a look of guilt, a look of regret.

You know exactly what she’s thinking about, and you know that you shouldn’t bring this up, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

“I-I was at Tina’s Halloween party.”

Nancy winces at that, she doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your words, just… regretful of the memories that night brings her.

You remember the night just as well as she does. Steve had bumped into you after he rushed out of the bathroom you didn’t even know he was in with Nancy, he glared at you and nudged your shoulder harshly, he rudely told you to move out of his way and murmured some incoherent curse word at you.

You remember how deflected you felt, all night you had avoided him only to bump into him in his worst moment.

Everyone knows what happened that night, not in full detail, but it doesn’t take a genius to find out what happened between King Steve and his girlfriend after he had stormed out of the house without her, and she left with Jonathan instead.

Word traveled around, rumors circulated, but you didn’t listen to them, it wasn’t any of your business, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened anyways. Just as Steve and Nancy’s relationship ended, she showed up to school, holding hands with Jonathan. Clearly, something happened between them long before her relationship with Steve had ended.

Steve hated you, but your heart broke for him still.

It was so very obvious how much he loved her, and you can imagine how much it hurt when she cheated on him, and left him and his heart in shambles.

“I-I will never forgive myself for it. No matter if– he did forgive me. I was horrible to him, no amount of apologies can take away the guilt I will forever feel.”

“W-What happened?” You ask nervously, not wanting to overstep but still feeling the curiosity tugging harshly in your chest.

She sighs, looking around the bustling street before her eyes move back to yours.

“I-I always blamed him for what happened to Barb, I should’ve gone home with her that night, but I didn’t, even though I promised I would. I went with him, a-and the Demogorgon got her,” she explains, shaking her head a little as she closes her eyes, “it wasn’t Steve’s fault, not at all, but I-I blamed him and every time I looked at him, I just thought about her and what happened to her and how things would’ve gone differently if I didn’t leave her that night, if I didn’t went with Steve.”

You dig your nails into your palms, swallowing harshly as you watch her.

“He was good to me, he was there for me, b-but I couldn’t stand him sometimes, and how he tried to act like everything was normal, when it wasn’t.”

The feeling of irritation sparks inside of your chest, crawling into your bloodstream.

“And then, the Halloween party… I just, I was still grieving and I was angry, I let it all out on him, I should’ve handled things differently, I shouldn’t have been so harsh but… I-I called him bullshit,” she confesses to you, scrunching up her nose as she cringes at her own self, “and then I confessed my true feelings for him and our relationship.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, the anger that you are holding back after those leave her mouth. Bullshit.

How could she do that to him?

How could she hurt him the way that she did?

How could she call him that?

You can tell that it takes a weight off her shoulders, that it’s something she hasn’t talked about since it happened, not to Robin, not even to Jonathan, because after these words leave her mouth, she takes a deep breath, and her body relaxes as she leans back in her seat.

Her face is edged with shame, but also with relief to finally be able to let it out.

And you try, you really try to hide your own feelings, the anger, the hurt that you feel for the man that you hold so dearly in your heart.

You feel thankful for the waiter who interrupts your thoughts, he places the drinks that you ordered on the table, and reaches for his notepad, taking Nancy’s food order first.

You take a sip of your iced tea and you watch her for a moment, reminding yourself of how long ago it was, how much she changed, how much he changed, how it’s none of your business, how you shouldn’t feel angry at her, even when she’s the one who hurt him, when she’s the one he still wants, despite what she did.

He would take her back in a heartbeat if she came back to him, and the thought breaks your heart.

But you can’t help but keep dancing around the topic, so after the waiter takes your order and leaves, you ask her something you’ve been wondering about for weeks now.

“Do you… regret it? Do you sometimes wish that things between you went differently?”

She leans her elbows on the table, placing the straw between her lips, she takes a sip of her drink before she leans back again.

“The only thing I regret is how I led him on, I wish I could go back, and lay it all out on him in a different way… Explain to him why… I didn’t feel that for him, give him a reason instead of making him think that he’s damaged.”

She cared about him, you can see it in her eyes, you can hear it in her voice. She cared, even if only poorly.

“I see,” you nod, trying not to sigh. “And… well– when the whole thing with Vecna…” You pause as you feel the weight on your chest crushing you with nervousness.

She tilts her head at you, “what?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, you lick your lips as you look around, watching the people in the busy street across the café for a moment, before you return your gaze to her.

“Well… It was noticeable you know… and then… you two weren’t exactly quiet in the RV,” you mumble, trying not to sound bitter as the day catches up to you, what Steve had said to Nancy, how he looked at her, how she looked at him – and the rude things he said about you before the white picket fence conversation came up.

Her eyes widen a little, cheeks blushing a deep red as she looks down sheepishly.

You don’t know what you had expected, but you certainly didn’t wait for her to blush, it makes your stomach clench uncomfortably.

“I–I was just hurt because of Jonathan. Feelings are cunning, evil… I was angry, and I think my heart and mind looked for where I could find comfort.”

Oh, how ugly the feeling in your chest now is, how bitter the taste on your tongue is, how the sweetness of your drink does nothing to make it better, because you know, you know that you wouldn’t be sitting here now if Jonathan didn’t come back, you wouldn’t wake up in Steve’s bed or fall asleep in his arms.

Because she would be the one.

You knit your brows together as you stare at her, “but Steve–”

“I know but… I think it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

You physically have to restrain yourself from clenching your jaw or rolling your eyes. So, you look away for a moment, staring into a blank space as you try to calm your breathing.

Heat of the moment.

You want to scoff and laugh at her words, because telling your ex-girlfriend that you want to have six kids with her is totally, a heat of the moment kind of thing, right.

You’re very well aware of the jealousy that is boiling inside of you, worsening every passing second, and yet, you can’t help but want to fuel the fire even more, and find out what she would’ve done if she needed more comfort.

So when you look at her back, you ask, “so… if you were still hurt and Jonathan didn’t come back…?”

You see the way she freezes, the way she hesitates, the way she takes way too long to answer your question.

“I-I don’t think that I would’ve been with Steve again… Even if my urges and desires told me to… That’s the only thing they were… desires or… attractions. I wouldn’t want to hurt him again and give him the idea that there’d be a chance for a future,” she sighs, shaking her head, “I’m not the one. I’m not the woman for the future of his.”

You don’t know whether to feel sad for Steve or yourself.

She is that woman.

She is the one, the only one that he wants in that way, so why is she denying it?

The question lingers in your mind and you can’t help but wonder, what would happen if she stopped denying it? If her feelings were more than just desire after all? If she came back to him?

There is no doubt about what he would do.

You’d be nothing but a faint memory the moment she’d come back.

You’d no longer occupy her space in his bed.

You’d no longer be the one he’d kiss, touch, feel.

And you, you would step aside without a moment of hesitation, because despite your feelings for him, you would want him to be happy, and you know that he would never get that with you.

“Besides, I don’t want to be. Steve was my first boyfriend, puppy love,” she chuckles. “It’s different with Jonathan, I want him in my future, a-and I’d honestly take any future with him,” she says, as a soft smile creeps on her face, “I didn’t love Steve but, I love him,” she says truthfully and honestly.

She isn’t someone you have to worry about.

She isn’t someone who will take your temporary space, at least not now, not anymore.

But you still can’t find peace within you after this conversation, you can’t push aside the thoughts of him, of how much he still wants her, of how much he still loves her, of how much he wishes to be with her again, and it upsets you, even when it shouldn’t.

So, when you come home, you throw your bags on the stairs and make your way into the kitchen, you pick up the telephone and you call him, coming up with some weak excuse as to why you can’t see him tonight.

You want to see him, but you wouldn’t be able to control your feelings, you wouldn’t be able to hide the pain in your eyes. If Nancy wasn’t with Jonathan, she would be with Steve, and he would choose her, then and now.

You heard the sigh on the other end, the disappointed ‘okay… bye, Blondie.’ before you hung up the phone abruptly.

You want him, you want to be with him, you want to feel his touch, his hands on your skin, his lips on yours, and yet, you don’t at the same time, because right now, it would just hurt too much.

You need to calm your anxious thoughts, or you will give yourself away completely.

Two days.

It’s been two whole days since Steve had last seen you, and both his mind and his body were going crazy over the lack of you.

When you had called him on Wednesday evening, he was already waiting for you, giddy and excited for another night with you, but when you announced that you wouldn’t come, he felt deflected, a little crushed even, but he understood, you sounded tired and like you needed your rest, so he didn’t even try to convince you to let him come see you.

But the next day, there was no trace of you either, you didn’t call, you didn’t visit him at work, you didn’t come over, and when he tried to call you, you didn’t pick up the phone, you also weren’t home, your car wasn’t in your driveway, you were gone. And it made him feel… weird.

Because where were you?

You had never done anything like this before, always eager and ready for him, but never this.

He craved you so terribly, he wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice, to feel your touch, to feel your body beneath his.

He longed for you, and two days away from you, only showed him just how much of a hold you have over him.

The past two days went by so slowly, it was almost agonizing – just like the terrible music that blasts through Vickie’s house as more and more strangers make their way into her home, filling the empty spaces.

With his back against the wall, Steve stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, a bored expression on his face as he nods along to Eddie’s rambling about some band he had never even heard the name of, occasionally putting on his meanest face to glare at the people who give Eddie dirty looks. He can’t stand them.

He takes a sip of his coke, looking around the crowded room in search of you.

He knows you’re here, but he has yet to see you.

You came with Eddie, but while the latter instantly came to find him, you apparently left to find Robin, who he hasn’t seen in a while either.

He has been here for at least two hours now, and he is beginning to grow restless, wanting to just push himself away from the wall and go find you.

“--And I can’t wait to see them live, man! No more headbanging in my room,” Eddie laughs as he sips on his beer. “Judas Priest is sick! You gotta come with us, I’m sure Gareth won’t mind.”

“Mmm.” Steve nods, glancing at Eddie with a plastered smile on his face, he feels a bit bad for not listening to him, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, he continues talking.

Steve cranes his neck, looking into the kitchen, then into the hallway, and out into the backyard, trying to catch a glimpse of you, but all he sees are people he doesn’t care about.

The music is starting to give him a headache, and the smell of liquor and weed is beginning to make him feel hazy. He's not drinking, he’s got other plans that hopefully won’t be canceled tonight but the more time passes, and there is still no trace of you, his hope is beginning to dwindle, because a part of him starts to believe that you are doing this on purpose, not showing yourself to him.

Are you avoiding him?

The thought makes his chest ache weirdly, a feeling that he can’t even describe floods through his veins.

He doesn’t want you to avoid him, he doesn’t want you to stay away from him, he doesn’t want you to get bored of him.

“I got Robin to listen to my mixtape, you’re next, I’m telling you, you’re gonna be a metalhead in no time,” Eddie chuckles, bumping his shoulder into his, he pulls Steve out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Steve furrows his brows at him before a forced laugh falls from his lips, “y-yeah, sure.”

Eddie snorts, knowing that he wasn’t listening to a single word he just said and still agreed. A smirk tugs at his lips, he tilts his head, “so, you’re gonna listen to it?”

Steve nods, pursing his lips as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Promise?” Eddie asks, almost cackling.

“Yeah, promise,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie shakes his head, bringing his beer up to his lips, “you’re gonna regret that,” he murmurs against the glass before he takes a sip.

Steve hates the music Eddie listens to, he’s hated every song he has shown him so far, but Eddie will take that promise in satisfaction, knowing that Steve never breaks any of his promises.

Eddie takes a look around the room, recognizing a few people from school, some of whom have already graduated the year before. The guy by the snack table is the one who catches his attention the most, he squints his eyes as he takes a better look at him – tall, dark blond, lean, the gold ring that he always wore on his middle finger, still in place. Jacob Leeney.

He hasn’t seen him since last year when Jacob was back from college for the weekend, the same weekend you made this guy lucky.

He wants to make a joke to Steve about it, knowing that he hates the football captain’s guts, when from the corner of his eye, he notices how Steve stands up straighter.

Every hope that began to dwindle, comes back in a rush when Steve sees you for the first time in two days.

You walk into the room with a drink in your hand, a smile on your lips that grows brighter when your eyes lock with his.

His own eyes light up at the sight of you, something in his chest swells with a feeling he grew unfamiliar to. His lips curl into a smile as he stares at your face for the longest time, before he lets his eyes roam your body, the exposed skin that isn’t covered by the pretty dress that you’re wearing, begging for his attention, begging to be marked up by his lips and to be touched by his hands.

If only he could look into his own reflection to see just how awestruck he looks at the sight of you, how you lit up the whole room for him with your presence. If only he was focused on the beating of his heart or the fluttering in his stomach, the butterflies he thought were long gone, rising back up and filling him with life.

Your skin is glowing beneath the dim fairy lights, your glossy lips that he craves to feel on his own, looking even more kissable than usual, and he already begins to count down the second until he can actually feel them.

You start making your way over to him, the platform heels that you’re wearing making you look taller than you are.

Steve licks his lips, having to fight the urge to just meet you halfway, throw you over his shoulder and get the hell out of here so he can have you all to himself.

Your eyes are locked with his, a blush creeps up on your face and you grow flustered beneath his stare, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you raise your hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear – good, nothing changed in those two days.

His excitement grows, the closer you get, he has nearly all forgotten about his friend next to him, about the other people in this room, but the reminder that it’s not just you and him in this room, catches up quickly, when the smile falls from your lips and your eyebrows furrow as a hand on your upper arm stops you, not enough to startle you, but enough to make you turn around in and look away from him.

Steve’s own smile falls, and he straightens his back even more.

He no longer sees your face, your expression or your reaction, but he sees him, Jacob Leeney. And the sight of him alone, is enough to turn the fire that you lit up inside of him, into raging flames. – And not because of the rivalry that was once between them, but because of what he had found out about you and the football captain not too long ago.

Steve can’t hear what he’s saying to you, but the smile, the smirk on Jacob’s face makes his blood boil. The look in his eyes as he stares you down, making him clench his jaw.

He pulls you into a hug, hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades, but not quite staying there, he moves it lower and lower until it rests dangerously low on your back as he hugs you for longer than necessary.

“Damn,” Eddie mumbles from beside him, “Leeney’s about to get another best fuck of his life,” he chuckles, repeating the words that the jock had said to him months back.

And it does little to calm Steve down.

“I mean, unless they’ve seen each other this week before, I heard that he was back in town… a few days ago,” Eddie shrugs, watching him closely.

He watches the way you take a step back, putting distance between you and Jacob after you pull away from the hug, but his hand lingers, not on your back anymore, but now on your elbow as he taps his fingers against your skin, talking to you with a look on his face that gives away his intentions. The sparkling in his eyes matches the one of his own, he wants you, he wants you badly. The interaction between you seems so… trusted, intimate.

And then, Steve registers what Eddie had said to him, just now.

A few days ago.

Steve freezes.

The cold shudder that runs through him, weakening the flames that just ignited.

Is that why you canceled your plans with him?

Is he the reason why you haven’t called?

Did you stand him up for Jacob?

Were you with him?

Did you let him kiss you?

Did you let him touch you?

Did you forget all about him?

He can’t decipher his own emotions at this very moment, too many are running through him, anger, frustrations… and a very ugly emotion that he won’t admit to feeling.

He takes a deep breath, unable to hide the frown on his face as he watches you.

Steve knew it, he knew that his own rule would come to haunt him, and he suddenly feels a deep regret for suggesting the inclusivity that allows you to see other people, he doesn’t want you to do that, he doesn’t want you to see other people, he wants to be the only one for you.

He is watching you, so closely, so intensely, glaring at the touchy man in front of you, like he’s ready to light him up with his own eyes for putting his hands on places only he should be allowed to touch.

Eddie slaps his shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” he announces before he scurries away from Steve who refuses to tear his eyes off of you.

He continues to watch you like a hawk, eyes not straying away from you and the man before you, and despite the intensity in his gaze, he is blind to your reactions, to the subtle, tiny steps you take to put distance between you and Jacob. All that Steve can see is the burning red that flashes in his eyes every time he touches you.

He sees the way your shoulders shake from laughter, the way you brush your hair back as you tilt your head up to look at him.

And the more time passes as you stand across the room, spending time with someone who isn’t him, he begins to grow impatient, restless.

You should be here, with him, by his side.

And he wants to show you that the only one you need is him. So, without a second of hesitation, he slams his drink on the table, and he lets his feet carry him over to you, no longer wanting to stand there and watch how someone else might steal you away from him, he won’t let it happen.

He let it happen with Nancy, he probably would’ve let it happen again if he was still with her, if this was her with Jonathan in front of him, he would’ve looked the other way, despite the aching in his chest.

But you aren’t Nancy, and his feelings, his reactions, his action that he’s about to take, didn’t fully sink in yet.

Once he is in earshot, Steve hears Jacob’s annoying, flirty voice.

“You’re the prettiest girl at this party.”

Your giggle follows, and it makes Steve’s skin crawl – if he wasn’t so driven by jealousy, and blinded by anger, he would’ve heard how fake it sounded.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

Jacob chuckles, opening his mouth to speak, to throw some lame pick up line at you, probably.

But Steve doesn’t let him. Stepping up beside you, he places his hand on your back first, before he slides it down to your waist, gripping it tightly. The feeling of your body beneath his palm, your warmth and the way you melt into his touch after you turn and tilt your head to look at him, makes his stomach flutter pleasantly.

You step closer to him, relaxing further when he squeezes you with his large hand, though your eyes are wide and your lips are parted as you stare at him.

Right now, he can’t even find it in himself to care that your friends could see the intimacy between you and him, all he cares about is you and dragging you away so he can finally have you all to himself.

“Can I talk to you?” He asks, calmly.

Your wide eyes spark with curiosity as they look into his own, your glossy lips parting further for him as you come up with words, only to be cut off by Jacob.

“Oh hello, Harrington, long time no see!” The jock grins.

Steve clenches his jaw, but still turns to face him, biting back the distaste on his tongue, he nods at him, “yeah, yeah man, I’ll take her for a minute, okay?” He mumbles with squinted eyes and a fake smile on his lips as he points to you.

Before the blond can even respond, Steve’s hand leaves your waist, and moves over to your wrist. He grabs your much smaller hand and holds it tightly, giving it a squeeze as he pulls you away and begins to walk, basically dragging you out of the room, and you don’t protest, you follow him, without a single word, slamming your drink on the counter on the way out.

You both walk into the crowded hallway, and he pulls you closer to him when you pass by a group of guys who are talking rather loudly. He pushes you towards the stairs, bringing your hand up a little as he gets behind you.

He doesn’t even bother to look out for your friends, they aren’t on his mind right now and he finds himself not caring about who could see you together. He also doesn’t care about one of his many rules that he is about to break when he pushes you into an empty bathroom.

You switch the light on and let go of his hand when you walk in further.

Steve turns around to close and lock the door, his fingers linger on the handle as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“What’s wrong, did something happen?” You ask.

He opens his eyes again and turns around to face you, he raises his hand up, running it through his styled hair, he licks his lips as he lets his eyes roam your body for a second, taking a better look at the dress he hasn’t seen on you before, it must be new.

The light that shines on you from the ceiling is golden, making your soft skin glow, making it look even more delicate, more desirable. Your chest rises up and down heavily, a worried expression etched in your beautiful features as you stare at him with furrowed brows. Your pouty lips parted.

Can he blame Jacob for trying to go after you? Not really.

“Nope, nothing happened,” he mumbles as he makes his way over to you.

You shake your head a little, frowning, “then why–”

He practically lurches forward, cupping your cheeks, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, the way he wanted to, all night.

You squeal in surprise, a noise that only fuels his lust even more, prompting him to deepen the kiss roughly. He can taste the sweetness of rum and pepsi on your lips, the strawberry from your gloss, he can taste you, he can smell the intoxicating scent of your perfume, he can feel your arms around his shoulders now as you start moving your lips against his, picking up the pace to match the speed of his own.

He moans when your fingers get lost in his hair and your nails graze his scalp as you try to pull him closer against you.

He licks your bottom lip, parting it with his tongue so he can slip it into your mouth. You let him. His palm slides down to your jaw, he holds it there for a moment as his other hand moves down to your hip, gripping it tightly as he presses you against the counter behind you, fingers now playing with the flimsy material of your sundress.

A needy moan blesses his ears, the delicious sound rushing to his cock, making it stir in his pants that are now getting way too tight around his groin.

You place your hand on the back of his neck as you place your other on his chest, pressing yourself further against him as you kiss him with whimpers and a neediness that he thought only he was feeling.

God, he missed you.

But, did you miss him?

Did your lips touch someone else’s when you weren’t with him, where you were supposed to be?

The flames that are still raging inside of him, sparking a new kind of anger in him at the thought of it, it prompts him to do something that he has never done before – he bites your bottom lip, making you wince and moan at the pain.

He pinches your chin between his fingers, pulling away from the kiss to look at you.

With furrowed brows, you open your eyes to look at him, leaning back in to steal a kiss, but he keeps you in place, ignoring the whine that falls from your lips.

“Jacob Leeney, huh?” He mutters, instantly clenching his jaw after saying that name out loud. “Why did you talk to him, hm?”

Steve moves his hand under your dress.

“W-What?” You ask, shakily. “He was just talking to me about college.”

Right. That is the reason why he looked at you like he was ready to tear your dress off and devour you, right then and there.

“Right,” he mumbles, gritting his teeth in anger.

You stare at him with a frown on your face, tilting your head a little as you reach your hand up to wrap it around his wrist. And then, realization flashes in your eyes and your lips twitch a little.

“You plan on fucking him tonight, Blondie?” He sneers, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.

You raise your eyebrows, pressing your lips together, he watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow.

The silence between you is nearly deafening, he can feel your breath on his thumb as he still holds your chin, he waits for you to answer his question.

Your eyes crinkle, and your lips curl into a smile before you suddenly burst into giggles, making his irritation feel worse than before.

Steve’s muscles tense up and he bites the insides of his cheeks, pressing his knee in between your thighs, he holds you tighter.

“Why are you laughing, huh?” He asks, as he leans closer to you, cupping your jaw again, he tilts your head to the side, making your giggles die down the moment he latches his lips onto your neck.

You suck in a sharp breath.

“Mmm, nothing,” you murmur, “w-what if I am? What if I do plan on fucking him?”

Steve has to hold back to growl, threatening to escape as he presses another rough kiss to your neck, his fingers now digging deeper into your hip.

“Well, I have a little priority here, don’t you think?” He murmurs against your skin.

“Wasn’t it you… the one who said no exclusivity, Steve?”

His breath stopped for a moment, regret gnawing up in his throat like vile. He wants to back out of that rule… but you are not his, so he waters it down.

“New rule then, Blondie,” he mumbles, not stopping with the kisses on your neck, “we leave with each other when we are at the same place. So, meaning today it’s me.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his words, questions already lingering in your mind.

You would always choose Steve.

There is no one else you would go home with.

And you can’t help but want him to know, but you don’t get to tell him because just as you open your mouth, Steve starts kissing your neck differently, intensely, roughly. He sucks on your neck, marking you up and blessing your delicate skin with hickeys as though he wants to show everyone that you’re his, that you belong to him.

And you do, you do belong to him, but he doesn’t know it.

He doesn’t know that your heart is his, that your mind and body is in his possession.

He doesn’t know how crazy you go over his touches, how your heart flutters at every slightest touch of his, how weak and vulnerable you feel when he holds you, how no one else could ever come close to make you feel the things that he can make you feel.

“How many drinks did you have, Blondie?”

“J-Just half of the drink I left downstairs,” you say, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to your neck.

“Just that?” He asks, “you’re not drunk, are you?”

You shake your head quickly, “no, not at all.”

“Good,” he nods.

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his fingers on your ruined panties, he pushes them aside and slips his long fingers through your folds, dipping them inside of you before he pulls them back out to tease your clit, digits now coated with your slick.

You jerk a little, wrapping your arm around him so you can hold onto him, a needy moan escapes your mouth.

You could have had this on Wednesday night, you could have had this last night, but you were too busy worrying about something that filled your heart with pain.

“S-Steve!”

He gets lost in his feelings, lost in the rage, in the possessiveness and the urge to show you that he should be the only one for you. His teeth graze your neck, his lips suck harshly on your skin as he spreads you open with two fingers.

You mewl when he starts pumping them inside of you, in and out, deeply and slowly at first.

“Who are you so wet for, huh?” He asks, pulling away just enough so he can look at the marks he left, appreciating the sight in front of him for a second, before he pulls your face towards him, gripping your chin tighter than before, his thumb now lingering on your bottom lip. “Tell me, Blondie”

You open your eyes, revealing to him just how dark they are, how much lust lingers in them.

“You, Stevie! Just you!” You whine needily before you wrap your lips around his thumb, catching him off guard, once again. You swirl your tongue around it, looking into his hazel eyes as you start sucking, you watch the way they widen and darken, the tension in his jaw now leaving as he is only focused on this, on you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, picking up the pace of his fingers, he drags them out of you and slams them back in, nearly moaning himself when he listens to the squelching noises as he finger-fucks you, “just me?”

Your jaw drops and you throw your head back, letting go of him to hold onto the edges of the counter, he has got you pressed against at. You nod quickly, “yes, yes! Just you, only you!” You ramble as you squeeze your eyes shut again, enjoying the feeling of his fingers inside of you.

“Good.”

Steve can feel how you clench around him, how you’re already so close even though he didn’t even get started yet. He leans in to peck your lips as he curls his fingers inside of you, and he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing it slowly.

He feels himself growing harder – the feeling of your tight, wet walls around his fingers being too much, along with the needy moans that keep falling from your pretty lips.

He stares at you, watching the way your nipples poke through the thin material of your dress – of course, you’re not wearing a bra. You bite your lip, your brows are knit together, and your head falls to the side as you let yourself get lost in the feeling he provides you with.

Not Jacob, definitely not Jacob.

The jock could never make you feel this, he is so sure of it, and yet, Steve can’t shake the thoughts of you and him together.

Would you be this wet for him too?

Would you moan so prettily for him?

Would you be so needy for him?

The anger just won’t leave him, it refuses to, it has him in its tightest grip, urging him to prove something to you.

His chest heaves up and down heavily, his darkened eyes are nearly black now.

You’re close, he can feel that you are with the way you’re clenching around him, but he doesn’t let you cum like this tonight, so he pulls his fingers out of you.

Your eyes shoot open and your lips part as you’re about to protest, pouting at him. He grabs your hips with both of his hands, turning you around abruptly, he bends you over the counter and presses himself against you, and he chuckles darkly when you gasp at his action.

Steve reaches for the hem of your dress and he flips it over, exposing your ass to him and the lacy thong you’re wearing, he groans at the sight of it, unable to hold back, he rears his hand back before he smacks his large palm against your skin, slapping your ass harshly.

Steve has never, never treated a girl roughly before, not any of his hookups, not Nancy, but then again, he never had this much fun with any of them. Letting go of his inhibitions, taking what he wants for once, and the fact that you let him, and even love it, makes him go feral.

But as the realization sinks in of what he had done, his eyes widen as fear rushes through him, worried that he had gone too far, but you ease his mind with the filthy whimper that sounds through the room as you press your ass against his dick, rubbing it against him as though you’re asking for more.

He can’t help but chuckle, the shock and the fear vanishing just as quick as it came.

“Oh, you like that, Blondie?” He asks as he presses his palm against your ass, this time not slapping it, but grabbing it roughly, making you whine again. “Of course you fucking do,” he murmurs as he lets go, only to smack you once more, making you gasp his name in pleasure.

“Please!”

He looks at your reflection in the mirror, needy eyes meeting his.

“Please what?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt and pops the button of his jeans, he reaches for the condom in his back pocket – mentally thanking his needy self for placing one there before he left his house, in hopes that he would get this.

“Please, fuck me!”

He pushes his jeans and boxers down, just enough to free himself, not wasting any more time, he rips apart the foil and throws the empty packet on the ground, making quick work of rolling the condom over his length. With his chin against his chest, he looks down, stroking his dick for good measure, his spit curl falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to push it out of the way, he looks up through hooded eyes, glancing at you through the mirror, he almost wants to chuckle at the desperation in your eyes, but it gets stuck in his throat when you push your ass back against his dick, whining.

His stomach flutters seeing you so desperate for no one but him.

He grabs your hip with his left hand, pressing himself against you, he teases both you and himself by slipping his shaft through your wet folds, he watches the way you look at him, begging for more with your eyes as you push yourself up a little.

He presses his palm against your lower back, pushing you down so your chest is flush against the marble counter, he lines up with your entrance and pushes inside of you slowly. Waves of pleasure rush through him in an instant. You scrunch your face up, lips parting as a sigh escapes you.

You throw your hand back, reaching for his forearm, you grab it tightly as you shut your eyes and drop your head a little, your hair falls in front of your face, hiding all your pretty features.

Steve looks down, watching his cock disappear into your weeping pussy.

“You take me so well, holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath. And it was the truth, you take him like no other, making you the most addictive.

He sinks into you, deeper and deeper, stretching you out and splitting you open, the tension inside of him grows and his heartbeat increases. He pulls out again, watching the way the condom around him glistens with your slick – how he wishes that he could feel you without it. He slams back in, making you gasp and arch your back in pleasure. He starts thrusting, in and out, deeply and slowly at first, but with an intensity that makes you open your eyes again.

“Steve!”

“That’s right,” He grunts, reaching his hand forward, he grabs your hair and tilts your head back up, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror as he moves his hips faster, quickening his pace until he’s pounding you. “Look at who’s fucking you right now, Blondie.”

The loudest moan falls from your lips, and you instantly bring your hand up to cup your mouth, panic flashing in your lust filled eyes. Despite the loud music, you are scared that someone might hear you, and it only prompts him to fuck you harder and rougher against the counter, holding you tighter as heat spreads in his chest – who do you want to hide from? Your friends, or Jacob?

But while Steve worries about something that isn’t even on your mind, you are so far gone, so lost in the pleasure that you feel because of him, your insides so sensitive already, yet aching for more. You focus on the way he thrusts in and out of you, how heavenly it feels to feel him inside of you, to feel him in your stomach.

You are so drunk on him that there is not a single thought in your brain, only him.

No one has ever done this to you, no one has ever made you feel so weak, so submissive, so lost in the heat of the moment, no one has ever taken such control – you wouldn’t have let them, only he can have this.

Your eyes turn glassy, rolling back as you throw your head back, your weak hand falling from your face again.

“Yeah, as if that asshole could fuck you like this,” he grunts, letting go of your hair and moving his hand forward to cup your cheeks, “say it. Say no one can fuck you like this, Blondie, because I know it’s true.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, a cry leaving you as he pulls your ass up a little, slamming in and out of you, hitting the spot that makes tears fall from your eyes, making him even more aroused than before.

“Only you, Steve!” You sob as a tear spills down your cheek and onto his thumb.

Your knees buckle and your body begins to tremble, sobs and moans turn into needy whines and whimpers, your flustered face decorated with pretty tears making his muscles tense in his stomach.

You try to keep quiet as you press your lips together, trying to breathe calmly through your nose despite the pounding in your chest, when he suddenly changes the pace again, pounding you so hard that he knocks you forward, hitting so deep inside of your squelching pussy, that you can’t help but cry out loudly as stars blur your vision.

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie!”

Steve nearly busts, eyes widening at the way you chant his name so desperately. His hips stutter a little and he has to suck in a sharp breath, eyes shutting for a moment. He twitches inside of you, and it doesn’t help that you keep clenching.

The sound of the music, of laughter and voices outside are so far away, the only thing you both hear are your moans and how wet you are as his skin slaps against yours.

He slows down a little, enough to make you whine again, to make you move back against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock.

“F-Fuck,” Steve moans, he opens his eyes again, reaching forward, he grabs your shoulder and pulls you up and against his chest before he lets his hand travel down your stomach, he pushes your dress out of the way, and his fingers find their way to your clit.

A high pitched moan echoes through the room, your body shakes harder and you grab his forearm tightly as he rubs circles on your sensitive nub.

He presses his lips to your neck, moaning himself as the tension in his stomach grows bigger and bigger. He kisses your delicate skin, his mouth brushing the dark marks he left.

You cling to him, nails grazing his skin, you press the side of your face against his, staining his cheek with your tears.

“I know, baby, I know.”

If only he knew just how such a simple yet special word affects your heart, making it beat faster and harder in your chest, setting all your insides on fire and igniting something in you that throws you into a pit of love and glee.

Steve had never called you this before, and you could only dream of such sweet nicknames, until now.

Your eyes roll back again, eyelashes fluttering as you squeeze them shut completely, mouth ajar as filthy noises fall. You’d fall over if it wasn’t for his strong arms holding you up, his fingers moving so fastly on your clit, his dick so deep inside of you, his lips biting gently on your skin, all it takes is another rough thrust and your body begins to shake for a different reason, you fall apart for him, once again.

You don’t even feel yourself drooling, you no longer feel the tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your ear, kissing the spot behind it before he grabs your chin and tilts your head to the side so he can press his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft kiss as he keeps fucking you, chasing his own high.

Steve furrows his brows, his muffled moan vibrating against your lips as he gives one last powerful thrust and spills into the condom, secretly wishing that he could spill inside of you and paint your walls white instead.

His body relaxes after the high it had been on for the past minutes, muscles loosening, but lips still moving gently against yours.

Both yours and his moans die down after a moment, but you’re still panting, trying to catch your breaths as you pull away from one another. You open your eyes, and look into his, the blackness slowly fading away and you see the pretty hazel color again. His tongue licks his bottom lip, eyes flickering between your own and the marks he left on your neck.

A lazy smile appears on your face and you feign confidence as you tilt your head to the side and reach your hand up to move the spit curl away from his forehead, the tips of your fingers brushing his skin, he holds you tighter in response.

“I didn’t think you could get so jealous, Steve,” you whisper, ‘jokingly’ but most of all, painfully to yourself.

You’d hope that he was jealous, that all of this was the result of the burning red emotion, but why would he feel jealous over you?

Just the presence of Jacob was enough to bruise Steve’s ego. That’s all that it was.

You know he never liked the jock, and the fact that he got his hands on you first, must’ve hit a nerve. But it has nothing to do with you. Steve is not jealous of who you sleep with, he doesn’t care. He is just bruised cause he felt threatened with an ex hook-up you had, afraid of them stealing you for tonight.

Steve huffs at your words, shaking his head at you. He pulls out of you with a hiss, cursing under his breath.

“Well, did you think I’d let him steal you away from me…?” He asks, clearing his throat as he adds, “tonight?”

And then he looks down, not wanting to show his face, to show how jealous he really is.

He doesn’t need you to know that.

He slips his hand between your thighs again, adjusting your panties and putting them back in place before he fixes your dress, pushing it back down over your ass.

Your eyes soften at his action, heart fluttering in your chest.

It’s not the first time he does this, he always takes care of you – he cleans you up, he helps you put a shirt on your body whenever you stay over, whenever you’re too weak to move. He is good to you, gentle and soft, and that is dangerous, because despite the thoughts in your head, the logical part that tells you the truth, his actions keep putting false hope into your heart.

You grab the counter, and on shaky feet, you step closer and hold onto it tightly, watching as he fixes himself next, throwing the condom and the discarded foil into the trash, he tucks himself back into his pants and steps towards the counter beside you to wash his hands.

His lips are stained with your lipstick, his hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed – he looks so cute like this.

You tear your eyes away from him and finally look at your own reflection, your eyes widen and you gasp in shock – not at the mascara that runs down your face, the messy hair or just how puffy your lips are, no, this is not exactly an unusual sight to see, but the marks on your neck are, because they are so much bigger and darker than they usually are.

You throw your hand up towards your neck and turn to face him, “what the fuck, Steve?”

He winces, quickly drying his hands before he turns to face you, as well. Eying your hand that is covering the hickeys he left, your big eyes filled with panic. He can’t help but think you look cute like this, with your hair all messy and your lips curled into a pout.

“H-How am I gonna hide–”

He grabs your face and pulls you into a soft kiss, just a quick peck, one that is enough to cut you off.

“You think I’m done with you and we’re gonna go back to the party?” He chuckles, caressing your cheek as he pulls away from your puckered lips, “no, we’re leaving, Blondie.”

You gulp at his words and squeeze your aching thighs together as excitement rises back up in you.

“So, fix yourself and meet me downstairs,” he murmurs, placing another soft kiss to your lips before he pulls away. “I’ll wait by the front door.”

He takes another look at your neck, hiding his satisfied smirk by turning around. He unlocks the door and opens it, leaving you alone in the bathroom as he makes his way downstairs to find Eddie or Robin, to announce that he will be driving home a very sick Blondie.

While a smirk keeps playing on his lips, you are panicking in the bathroom, not knowing how to hide the marks he left, what lie to come up with this time if Eddie sees and asks questions again.

You do your best to fix your hair, running your fingers through it and wiping away the mascara streaks on your cheeks, and the smudged lipstick, that you only now realize, is still on his lips, he didn’t even bother to wipe it away – what an idiot.

You step back and take a look at your dress, smoothing it down and moving your hands back to your hair. The marks on your neck are so strong, so very visible, you’re not even sure if foundation and concealer will be able to hide this. A groan falls from your lips.

You should do the same to him, he surely won’t fix it with makeup.

You press your palm against your neck, testing out how it will look if you just go out like this.

“This looks so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes.

You pray that you won’t run into any of your friends on the way out, all you have to do is make it downstairs and to the front door. You haven’t seen much of Eddie before, and Robin is too busy with Vickie anyways.

You take a deep breath and then you step out of the bathroom and into the hallway. It’s not as crowded as it is downstairs, but there are still a few people you have to pass, as you awkwardly keep your hand on your neck, pretending to scratch it.

You feel eyes on you, but you don’t bother to turn around to look at them, not even caring if they heard you and Steve – as long as your friends didn’t hear, you’re good.

Your legs are shaky, and walking in your platform heels feels like a workout after Steve just railed you into oblivion, your stomach still flutters, yet feeling empty at the lack of him.

You walk down the stairs, carefully. You hope that your knees won’t buckle.

The party is still in full swing, some Billy Idol song blaring through the speakers as the living room is still filled with dancing people. Red solo cups are everywhere, empty bottles and cans litter the counters and tables – poor Vickie will regret throwing a party when she wakes up tomorrow morning.

Your eyes fall on him, the smug look on his face making you huff in annoyance. Steve enjoys seeing you struggle after what he just did to you, he licks his lips as his eyes run up and down your body, they flash with amusement when they fall on your hand, you see the way his shoulders shake, he is chuckling at you as he plays with the car keys in his hand. Smug bastard.

You roll your eyes at him, and turn away, looking around to see if any of your friends are around, but the only people you see are strangers and a few known faces from school, you sigh in relief, knowing that you won’t have to lie into Eddie’s or Robin’s face. You return your gaze to Steve whose face is suddenly no longer as smug as it was a few seconds ago, his eyes aren’t even on you anymore, but rather on someone behind you as he looks over your shoulder.

Someone calls your name, someone who is the reason for the rage on Steve’s face that you had already seen before.

You turn around when your name is being called again, to find Jacob walking towards you. Oh.

You grow flustered knowing that the fucked out look on your face is so very obvious. You can’t even hide it.

He catches up to you, and he reaches his hand out to place it on your upper arm, “hi, there you are,” he smiles, towering over you. He is tall, much taller than you, even taller than Steve.

You greet him back, forcing a smile.

He furrows his brows as his eyes scan your face, his smile falling a little, a frown appearing instead, “are you okay?” He asks, worriedly. “Do you feel sick?”

You shake your head and open your mouth to speak when the words get stuck in your throat after his hand leaves your arm and comes to rest on your face instead, surprising you and angering Steve.

“Do you need me to take you home?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

You would have moved, but you are frozen in place as you stare at him, completely caught off guard by his action and the look in his eyes.

“I-I…”

A different hand appears on your lower back, one that your body instantly recognizes, because your skin heats up and your chest blooms with warmth – it’s scary how well your body knows him.

Steve pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around you, “I got her, she’s in good hands, Leeney.”

Sometimes you wish that he knew how you felt about him, how your heart nearly explodes every time he says something only a boyfriend should say – maybe then, he would take pity on you and your heart.

You melt into his touch, the smell of his cologne is so intoxicating.

Jacob retracts his hand, he looks between you and Steve, his shoulders slumping a little as he steps back, he looks down at you, nodding, “alright.”

“Come on,” Steve murmurs, squeezing your waist as he begins to pull you away, wanting you away from the jock and towards the front door.

“Bye Jacob–”

“Wait,” he rushes forward, and reaches for your hand, placing a folded note into your palm. “Here, I’m not making the same mistake again.” He gives your hand a squeeze and smiles at you, not waiting for your response, he steps away and takes another glance at Steve, before he turns around and leaves.

You stare at the note in your hand, you don’t have to open it to know what’s written on the paper.

You fail to notice the absolute rage in Steve’s eyes, how much more intense it is than before, how tense the muscles in his jaw are, how it takes everything in him not to slam you against the wall and kiss you in front of Jacob and everyone else.

He pulls you out of the house without a single word, he grabs your hand instead as he leads you outside, he shuts the door and the sound of music and the many voices begin to fade away as you both make your way to his car, which he parked on the side of the road.

Your heels click against the cobblestone, your hands hold tightly onto his, you’re quiet, and so is he, but a storm is raging in his mind, and everything he felt before, now feels so much worse.

Can he keep you when there’s other people who want you just as much as he does? – And even, in different, much more intimate ways?

He saw the way Jacob looked at you, he wasn’t only interested in another quick fuck, he wanted more, and it irritates Steve, it makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, it makes his heart clench in his chest – it shouldn’t, there is nothing more between you than this, and yet, he is scared to lose it, the little secret that you both have, he isn’t ready to let it go, he isn’t ready to let you go and watch you fall into someone else arms.

He wants to keep you, and he will do everything to make it stay that way.

He knows that there is only one way to show you that he is the only you will ever need. At least, for now.

He opens the passenger door and lets go of your hand so you can get inside, eying the note that is still in your other hand. He closes the door once you’re seated, and he makes his way around his BMW, when he gets inside as well, he notices the now unfolded note in your lap and the number that’s written on it.

He grits his teeth but bites back his bitter words.

You won’t call him, he will make sure of that.

It’s not easy to focus on the drive when his mind is in such a whirlwind and his eyes keep glancing back at the note in your lap, that you folded back together again.

You aren’t looking at it any longer, your eyes are focused on the road and the passing trees.

“What do you plan to do with that number, Blondie?” He asks, unable to hold back and hide the jealousy this time.

You narrow your eyes at him, taking a look at his hands, you see how hard he is gripping the steering wheel when you take in the sight of his knuckles. The veins in his hands nearly popped. You gulp as your eyes move along his arm, muscles that are hidden beneath the black sleeve of his shirt peeking out just a little, his cheeks are red, his jaw clenched.

He is angry, but a part of you can see through your insecurities.

It’s not only his ego that was bruised, it’s not only the anger that shines through, there is more, so much more.

The jealousy that only you ever felt is lingering in his eyes.

He is jealous.

Steve is jealous over you.

And there is really no reason for him to feel that way, but you can’t stop the rush of excitement and happiness that floods through your body.

If he felt that way before he dragged you into the bathroom, over an innocent conversation, what will he do now that Jacob has made an entirely new move?

Will you get another taste of what he gave you before?

Will he call you baby again?

You’re stepping into a dangerous territory, you know it, but the thrill over it makes heat pool in your stomach.

“I don’t know, Lego Head,” you shrug, trying to keep a straight face as you look at him, “maybe I’ll keep it… You know, for when you don’t answer your phone.” You lie as you pick the note back up.

Steve huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

He rolls down the window, giving you no time to react, he snatches the note from your hand and wastes no second to throw it out onto the road, letting it get lost in the darkness.

“Hey!” You gasp as your eyes widen.

“Whoops, my hand slipped,” he flashes you an innocent smile as he closes the window again.

“What if I want to call him!?”

Your question makes him grip the wheel even tighter, knuckles turning white.

“You don’t need him,” he mumbles.

You sit up straighter, raising your brows at him, “oh really? I don’t? Why’s that?”

Steve can’t take it any longer, the feelings inside of him boiling over, controlling all his actions now.

He pulls the car off the main road, and drives into the isolated wooded area that leads to a stream, a hidden part of Lovers Lake that he only ever came to when he needed to clear his head.

He slams his foot on the brakes and turns off the car, turning off the lights and unbuckling the seatbelt, he turns to you in anger, “because you literally just said no one can fuck you like I can!”

Your heart begins to race, goosebumps rise on your skin, and you press your palms against the leather seat beneath you. The giddiness inside of you is now so difficult to keep hidden.

“Ah, so that should make you exclusive,” you smirk, tilting your head to the side, “okay, well, maybe he got better–”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence, you don’t get to taunt him anymore as he turns his back to you and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut and rounding the car to get to you, he rips open the door on your side.

“You don’t learn, do you?”

“W-What?”

“Get out.” He demands, not nicely.

You frown at him, watching his stance and how angry he looks at you. “What the fuck–”

“Get out,” he repeats, in a much calmer yet angrier voice.

You shiver at his command, and you take a deep breath as you unfasten your seatbelt, your heels hit the grass as you get out of the car. Steve places his hand on your back and pushes you out of the way so he can close the door before he opens the one to the backseat. He glares into your eyes, “get in.”

Your frown transforms into a look of complete confusion as you look between his hand and the seat that he points at.

“You’re making me change seats?”

He steps closer to you, “get the fuck inside, right now.”

The demanding, aggressive tone in his voice doesn’t make you question him again, you swallow harshly and turn around, you place your hands on the leather seats as you crawl inside, moaning in surprise when he smacks your ass again.

He chuckles darkly behind you, “you really like that huh?”

You glare at him over your shoulder, earning another slap to your other cheek, making you jerk and whine.

He chuckles again and follows you inside, closing the door behind him, “noted.”

The leather beneath you is cold, and you grip it tightly, sucking in a sharp breath, and just as you go to turn around and sit down, Steve’s strong hands grab at your hips, flipping you over and manhandling you underneath his body as he forces you to lie down on your back. He pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them, he presses his palms flat against the seat on both sides of your head.

A shiver runs down your spine, not from fear, but from excitement, because he probably didn’t want you to realize he was jealous, but he is showing you. He is clearly showing you and you can’t help but feel absolutely happy, accomplished.

You know that you’re in for something when you look into his eyes – you can’t even find the right words to describe the emotions that are lingering in them, but they make your inside flutter so wildly, you feel the need to clench your thighs together as he looms over you, but you can’t, he doesn’t let you.

His nose brushes against yours, his hair falls in front of his eyes as he inches closer to you, his breath kissing your skin.

“Has anyone ever put you in your place, Blondie?” He asks as he drums his finger along your shoulder, hooking it around the strap of your dress.

“W-What?” You stutter, hating how weak and shaky your voice sounds.

“I’m taking that as a no.”

Steve drags the strap down, and he leans down to press his lips against your shoulder, “I wanted to be nice, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, “wanted to take care of you, but fuck, you leave me no choice.”

You squirm beneath him, digging your nails into the flesh of your legs as you furrow your brows at his words.

His lips ghost over your collarbone, his hand now pushing your dress down a little, he exposes your chest to him, and he traces the outline of your breast before his fingers pinch your nipple, making you whine again.

“Time for you to understand–” He murmurs as he plants a kiss to your jaw, “-- that I’m the only one you need.”

His movements are soft, his touches are gentle but to your surprise, they don’t stay that way, after a few more kisses, he flips the bottom part of your dress over, bunching it around your waist, he hooks his finger around your panties and tears them off of you, throwing them over his back, not caring where they land. His fingers trace your legs, hands finding their way to your heels, he unfastens the straps around your ankles, and takes them off before he returns his attention to where you need him the most.

He teases you with his fingers, torturing your clit and chuckling darkly at the whines that start filling the space around you.

Steve had been intense and rough before, but one look into his face shows you that you will get more tonight, so much more.

He splits you open with his fingers again, sinking them into your soaked hole, he fucks you with them, he taunts you with his words and sucks more marks onto your skin, littering the other side of your neck and your chest with hickeys. He makes you see stars with the way he curls his digits inside of you and rubs your clit.

To your surprise and confusion, he doesn’t let you cum, he pulls his fingers out and stops touching you when you’re about to fall apart, just like he did before in the bathroom. Nothing like this ever happened before.

You don’t think anything of it at first, not when he seems desperate to fill you up in a different way. He fumbles with his pants and pushes them down, along with his boxers. He rolls a condom over his length again, one of many he has in the glove compartment because sometimes you two don’t even reach a bed when seeing each other, rushing to do it just as he did earlier, your mouth waters at the sight of his leaking, red tip.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, grabbing your waist and pulling your weakened body on top of him, you instantly reach for his shoulders, grabbing them tightly as he gives you no time to react before he makes you sink down on his cock – you don’t mind. You are so needy, so wet for him that your juices soak your inner thighs.

But you need to feel his skin on yours, so you reach for the hem of his shirt, and pull it over his head, he leans forward as you rip it off of him. You throw it on the seat and wrap your arms around his naked shoulders, pressing yourself against his hairy chest.

You are the first to start moving, rolling your hips and riding him slowly, but he isn’t satisfied with that, he wants something else, he wants more.

Steve makes you bounce on his dick, he holds your hips harshly and uses you as though you’re a fleshlight, filling you to the brim and slamming you up and down on his dick, fucking you rather disrespectfully.

He makes you fall forward, as your eyes shut at the roughness and the intensity. He is buried so deep inside of you, you’re not sure if you have ever felt this before. Tears blur your vision again that night, moans turn into whimpers and whimpers into cries, the pleasure so strong, so overwhelming.

You throw your hand against the fogged up window, slamming your palm against it, leaving a handprint there for him.

No words escape you, not even his name, the only thing you can do is fall limply against his body and hide your face in the crook of his neck as drool starts coming out of your mouth but the moment it touches his skin, Steve grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back to him again, so he can see your face.

“Does he even get to see you like this?” He grunts, fucking up into you and watching the way you squeeze your crying eyes shut. “Drooling? Crying? I bet I’m the only one you’ve ever been this cock drunk for… aren’t I?”

You nod your head wildly, panting and gasping as pain and pleasure mix together. He thinks it’s just physical, but there is so much more to it. You knew you would turn into this for him and just him, you’ve always known.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve lets go of your neck, making you fall back against him, he decides to tease you more by smacking your ass, causing you to jolt and whimper, filling him with satisfaction.

He makes your pleasure the more unbearable, causing you to clench around him.

And just like before, just as you’re so close to reaching your peak, he stops your movements all together, filling you with anger now, making you snap out of the haze he put you into. He stills and grabs you tightly, so you won’t move, he lifts you up and off his cock, biting back a groan.

“W-What the fuck, Steve?” You cry out, “I-I was so close!”

His eyes are nearly unrecognizable when he squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, forcing you to look at him. The angry sight in front of you, only makes you clench around him even harder.

“You’re not cumming until I say so, Blondie.” It was stern, but Steve had a point to make, he needs to make it happen.

You aren’t even aware of what is going on inside of his troubled mind, you could never even guess, not even when he flips you over and throws you down under him, placing your left leg over his shoulder.

The position is quite cramping, but you forget about any kind of pain, when he sinks back inside of you and starts pounding into you with a force that makes the stars shine brighter and your heart race faster.

Steve is not even focused on his pleasure, despite how good you feel around him, all that he can think about is your pleasure. He gives his all, he gives everything to kill any memory of what any of your other hookups did to you, of the pleasure they made you feel, of the pleasure he once made you feel.

He snaps his hips into yours, fucking you so deeply and roughly, making his dick ache in pleasure.

He surely never fucked anyone this way before. He never felt this angry before.

He watches you closely, the way your pussy flutters around his dick, the way you grip the leather beneath you, nearly ripping through it with your nails as tears of pleasure stream down your face and you tilt your head to the side with furrowed brows, your tits bouncing as he slams you back and forth on the seats.

Your moans are so loud that anyone who were to pass by, would freak out and almost faint or call the cops.

He is not even touching your clit, not even grazing it with his fingers, not giving it any pleasure again… yet. But he feels your fluttering walls, how tight you are getting around him, how high pitched your moans are getting – you are close, so close.

And so is he, he keeps thrusting in and out of you, not tearing his eyes off of your beautiful face as he chases his own high, roughly and deeply. Your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as he finishes into the condom, groaning as your walls grip him tightly.

Steve pulls out of you reluctantly, stopping your pleasure once again.

He pulls your leg off his shoulder gently and places it back on the seat, giving it a squeeze.

His chest heaves up and down, he breathes heavily as he stares at you, biting back the chuckle when your eyes shoot open and a bewildered look crosses your face, the tears in your eyes still shining brightly as you raise yourself up on your elbows, frowning angrily at him.

“You– I’m going to fucking kill you, Steve, it’s not fair!” Your bottom lip trembles, you are clearly very frustrated with him.

He looks down to hide the amusement on his face, taking the condom off, he ties it up and throws it on the ground, making a mental note to throw it away later on.

Steve tugs himself back into his boxers and pulls his pants up, not bothering with his belt just yet.

He shakes his head at you when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding yourself from him. He hooks his hands around your knees, pulling you closer against him before he tears them apart again, exposing your glistening swollen pussy to him.

He licks his lips as he hooks your leg around his hip, holding it there as brings his other hand back to your center, he bites down on his lip, looking at you with mischief in his eyes as he delivers a slap to your clit.

“Wha– Steve!” You gasp in surprise and if he weren’t so determined, so centered on you, he would have been surprised by his action too.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, using his pointer finger to tease your slit, he spreads your folds apart, and slips his middle finger and ring finger into your sopping pussy, he focuses on your face.

Your angry features slowly relax again, mouth parting as he starts to move his fingers again, this time he does aim for your orgasm… and more.

He moves slowly at first, rocking his fingers in and out of you, moaning himself at the noises he draws from your pussy.

Despite the pleasure that you’re falling back into again, you grow flustered at the noises and raise your hands up to your face, covering it and hiding yourself from him, but your action only earns you another slap to your clit.

“Uh uh,” Steve shakes his head at you, letting go of your leg, he reaches forward and grabs both of your wrists with one hand, dragging your hands away from your face, “don’t hide from me.”

“But–”

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, tearing a gasp from you.

“No buts,” he grumbles, as he moves steadily, fingering your pussy roughly now. He angles his hand differently, the end of his palm now brushing against your aching clit every time he thrusts his fingers deeply into you.

He shuts you up quickly, making every word, every sentence get caught in your throat.

His left hand fondles your boobs, your waist, your stomach, your hip – he touches you everywhere, leaving every inch of your skin burning with desire. His fingertips dig deeply into your leg as he keeps you spread open, his thigh keeping your other leg from closing, as he abuses your cunt with his fingers that are much longer than your own.

Your back arches in pleasure, your sensitive core crying for more.

The feeling inside of you is different, new, but you aren’t surprised by it, he edged you three or four times tonight, tears of frustration fell from your eyes, those tears that are now caused by pleasure and sensitivity.

Your whimpers are so erotic to him, just like the wetness he can hear as he is knuckles deep inside of you, stretching you open. He can see the goosebumps on your skin and the way your stomach tenses up, the way your breathing stutters.

You are in bliss, he can see it on your face, there is not a single thought in that pretty head of yours.

He leans down, pressing into you as he inches closer to your face, pecking your lips, “no one else can make you feel like this… no one.” He whispers against your lips, placing another kiss upon them before he moves to your marked up neck, ghosting over it and inching down to your chest, trailing kisses along the way to your boobs. He wraps his lips around your nipple, looking up at you, he begins to suck, adding more pleasure to your body.

You belong to him.

“Steve!” You whimper, throwing your hands into his hair, you let your fingers get lost in it.

He moans against you, quickening the pace of his fingers, curling them even harder inside of you, making you shudder at the feeling, jolting even when he presses his thumb against your swollen clit.

You tremble beneath him, the wave of pleasure being so strong that a sob falls from your lips, your fingers curling into his hair roughly, “fuck… baby,” you whine.

A surprised whimper falls from his own lips, the nickname stopping every thought in his mind, for a second.

Baby, Baby, Baby…

No one has ever called him that, no one. The fact that you are the first, somehow makes it better, and he doesn’t even know why.

The coil inside of you grows bigger and bigger, an unfamiliar feeling bubbles in your lower stomach, making drool form on your tongue and stars blur your vision. Your nerves feel as though they are on fire, your skin prickling as he fucks you roughly.

“I-I’m so close,” you whimper and scrunch your face up as you move your hips a little, meeting his thrusts.

He is so lost in you and your moans, he doesn’t even realize that he is biting, tugging on your nipple with his teeth until a new, higher moan escapes you.

“O-Oh my god,” you whisper shakily as your eyes roll back, “S-Steve! That feels so good!”

“Yeah?” He murmurs against you, lips returning to your neck, he pecks it a few times as he looks down, watching the way your thighs tremble, the way the muscles in your stomach tense so tightly and your chest rises up and down so much heavier than before, “your thighs are shaking so much… holy shit.”

The pressure inside of you becomes so overwhelming, it feels a lot, it feels too much.

“S-Steve,” you tremble, “t-that feels weird.”

Your voice sounds so small, unsure, yet the moans won’t stop escaping you.

“No, baby, you’re doing so good,” he whispers as he lets go of your leg, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, he wipes your tears and brushes your hair out of your face, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip, “just trust me… let go for me.”

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, not even when he starts peppering your face with kisses.

The pleasure is too much, the pressure makes you panic slightly, but he doesn’t stop, if anything, he fucks you harder and faster with his fingers, keeping them curled inside of you, his palm keeps brushing your overstimulated clit. He is hoping to get what he has been seeking. You haven’t trembled this much before, and he is confident, he is so confident that you won’t forget this, that you won’t forget how he made you feel, that you won’t forget him.

“C’mon,” he murmurs against your lips, “I know you want to.”

Your bottom lip shakes, the pressure threatening to explode inside of you, every inch of your body now burning and quivering.

You let go of his hair and throw your hand down to wrap your fingers around his wrist, your eyes open, and you look at him through your blurry vision.

Your moans and the squelching that gets louder and louder, sounds that are like music to his ears, making his stomach flutter and his dick twitch again – to his own surprise.

“I-I can’t– too much, Steve!” You whine, nearing an edge you have never touched before, “I’m gonna–”

You never get to finish your sentence, because as Steve plunges his fingers in even deeper, and curls them harder. You can only throw your head back, a mix between a squeal and a whimper falling.

Steve nearly stops all of his movements when you clench around his fingers like a vice.

Your hips jerk upwards as liquids shoot out of you, and he gets to where he wanted.

“H-Holy shit–”

Steve’s eyes widen, a chuckle of amusement and excitement leaving his lips, he stares at you in awe. Surprised at the tent in his pants, he is rock hard again.

He keeps pounding his fingers in and out of you, not stopping his movements just yet. With a smirk, he leans down to kiss your cheek, cooing at you, “you’re such a good girl for me.” He says possessively.

Your walls unclench around him, and he thinks it’s all, when you suddenly clench again, tighter than before, another shockwave rushes through your body, and you squirt even more, the leather beneath you becoming even wetter than before.

Steve’s hand is drenched, up to his elbow, and so is the front of his jeans, his stomach and the window behind him. The evidence of how good he made you feel is all over his seats, filling him with pride.

A satisfied smirk plays on his lips, he feels like he’s on top of the world, he feels like a fucking king again, knowing that he brought such pleasure to your body.

He never even thought that this was possible, that this move in porn movies is nothing but a myth, but he had to try, he had to try it with you. It would have shamed him before to admit he had been watching more porn than usual just to do the things he sees with you, but now? He feels like he is the most intelligent person in the world.

Your body falls limp, whines and whimpers still filling the space around you, tears roll down your cheek as you’re trying to catch your breath.

Steve pats your cheek, caressing it gently as he stares at you fondly, “hey, are you okay?” He whispers, unable to stop himself from pecking your lips.

You nod weakly, still needing a moment to come down from the high.

He keeps kissing you, playing with your hair as he caresses your skin, pulling his fingers out of you after a while, making you whine again.

You open your eyes, struggling to keep them open after the intense orgasm you just had. You look into his eyes, they’re filled with victory. A proud smile playing on his lips.

You raise your eyebrows when you notice the drops on the window, the wet seats, his soaked hands and the wetness beneath you.

Heat rushes up to your cheeks, embarrassment rushes through you and you can’t help but gasp as you look around the mess that you made. Tears blur your vision, “o-oh my god!” You say weakly, shakily as you start crying, catching him off guard, “I-I’m so sorry, Steve!”

You press your palms against the wet seats and push to sit up.

Steve shakes his head at you, he cups your cheeks and shushes you by kissing your lips again, “fuck, Blondie, don’t cry – holy shit, that was so fucking hot,” he chuckles, “it’s just leather, sweetheart. And honestly, this feels like a fucking victory to me.”

You blink through your tears, looking at him with big and glassy eyes, your heart still pounds in your chest, shame swirling deeply in your chest.

“Really?”

He nearly faints at the look in your eyes.

Who would’ve thought that Steve would ever get to see you like this or that he’d get to be the one to make you come undone so intensely?

You are so vulnerable, right now. It tugs at his heartstrings, knowing that you struggle with emotions, that you hate showing weakness and tears – yet here you are, even if it’s only out of shame, it shows him that you trust him, even if only a little.

You’re unaware of the fluttering in his chest that you cause, the warmth around his heart as he stares at you. He traces your cheek before he slips his hands down to your waist.

You look so fucking cute.

How can he not adore you when you look at him like this?

He gulps as he is completely aware of the way his heart feels.

You’re going to be a problem, that’s for sure – but he can’t find it in himself to care, not now.

He sits back and pulls you along with him, dragging you into his lap, he surprises you by wrapping his arms around your shaking, hot body. He pulls you into him so he can hug you, he cups the back of your head and makes you relax against his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, feeling the need to treat you gently, sweetly.

Your breath hitches in your throat, his actions doing nothing to calm your racing heart.

It takes you a moment, but eventually, you calm down and close your eyes as you bury your face in his bare chest, his hair tickling your cheek a little. Steve runs his finger up and down your spine, making your heart race.

Your body is aching, your legs are trembling, you nearly squeal when his crotch brushes against your center as you try to move closer to him.

“Wait,” he whispers, he grabs your waist again and changes your position, moving both of your legs over his thighs instead, so you don’t have to straddle him, and then, he pulls you back into his chest again. He brushes his fingers against your upper arm, stroking your skin softly, “is that better?”

You nod.

“Good,” he whispers, letting all his emotions guide him as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Y-You made me squirt,” you whisper, blushing.

He chuckles, looking down at you and the way your cheek is pressed against his chest, “yeah Blondie, I made you squirt. I never did that in my life, you never did that in your life, we should put a memory plaque here.”

Finally, a giggle falls from your lips, and you look up at him, amusement shining in your eyes.

“I need a shower and sleep for like… three days straight.”

Steve chuckles, squeezing you tighter, he finds himself liking the feeling of holding you this way, he can’t help but want to pull you closer.

“I’m happy to provide all that for you,” he smiles down at you.

Steve likes to see you in his clothes, he likes it when you take showers at his place and make his bathroom smell like your shampoo and your sweet body wash.

He missed it last night.

He clears his throat, his smile falling a bit, “why didn’t you uh… call me the past two days?”

You hesitate, not wanting to show your face to him, you keep your head down.

“Oh uh… I felt sick, nauseous, probably because of something I ate, maybe it was Eddie’s attempt at the homemade burrito…”

Steve’s mind was plagued with ugly thoughts after seeing you with Jacob, but this is beginning to ease his mind a little.

“Wait so,” he blinks, sitting up straighter as he continues to look down at you, “you were home?”

You nod, meeting his eyes, “where else would I be?”

It’s not exactly a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either. You had an appointment in the morning, one that you had been nervously awaiting for weeks.

The tension that remained leaves his body completely now, relief rushes through him, making him relax fully.

“I thought… since Jacob was back–”

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen, before a smile appears on your lips.

“Aw, is Stevie jealous and worried that someone is going to take his place?” You ask him, taunting him a little.

Yeah, he actually is.

But he can’t tell you that, can he?

He pinches your ass with his fingers, a smirk tugging at his lips, “don’t get all bratty now, or I will show you how no one can replace me… again.”

You’re a little taken aback by all the comments, by his actions today, by the softness of his touch, right now. He didn’t fight you on it. He just told you to not be bratty instead of telling you to stop thinking that way.

Today, he treated you as though you were his.

He acted out of jealousy and was possessive over you, and in the end, he pulled you into his arms, treating you with such gentleness that it will surely leave a stain in your heart forever.

This is dangerous, he is dangerous.

He is giving you a glimpse of something that you will never have.

He is showing you colors, you can’t ever see with anyone else.

And maybe, this should be enough to make you run into safety, to protect your heart from the pain it will suffer when it’s all over.

But in what world, would you ever run from him?

You know how this will end, but it won’t stop you from kissing his lips and letting him into you.

He can break your heart and shatter your soul for all you care.

It’s all his anyway.

Eddie looked all over for you, the backyard, the kitchen, even the bathroom and the bedrooms, he was sick with worry as he searched for you. He got distracted when Robin forced him into a game of beer pong, with Argyle and Vickie, and lost sight of you.

The girl ended up calming him down, when she told him that Steve took you home, you looked sick apparently. But Eddie knows better than that.

He knows deep in his gut that his suspicions were right, that he wasn’t thinking into it too deeply.

On his way out of Vickie’s house, he bumps into someone, turning around to apologize, he finds a very drunk Jacob, he raises his hands up, slurring out an apology, but then a confused frown appears on his face when he seems to recognize him.

“Munson, you’re friends with her, right?”

“Huh, with who?” Eddie mumbles, tilting his head.

Jacob says your name and Eddie blinks a few times and slowly nods, “best friends actually, what of it?”

The tall jock smells like beer and weed mixed together as he steps closer, invading his space a little.

“Well, I mean, is she dating Harrington or something?” Jacob asks, shaking his head.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, curiosity sparking inside of him.

“Um…” He could say no, he definitely could, but Jacob seems like a source of information right now, and he decides to use this opportunity to find out more, “what makes you think that?”

“Well, the fact that this guy cockblocked me two times tonight is the main one. Tried flirting with her and he just pulled her away and even dared to glare at me as if I were the one interrupting his conversation, man." Jacob is slurring, rambling, and he just looks like a guy that lost the opportunity, not someone who would push you into a date or something.

But Eddie is stunned by the revelation, so he pressed forward.

“Two times?”

“Yeah, the first one he took her somewhere as soon as I started talking to her, and the next he interrupted us so he could leave with her... Say sorry to Harrington for me, she didn't tell me she was dating him,” he mumbles, waving his hand as he rolls his eyes and steps.

Eddie’s gears work, trying to figure out a way to confirm all of this, but for now, the information is enough, his suspicions only growing with certainty. A small honest smile appears on his face and he pats Jacob on the shoulder.

“Thank you Leeney. I'll make sure to let Stevie know.”

The blond nods and steps away, giving him a weak smile before he walks off, leaving Eddie by himself.

His dark brown eyes flash with understanding and realization, a laugh of disbelief falling from his lips as he puts all the puzzle pieces together.

He brings his hand up to his chin and shakes his head when he thinks of the marks on both yours and Steve’s skin.

A scoff falls from Eddie’s lips.

“Chandler and Heidi, right.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @taintedcigs @joekeerysmoles @ibellcipem @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn628 @corrodedcorpses @munsonlore @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

#my writing ♡#dwoht #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #stranger things angst

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chestersturniolo · 4 months ago

Text

𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎

who knew cake could be such a turn on

~~~

Pairing ; fem!reader x Matt Sturniolo

Warnings ; pet names, use of y/n, swearing , light smuttiness/suggestive , not proof read yet

i let my eyes wonder over my figure as i stare at the reflection in the mirror, the baby blue lace clinging to my body in the most flattering way.

i reach for my satin robe,slipping it on over the matching bra and panties- tying a lazy bow around my waist.

Im home alone, but Matt is due home any minute. he spent the afternoon with his brothers and parents, celebrating their birthdays together like they always do. it was tradition for him to be with nick and chris,and i didnt mind at all, considering the evening i have planned for him.

the patter of my feet echos through the hallway as i make my way through to the kitchen.

i swing open the fridge and pull out the birthday cake i spent the afternoon on, setting it down on the counter. i smile to myself as i reach into a draw, pulling out some blue candles, before pushing them into the cake.

just as i push the final candle into the cake i hear front door click, followed by light footsteps up the stairs - almost like he timed it.

i glance up, a wide smile spreading on my face as i see Matt reach the top of the stairs.

“hey sweetheart” he chirps, returning the grin. his wandering eyes don’t go unnoticed as he makes his way over to me.

his eyes fall to the cake on the counter and his features soften further,

“for me?” he whines slightly , giving me the most loving , mushy eyes as he reaches for my waist.

i let out a soft chuckle as i melt into his touch.

“for you…happy birthday baby”

he pulls me close with the cheesiest smile on his face, the tips of our noses brushing together

“thankyou” he whispers, placing the softest, ghost like kiss onto my lips.

my hands trail up his torso, snaking around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper. i feel the once innocent kiss becoming more and more heated the longer our bodies are intertwined.

i feel matts tongue brush my bottom lip begging for access. i gladly part my lips and our tongues immediately start to caress eachother.

Matts hands wonder needily around my body, the thin satin of my robe doesn’t shield the coldness of his rings, sending shivers down my spine , simultaneously , fire to my core.

i squeeze my thighs together to try and ease the buzz between my legs as i pull away slowly. i part our bodies as i reach for the cake, sliding it across the counter. i glance up at Matt, his lips parted and eyes filled with curiosity.

i take my finger and swipe it through the icing, before bringing it up to Matts mouth. he doesn’t hesitate, taking my finger into his mouth, cleaning off the icing with a pop. all whilst our eyes are locked together.

i leave my eyes layed on his, as i bring my hand down to the bow tied around my waist, slowly tugging it loose. my robe falls open, revealing the blue lacy underwear hugging my figure.

a soft audible groan instantly leaves Matts lips as his eyes fall down to my lace clad frame. his eyes flashing with hunger whilst his mouth hangs open.

“fuck” he whispers to himself.

a soft smug smile plays at the corner of my mouth, as i once again reach for the cake. i swipe my finger through the icing once more, taking a bigger scoop.

i crane my neck to the side slightly, before placing my finger on the underside of my jaw. Matt watches me like a hawk does it’s prey. whilst i start to slide my finger downwards, leaving a trail of icing down my neck, collarbone, all the way down to the pretty trim of my bra.

Matt licks his lips as we stare at eachother with lust filled eyes.

i reach up and cup the back of his neck,pulling him down to my jaw. his warm breath teases my neck before he attaches his lips, slowly working his way down my neck swirling his tongue, leaving nips and sucks along the way.

i let my head roll back as i bask in the euphoric feeling of my boyfriends mouth. soft moans slipping from my lips.

Matt reaches the trim of my bra, lapping up the last of the icing. he lingers around my boobs , nuzzling his face against them, leaving hungry open mouthed kisses as his hands grip my hips. i tangle my hands into his curls as i watch.

“god you’re-so-so fucking hot” he breathlessly mumbles against my skin inbetween kisses.

i once again squeeze my thighs together, feeling myself growing wetter with every harsh brush of matts needy mouth.

i bring my hand underneath his jaw, guiding him upwards, he hesitantly parts from my skin, bringing his face up to mine, quickly reconnecting our lips. one of his hands tangles itself into my hair whilst the other takes a firm hold of my throat.

his sugary mouth humming softly into mine.

Matt pulls away, breathing heavily through his swollen lips

“y/n fuuuck baby i need you” he groans , shifting uncomfortably in his jeans.

my gaze falls to the prominent tent in his pants, as i take my bottom lip between my teeth.

i look up to matt with a smirk.

i grab his hand lacing our fingers together. quickly pulling him towards the bedroom.

“follow me, birthday boy”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a/n ; um can someone deliver matt and a cake to me RN that would be great :)

making a tag list soon so let me know if you wanna be on it ✨

hope you enjoyed 🫶🏼

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

#sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets

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theragethatisdesire · 1 year ago

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aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

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

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on.

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

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crispywaffles2 · 8 months ago

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hii, may I request macaque, wukong, and MK (seperately) x reader who likes to put ribbon bows on their tails? Thought it would be a cute idea ^_^

Hii!! Thank you so much for the request, this is such a cute thing to think about! I hope you enjoy! EDIT: I FORGOT TO WRITE MK IN THIS AS WELL, IM SO SORRY 😭

Macaque, Mk & Wukong With an S/O who likes to decorate their tails!

Wukong:

Wukong is most certainly confused by your strange habit

If you were to ask him to put a ribbon or bow on his tail, he'd give you a strange look

"A bow? Well... uh, sure bud!"

It doesn't really match his whole "Great Sage Equal to Heaven" schtick in his opinion

What would formidable enemies think if he went into battle with a cutesy bow on his tail??

His monkeys most certainly make fun of him for it, much to his dismay

He wouldn't wear it if he was about to go into battle or leave his mountain at first, because if his monkeys make fun of it who knows who else will do the same?

Eventually he'll warm up to it

If you tie a little orange ribbon at the end of his tail trust and believe he will be working it with pride

"Oooh, I like this color! Goes well with my fur,"

He'd start longingly staring at the sweet ribbons you tie on his tail whenever you're not around and he misses you because they remind him of you

He'll start wearing them out in public with a bit less shame, happily flicking his tail in peoples faces

"Look! My partner gave it to me, isn't it so cute?"

And he'll start wearing them in battles too!

Having a little piece of you there with him gives him just a little bit of an extra boost and reminds him of all of the things he's fighting for

Now he likes to think they go well with his personality

"Great Sage Equal to Heaven" whos not afraid to have a bit of a cutesy accessory while he kicks butt

If you're more sneaky with their placement though, that's a whole other story

He's out enjoying a nice bowl of noodles with his favorite mentor, only mentor honestly, and he hears them chuckle and point at his tail while uttering the words "Nice bow Monkey Princess,"

His face goes bright red and he quickly curls his tail around his leg to hide the thoughtfully tied ribbon from view

"Yeah, so what?! Maybe I was just feelin' a bit more elegant today, you ever think about that?"

But as soon as he bids Mk adieu he's right at your doorstep with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face

An embarrassed scolding is in order for you, that's for sure

"Hun, you know I love you, but you can't just tie ribbons on my tail like that! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was when my mentor called me a princess?!"

Eventually he relents and you two end up in a hug, his go-to when reassuring you that he's not mad or he's sorry

"Just don't do it without telling me. Next time I could be faced with Macaque, and you know how he is."

All in all it takes him a bit of time to warm up to it, but after that he'll flaunt them, and you, with confidence

Macaque:

Macaque is a lot more reluctant than his sunny counterpart

He has a tough bad boy image to uphold, why on Earth would he let you bedazzle him with your silly ribbons and bows?

"A bow? No thanks darlin'."

It takes lots of begging and whining before he caves in, and even then he refuses to go out in them

You couldn't waterboard the information out of him, but when you finish carefully tying up the little red ribbon on the end of his tail he's in love

It goes well with his cape and adds a sort of air of sophistication onto his overall demeanor

It's probably just the inner drama queen in him speaking but it makes him feel weirdly fancy and extravagant

But again, he's not going to tell you that

He won't protest as much when you tie them on

Will suggest different colors and ways to tie the ribbons

"Why don't we try purple this time? No it's not because I care about what it looks like- it was just a suggestion!"

Sometimes he tries to put them on himself because he's embarrassed to ask you, but he quickly figured out that he cannot tie bows for the life of him

And even if he learns, they're just not the same as yours

He will eventually come around to the idea of wearing them in public

He keeps his ribbon clad tail hidden beneath his cape most of the time unless he's feeling particularly confident or he wants to show it off on purpose

If anyone has the gall to try and make fun of it he's quick to shoot them down

"Yeah I have a bow on my tail, my partner gave it to me. Aww, don't tell me you don't have a partner of your own? Is that why you think you're funny? Because you don't have anyone at home to tell you you're not?"

He warms up to the idea so much that he begins to regularly ask you to decorate his tail with multiple bows and ribbons

One time, as a silly joke, you tied a particularly big red bow at the base of his tail and jokingly told him he looked like a show cat

It was a funny joke, but Macaque really really liked it

So much so that he wore it regularly, asking you to tie it on for him every time he went out

If you were to be sneaky and tie it on his tail without him knowing well..

He's actually not that upset

He's hanging out with Mei, probably the one he likes and relates to the most out of everyone, when she giggles and points at his tail, calling him 'coquette' or something

He's not sure what that term means, but he does find the fact that a little pink bow being tied on his tail without his knowledge to be amusing

Just for funsies he keeps it on all day

If and when he decides to go visit the culprit, which he knows is you, he playfully chides you

"Alright sugarplum, you know I have an image to uphold! You can't just slip little pretty pink bows on my tail without my permission!"

Once you two have had a good laugh he just chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead

All in all he really likes the bows that you decorate him with and takes it as a sign of affection, but it takes a long time for him to be open about it

Mk:

Mk in his monkey form is certainly.. something

He can't quite control himself in that form yet, but that isn't to say that he's constantly violent

He just doesn't know his own strength

With his monkey form more stern and serious, he doesn't hold back, he's blunt

And, completely unrelated, his voice is like two octaves deeper

He's scared he might hurt you, or the people he cares about, so he rarely ever uses it unless he's in battle or training

In hopes of making him more comfortable and as a way of letting him know that you're okay with this side of himself, you began tying bows on the end of his tail

He's not sure how to feel about the idea at first

"Tying.. bows? Sure, I guess.."

He doesn't know if you don't take him seriously or if you're just trying to be sweet

He's still getting used to having a tail, so sometimes it gets caught on things, which will occasionally lead to your ribbons getting torn

It makes him feel horrible for some reason, and he's always presenting the torn fabric to you like it's the remains of a dead soldier or something

"I'm so sorry. It was an accident, I promise,"

He's not against wearing them out in public (not that he ever goes in public with his monkey form)

If it's after a battle and someone were to say anything about his bow he'd hardly care

"Looks like we got a funny guy over here everyone!"

And everyone in the vicinity glares at them

Much like his mentor, he slowly starts seeing the bows less as just some silly accessory on his tail and more as a subtle reminder of you

Whenever he's in his monkey form he makes sure to come to you for a bow

"I'm feeling kinda red-ish today, what do you think?"

Your plan works, and he starts feeling better about his over powered simian side

You love him no matter what, freakishly strong or just a silly delivery boy, and the bows are just a testament to that

All in all, he finds them adorable, and what they represent fuel him to fully embrace this side of himself in order to protect the people he cares about

#macaque x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #lmk macaque #wukong x reader #lmk headcanon #lmk wukong #Lmk mk #mk x reader

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gloryy-vs · 2 years ago

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aonung x shy and tiny reader

pls i live for protective aonung 😭😭🙏 they'd be childhood friends and grew up decided that they will be mates eventually

My Mate

characters: ao’nung x na’vi reader

ratings: sfw , fluff

He always had at least one hand on you, or an arm wrapped around your waist. Ao’nung never let you leave his sight. Not much changed between you two since you were younger, he was always looking over you protectively. A running joke between your parents and his was that he was your personal warrior. Ready to spill blood for you when the time comes.

“Ma Ao’nung, come help me add a bead to my songcord. Let’s get matching ones for the Tulkun’s and their return!” You said happily, not noticing that you were interrupting his time with his friends. He didn’t seem to care, a smile creeping on his face while he got up. Ao’nung saw the two seashells in your palm, a soft grey color with a pearly coating.

As usual, he placed a hand on your lower back, turning you around gently as he spoke to his friends. “I’ll be back later. We can go hunting.” They rolled their eyes playfully, making it clear that this was an almost everyday occurrence. You flashed them an apologetic smile, they didn’t hold it against you anyways.

You excitedly explained to your mate about where you found the shells, a bit deeper in the sand, so it took you a while to find one that was similar. “Come! Let’s add them now.” You said happily, practically skipping to your shared Marui with him.

Ao’nung had a big smirk on his face, sitting down first with his legs spread apart. You grabbed your carved box with weaving materials and other beads before sitting between Ao’nungs legs with your back against his chest. You both unwrapped your songcord from your wrists, finding where the latest bead was placed and unknotting the end. He moved his arms to wrap around you, and he placed his head on your shoulder so he could see what he was doing. You loved any kind of physical contact with him, feeling his heart beat, the way his breath tickles your neck just barely.

You wrapped the twine and string around the silvery shell, securing it with a knot at the end. Your attention shifted to how Ao’nungs fingers worked so intricately, tying a knot at the end of his own songcord. He brushed a few stray strands of your hair from your face as you turned around a faced him at an angle. You held your wrist out, wanting him to tie it back for you.

“You always do it just right. Not too tight, not too loose.” In all honesty it’s because you also couldn’t tie it with one hand.

He laughed, already knowing the real reason. His hands were warm against your cooler skin, and his eyes shot ip to look at you while he tied a small bow for your songcord.

“You’re cold. Cmere.” He said, tapping away at your wrist to let you know you can put it down. He wrapped his arms around you, squishing you against him.

Rolling your eyes, you fought for him to let you go. “Cant, breathe!” You said, but he refused to budge.

“You’ll be okay.” Ao’nung said, looking down at you. His eyes stared at all of your feature for a brief moment, taking everything in.

“You’d make a perfect Tsahik.” He said, as if he was lost in thought still staring at you.

Your mouth was agape, a flustered expression covering your face as you looked at the future chief. He ran his fingers through the parts of your hair that weren’t braided, his other hand resting on your hand and caressing your palm softly.

“We should officially mate, before Eywa. I want you to be my Tsahik.” Ao’nung suggested, but the tone in his voice suggested that it was more of a demand.

You stiffened but slowly relaxed, knowing he would be with you each step of the way, even if it was a big responsibility and a important thing he was asking of you. You nodded, and a smile grew on his teal face.

“I must go ask your father permission to court you, come. We don’t have all day.” He said, giddy over the fact everything would be official between you two as soon as you mate.

#avatar neteyam #avatar way of water #neteyam imagine #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar loak #neteyam #avatar jake #neteyam x you #aonung imagine #aonung x you #aonung #aonung avatar #aonung x reader

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kamiversee · 9 months ago

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 22 || The Anime References

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, smut, & a teeny-weeny drop of angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.9k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——GOJO SATORU WAS ALMOST TOO stunned to speak. He knows he just gave you his consent to do whatever you want but he was not mentally prepared for you to request such a thing.

Since when were you into that kinda stuff? Have you always been? Why do you even want to tie him up? So many questions run through his mind after your words hit his ears.

Nonetheless, his answer is a quick, "Sure." Then, he swallows down a deep sum of air to collect himself, "But uh... can I ask why you want to tie me up?"

You smile and lean away from his face, moving your hands over his arms and slowly pulling them off your body, "Cause' I know how much you like touching me." You explain.

Gojo smirks slightly, "So then, is this your form of punishment or somethin'?"

His arms are drawn off of you completely before you move them over his head again, crossing his wrists over one another and holding them there. "Yeah," You whisper, kissing him on the cheek, "After all, you said I could use you."

Gojo chuckles, "R-Right..."

With a smile, you lift yourself from sitting on him and carefully get off the bed. You didn't have the whole thing planned out or anything and you were just going to go with the flow based on how you felt. Gojo stayed put, arms up over his head, watching you walk around your dim room in search of something.

After a couple of minutes, you find a strip of abandoned ribbon that'd come off of one of your dresses some time ago. It was long enough to wrap around his wrists and you already knew he wasn't going to try breaking out of it so it's not like you needed something extremely strong.

The silky fabric of the ribbon was bright baby blue, the color ironically matching Gojo. You chuckle at the irony as you head back over to him and move to straddle his body once more.

Gojo watches with wide eyes as you hold yourself up and tie his wrists together above his head. You decide to knot the ribbon into a pretty little bow, smiling at the cuteness of it despite what you plan on doing.

"Pretty color," Gojo comments quietly.

"It's not too tight, is it?" You question just in case.

He tries to part his wrists from one another and then shakes his head, "Nope, it's perfect." He then looks up into your eyes, "But y'know... we should establish a safe word just in case."

You blink, almost embarrassed that you didn't think of that after being the one to suggest this entire thing. "Right uhm... well, you're the one tied up so..."

Gojo glances off to the side to think, taking only a few seconds before he shrugs, "Red."

You gradually ease yourself down from standing on your knees to sit on his lap again, "Red?"

"Mhm..." Gojo hums.

"So if I get too rough or..." Your voice softens, "If you grow uncomfortable..."

"I'll say red."

A sigh is let out from you as you shut your eyes and begin to worry, "Are you sure you're okay with this-"

"Sweetheart, what part of my body is nothing more than a tool for you, did you not understand?" Gojo cuts off, the look in his eyes serious.

You understood it perfectly well but, you were hesitant since using someone isn't exactly something you're fond of-- after all, you're not him. With a sigh, you give him a nod and ease yourself back into your mindset.

A little more small talk occurs as you make sure he's not uncomfortable, having never done this kind of thing before and wanting to be safe. It's only his wrists tied up but you can't help but feel anxious anyways.

Gojo assures you with gentle whispers, telling you over and over that you can use him as you see fit and he tries his best to talk you through all of your worried questions.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you finally grow comfortable with the situation again, your lips are right back on his.

It's a heated kiss this time and Gojo quickly regrets allowing you to tie him up. There was so much precum leaking from his cock that he could feel the slight mess he was of himself within his boxers. He didn't expect to get this turned on by being restricted but he was.

Each time you pulled away from his lips to breathe, Gojo would chase after you desperately, never wanting the kiss to end. He's so clearly not used to being the one with no control so it takes him some time to get used to it.

It's cute how he pushes himself forward to meet your lips once more, how he lets out quiet whines every time you kiss him passionately or aggressively, and so very sexy how he'll groan into your mouth every time you roll your hips and grind against his cock.

His head tilts in the opposite direction of yours, teeth moving to tug on your lower lip in an attempt of keeping you close to him. You end up prying away from his mouth anyway, another messy string of saliva keeping the two of you connected.

Your hands slide down the man's body while the two of you pant for lost air and you soon grab ahold of the bottom of his t-shirt, quickly working the item up and over his head. It's discarded before you start touching his abs and feeling him tense up beneath you.

Your lips make contact with his neck and Gojo groans again, "Fuck," He breathes.

You begin to suck on the area just under his jaw and watch the way he squirms beneath you, his movement making you grin.

"S-Shit." Gojo chokes out, "Not there-, agh..."

You pull away slightly, "Hm? Why?"

He's glad you aren't looking at his face right now because it's bright red, embarrassment overwhelming him before he utters out the words, "T-That's..." Gojo's voice gets smaller, "Where I'm weak-"

You cut him off by sucking on the area he's referring to, hearing the way he moans softly and feeling how his cock twitches beneath you.

"G-God-," Gojo choked, tipping his head further back and allowing you more space to kiss him, despite being overly sensitive.

Your mouth works to leave a dark mark on the male's pale skin, sliding down to kiss and nibble on other parts of his neck before you consider yourself satisfied.

When your head pulls away from his neck, you move to take the sweater he gave you off. Gojo's eyes widen as he sees your body for the first time after so long, quickly noticing faint love marks and bitemarks in various places.

Choso had quite literally left his mark on you after the multiple times you slept with him, hickeys decorating different parts of your torso. Hell, there's even a bite mark on your shoulder that Gojo notices.

Clearly, you'd slept with Choso more times than you told Gojo you did. That fact quickly makes the man beneath you so very jealous. He doesn't even care if he shouldn't feel that way-- seeing visual evidence of you with someone else makes his heart hurt.

As if he wasn't the one who forced you to do so anyway...

You grin at how Gojo's eyes go from one mark to another, happy to show evidence of you receiving pleasure from someone who isn't him. And what makes it better is that he knows it's Choso who left these marks on you, having been aware that you never let anyone else leave anything on you.

Even so, the marks on your body are in the act of fading away since it's been some time since you've been with Choso.

"Gojo," You whisper, earning a glance from the male.

"H-Hm?" He hums. His face was so flushed and his entire body felt like it was on fire, "Yes ma'am?" He utters in response.

Even his voice was affected by all the kissing and taunting, now having a raspy little pitch to it.

"You said you missed me, right?" You ask as you move your hands behind your back and unclip your bra.

Gojo doesn't miss the way you sensually take the item off, allowing your breasts to spill out in front of him. The sight only makes his dick throb violently beneath you.

"Mhm," Gojo ends up humming in response to you.

You tilt your head before lifting yourself up a little, your hand moving down to his sweats, "Tell me what you missed about me."

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to do so, words falling off his tongue immediately when your hand touches his bulge. "Hah... A-Alright," Gojo breathes out.

Your eyes are on him while you soon work his bottoms off. Gojo struggles to begin when your hand goes into his boxers and you work his cock out, length slapping against his abdomen. You can't help but smile at the sight of his wet member, eyeing the precum oozing out of his tip and slipping down along his shaft.

Saliva builds up in your mouth as you stare, pulse after pulse felt from in between your legs.

"I-I uhm..." Gojo inhales sharply, "Fuck, where do I even start?" He chuckles wearily.

Your eyes are glued down to his dick, bottom lip getting caught in between your teeth as you move only your index finger to roll around his tip. "Wherever you want," You reply.

Gojo tries lifting his hips into your touch, "Shit, okay... I missed your face," He begins, swallowing down any sounds of his that threaten to pour out. "Y-Your voice... Hah, I really missed your voice..." He emphasizes.

"Awwh... go on..." You taunt, moving to toy with his erection by giving him only one gentle stroke.

"Mmgh... U-Uh, your-" You suddenly spit down onto his tip, causing Gojo to straight up whine. "A-Ah... your mouth, fucking hell..." He groaned throughout his little noise.

Your body is seated slightly on his thighs as you begin to torture him by slowly jerking him off. "My mouth?" You echo.

"Mhm," He whines again, "M-Missed feelin' you too."

"Yeah?" You say cooingly.

Gojo feels the way your hand squeezes his tip and he can't help the moan that leaves him, "O-Oh fuuuck." He shuts his eyes and tries lifting his hips into your hold.

You smirk, "You're weak here too, huh?" Your words were said to mock his earlier statement, clearly making him worse beneath you.

"Only when you touch me t-there..." Gojo almost whimpers, "I'm only w-weak for you..."

You rotate your palm around his tip while stroking his length, feeling yourself soak at the state you've reduced this man to. "Really? What's so special about me?" You whisper.

"E-Everything," Gojo choked, his jaw dropping in reaction to your hand movements, "Fuckin' everything, I swear..."

"Mmh..." You hum lightly.

Your hand gives him one last pull before you remove it from his cock, causing Gojo to tip his head back and pant. You move to simply pull your panties to the side, now feeling so needy for friction.

The man beneath you almost cums when you simply hover over him, maneuvering his cock to rub in between your wet folds.

"F-Fuck," Gojo curses, "P-Put it in... Please, fuck I c-can't take this..." He begs desperately.

You smile and ignore him, just barely pressing yourself down and not even allowing his tip to enter you. Instead, you drag him against your sex over and over, the sensation dizzying you with arousal as his needy tip slips over your clit.

"Hah... What?" You ask as if you didn't hear him the first time.

"Please put it in," Gojo whined, "Needa' be inside you s'fucking b-bad..." He slurs out, his eyes watering.

His expression is so desperate for you, the sight only adding to how wet you are. You continue your teasing anyway, rolling your hips in a circle around his tip, "Beg a little more and maybe I'll put in."

"Ha-ah... S'that what you want?" Gojo scoffs heavily, "W-Want me to fuckin' beg?"

Technically, he already was begging but you thrived off hearing him like this.

"C'mon... a-at least the tip?" Gojo pleads, "Please?"

You clench around nothing due to the sound of his voice. "One more time f'me." You utter.

"P-Please." Gojo moans, "Pleease, fuck..." His eyes are so teary and he's simply hazed with lust and desperation, "Please-, a-ahh... please let me be inside y-you." He whimpers.

You quickly folded under the sound of his begging. Gojo has never been so whiny and needy like this for you before so you found yourself a complete mess in between your legs, liquids from your arousal dripping down onto his cock.

"You're not gonna cum inside me as soon as I put it in, are you?" You ask him, tilting your head.

He knows he wants to and it'll be difficult not to do such a thing when he's already leaking like crazy. "M-Mhm..." He hums.

You start to lower yourself, allowing his tip to just barely push into you, "Words." You order.

He smiles, just barely, "...N-No promises," Gojo sighs, "Aagh... feels l-like I'm gonna cum right now..."

You frown, "C'mon now, don't disappoint me..."

"I'll h-hold it..." He breathes, "Just... please, just fuck me."

Your eyes skim over his flushed expression, seeing how his chest rises and falls rapidly due to his heavy breathing. His teary blue eyes are stuck on your face, refusing to look down at your actions.

"You're so cute like this, y'know..." You sigh, trying not to moan while you finally sink a mere inch down onto him.

"Mmmh... A-Am I?" He hums.

You nod, your gaze diving back down to your actions as you see how much of his cock you have left to sit yourself down on. You'd forgotten how lengthy the male is, swallowing nervously while you look at the sight below.

You're worried you may not be able to keep up this dominant act of yours. You continue anyway, sliding down inch by inch until you get about halfway. Gojo's eyes flicker and his lips remain parted.

You look him dead in the eyes and purposefully clench around his length, watching the way he literally chokes on air.

"Oh c-c'monn... y-you can't expect me not to cum when you..." His jaw drops and a heavy breath leaves his throat, "f-fuckin' squeeze around me like that..."

An innocent smile graces your face, "If you cum without my permission, I'm only gonna make things worse for you."

"I w-won't." Gojo says, "You're jus' makin' it hard for me not to."

You chuckle slightly at him in response before adjusting yourself. Leaning back, you move both of your hands behind you to hold your body up and then sit yourself all the way down on his dick. Gojo moans all too loudly in relief, the sound filling the air of your room.

One of your hands flies back in front of you as you place your hand over his mouth. "You're so noisy," You point out, your voice coming out softer than you would've liked. "Be quieter f'me..."

Gojo shakes his head, knowing won't be able to. "Can't," He just barely mumbles out beneath your skin.

You feel him whine against your hand, his breath warm against you. "Yes you cannn." You whisper encouragingly, "C'mon Gojo..."

He shakes his head for a second time and closes his eyes, pressing his lips into your hand and kissing you. "C-Can you call me Satoru? P-Please," He begs desperately.

You sigh, "Promise not to be too loud 'nd maybe I will."

Gojo suddenly licks your hand and just barely opens his eyes, his pretty eyelashes moist with the way he was on the verge of pleasureful tears. "I promise," He breathes out, his lips moving against your palm, "P-Promise not to be loud..."

You retreat your hand from his mouth, "Alright then..."

Your arm moves behind you once more, leaning yourself back before you roll your hips forward and feel the way his cock twitches inside you. This is the type of sex you expected to have last night-- the type of sex you needed.

You pick up a steady rhythm of grinding over Gojo with the tip of his dick nice and snug up against your cervix without him having to do much. The male grits his teeth and his eyes flicker as you begin to ride him slowly. He tries to keep his gaze on your face, watching the way your lips part and you moan ever so slightly.

Your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth as you struggle a little to keep your noises in. Feeling his cockhead knock around your insides, sliding against your walls in all the right ways is only dizzying you with pleasure.

Gojo was able to keep himself from looking at the entire lewd sight in front of him up until he saw your arm move in his peripherals. His eyes mistakenly drop down to the movement and he watches as you move two fingers over your clit, his breath hitching at the sight.

He wishes he could've done that for you instead but given the restraints, all he can do is watch you satisfy yourself and feel the way your wam cunt clenches around his girth. "Fuck," He curses under his breath.

Your hips suddenly lift a little and then ease back down, giving both of you more pleasure than expected. You moan a bit more than you expected yourself to and Gojo... he almost blew his load.

His head rests against the headboard and his eyes roll back, "W-Warn me next time b-before you-," His words are cut off as you ignore him and simply repeat your action, lifting yourself up and easing right back down. Gojo whimpers again, as quietly as he possibly can, "M'gonna c-cum..."

You lean forward and pull yourself almost all the way up, only his tip left inside you, and then drop yourself right back down. "N-Not yet," You stammer out to him.

Nothing you prepare him for the struggle he begins to face as you start bouncing on his cock. Every time he feels your soaked walls slide back down on his cock, he swears he's another second close to spilling his seed inside you. And of course, you make it worse by moving to messily kiss his exposed neck.

Gojo's arms twitch within the restraints, wanting nothing more than to move you away from his neck for just a second. "Fu-uck... p-please..." He begs, not even knowing what exactly what he's begging for.

You continue your movements, using your muscles to ride his cock and please yourself. Your breath is warm against his neck as you eagerly rub two fingers over your clit, "Mmgh... f-fuck... please what, Satoru?" You moan softly.

The aggressive twitching of his cock is felt as you question him. Gojo lets out another whine, the sound going straight to your core. "L-Let me c-cum..." He moans, sudden tears rolling down his cheeks.

No one has ever made him feel like this before. He's not sure if it was the restraints, the way you kisses, nibbled, and sucked on his neck, the way you rode his dick or the way you said his name but, Gojo was losing his mind trying not to release.

You move to that sensitive spot right under his jaw and suck at his skin before speaking against it, "...Lemme hear you b-beg again," You stammer slightly. It was difficult for you to speak one hundred percent properly with how deep inside you his cock reached.

"H-Hhnngh.... P-Please..." Gojo croaks out, "Please let me cum... c-can't hold it anymore... please... I-I'll do anything, fuuuuck... please."

You moan against his neck as his words go straight to your pussy, causing you to only clench around him even more. "A-Anything?" You smile slightly.

Gojo sucks in a deep breath, the sound close to a sniffle, "Yes. Any-, ngh... t-thing..." He sighs.

You move to his ear, "Delete the video of me."

He shakes his head, "I already d-did..." Gojo finally tells you.

That information makes your cunt throb for some reason as if the sound of freedom from that stupid list turned you on. "L-Liar," You huff out, not yet fully believing him.

"M'not lying..." Gojo suddenly sniffles, tears of struggling pleasure rolling down his cheeks, "D-Deleted it a long-, ah... t-time ago...."

You lean away from his ear and slow your pace a little, staring into his teary eyes. "Mmgh... really?"

He nods, "Mhm..."

Your arms wrap around his neck and you near his lips while humping him slowly, the pleasure making your eyes flicker. He wasn't the only one who was close. "So... hah, are you finally l-letting me go?" You whisper.

One of your hands slides up into his hair, feeling his white strands in between your fingers. Gojo shakes his head, "C-Could never let you go, sweetheart." He claims, not exactly referring to the list anymore.

You swallow and furrow your brows, your gaze traveling between his left and right eyes in search of an explanation, "Fuck... What do you mean?"

He pants, letting the desperation for his release and his emotions get the absolute best of him. Gojo unintentionally peers up into your eyes longingly, choking out something all too emotional, "I love you too much to do that..." He cries out, the look in his eyes completely serious and vulnerable.

Your jaw drops and your hips stutter in movement, "W-What?"

"I love you," Gojo repeats, swallowing afterward, "L-Love you s'much..."

"Satoru..." You flash him a confused look, "Y-You don't mean th-that..."

He nods his head, his eyes struggling to remain on yours, "I do. I s-swear, m'so in love with you-, fuck..."

You breathe out a heavy pant, trying to wrap your head around his sudden confession. There is absolutely no way your blackmailer is in love with you. Surely he's just saying this because he... maybe he's confused? He can't love you, it doesn't make sense.

Gojo leans forward and kisses you, breaking you away from your panicked thoughts, "C-Can I... ha-ah, nngh... Can I..." He trails off, struggling to voice his request.

You know what he wants anyway so you simply nod, permitting him to finally release. Gojo's eyes roll all the way back as he finally cums inside you with an unintentionally loud groan.

You're still stunned by his confession, a mixture of confusion and arousal fighting within your mind. Part of you is too into the moment to really process what he said but the other part of you was just left in disbelief.

Something inside you feels all mushy and you unconsciously voice out a soft, "Can you say it again?"

You can still feel him releasing into you, painting your insides white with his seed while you continue. "I-I love you," Gojo stammers, his eyes slowly going back into place.

"Mmgh... Y-Yeah?" You smile for some reason and reach your orgasm unexpectedly.

There's a mess where the two of you are connected but you don't care. Not only is Gojo still hard after his release, but you have no desire to move away from him.

After one last look of longing, the two of your lips connect. You both moan into each other's mouth as you press your body flush against his. The rapid beating of both your hearts can be felt against your chest and his.

Soft smacks, mixed with moans and whines slip into the sex-induced air. Gojo's arms continue to twitch as you make out with him, feining for the feeling of your skin against his fingertips. He wants to run his hands along your waist, your hips, hell, he even longs to roll his thumb over your clit.

So badly does Gojo want to please you even more.

You drag your lips away from his, leaving only a little bit of space between you and him, "S-Satoru," You call out, your gaze hazy, "T-Tell me you didn't mean that."

He smirks tiredly, "I can't."

You shake your head in disapproval, "You can't love me."

"Why not?" He sighs. "Hm?"

You peck his lips again, "Cause' I hate you..."

He chuckles against you while you part your lips over his. Your tongue enters his mouth and he accepts it happily, his cum-covered cock nestling inside your warmth.

"No..." He speaks between kisses, "You don't."

You groan into his mouth and he tries not to smile against you, "I do."

"Liar," He argues.

Your lips disconnect and you frown, "You know I do."

"Then," Gojo swallows, "Why do you kiss me like that?"

"You're a good kisser." You reply.

He raises a brow, "Why'd you fuck me like that?"

"You make me feel good, sometimes."

"Alright," He scoffs, "Last one; why... why are you looking at me like that?"

"Satoru, you literally just told me you love me. How the hell am I supposed to look at you?" You utter in disbelief.

He shakes his head, "Definitely not like that."

"And what is that, exactly?"

He grins, "Like you feel the same-"

"In your dreams." You cut off.

"Sweetheart... it's okay to love me too y'know."

"Fuck you." You fire at him.

"You jus' did."

You release a groan, annoyed by his claims now that he's returning to his normal state. "And I'm gonna do it again if you don't shut up." You threaten.

"Oh, I'm definitely not shutting up now." He flashes a charming yet fucked out smile, "Fuck me again please."

Your cunt squeezes around him, "...No."

"Mmgh... Or you can keep doin' that." He shrugs, "I like the way you keep my dick warm."

"You talk too much y'know."

"Shut me up then," Gojo challenges.

With a roll of your eyes, you move a hand to the side of his face, your thumb sliding to his lip, "Open," You order.

Almost like a well-trained dog, Gojo obediently parts his lips for you. With a smile, you slide your thumb into his mouth, "Now," You lean closer to him, "Be a good boy and keep quiet, okay?"

Gojo chokes around your finger and he blinks, his cock twitching within you.

The feeling makes you smile, "You're into that too? Shit... how many kinks do you have...?"

He sucks on your thumb eagerly, his eyes low but directly on yours. The man shrugs as if to answer you and you chuckle.

Slowly, you pull your finger out of his mouth and switch to replace it with your middle and ring finer. Gojo raises his brows, wondering what you have planned inside that head of yours.

After a few gentle thrusts of your fingers into his mouth and slips along his tongue, you draw them out with a loud pop leaving him.

Your torso then leans back again and Gojo gets a full view of your body, watching as you take your fingers that are covered in his saliva, and slip them down to rub slow circles around your clit. He lets out a deep hum while watching.

"That's so sexy. Fuuck..." Gojo voices out.

You smile before rolling your head back and moaning softly, "Aah.. is it?"

The male bites his lip and suddenly grinds his hips up into you, catching you by surprise as his cock presses against your insides. "So fuckin' sexy." He utters.

He then looks down at how he looks inside you, wanting to press against the bulge his dick creates against your skin so badly. A whine leaves those pretty lips of yours and Gojo smiles.

"Look who's being loud now?" He taunts.

"Shut up." You reply.

He chuckles, "Whyy? Teasing you is funnn."

"I'm s-supposed to be the one teasing you." You stammer suddenly as he works up a little pace below you, trying to match his slight thrusts to the movement of your fingers.

"You still can... But c'mon, you gotta let me tease you at least a little bit." He says, flashing a cheeky little smile.

"No, I don't."

His expression sinks into a pout, "But you like when I tease you."

"I do not..." You deny.

"Yeahh you do."

"You're so annoying."

"Am I?" Gojo tilts his head and narrows his eyes, his sights set on the way your folds spread around his member, "Even when my cock is stuffed inside you, I'm still annoying?"

Your breathing stutters, "G-God, shut up..."

"Nah, I don't think I will." Gojo hums, softly rutting his hips up into your sopping hole. "You should see the way you creamed around me."

"That was you... n-not me."

"No, sweetheart." He smiles, "That's you."

"It's not-"

"Listen to it." Gojo interrupts.

You blink, "W-What?"

Gojo's hips continue to steadily fuck up into your cunt, the sloppy wet sounds hitting your ears. "Hear that?" He taunts, grunting slightly, "Hear how messy you are f'me?"

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, "Shut up-," The tip of his cock rams into this dizzying spot inside you, making you choke, "F-Fuck..."

"Y'know if you untie me... I'd be able to fuck you properly." Gojo suggests.

"No..." You tell him.

He groans frustratedly, deciding to just quietly watch you work to get yourself off for a second time. His hips continue the steady push upward, constantly giving you friction and making you feel good, even if only a little bit.

After a few seconds, your head rolls back into place and you notice the way his rose-tinted lips are parted and his eyes are downward. With a swallow, you try to go back to what he said earlier, "Satoru..." You call softly.

"Hm?" He hums, his eyes remaining down.

"Did you mean i-it?"

"Mean what?" He sighs.

You rub over your clit a bit faster and he tries to match your pace as best as he can, "...Are you really... mgh, in love with me?"

He tips his head back and smiles, "Terribly so, yes."

"Hah... and, I don't have to finish the list right?" You ask.

He freezes. Gojo almost forgot that he told you he deleted the video of you, quickly regretting admitting that to you. "U-Uhm..."

You frown at his hesitance, "Satoru, please?" You whine.

He grits his teeth and looks away from you, "I... You still have t-to finish it..."

You're not sure what you expected and you don't even want to ask why-- already having an idea of what his next form of blackmail would be. After all, you did fuck a professor and for a man who wasn't scared to go to jail, you're sure he's not scared to expose that information.

So, you simply shake your head in disbelief before lifting yourself. For a second, Gojo thought you were about to hop off him but you catch him off guard by plopping all your weight back down.

"H-Holy-," His eyes go wide, "F-Fuck, sweetheart... m'sensative-," He whines.

Your hand suddenly moves to his face and you force him to look at you as you ride him aggressively, "Good." You breathe out to him.

Gojo quickly falls back into that whiney state from earlier. "P-Please, wa-ait..." He chokes out.

You continue anyways, your eyes tear due to the pleasure and the situation, "I r-really fucking hate you, y'know that?"

He moans, "Th-Then... why're you still, aagh... fucking me?"

You scoff, "Cause' that's all you're good for." You utter meanly.

He sighs and the sound of your skin meeting his every time you sink down on him fills the room. The noises are wet and sloppy due to how hard the male came inside you and the entire thing is creamy where you're connected.

"Nnngh," Gojo moans, "I'm s-sorry..."

"You don't mean it," You fire back, trying your hardest not to moan along with him, "You.. mmh.. Y-You never do."

He let something slip abruptly, "W-Wish I c-could tell you everything, sweets..."

Your brows furrow at that.

Are you missing something here?

What else is there for him to tell you? He's blackmailing you into sleeping with people he owes favors to. What more is there to that story?

Too caught up in the act of pleasing yourself, you brush his comment off for now, deciding to come back to it when his cock isn't stuffed inside you.

With that, Gojo continues, "...I-I promise I'll..." He hesitates to finish. "I'll help y-you get with-, agh... I'll h-help you get with Choso." He suddenly promises to you.

Your movement stutters at the mere mention of your crush, a moan pouring from your lips. "Mmgh, really?" It's not the best promise in the world and you'd much rather he just drop the list but-- you suppose it makes up for something.

He nods his head, "Yes... I swear..." Gojo says urgently, "I-I'll make sure he never finds out about the list and..." Your cunt tightens around him suddenly, "Oh f-fuck... I'll uh... m-make sure you guys get t-together." He finally gets out.

Your eyes narrow and your orgasm grows near, "You swear?"

"S-Swear it on my love for you-," Gojo claims. If only you knew how deep that affection really went, "Swear on my life." He whispers.

You grit your teeth and sigh out a heavy, "Okay."

It's not perfect but, for now, you suppose that's a decent enough promise to encourage you to finish the list. Though, you were never truly worried about Choso finding out about the list so it was kind of odd that Gojo mentioned it in the first place.

That, and once you finish the list, you already know Choso's going to accept you into his arms-- you wouldn't need help with that. But, something about Gojo's promise felt needed. It felt like something you had to accept or else things would get worse.

You are unsure of what this underlying emotion it was that you were feeling but there was just something about his promise. It felt different than his last one, it felt more severe.

This severity that you felt was something that you'd figure out much later but as of now; you wrapped your arms around Gojo's neck and continued your acts until both of you came undone for a second time.

Whatever it was you felt about that promise of his; it was important.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

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soulmatesinc-if · 1 year ago

Text

A light-hearted interactive fiction game about soulmates, chances and choices, written in ChoiceScript.

|| PLAY HERE || [119k]

|| extra content ||

Here at Soulmates Inc we specialize in chance meetings!

Love happens.

It takes by the storm. It is lucky, it is cruel, it makes no sense, it elevates. It is beautiful, it rears its ugly head, then it is beautiful once again. Now that, humans can manage on their own.

Soulmate-grade connection is an entirely different brand. Enter you. That's your brand. It requires dedicated labor. Whimsical meetings. Nuance.

As a soul-link, you arrange for those destined matches to happen using the powers of glamor at your disposal. An ancient practice, really, though, as with everything, it has evolved and happily marched with the times. You work out of an office, have a phone plan, a lease, and a favorite restaurant. Your boss is not a half-naked man with a bow and arrows but a fashionably dressed man who goes to a gym and drives an electrical Mustang.

It is nice. Modern.

Just one rule. The only rule, in fact. A scripture, if you will: never interact with a soul directly.

Which is precisely why your most recent half-match staring at your confused face is so damn bad. Worse yet, they can see right through your glamor for some reason.

Now what?..

love is all around you but it does not have to be for you: play as aro, ace, bi, gay or straight. Your romantic prospects are three, but each has a story to tell

explore who you are: a firm and enthusiastic believer, a burned-out office worker, or a skeptical soul-link questioning their purpose

use and evolve your soul-link powers: Empathy and Shroud

keep up with your job duties and bring people together while trying to protect your employer from a greater looming threat

someone is throwing around heavy words like 'destiny', but dealing with existential questions is entirely optional!

Amber | Andrew Wyatt Once a high-performer soul-link, they flew too close to the sun and snooped around where one does not snoop around. Having fallen from grace at a company that believes in chances, Wyatt is back on probation, though under your supervision. The light is snuffed out of their eyes, and instead of being a firm believer, Wyatt now drips disillusioned pearls of what they think is wisdom.

A languid redhead who wears sunglasses more often than not.

Samuel | Samantha C. Powell Sam has a steady job, does weekly family visits and always parks the bike properly. How do you learn that? Sam is also your sparkling new charge, a common everyperson, a salt of the earth—nope, not that simple at all! You cannot seem to find their soulmate (never happens) and they can see through your glamor (never happens either). To be fair, Sam is freaked out by it, too.

Your sporty charge in a wrinkle-free T-shirt with a mess of locs held back by a band.

Martin | Mia Romero A hectic ball of energy that is a human person, they are passionate about their distaste for your employer's business and are happy to go in length about it. Romero is messy, yet strangely put together in their belief: a hurricane that may sweep you off your feet if you are not careful enough. They know things, things no human should. You should probably report that to your boss...

A city dweller with hair tied sloppily in a short low ponytail, perfectly matched with dramatic eyebags.

#interactive fiction #if wip #if game #if intro #choicescript game #soulmatesinc if #romance #choicescript #cyoa #humor #urban fantasy

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thefanbasewhore · 1 year ago

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Skz think your skirt is too short. | Bangchan, Felix, Hyunjin and Changbin.

a/n: currently accepting preference/blurb requests for stray kids (NSFW included)

💖🌷Bang Chan:

The moment he sees you slip from the room he stands just a little bit taller. Eyes roaming over those legs, bare and soft. Your skin is forever tattooed in the pads of his fingers which he feels twitch, wanting to feel the soft ribbons of your skin.

The skirt was cute, it's flowy and matches the color of your white socks. Without even realizing he's grouping the back of your thigh, pushing you close until you're cuddled into his chest.

He presses a gentle kiss to your head but just like that a light goes off. Full protective mode is on. The brunette's hands clasp at your shoulders and pull you away to take one more look. If he's thinking this so will other guys.

"Babygirl," He starts softly, "You look so so cute and I love it but isn't is a little short?"

"But Babe," You whine, pouting and meeting his eyes. "It's not that short."

Chan scoffs, raising his eyes brows. "Yeah? Bend over, love, we'll test it."

Crossing your arms against your chest and not caring to move a muscle to challenge him. Not wanting to fall into exactly what he wants; for you to change.

"I want to wear it." Chan huffs, rolling his eyes but you know it's a facade, he can never be made at you. He pulls his hoodie off and over, messing his hair in the process but he still looked so cute as he wrapped the sleeves around your waist.

He doesn't move once it's tied; instead simply presses a kiss to your forehead. "What my baby wants she gets."

💖🌷 Felix:

The restaurant is rather crowded, he's skimming past the tables, looking around to find you. He is rather busy but promised he would make a quick trip to meet your friends. The relationship is fairly new, however, meeting the people who mean the most to you is important to him.

What he doesn't expect is you sandwiched between two guys. Well, that's dramatic, seated in SEPARATE chairs between two men. One of them has his arm resting on the back of your chair as he brings his phone closer to show you something.

As he walks closer he can't help but look at your legs, bare but crossed, causing your skirt to ride up more. No doubt the man next to you is getting an eye full. Felix pulls at his jacket, sleeve by sleeve and clears his throat; directly behind you.

Before you can even realize it's him he lays the jacket over your legs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Hi baby."

"Hi everyone." He bows politely. "I'm Felix."

The night went pretty well, they all seemed impressed. One of the men gave their seat up for him. During conversation he leans forward to whisper into your ear, "Your skirt is a little short, yeah?"

He watches as your nose scrunches, Felix was never protective like this before. Besides who is he to tell you? "Excuse me?"

He seems to have noticed the change, "Not like that baby, you look so pretty. I mean you keep pulling it down and moving. Just uncomfortable?"

Oh sweet little Felix, it makes you pout slightly and apologize, "I'm sorry Lix, I thought you meant something else."

"No worries, love, we can go back to mine. I'll give you some of my sweats to wear. Get my angel nice and cozy." He reaches and pinches the skin of your cheek affectionately but his hand drops once realizing the whole table is staring at you both. He clears his throat, turning as red as you in embarrassment.

💖🌷Hyunjin:

"No," Hyunjin says a little too quickly for your liking the moment you step out of the room. A frown forms on your lips showing your own disappointment.

"But I think it's cute and matches so well."

"No." His brows scrunch together, as his long finger nudges you gently to turn. The moment you do he's repeating himself, "Absolutely not."

"Baby.." you get but he's not having it.

"Too short. If you were going with me then yes, not out with your friends."

"Why not?"

"There's a lot of creeps out there, I don't want anyone thinking they will get a peak." His hand meets the small of your back, gently guiding you to the bedroom. "A little longer, petal."

"Hyunjin, I will look out for myself."

"Please, just change?" His face is only inches from your own, lips forming a soft pout. You're about to tell him no but those damn puppy eyes make you sigh.

"Fine but I'm mad at you." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"We can go out to dinner tomorrow and you can wear it, promise, flower."

💖🌷 Changbin:

"Baby," He pouts softly watching as you apply mascara. On your tippy toes, reaching over the bathroom sink to see which makes your skirt rise up just enough to see the bottom of your underwear. "You can't go out like this, it's too short."

Changbin comes behind you, both hands on either sides of the counter, boxing you in. He's so big he takes up most of the space but you just continue to apply your makeup. "Honey, I said it's too short." He whispers against your skin before softening his words with a kiss at the shell of your ear.

"It's fine, Bin."

"Nooo." He practically whines, "You look too good, everyone is going to be staring at you."

"No one is going to be looking at me."

"What if you need to bend down? Everyone is going to see your panties and cute little butt, it's mine." He makes you laugh as you turn around wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Do you want to come with us?"

You watch his eyes light up, you want him to come to dinner with your friends?

"Wait, really babe?"

"Mhmm, of course you're always invited." Before you know it he's scrambling to get dressed but not before throwing a pair of stalkings your way.

"Sorry baby, it's so short. For my peace of mind."

#stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #hyunjin x reader #felix lee x reader #changbin x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids

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suzukiblu · 28 days ago

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. . . anyway LISTEN I told 'yall November was gonna be "obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU" month, and I really did not INTEND to post my daily words for it again this year but also, like, fuck it, we ball. No promises I will update EVERY day this time around but again: fuck it, we ball. ( also uhhhhh I've been writing this fic kinda-sorta-semi out of order lately but there is still a significant chunk of word count I'd already written that I would've pre-gamed and posted YESTERDAY if I'd thought I was gonna be doing this, sooooo hope nobody minds us kickin' off the month with like an extra 5.9k on top of the 1.6k of obligatory sugar that I ACTUALLY wrote today behind this here cut? yes? no?? Bueller???? )

get sugared, Super-boytoy. Tim, you just . . . you just do your future-supervillain best over there, buddy. you just do what you can with yourself. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I wanted to,” Tim says again, and Kon glances away and bites his lip, turning the flowers by the stem again.

“It’s, uh–pretty,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, it’s–cool. Thanks.”

“If I can’t bring you fresh ones, well . . .” Tim shrugs. Kon glances back to him, and very briefly presses one of the orchid blooms against his own mouth. His face is still all flushed and his eyes are still a little soft, and it’s . . . it makes a picture, alright, even if it's not one Tim's specifically set up to take. Especially with the gold eyeliner and his blue eyes both matching the orchids.

Tim didn't plan that, obviously, but he thinks it makes up for the sapphire versus ruby thing.

“Um . . .” Kon trails off, biting his lip. Glances down at the orchids from under his lashes. It doesn't make him any less of a picture, for sure. “So, um–do you wanna see the ‘something nice’ I got?”

Tim blinks, immediately thinks of the most embarrassing option that Kon could possibly mean, and desperately tries to fight back a mortified flush at the idea. But, well–everything he can see Kon wearing is something he remembers buying him already, so . . .

Oh god, he needs his brain to shut up right now. Immediately. Right now and immediately and forever.

“Sure,” he says like a normal person, trying not to panic. “What is it?”

Kon, thank god, pulls a little rectangular package inexplicably–and inexpertly–wrapped in newspaper comics out of the same coat pocket he tucked the jewelry box in. There's plain white string tied around it in a bow.

Tim . . . blinks.

If he didn't know better, he'd think Kon had . . .

“I, um, got you something?” Kon says, and Tim stares blankly at the package. He–what? “For once, anyway. Well, I guess, uh, technically you got it for yourself, and actually this is kinda stupid maybe, you can literally just get yourself whatever you want whenever, obviously, but I just thought, uh–”

“You got me something?” Tim repeats in surprise. Kon turns pink and shoves the package at him. Tim is too bewildered not to take it.

“I thought it’d be, uh–fun,” he says, biting his lip and still very visibly blushing. “I mean–that we could have some fun with it. Y’know?”

Tim stares at the package for another moment, then looks up at Kon. Alright, this maybe isn’t exactly the vibe he was going for here in terms of who’s paying for what and who’s giving things to who, but . . . well, Kon apparently used his allowance for whatever this is, at least, which gives him a reason to have wanted the allowance, so . . . he can work with that, he figures. Like, it’s an “in” to work from; a step in the process.

He can’t tell what Kon’s gotten him from the shape of the package, though the edges are hard even though it doesn’t feel like it’s in a box or anything. “Have some fun” isn’t much of a clue, though he supposes it does imply something interactive. Maybe it’s a game of some kind, or–

Tim unties the bow and splits apart the clumsy seam of the comic-page wrapping paper with his thumb, tugging through its layers to reveal the package’s contents, and Kon flushes a little darker and watches him just a little bit nervously.

Tim doesn’t actually know what to say.

“I just thought, um, a real one’d probably take better pictures than a phone can,” Kon says sheepishly, slanting his eyes away and half-hiding his face behind the orchids. “I made sure the battery was charged and the guy at the store said it's got a lot of storage, I guess, so . . .”

“You got me a camera,” Tim says blankly, which is the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him short of, like . . . no, it’s pretty much just the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him. By far it’s the most bewildering possible thing that Kon could have gotten him.

“You like taking pictures, right?” Kon fidgets a little, then smiles just barely shyly as he glances back at him. Tim's heart skips a few beats. Or more than just “a few”, maybe. “So, um–I thought maybe we could go do that . . . somewhere. You know, after dinner.”

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him a little stupidly. It’s not a particularly good camera, honestly–like, it’s a perfectly functional model for casual amateur use and a decently reliable commercial brand, but he’s got much better ones that are all professional-quality. He hasn’t used any of them in a while and most of them are admittedly a few years old now, but . . . yeah, this was a hundred bucks max, if that, and his cheapest camera was over five hundred.

Note to self: raise Kon’s allowance.

Also, apparently now his favorite camera is the kind of camera civilian amateurs just take random family photos on. Apparently that’s a thing.

Tim really doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that Kon not only remembered something he mentioned having an interest in, Kon bothered to actually get him something he thought he’d have an interest in. That is really, really not the dynamic he’s been encouraging here, for one thing. And also, why even would Kon do that? Like–really?

“Thanks,” Tim says sincerely, turning the camera over in his hands and feeling incredibly embarrassed about all of this. “I love it.”

“Cool,” Kon says, biting his lip around a smile. His face is still a little pink and he looks all soft and pretty like that, especially with the flowers still in his hand. Tim really was not prepared for Kon having “soft and pretty” in his repertoire. Like, that was not a thing he ever expected to see from his cocky, crowing brawler of a teammate.

Kon’s only a brawler because he thinks he’s supposed to be, though, Tim’s pretty sure. Like–increasingly sure, at this point.

He really, really needs to figure out how to get Kon to tell Robin more about his TTK. Or, like . . . anything about it, apparently. Just literally any single thing, at this point.

“Thank you,” he says again, inspecting the camera assessingly and making note of all its functions and ports and the generally obvious basics. “We could go take some shots around downtown later, if you’re up for that?”

Kon turns bright red, and Tim doesn’t understand for about half a second before remembering–the last time Kon had talked to him about taking pictures, he’d offered . . .

Oh Jesus.

Tim is either incredibly stupid or–actually, he doesn’t even know. Lucky? Embarrassing? The dumbest moron alive who didn’t even realize he was being flirted with again? All those things and several even worse ones?

Kon had offered to let him take spicy pics of him the last time they'd talked about taking pictures, whatever “spicy” means to Kon–brash, impulsive, shameless Kon–and Tim’s the idiot whose first thought upon Kon following up that conversation by very literally giving him a camera was to go take pictures of fucking downtown.

He is the most useless “sugar daddy” to ever sugar.

Well, to be fair, it is Gotham downtown, so it’s very–

“I like taking pictures of streets and buildings,” he blurts belatedly, fumbling to sound like just the oblivious idiot that he is and not some kind of weird fucking perv who’s trying to get Kon arrested for public indecency. Jesus, he’s stupid. “And people-watching is interesting too. You know, stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Kon says, and looks several ways at once, including both a little relieved and a little disheartened, which . . . okay, Tim would literally die if they actually went somewhere to take spicy pics tonight, so is unfortunately unavoidable. He’s not trying to make Kon not feel–attractive or anything, but he needs at least twenty-four hours to make a plan and also two or three or seventeen contingency plans before . . . anything like that happens. Ever. Even in theory. “Um–yeah, sure. That sounds cool.”

“Cool,” Tim says, still desperately pretending to be an idiot. It’s not hard, on account of the fact that he very much is an idiot.

Kon pauses for a moment, then perks up a little, seeming to think of something, and asks–“When’s dinner?”

“Our reservation’s in forty-five minutes,” Tim says, double-checking the time on his phone just to be sure. “Well, forty-six. I figured that’d let us take our time walking over and maybe we could window-shop a little on the way.”

And also shop-shop a lot, if Kon gives him literally even the slightest indication that he wants or needs something. Just if it comes up or anything. That’s all.

Tim definitely did plan their route to the restaurant to cut straight through the middle of the downtown shopping district, either way.

“We could’ve just met there, dude,” Kon says wryly, but grins anyway, glancing down at the orchids in his hand again. “Forty-six minutes, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tim confirms.

“And you like taking pictures of streets and buildings?” Kon asks, his grin turning just a little bit sly. Tim frowns briefly in confusion, not sure what the grin’s about.

“Yeah,” he says. “Gotham has a lot of really interesting architecture and design. Like, it’s an old city, and one that’s been pretty resistant to updates in a lot of areas or just not had the money for those updates. So you get a lot of places with a lot of character and it’s basically the bastard child of gothic and art deco design with a side of industrial warehouse, depending on the part of town you’re in. Like, Crime Alley and the Diamond District have very different vibes, but they’re both very Gotham vibes, if you know what to look for. It’s–”

Kon is grinning really widely at him, for some reason. Tim realizes he’s rambling like a moron and turns red.

“Uh,” he says, repressing a wince. “Yes. Yeah. I like taking pictures of streets and buildings.”

“Cool,” Kon says, and then he carefully packs the orchids back into their box and it back into the gift bag and transfers the chocolates and jewelry back into it too, then grins even wider at him as he hooks the bag’s handles over his arm and into the crook of his elbow. “Don’t drop the camera, babe.”

“Wha–” Tim starts to say, and then Kon grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the closest alley, which is terrible survival instincts for Gotham, oh god, but before Tim can say anything about that Kon’s wrapped an arm around his waist just tight enough to just barely lift him off his feet and bolted straight up into the air with him. “Shit!”

Tim doesn’t drop the camera because he’s held onto cameras while falling off literal buildings before, but definitely only because of that. Muscle memory, or whatever. Also he’s been snatched off his feet by Bruce and Dick plenty of times and thrown off rooftops by multiple rogues and thugs over the years and these days gets regularly dragged around by Bart, all while holding very important things he could not afford to drop, so it’s not like either the sudden jolt or the effort to keep his grip on the camera are as disorienting as it otherwise would be. Just . . .

Ugh, Tim realizes, absolutely unimpressed with himself upon realizing that the breathless feeling he’s having right now is not actually related to the swift and sudden increase in altitude, but is actually just because it’s Kon holding him.

He is an idiot, isn’t he, he reflects resignedly. Just an actual literal idiot.

Jesus.

“Whatcha think?” Kon asks with a grin as he comes to a stop in mid-air with him. He stops very suddenly, but Tim notices a distinct lack of jarring with said stop, which implies Kon’s got his TTK around him again and probably completely around him, which means–

Oh god, Tim thinks, and very quickly makes himself stop thinking about that.

“It’s cool,” he says, because a normal civilian would think flying was something interesting and unusual, but it’s hard to act too excited about a move Kon probably pulls on literally everyone he–

“I meant the view, babe!” Kon says with a laugh, and Tim . . . blinks.

And then he looks down.

They’re hovering a few thousand feet up, and downtown is already lit up bright in the early evening gloom. And Kon . . .

“Streets and buildings, as ordered,” Kon says, grinning wider with a smug, cocky look on his face.

Oh no, he’s hot, Tim realizes with dread, and then blinks again. Stares down at the city below, past the whipping wind and down into the busy streets and the bright, dazzling lights cutting through the murky gloom. He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, obviously, because of course he has–he’s been climbing these rooftops for years, and every night he runs across and swings back and forth between them and utterly fails to learn how to do more than a double backflip.

One day, he promises himself distractedly, and then looks back at Kon.

He’s seen Gotham like this a thousand times, but never just because someone thought he’d like it. Like–not like this, he means. Dick's shown him a few particularly special or exhilarating views over the years, yeah, but . . . definitely not like this. Not for a reason like this.

And definitely not while peacocking all smug and pretty dressed up in clothes that he bought him and holding him close enough to kiss.

Kon’s expression turns a little sheepish; a little soft. Not quite shy, but . . .

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice pitched a little quieter, and Tim has the much worse and even more dread-inducing realization of oh no, he’s CUTE.

He swallows, briefly, and feels his face burn.

“Yeah,” he manages in an almost-normal voice. “I like it.”

Kon grins at him, brighter than any city light, and Tim barely keeps himself from dropping the camera after all.

“Thanks,” he attempts awkwardly, making himself focus on the camera and resisting the urge to take an immediate shot of that city-light grin.

Then he takes one anyway, because of course he does. Kon laughs in surprise, then makes a face at him teasingly.

“Hey, you can buy this face in any cheap gossip rag, focus on the fun stuff,” he jokes, jerking his head towards the city below. Tim looks searchingly at him for a moment, and then for obvious reasons snaps another picture. Kon flushes a little again. They probably won't even come out from this close, but . . .

“You’re the most fun I’ve had all week,” Tim says, which is definitely too honest but clearly necessary to make a point of saying. Kon turns redder, ducking his head and grinning around his bitten lip.

“You don’t have to say that kind of thing to me, man,” he says, and it comes across almost like a reflex. Tim hates . . . yeah, just literally everybody Kon’s ever known in his whole entire life, actually? Like, pretty much everybody? Bart gets a break because he grew up alone in VR and is therefore terrible with people and the girls get a break because they haven’t known any of them that long, but everybody else can just take a long walk off a short gutter, in Tim’s opinion.

Especially any “everybody” from Cadmus.

Or Metropolis, at this point.

“I’m not saying anything I don’t want to say,” he says simply, and goes to the effort to frame a few shots of the skyline so Kon will know he appreciates . . . well, not the angle, exactly, but the thought.

Technically he is usually on top of a building when he’s doing this, so the angle is actually a slightly different one than he’s used to–not that he’s been taking photos lately, just–not the point, really. Kon got him a camera and brought him up here because he clearly thought he’d like it, and damned if Tim is gonna do anything to make him think he doesn’t.

He has better cameras for things like this–aerial shots and night photography and long-distance and the like, and better cameras for closeup candids too–but he already knows these pictures are all going to be exactly what he wants them to be, even the ones that don't come out.

Or especially those, maybe.

He's not sure how he'd explain that feeling to someone else.

Kon flies them around, staying out of sight behind the light pollution and among the shadows of the buildings, and Tim takes . . . a lot more pictures than he needs to, actually. He was just trying to make sure Kon knew he appreciated him thinking of him, but actually . . .

Well.

It’s fun, that’s all.

It’s . . . been a while, kinda, since he got to spend this much time on just photography and nothing else. Or–any time at all, really.

Not that this is nothing else, obviously, given that Kon’s holding him and it is very, very hard to concentrate on anything besides that, but it is the kind of a view a standard civilian never gets, and it’s kind of nice to be flying for non-work-related reasons, for once. Like . . . novel, he guesses. A different experience.

Technically he and Dick do “fly” together just for fun, sometimes, but that’s different. Like–so many kinds of different. It helps them in their work–keeps the rooftops familiar and them both in shape and in sync–but he can’t take photos when he’s trying to keep up with Nightwing across the rooftops of Gotham, and it’s not like Dick’s carrying him either.

Also, it’s much less flustering and difficult to concentrate through, because again, Dick is not carrying him, and also Dick doesn’t do things like wear clothes he bought or do his eyeliner and paint his nails for him. Or, uh . . . anything like that.

Also, definitely the “spicy pics” thing is not at all a thing, with Dick. Like, not even slightly, in any way whatsoever. And they’ve also never made out in a changing room or the back of a planetarium or–

Look, there’s a lot of ways it’s different, okay?

A lot of ways.

“I'm not boring you, am I?” Tim asks a little bit sheepishly as Kon lands them on a ledge just behind one of the bigger gargoyles, tucked in tight in the shadows between it and the building it's perched on. “We can probably still fit in some window-shopping before dinner, if you want.”

“Oh my god, dude, I promise we can do things you don't have to spend money on,” Kon says with a laugh as he lets him down on the ledge. “Though if it helps you technically did spend money on this, given how I got the camera and all.”

“It's your allowance,” Tim says, because he wants to make sure Kon actually gets that. “You can spend it however you want.”

“Well, I spent it how I wanted,” Kon says, and then steps closer into his space with a smile. Tim ends up sitting on the gargoyle’s back as Kon leans down to kiss him, and it's not like he's never kissed anyone while perched on a gargoyle before, but somehow it feels like something new anyway. New and electric, bright and easy and smeared with the city lights and thrilling in its shadows, and–

Kon breaks off the kiss, though he keeps a hand on Tim’s arm, probably to make sure the squishy untrained civilian won't accidentally fall off the ledge and get splatted on the concrete. Tim barely holds himself back from chasing his mouth.

“It's cool, anyway. Um, doing stuff you're into with you, I mean,” Kon says, looking a little soft and almost-shy again, and never mind, Tim not only needs to chase his mouth, he needs to set up a damn manhunt for it. “You're real cute when you get excited, man. I mean, uh–just–”

The manhunt is going to require a very significant budget, Tim notes.

Then he kisses him again, obviously. Kon melts down into it–into him, really–and wraps his arms around his neck, and Tim feels several kind of ways about it. Admittedly, it's the easier option with him sitting on the gargoyle and Kon leaning over him, but Kon's put his arms around his neck a couple of times now, and, well . . .

That's just not something he would've expected from him, he guesses. Not “cool” or masculine or badass or . . . whatever, exactly, Kon thinks he's supposed to be.

So Tim . . . likes it, he thinks, that Kon doesn't seem to think he needs to be like that around Tim Drake.

Robin’s sure as hell never seen Kon in eyeliner.

Robin's loss, Tim thinks.

. . . maybe he's compartmentalizing a little too much these days, but still.

Kon makes a very, very soft little sound between their mouths and then laughs, and Tim promises himself he won't stop at Gotham: he'll take over Metropolis for this asshole one day. Even if that means putting up with Lex Luthor and Superman. And also, like . . . everything about Metropolis.

He'll figure it out. Supervillainy is still a long-term plan, so he's got time.

Anyway, if he gives it to Kon after he takes it over he won't have to put up with it, so it's whatever. Sugar daddies do that kind of thing, right? Get their sugar-ees a city?

. . . okay, definitely not. Like, very definitely not.

“Okay date idea, then?” Kon asks as he leans back a bit and does a very bad job of biting back a smile, his face a little flushed and arms squeezing a little tighter around his neck.

Tim will get him Metropolis if it kills Lex Luthor.

“Very okay,” he says, smiling back at him. Kon grins, his face turning just a little bit redder, and then kisses him again. Tim has absolutely no complaints about that. Ever. He can’t even imagine a complaint he’d have about that, in fact.

Worst case scenario, he’ll get them in at another restaurant if they miss their reservation.

He really doesn't know what else he's supposed to do about how easy Kon blushes.

They definitely spend too long making out against the gargoyle and Tim definitely lets himself get too riled up during it–and does not think about tactile telekinesis or any kind of related passive perception while he does–but by the time he’s the one pressing Kon back against the building, he really doesn’t care anymore.

The fact Kon is even willing to let him do that when there is literally no way Tim could ever actually pin him anywhere without a way to sabotage his powers is . . . really, really distracting. Just–so distracting.

Jesus, Tim thinks, breaking off just long enough to catch his breath for a moment. Kon pants softly against his mouth, which sabotages that even worse than kryptonite would sabotage TTK.

Jesus, Tim thinks again, and then crushes their mouths back together.

He doesn’t need to breathe that often.

Kon makes a softer, breathier sound this time, and Tim does not let himself make it weird by letting his hands wander anywhere outside of second base territory. Frankly he’s not sure second base territory isn’t him making it weird, but Kon started it, so hopefully it’s not? Like–logically it’d follow that Kon wouldn’t touch him anywhere he doesn’t want touched, right?

Well–hopefully, anyway.

The air feels tight, Tim notices suddenly, like the feeling of sinking into deeper pressure when underwater but all at once, and then realizes–oh.

Uh.

Okay.

“Um,” he says, and immediately the feeling of pressure vanishes as Kon jerks back and claps a hand over his own mouth. Which is mostly him pushing Tim back, given their position, but he does crack the brickwork behind him a little.

Whoops, Tim thinks.

“Sorry!” Kon blurts. “Sorry, sorry, that’s–sorry! I just, uh–got a little too into it. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Tim says, with absolutely no idea how to take the idea of Kon getting “a little too into it” when kissing him, or the idea that getting a little too into it apparently involves getting wrapped up in TTK a lot more noticeably than making him bulletproof at the museum did. “I mean–it didn’t hurt or anything, I was just surprised.”

“I–yeah, I know, it’s just–weird,” Kon says, still looking mortified. “So–sorry. That’s all.”

“I don’t mind weird,” Tim says, because actually the idea of being temporarily at least as invulnerable as Kon is while making out with him implies being able to devote a lot more attention to said making out, as opposed to keeping half an eye out for snipers or rogues or random rooftop criminals. Not that he’d stop paying any attention to that, obviously, just–yeah. Well.

It’s a little tempting, that’s all.

“Uh–you don’t?” Kon bites his lip, still looking a little embarrassed.

“It kind of just felt like scuba-diving, but with less equipment involved,” Tim says with a little shrug, keeping his tone light because “seriously, you have no idea how much I’d like to not be compulsively keeping an eye out for snipers right now” isn’t a very “civilian” thing to say. “And I’m not about to complain about you enjoying kissing me that much either way.”

“Oh,” Kon says, and flushes a little. “Uh–really?”

“Really,” Tim says, smiling at him again and tugging gently at the lapels of his jacket to pull himself back in. Kon blushes, and grins, and meets him halfway for the kiss. The sensation of pressure wraps him up again, gentle but undeniable, and Tim feels several kinds of ways about it.

Maybe even a little bit safe, or at least as safe as anyplace outside the Batcave ever gets.

Tim knows there’s no such thing as being perfectly, completely safe, but getting all wrapped up in Kon’s TTK and kissed for it makes it hard to remember that.

Very, very hard.

They spend a much longer time making out this time. Tim is vaguely aware that they still have a dinner reservation to make, but . . . well, he did pad the time to allow for window-shopping, so even with the time they spent flying around taking pictures, it's probably fine?

Yeah, no, they’ve definitely missed their reservation by now. Probably way past missed it. Just so, so far past missed it.

Weirdly, Tim doesn’t care as much as he should, even though he really prefers when things go to plan and also needs Kon to feel appreciated and like he got properly spoiled and taken someplace nice. He’s going to have to figure out something else on the fly, though, because he really does needs Kon to feel appreciated and also needs the excuse to get him more used to getting money spent on him and–

Tim remembers that he needs to breathe more than he's currently breathing and breaks off the kiss. Kon half-chases his mouth with his own, audibly breathless himself. Tim is not equipped to handle Kon breathless.

That might actually be more flattering than the TTK thing. Or, uh–flustering, maybe.

Both, maybe. “Both” is probably accurate here.

Jesus, Tim does not know what he did to deserve Kon getting breathless over something he’s done to him, much less all soft and pretty and–

They have definitely, definitely missed their reservation. Usually Tim has a better sense of time than that, but usually Tim doesn’t have Kon wanting to make out on a Gotham rooftop with him, Like, he thinks he can forgive himself a little bit of disorientation on that one, considering.

. . . as long as Bruce never finds out he messed up that bad, anyway. Because Bruce would definitely not like hearing he’d messed up that bad, TTK or not.

Probably especially involving the TTK, actually. Probably Bruce would not take “yeah I let Superboy get distracted enough to unconsciously wrap me up in his Kryptonian-level superpowers while he wasn’t in full control of them and actually, like, encouraged it, kinda? like, explicitly encouraged it, actually”.

Yeah, Bruce would not like that.

“Um,” Tim says, and clears his throat a little awkwardly. “So, uh–hungry yet?”

“You could say that,” Kon murmurs, then flashes him a sharp, wicked grin with his eyes slit open just enough to fix on Tim’s mouth. Tim spares a moment to compartmentalize just enough to not lose his mind about that, then makes the mistake of licking his lips anxiously, sees Kon’s hooded eyes go hot at the sight, and immediately fails to not lose his mind.

“Uh,” he manages, and then decides they don’t really need to get dinner just yet and maybe they could just, like–no, no, Kon is definitely not getting enough calories from that stupid barely-legal underground lab’s stupid definitely-not-health-code-compliant cafeteria, Tim is not gonna be a bad enough date to not get his date a respectable amount of calories. That is just not a thing that he’s gonna, like . . . thing, as a thing. Or whatever.

Not like Superman’s been bringing Kon casseroles or anything, the prick.

“Um, I–uh, might’ve let us get a little too distracted, sorry,” Tim attempts after a moment of mental fumbling, making himself push back from Kon a little and pulling his phone out to check the time. Yeah, they have definitely missed their reservation. Very, very thoroughly have they missed it.

Dammit. That is not Bat-quality situational awareness.

“You think that was just you, man?” Kon asks with a little laugh, just barely ducking his head and biting his lip. It is . . . very distracting. As is his face. And his hands, which are still loosely on Tim’s back, and his TTK, which is still loosely . . . basically everywhere, yeah. Just–way too many places for Tim to be rational about, basically.

“I mean, I was the one who made the reservation,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly as he does his best to at least fake rationality. “So, uh, I should’ve been paying attention to the time. I can see if there’s someplace we can still slip in, it’s a little last-minute for a Friday but–”

Kon kisses him again.

Tim was saying something, he’s reasonably sure, but he couldn’t remember whatever it was with a gun to his head. A gun to his head while out of his suit and without Kon on the same floor as him, to be clear.

Kon leans back and grins at him, all bright and pretty and cutting right through the shade and shadows of Gotham like a spotlight-signal lighting up the cloud cover. Tim remains vaguely aware of the fact that he was doing . . . something. At some point. In theory.

God, Kon is so pretty. So, so pretty. And everything he’s wearing is something Tim bought him, coat and clothes and jewelry and all. Just–all of it, as far as he can see.

Tim does not let himself think about what else Kon might or might not be wearing right now. Just–that way lies madness, and also Kon not getting a decent dinner and decent spoiling.

. . . there’s probably some other ways Tim could spoil him, technically, if he just–

Tim does not finish that thought.

“You’re so fucking cute, daddy,” Kon says, still grinning just as signal-bright and pretty at him. Tim is not prepared for literally any of that and nearly melts right off the ledge into an incoherent mess of street pizza.

“Uh,” he says, swallowing roughly. “We should–are you hungry yet?”

Kon laughs, for some reason. Tim very quietly and carefully burns alive, and then Kon floats up a few inches and ducks around him and back out into the open air, leaning down to grin at him and reaching to–probably he’s intending to pick him up again, Tim’s brain is vaguely aware, but the rest of Tim is thinking more like hurr durr pretty boy, which is definitely why he ends up reaching up to cup Kon’s face in his hands and tug him down for another kiss, pushing himself up on his toes on the edge of the ledge to reach him easier. Kon makes a soft, breathless little noise, then laughs in delight and kisses him back.

The wind is cold and sharp and the evening sky is all heavy dark clouds and hazy light pollution and Kon’s wearing clothes Tim bought him, some of which Tim even suggested to him, and he put on makeup and painted his nails to come see him and he’s got a gift bag of little things Tim picked out for him hooked in the crook of his elbow and he liked all of those little things, and they’ve not only missed but obliterated their dinner reservation, and they’re half-on a ledge high above the street and kissing and Kon is just so pretty.

And Kon also bought him a camera and brought him up here because he thought he’d like it and called him “cute”, which are all facts that Tim is definitely going to have to compartmentalize to fully process later, or else he really will melt right off the stupid ledge.

The spicy pics thing, also, is a thing. The spicy pics thing is, uh–very much a thing.

Tim is maybe just never gonna process that particular fact in, like, self-defense.

Ever.

. . . god, he’s going to have to process that fact at some point, isn’t he. God. That is . . . that is a whole thing that he is going to have to do. Like, effectively and well and throughly.

Maybe it’s not too late to just go supervillain right now, actually. Maybe Kon would be open to, like, minionhood or something. Lots of supervillains put their minions up in their lairs, right? That’s totally a thing, isn’t it?

Ugh, no, Kon deserves a place he can really feel like is his place and also he has not laid near enough groundwork to get Dick to switch sides. Like, Alfred would, obviously. Alfred will be on-board the second the rusty crowbar and shrapnel bomb plan comes up and will probably have useful notes to add. But Dick is gonna require some more long-term finessing and Babs definitely won’t come if Dick doesn’t and–

Kon laughs into the kiss and cups Tim’s face in return, which is incredibly distracting, and then squishes his face, which is incredibly annoying.

“Hey!” Tim sputters, and Kon laughs again and leans back just enough to grin at him.

“You are so weird, dude,” he says. “I can literally hear you thinking.”

“. . . that’s not me being detached from the situation, I–” Tim starts, unable to repress a wince, and Kon just grins wider, grabs his wrists, and tugs him off the ledge and–oh, okay, that’s a weird sensation, Tim notes, because gravity does absolutely nothing at all to him until Kon’s pulled him into his arms and wrapped him up in them again all easy and secure. .

So that’s . . . yeah, no, “incredibly distracting” isn’t actually gonna cover this one, considering.

“Uh,” he says, blinking a couple of times. That. That is definitely not how Superboy holds Robin.

Frick.

“I just gotta keep you better attached, right, daddy?” Kon purrs–really purrs, his chest briefly vibrating against Tim’s–and then grins wider at him again with eyes that are, unfortunately, literally goddamn sparkling right now–thanks, gold eyeliner, Tim didn’t need those higher thought processes–before giving him another quick little kiss that Tim actually would like to turn into a four-hour make-out session and maybe also a sleepover and–

God he needs to remember how to compartmentalize. He really, really needs to remember how to compartmentalize.

Also he needs to kiss Kon’s literal friggin’ brains out, the smug friggin’ asshole.

Mid-air makeouts are the worst possible idea Kon has ever inflicted on him and Tim would sooner fight Killer Croc without his utility belt than point that fact out to him.

He winds his arms around Kon’s neck and kisses him back, and Kon makes this tiny little–not pleased, not content, but actually happy-sounding noise and kisses back harder. Tim feels gravity stop being a particularly relevant concern again and feels like he’s floating in deep, heavy water but also like he’s the lightest he’s ever been in his life, and it is . . . it is a feeling, alright.

Kon is a menace. Kon is a problem.

Kon is so, so damn cute.

“You are an actual literal brat, baby,” Tim mutters slightly more feelingly than he means to, and Kon’s laugh comes out a little breathier this time and he ducks his head to the side and his face flushes and–

No. Nope. No. Tim needs to not learn anything new about himself or Kon tonight, or, worse, anything about him and Kon. That is just not a thing he has time for in his schedule. He’s got to fit in an anxiety attack and three full files’ worth of casework this weekend, for one, plus his science presentation and that make-up book report, and also come up with someplace else nice enough to take Kon to dinner tonight.

“So, uh–dinner?” he says very quickly–self-defense, again–and Kon bites his lower lip and grins around it, his face still turned just a little bit away. Tim pretends they’re not effectively pressed together from knee to neck right now. Pretends valiantly. “I mean–um, if you’re hungry yet.”

Kon laughs, ducking his head lower, the dangling gold teardrop hanging from his ear gleaming warmly in the murky electric city light. Tim goes through multiple stages of emotional processing to keep himself from kissing his neck right behind that earring and completely forgetting about not only dinner, but all his homework and casework and even the anxiety attack.

Does Kon laugh this much around Robin?

Tim really doesn’t feel like he does.

He also doesn’t tell Robin very important things like the fact that he can make other people bulletproof on a whim and map out an entire mall just by standing in it, which is objectively much worse and potentially dangerous a thing not to do, but also Tim is already positive he’s going to miss that laugh like crazy every time he sees Kon with the mask on.

Robin doesn’t get to see Kon like this at all, even when he lets the asshole eat both stupid boxes of cinnamon bread.

“Dinner, yeah,” Kon says, grinning again and then taking off backwards across the sky, apparently unconcerned about their chances of hitting a building. Tim’s not really in a proper carry so much as just stretched out against him and wrapped up in his arms, but given the nature of how Kon’s powers work, an actual carry is obivously not really a concern, so . . .

Oh, Tim realizes as Kon tips back just enough to be reclining in the air, still flying without any apparent care or concern for the aerodynamics of the situation or anything but staying more or less out of view of anyone on the street below.

Avoiding the street view is good.

The part where now he’s essentially laying on top of Kon is . . . less good, maybe.

Maybe he won’t have to convince Kon to go supervillain, at least. Maybe Kon’s already there.

“Where to, daddy?” Kon asks with a smirk, keeping one arm looped around Tim’s waist and folding the other behind his own head like he’s laying out in a lounge chair on the beach. Tim thinks longingly of smothering him and also of getting him to take down his TTK so he could bite a hickey or five into his neck. Maybe six. He could probably do six.

Or seven.

“Northeast towards Broad Street,” Tim says as he tips his head in the appropriate direction, then pulls up the camera again and snaps a quick shot of Kon’s smug smirk, which immediately breaks into a surprised laugh as the other flushes again.

He takes a picture of that too.

“You flirtin’ again already, man?” Kon asks with a sheepish little laugh, like the bastard has any room to talk.

“The position’s pretty good for it, that’s all,” Tim says with a level of casualness he absolutely does not feel. Kon flushes darker and bites his lip again, still just barely grinning. Tim, ethically, has no choice but to take a few more pictures.

“Oh my god,” Kon says, laughing again and unfolding the arm he has tucked behind his head to hide his eyes behind instead. Tim is maybe a little bit too aware of the line of his throat under the neck of his shirt, without his eyes and the sparkle there to be distracting him into a useless stupid mushbrained might-as-well-be-a-civilian, observationally-speaking. “I’m not a building, you absolute nerd!”

“I said I liked people-watching too, didn’t I?” Tim points out reasonably, though mostly his brain’s occupied with the question of–“Hey. If you let down your TTK a bit, could a baseline-DNA human give you a hickey? Like, is that physically possible, or are you too Kryptonian for that?”

“Oh my god,” Kon repeats, laughing harder even as the flush on his face spreads down his neck. Tim wonders how warm that might feel under his mouth. “I, uh–dunno, man. Maybe?”

Tim silently resolves himself to finding literally any excuse to conduct that experiment and moves a hand to cup the side of Kon’s throat, eyeing it consideringly. Kon makes a slightly weird noise and visibly swallows, and Tim belatedly realizes that he’s paid literally no attention whatsoever to whether or not they’re about to hit a building or a flagpole or a roof this entire flight; he just assumed Kon had it handled. The Bat-paranoia kicks in and he glances up reflexively, and just as reflexively slides the pad of his thumb across Kon’s pulse. Their flight path is clear; they’re high enough to avoid most of the buildings in this area. Definitely still gonna need to keep an eye out for radio towers and billboards, but . . .

Kon swallows again, the gesture a little bit rough this time. Tim feels the other’s throat flex against his palm. That sure is . . . that sure is a thing that Tim feels right there. That invulnerable throat flexing right there against his palm, and maybe not necessarily having to be invulnerable, if Kon didn’t want it to be.

. . . . . . he already said he didn’t have time to learn anything new about himself tonight, dammit.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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aemondapologistfrfr · 26 days ago

Text

Anything for You - Pt2

daemon x daughter!reader

Part 1

Summary: You and Daemon have no plans to marry anyone besides who you truly desire. After a flight to Dragonstone you both get exactly what you wanted.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, fingering, public(does dragonback count as public?), oral(f), p in v, breeding kink, use of the word daddy

Authors Note: got the fall sads and it’s making my daddy issues rage so this is how it manifested 🧎🏼‍♀️ brb printing these out and sending them to freuds grave so he knows he was right 🙂

Word Count: 3.6k

ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

I’m softly awoken by my handmaidens whispering my name. I stretch out and their hands are on me a moment later, pulling me out of bed. I’m stripped out of my nightgown and stepping into a steaming bath while yawning and grumbling about the early hour. They start to do my hair and heed my protests of no tight braids and pins. I’m whisked out of the bath and brought over to my wardrobe before being tied into one of my favorite dresses.

“Why must I be up and dressed so early?” I yawn, rolling my shoulders.

“Your father has requested you at his side in the throne room this morning.” I purse my lips wondering why he didn’t tell me about this or come wake me himself.

“Where is my father?” I pout. My handmaidens hum saying he’ll be here shortly as they finish placing my jewelry. “I don’t want that necklace, I want the one my father gave me.” I whine looking at the one being carried over to me.

“Of course, princess. Right away.” they nod and run over to my vanity to find it. I’m getting impatient as I stare at myself in the mirror. I smooth my gown and look over my frame. My head snaps up when I hear the quick knocks on my doors.

“Prince Daemon.” my guard announces and my handmaidens drop what they’re doing to curtsy and greet him.

“Here princess, I’ve found it.” my handmaiden walks over with the necklace and my father raises his hand. He takes the necklace from her and dismisses my company of handmaidens.

“I want to wear that.” I look up at my father and down again to the necklace in his hand.

“What if I told you I’ve gotten you a new one.” he smiles and my eyes light up.

“Really?” I clap my hands together.

“You know how I love to spoil you.” he gently turns me around and I feel the weight of the necklace as it rests on my chest. He leads me over to the mirror and I gasp as I take in the jewels dripping down my chest.

“This is so very beautiful.” my hand rises to caress the jewels. I twirl and admire how it matches perfectly with my gown and I turn to him with a smile. “Thank you,” I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tightly. His hand rests on the back of my neck holding me to him and I nuzzle in closer to him.

“How did you sleep, sweet girl?” he hums, pulling back and tilting my chin up.

“Too little.” I pout. “Why must I be awake so early?” he chuckles at my tone.

“I have an important meeting with the King and Hand. I need you there with me.” I scrunch my brows at his words.

“Why?” I search his eyes and see the glint in them.

“They are wanting for me to find a new wife and for you to find a husband.” a frown forms across my features at his words.

“I don’t want to marry anyone.” I shake my head, stepping back.

“What about me?” my eyes snap to his.

“You said they wouldn’t allow it.” I chew the inside of my lip.

“They’ll have little to say if I take you to Dragonstone after this meeting. Wed you in the ways of our house. Make you mine. Claim you.” his eyes darken as he steps closer and towers above me. His hands cup my face as he places a kiss on my lips. “Would you like that?” he murmurs against me.

“Yes.” I nod my head quickly. “Please,” he presses his lips against me once more.

“Let’s go see what they have to say.” he offers me his arm and we make our way out of my chambers. The halls are surprisingly lively for this time in the morning. Servants smile and bow their heads as we pass by. Visiting Lord’s and Lady’s exchange quick pleasantries in passing. My father keeps our pace steady as we continue down the halls and my nerves rise not knowing how this meeting will go.

As we enter the throne room I spot the King and the Hand watching us with displeasure. I look at my father who offers me a nod and then turns to the King. I try to put a warm smile on my face but it feels more like a wince. There is no one else in the hall with us as we stop at the foot of the stairs. The King looks down at us with a frown and my father pulls me closer to his side.

“I wish for your blessing.” my father looks up the jagged steps.

“For what could you possibly want for now?” the Hand scoffs glaring at my father.

“For us to be wed in the old ways.” he looks down at me with a smile and I turn my head back to him as a chew on my lip with a smile

“You’ve gone mad.” my stomach drops at the King's words. The smile is erased from my face as I snap my head back to the throne.

“Has he not always been mad?” the Hands' words echo throughout the barren hall and my father barks out a laugh from next to me.

“I will not have my daughter marry some base born Lord, nor I some base born Lady.” he continues to chuckle and I cling onto his arm in comfort.

“I have sons to offer her.” the King sits at the edge of the throne. “You can have any woman in the seven kingdoms. Daemon, why must everything be like this?” he looks to my father exasperated.

“I don’t want your sons.” I shake my head looking up at the King. “I don’t want to marry anyone else.” the King lets out a loud sigh.

“The rumors surrounding you two around this Keep are scandalous enough to send me into an early grave.” the King looks us over.

“Do you not have one foot in it already?” my father lets out a snide remark and I suck in a breath watching the King's face turn red.

“You will not wed each other and that’s final.” the King rises keeping a hand on his sword.

“We shall see.” my father tugs me out of the hall quickly, ignoring the King's protests. “Listen and do everything I say.” he whispers down to me and I nod my head.

We slip out the main doors of the Keep and he’s hoisting me up onto a horse quickly. He takes a seat behind me and has us trotting through the city streets a minute later. I lean back against his chest as he weaves in and out of the large crowds. People shout at us and offer us smiles and waves while others scowl. As the dragon pits come into view my heart starts beating faster. He jumps off the horse quickly and lifts me off and pulls me into the pits after him.

“I don’t have any gowns or-“

“Shh sweet girl. You know we still have some of your old dresses and gowns there.” he hums, taking my hand and leading us into the dark tunnels. “I’ll have new ones made for you when we get there if you’re good.” I nod my head and walk a little faster causing him to chuckle.

My ears perk up as Caraxes high pitched song calls us forward. As we step into his cave I look at him in awe as I always do. My father scoots me towards his dragon as he begins to make sure everything is in place before he comes to my side and wraps his arms around me.

“A beautiful dragon.” I coo as I approach him with open palms. His neck twists and he presses his snout into my hands. “So handsome.” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him as my father watches on.

“Come on, sweet girl.” my father hums, reaching for my arm but Caraxes grumbles. “You giant blood wyrm she’s riding with us.” he shakes his head and I turn to look at him with a smile. “We have to go before we’re stopped.” he raises an eyebrow at me and I nod and start the ascent with him. He settles into the seat and I take a seat in front of him and he holds me flush against his body.

“My gown.” I whine, trying to push it back down my legs but with the way we have to sit it it keeps riding up to the tops of my thighs.

“Be a good girl and stop whining.” he pats my thigh and commands Caraxes to take to the skies.

My hands grip onto my fathers as I’m forced back into him. I hear him chuckle in my ear as Caraxes takes us higher and higher. His song seeps through the streets of King's Landing before he shoots us over the Blackwater. He lets his back legs trail in the water casting us in a mist. I giggle as the water tickles across the skin. Caraxes brings us up to the clouds once more and I gasp as my fathers fingers trail up my thighs.

“Daddy,” I whine pushing back into him.

“Let daddy play with your sweet little cunt.” he shushes me as his hands push my legs apart even more. “Would you like that, sweet girl?” he pushes my hair off my neck to replace it with his lips. “Hm?” he trails a finger up my small clothes and I squirm in his arms.

“Yes, please,” my hand wraps around his wrist that’s teasing me.

“Say it.” he murmurs against my skin.

“I want you to play with me.” I wasn’t sure if he heard me until he dipped two of his fingers beneath my small clothes. I chew on my lip as he slides his fingers through my wetness. His touch is light and teasing and my hips are jerking to get more friction. “Please,” I beg, trembling in his arms.

“What are you begging for?” he taunts me, swirling his fingers around my bud.

“I just wanna-“ I gasp as he speeds his fingers up. “I wanna, yes,” I whine as he moves his fingers impossibly faster.

“Is daddy making you feel good?” he chuckles into my neck.

“Yes, so good daddy,” my words slurred from my pleasure. He dips down to my core to gather more wetness before circling his fingers around my bud that leaves me shaking in his arms. He bites down onto my pulse and I go limp in his arms as my pleasure bursts through me.

“Gods, you're perfect.” he kisses across my neck while removing his fingers from my small clothes. “You’re going to birth me an army with this.” his fingers trail over my soaked small clothes.

ᓚᘏᗢ

I crane my neck to look over the cliff edge at the rocky shore. The clouds have parted and the sun is shining brightly down upon us. Several handmaidens coax me closer inland near the maester. I smooth down my ceremonial gowns from the wind and watch as the handmaidens begin to fix my headpiece. I turn when I hear my fathers low voice approaching.

“My prince, should we be doing this in haste?” the maester looks at him nervously.

“We will be wed by you or another. It’s your choice if you would like to keep living.” the maesters face turns red at my fathers words. He motions for the handmaidens to usher me over to my father and on approach his face lightens with a smile. “My beautiful princess.” he hums taking my hands.

My eyes scan over him and when my eyes meet his I feel us move closer together. We stay together in our own bubble as the maester drones on. My father caresses my cheek and I lean into his warmth. The maester hands him a dragon glass blade and he looks to me as if in question. I tilt my head and his smile returns as brings the glass to my lip. The slice is quick and he offers the same to his lip. We place marks on each other's foreheads while never losing our eye contact. Our hands are next to be split open and we hold them together as the maester binds them. The maester has us repeat his words before announcing us wed.

“We are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” we breathe out together. He dips his head down and our lips unite with a metallic taste. The handmaidens softly clap and sprinkle some white flower petals upon the stone before leaving us to each other. The maester makes himself scarce as we stand still bound to one another on the cliff edge.

“My beautiful princess and wife.” he unwraps our hands and pulls me against him once more. We cling to each other slowly staining our robes various shades of red. “All mine. Forever.” he hums cupping mug face.

“All yours. Forever.” I nod looking up to him. He places his lips in mine again before pulling back to lead us back into the castle.

The handmaidens whisk me away once we enter the hall and bring me to my old chambers. They begin to remove my ceremonial robes and help me into another bath. I allow them to clean me and rub sweet smelling oils across my skin. They help me out and dry me off before placing a sheer piece of silk over me and guiding me to the bed. They help me sit in the center before placing petals around me and blowing out some of the candles. I smile as they leave my chambers and I await my fathers return.

“My sweet girl.” my head snaps up at his voice. He shuts the door behind him and he leans against it looking me over. “My beautiful princess.” he pushes off the door and begins his walk over to me. “My wife.” he stops at the edge of my bed.

“Hi.” I bat my eyelashes at him and his smile turns serpentine.

“Are you feeling shy?” he holds his hands out for me to grab. I place my hands in his and continue to look up at him. “Acting innocent like I didn’t take your maidenhead almost two moons ago now. You remember how you begged? ‘Daddy please’ while trying to tug my trousers off?” he taunts and I feel my cheeks heat.

“Stop.” I whine, taking my hands from him and covering my face. I pout on the bed and feel it dip as he joins me on the plush mattress. He lays me back onto the bed and I slowly remove my hands from my face and look up at him. I slowly spread my legs for him and his eyes travel down to my center.

“Now who’s teasing?” he hums. His rough hands slide up my legs, spreading me wider. He lifts my hips and brings my center up to his mouth. I gasp, clawing at the sheets as he half holds me in his arms before feasting on me. My hands hold onto his arms wrapped around my hips as his tongue lashes against my bud. My slip falls down my body exposing my chest and he lets one of his hands from my hips grab onto my breast. He roughly kneads it that leaves me whimpering.

“Daddy,” I gasp as his lips incase my bud and puts all of his attention there. I come undone across his face and he removes his hands letting me bounce back onto the bed.

“I’m going to fill you so thoroughly my seed will still be seeping between your thighs tomorrow.” he looks down at me with dark eyes.

“Please,” I pull my slip the rest of the way off and he groans. I watch him with low lids as he removes his clothes and crawls back into the bed with me. His lips smash into mine and I revel in the way he envelops me.

“I’m going to fuck you nice and slow once.” he murmurs agaisnt my lips. “Then I’ll fuck you the way I know you like.” I squirm under his soft touches and he spreads my legs to press between them. He swirls his tip around my wetness before slowly pushing into me. My toes curl with every inch. Once he’s fully settled he leans down over me and presses his lips to mine again. I wrap my limbs around him as he starts to rock his hips into me.

“You always feel so good, sweet girl.” he groans as I press kisses against his neck. He leans back and watches as he slowly pumps into me. He reaches down and rolls my nipples and I arch up into his touch with a soft whine. He stills his movements and I start to move my hips on my own. “Fucking yourself on daddy’s cock like a good girl.” he chuckles before slamming back into me. His hands move from my nipples down to my hips as he slowly rolls his hips into me. Whimpers spill from my lips as I start to pulse around him and he lets out a string of curses.

“Daddy,” I reach up for him and he leans down and starts to hammer into me. My hands claw at him until he grunts and grabs them and holds them above my head.

“Always so compliant.” he grunts as my legs fall open as he continues with his brutal pace. “Keep your hands up here or you’ll be punished.” I nod, biting my lip as he removes his hand. My hands dig into the pillows above me as his hips repeatedly snap into mine. His fingers circle my bud and I cry out and grab his wrist. He pulls out of me and I cry looking at him with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry, daddy, please, please I’ll be good.” I whine as he flips me onto my stomach. His hand lands hard onto my cheeks and I arch my ass up into the air. His fingers dig into my tender flesh before slapping them again. He grabs my hips before slamming into me. My hands reach back for him and he growls before holding them against my lower back. My face is sliding against the bed as he continues his relentless pace.

“Squeezing me so good.” he rasps, letting his other hand fall to my cheek again. “Want me to fill you up?” I nod my head into the pillows. “Say it.” he lets go of my wrists and digs his fingers into my hair to lift me up.

“Fill me, daddy. Please, fill me, please,” my voice breaks at his pace. I cry out at my high washes through me again and his warmth starts to spread inside me. His pace slows but he stays settled in me and he covers my body with his.

“I’m staying inside this sweet little cunt until I’m ready to fuck you again.” I whimper, nodding my head, squeezing my walls around him. He rolls his hips into me and I whine at the feeling.

“I’m so full of you, daddy.” I let out broken whimpers.

“I’m not even close to being done with you.” he whispers into my ear. He starts to harden again and he lifts off of me. I frown at his lack of warmth before he tugs me up against his chest. His arms wrap around me holding me to him as he starts to hammer up into me. One of his hands wrap around my neck while the other goes to circle my bud and I immediately fall apart around him. “Fuck,” his hips falter as he pants into my neck.

“More,” I whine pressing back into him. He starts to fuck me again and I let my head fall back and rest on his shoulder.

“Taking me so good.” he praises before pulling out of me. I whine as he pushes me back down to the bed. He flips me over onto my back again and lifts my legs to press them against my chest. He slides into me a moment later causing moans to fall from my mouth. My hands wrap around my legs and he offers me more praise as he stands back and watches himself push into me.

“Daddy,” a strained cry falls from my lips as my pleasure slams through me so intensely my eyes roll back. He curses and I feel him twitch and begin to fill me once more. He collapses on top of me again as we continue to pant. My eyes close as I hold him tightly. He flips us, staying buried in me and allowing me to rest against his chest. He jerks his hips to remind me of the fullness and I mewl against him.

“Rest, sweet girl. I’ll wake you with more pleasure soon.” he coos brushing back the strands of hair sticking to my face. My head rests above his heart and I let its settling beats lull me to sleep.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

i can easily be convinced to make another part 😔

Part 3

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004

#prince daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon smut #daemon x reader smut #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #x reader smut #x reader #x reader fic

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steveseddie · 7 months ago

Text

go for it

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 4,6k | tags: eddie and steve have a crush, they finally do something about it, the hellfire club is there whoops, first kiss, getting together

for my stficbingo: “This is a dictatorship and I’m in charge!”

click here to read on ao3

***

“You drag yourselves out of the tunnels and find what seems to be a friendly tavern in the woods,” Eddie narrates in a low voice, his eyes sweeping over everyone sitting at the Harrington dining table. They’re all at the edge of their seats, collectively holding their breath, looking suitably daunted yet excited as they brace themselves for some other twist in the story. “The innkeeper welcomes you with warm food and offers you a place to stay. She assures you that you’re safe.”

He pauses for dramatic effect. Watches as Henderson bites his knuckles, Wheeler squeezes his eyes shut, Jeff covers his face with his hands-

“Tonight you get to rest,” he finishes with a flourish of his hand and the party sighs in relief.

“Thank God!” Gareth says, slumping back on his chair and wiping his brow where beads of sweat started gathering during the final moments of the campaign. “I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“Holy shit, me too,” Sinclair agrees, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d been one bad die roll away from dying by the time they finally defeated the goblins that attacked them out of nowhere. “That was brutal!”

“It was fucking awesome!” Henderson says with a squeaky laugh and everyone around the table heartily agrees.

Eddie grins widely, resting his chin on one hand and doing a flourish with the other one in lieu of a bow. “Glad it pleased you, Master Nog.”

The kid flashes him a toothy smile and then he and the rest of the party start discussing tonight’s campaign- the best moments, the ones where they thought they would all die, their predictions for what will happen next week.

They’re so caught up in their conversation that they don’t notice when Eddie slips away from the table.

The Harrington house is easy to get lost in, bigger than any house Eddie has ever been to. Even after weeks of being friends with Steve and coming over for movie nights and pool parties, Eddie isn’t sure he’s seen all of it. He knows there’s a third garage somewhere and he’s only been to one of the three guest bedrooms and that was back on the first night he slept over.

(Since then, he and Steve realized that they sleep better when they have company and Eddie never saw the inside of that or any of the other guest rooms again, sharing Steve’s bed with him whenever he spends the night instead.)

Eddie has been to Harrington kitchen plenty of times though, so he makes his way there easily.

As he gets further away from his friends and their noise, Eddie’s ears pick up on the music coming from the Harrington kitchen, which further guides him in the right direction. He belatedly recognizes the song as part of the mixtape he made for Steve a couple of days ago in an attempt to improve his music taste. When he gave it to him, Steve eyed it warily (“It’s real music, Stevie, not a rabid animal, it won’t bite you!”) before shoving it into his car’s glove compartment. He didn’t bring it up since then and Eddie assumed he forgot about it. Knowing that Steve didn’t forget and he’s actually listening to it now fills Eddie’s stomach with butterflies.

Those butterflies flutter pathetically when he finally reaches the kitchen and finds Steve doing the dishes.

He’s standing in front of the sink, his hips moving with the music (not heavy metal but some soft rock that Eddie thought might be more Steve’s style while still being cool) and there’s a flowery apron tied around his waist which matches the rubber gloves he’s wearing. Both were a gag gift from the kids, Steve told Eddie the first time he saw him wearing them, one that actually turned out to be quite useful and now he wears them often.

For a moment, Eddie lingers at the kitchen doorway, giving himself a few seconds to stare at Steve, filing away how he looks for later when he’s daydreaming embarrassingly domestic fantasies of a life with Steve. Then he raps his knuckles twice on the door frame to get his attention.

(Eddie knows better than to sneak up on him now. The one time he did Steve had him pinned against a wall before Eddie could even realize what was happening. He thought it was hot more than anything, but Steve had been mortified. He spent the rest of the night apologizing and acting like a kicked puppy around him. He didn’t relax until Eddie reminded him that the first time they met, Eddie did the same thing, only he also held a broken bottle to Steve’s throat. So now they were more than even.)

Steve’s head whips around at the sound and his face lights up when he sees Eddie leaning against the door frame.

“Hey!” Steve says, grinning like he’s delighted to see Eddie. Like he missed him, like he didn’t see him less than forty minutes ago when they all took a break to have dinner. “You finished early tonight.”

Glancing at the clock on top of the fridge, Eddie realizes that Steve is right. “I figured they had enough for one night,” Eddie says, stepping into the kitchen and joining Steve by the sink. “Usually the brats would throw a fit, but I think they were actually glad this time.”

“That bad?” Steve asks with a snort.

“Wheeler rolled four nat ones in a row, Steve, four!” Eddie says, dancing in and out of Steve’s space until Steve hip-checks him out of the way with a chuckle.

“Four, huh?”

“Mhm, the odds weren’t in their favor tonight.”

“Well, it was nice of you to let them off the hook for once, Mr. Dungeon Master,” Steve says, crinkly eyes meeting Eddie’s momentarily before looking down at the sink and picking up another plate.

“I’m always nice, Stevie,” Eddie says, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

Steve gives him a bitchy face. “Dude, I’m pretty sure I heard you threaten to chop off Dougie’s hand.”

“That was the goblin, not me!” Eddie protests, wagging his finger in front of Steve’s face. “Who Jeff killed shortly after, so who’s the one that isn’t nice here?”

“Right,” Steve deadpans. He takes off the rubber gloves after rinsing the last plate and picks up a dish towel to start drying. “You can always get your revenge next week I guess.”

“Oh I will, Stevie. I will,” he says, grinning manically. Oh the things he has planned. Eddie hops on top of the counter, right next to where Steve stands as he dries plates and glasses and everything else he used to make the most delicious lasagna for the party. His feet dangle from the counter and he lightly nudges Steve with one. “Hey, thanks for letting us play here. And for dinner.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me every time, right Eds?” Steve says with an exaggerated sigh, but his annoyance is downplayed by his playful smile. The lopsided one that makes Eddie want to kiss him stupid.

After Spring Break, Principal Higgins was quick to shut down Hellfire once and for all, leaving the party with no place to hold their campaigns. Eddie wasn’t surprised but like everyone else, he was pretty fucking bummed about it. No one in their party had enough space at their house to host their campaigns, and the only two that did, Wheeler and Sinclair, failed to convince their parents to let them use their basement for their alleged satanic cult gatherings.

But just when they thought their club was done for, Steve swooped in like the knight in shining armor that he is and offered up his house, which is why for the last couple of weeks they’ve been gathering at the Harrington residence where Steve not only hosts their campaigns and puts up with the noise and the mess they leave behind, but he also cooks or buys them dinner every week and makes sure to stock up his fridge with each of their favorite drinks, even indulging in Gareth’s weird obsession with Bubble Up soda because he is unreal and the nicest fucking guy Eddie knows.

So Eddie can’t not thank him every time. Contrary to what people might believe, he has manners. He also likes the pretty pink flush that covers Steve’s cheeks whenever he does it.

“Hm, I think I do,” he says, nudging Steve’s leg again. “Hellfire would be over if it wasn’t for you, sweetheart.”

“And what a tragedy that would be,” Steve jokes but aha! There it is- that pretty pink blush.

“Hey! I know for a fact that you don’t hate it as much as you pretend to,” Eddie says, shaking his finger in a reproachful manner. “You sat through the whole session last time and didn’t even yawn once!”

Last week, Dustin begged and pleaded so that Steve would sit and watch their campaign instead of retreating to the kitchen or his bedroom. Steve held his ground admirably until Eddie joined in on Dustin’s pleas, batting his eyelashes and pouting exaggeratedly until he caved, sighing in defeat and sitting down next to Eddie. He didn’t expect Steve to make it through the whole thing, but he did and while he did look a little confused at times and complained that there was way too much math involved, he also seemed to actually enjoy himself.

Steve shifts from one foot to the other and bites his lip. “Yeah, I guess, but that’s because I was watching you the whole time,” he shyly says.

Eddie blinks. “Me?” He remembers Steve’s eyes on him while he led the campaign, but he didn’t think much of it then. But now Steve’s shy admission that he enjoyed himself because he was watching Eddie makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Flushing deeper, Steve keeps his eyes on the glass that he’s drying, not meeting Eddie’s gaze as he says, “Yeah, you, uh. You’re very good at doing those voices and you know, drawing people into your stories. It’s, um, fascinating.”

Fascinating. No one’s ever used that word to describe Eddie before. He can’t help the way his breath catches when Steve Harrington of all people calls him that.

“Oh. Well, thanks,” he stammers out, feeling his own cheeks match Steve’s flush. “And here I thought you were going to say I’m just pretty to look at,” he adds with a slightly shaky laugh.

And that’s what he expects Steve to do- laugh it off. Instead, he finally meets Eddie’s eyes and says, “Well, that too.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. Holy shit.

Steve does laugh then but not because it was a joke. He laughs at Eddie’s reaction which consists of him gaping like a fish because Steve Harrington just called him fascinating and pretty.

And it’s not that Steve hasn’t given him compliments before or hasn’t flirted with him before. He plays along most of the time- sometimes with a playful smirk and sometimes with that baffled puppy look that Eddie saw for the first time after calling him “big boy”.

The thing is he’s never flirted like this- shyly, without a hint of a joke. And it’s-

Well, it’s a lot.

But if Eddie learned anything after Spring Break is to roll with whatever the universe throws at him, which in this case isn’t an army of hell bats or an apocalypse, but Steve Harrington finally, maybe, possibly making a move. Something that Eddie has been waiting for after weeks of the two of them dancing around each other.

He couldn’t see it at first, or rather he refused to, afraid to get his hopes up only for his heart to break when he turned out to be wrong. But there are things that not even his cynical eyes can ignore. The way Steve gravitates towards Eddie in any group setting or the way Eddie catches him staring when he thinks he isn’t looking like last week when they went swimming at the quarry and Eddie took off his shirt or like two weeks ago when Eddie tied his hair up to keep it off his face while he played his guitar. Or the way Steve’s eyes seem to dart to Eddie’s lips constantly when he talks and the way he can’t go more than a day without seeing him before he’s knocking on Eddie’s door to spend time with him.

It would be slightly easier to ignore all of this if it wasn’t for the fact that Eddie acts the same way when it comes to Steve. And Eddie is halfway in love with the guy, so. It makes him wonder.

But despite all of this, Eddie still hasn’t made a move. Steve either. Until now maybe.

Eddie clears his throat, finally finding his words. “Well, as entertaining as it must’ve been to watch me.” He grins. “You’ll have more fun if you actually play with us. Maybe next time I can finally convince you to join.”

Hazel eyes narrow at him. “If I play, will you threaten to cut off my hand too?”

“Nah, I promise to go easy on you since it’s your first time.” He winks and Steve’s eyes widen, the blush from before making a wonderful return.

“I- I haven’t said yes-”

“Yet.”

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.”

“Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.”

Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh.

“There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.”

Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is.

“You’re right,” Steve says, and in one quick movement, he pushes himself away from the counter and moves to stand between Eddie’s legs. Holy fuck. “There’s one thing.”

Anticipation bubbles up in Eddie’s stomach. “Yeah? What- what is it?” He asks with a suddenly dry throat.

Steve ducks his head, glancing at Eddie through his eyelashes. “A kiss from the Dungeon Master?” He asks in a shy whisper.

Eddie stares at him for a second, lips parted in surprise because goddamn shitting fuck. Then-

“Not the goblin?” He asks in his stupid goblin voice. Like a fucking loser.

As soon as he blurts it out he slaps a hand against his face. “Fucking Christ, I can’t believe I just did that. That was so lame. I’m just fucking nervous, sorry.”

Steve wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, lowering his hand. His eyes are sparkling with fondness. “Don’t be, it’s cute,” he says with a soft chuckle.

A nearly hysterical giggle bubbles up in Eddie’s throat but it abruptly cuts off when Steve places his hands on Eddie’s thigh and leans in.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna give me that kiss or what?” Steve asks oh so sweetly.

And Eddie doesn’t waste a moment after that, he finally goes for it. He cups Steve’s cheeks and tugs his face closer, pressing their mouths together, feeling his chest explode with warmth as he thinks finally and pinch me and holy fucking shit.

The kiss is sweet and slow. It starts a little tentative, just lips slotting together, Steve’s bottom lip fitting perfectly between Eddie’s. But then something shifts- Steve’s hands settle on Eddie’s waist, his thumbs digging into his hip bones while Eddie’s fingers find their way to Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp, tangling with the soft strands, tugging on them. The last one makes Steve’s mouth fall open in a gasp, just enough for Eddie to press in, catching Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and biting down hard enough to earn himself a small whine. Then he lets it go, easing his tongue across Steve’s lip and licking into his mouth.

He loses track of anything else that happens when Steve’s own tongue licks into his mouth in return.

After a while the kiss softens again, turning into something slow and tender until it comes to a natural stop, once they can’t ignore the need to breathe anymore.

Steve pulls back but Eddie doesn’t let him go far, keeping a firm hold on the lapels of his dorky polo shirt. “Definitely worth my while but-”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow. “But?”

“But,” Steve says, his red, wet, well-kissed lips stretching into a wicked grin. “I think I’m gonna need more convincing.”

Eddie grins back. “Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

He tugs Steve closer again and he comes willingly, sighing happily when their lips slot together once more. God, Eddie is so fucked. They’ve kissed once and he’s already addicted to kissing Steve. He’s convinced that he could stay like this forever, lazily making out with him on his kitchen counter, tongues exploring, hands wandering.

And he probably would’ve- if a shrill voice didn’t make them jump apart.

“What the hell is going on here!” Dustin yells.

Steve whirls around so fast he almost faceplants on his kitchen floor and Eddie jumps back and hits his head against one of the upper cupboards.

He lets out a string of creative curses as he rubs the back of his head, seeing black spots when he opens his eyes. Despite those, he can still see the whole party standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at them with expressions ranging from utter shock (Sinclair and Henderson) to disgust (Wheeler) to smugness (Jeff, Gareth, Dougie, and weirdly enough, Erica).

“Uh,” Steve says dumbly as he tries to find his words, but there’s no lying their way out of this one and they both know it. They were just caught with their tongues down each other’s throats and Eddie’s hands on Steve’s ass.

“Well?” Dustin prompts in a bitchy tone.

“I was, uh, convincing Steve to join D&D next week,” Eddie says, which is, technically, the truth.

Gareth snorts, raising an eyebrow. “With your tongue?”

Eddie gives a gleeful laugh. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Eddie,” Steve hisses, flushing to the tips of his ears.

“That’s gross!” Wheeler cries, his face scrunching up which is rich coming from him, Eddie thinks, considering he saw him sucking face with El more times than he would’ve liked in the short time she was in Hawkins after everything. So he knows Wheeler has nothing against kissing and it makes him wonder if he might have something against Eddie kissing a boy, or boys kissing boys in general and Eddie loves the kid, he loves all of them but he will sit him down for some tough love if he happens to not be okay with-

There’s a slapping sound as Erica smacks him upside the head.

“Ouch!”

“Not cool, butthead,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Wheeler. “Boys can kiss boys too.”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth tugs up in a smile. Just like that, she’s currently his favorite.

“What?” Wheeler asks, rubbing the back of his head. “I know that. I don’t care that Eddie wants to kiss guys, I care that he wants to kiss Steve!”

“Hey!” Steve protests with an affronted frown.

“Eddie is cool and Steve is so lame! And he’s my sister’s ex!” He says with extra snark.

Eddie can’t help it, he bursts out laughing. Steve’s head snaps in his direction, his offended expression now directed at him. “Sorry, sorry,” he says between giggles. He clears his throat and gives Wheeler a stern face. It’s a much different scolding than the one he thought he would be giving him just a few moments ago and he’s grateful for that. “Steve isn’t lame. Yes, his music taste is shit and he owns more polo shirts than an 80-year-old-”

“Dude, are you defending me or helping Mike insult me?” Steve mumbles with a pout.

“But!” Eddie says, ignoring him. “He’s also badass and he’s saved your sorry asses multiple times and he’s nice enough to let you pipsqueaks eat his food and trash his house every week and he’s hot as fuck, so. Show some respect, Wheeler.”

Mike’s face scrunches up. “What does Steve being hot have to do with anything? Ew!”

But before Eddie can reply to that, Dustin takes a step forward, looking between the two. “So this is a thing now? Are you guys a thing?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at them.

Steve and Eddie exchange a look, both of them trying to communicate the same thing- do you want to be a thing? Steve gives him a sheepish smile and a nod, and in response, Eddie wraps his arms and legs around him, essentially hanging off of Steve’s back like a koala and trapping him against the counter. “Yes, Henderson. We are, as you so eloquently put it, a thing.”

Eddie expects more outrage, but Dustin nods solemnly. “Okay, cool. Just- no flirting at the D&D table. And no kissing!” There are nods and noises of agreement from the rest of the party.

Eddie lets out an indignant squeak. “Excuse me, this is a dictatorship and I’m in charge! And the Dungeon Master decides that there will be kissing, butthead,” he announces, and then to prove a point, he smacks a sloppy kiss against Steve’s cheek.

There’s a lot of groaning and whining and fake-gagging.

“Dude, it’s like watching my parents kiss,” Sinclair says and Henderson nods, rubbing at his eyes like it physically hurt him to see Eddie kiss Steve.

Eddie rolls his eyes- and they call him dramatic.

“Fine, fine, no kissing,” he says and sees Steve pout out of the corner of his eye. “But I won’t be deprived of the joy of flirting with one Sir Stephen.”

Steve leans back against Eddie’s chest, twisting his neck to arch an eyebrow at him. “Sir Stephen?”

“I’ve been working on your character sheet for weeks,” Eddie says with a grin. And it’s true, he had the feeling that he would be able to convince Steve to play and he wanted to be ready. If he’d known a kiss was all it took to do it, he would’ve done it much sooner.

“That’s presumptuous of you,” Steve mumbles, but there’s a smile teasing at his lips. Eddie shrugs, nuzzling his face against Steve’s shoulder.

“Fine!” Dustin groans, reminding Eddie that he and Steve aren’t alone. “As long as you stay in character.”

Eddie grins wickedly, already looking forward to flirting with Steve through all his characters, even the goblin.

“Anyway,” Jeff says, clapping his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. “We were on our way out. We would offer to take the kiddos home, but Dougie’s piece of shit car won’t fit them all.” Dougie protests with a “Hey!” that they all ignore.

Usually, Eddie doesn’t mind driving the kids around, but right now, a part of him does wish that he could stay a little longer with Steve. The other part can’t wait to get home so he can scream into a pillow.

“Nah, I got it. Gentleman, lady, grab your things, we’ll head out in a second,” he says, making shooing motions with his hands.

Sinclair rolls his eyes. “He just wants more time to make out with Steve,” he mutters as they all start to pile out of the kitchen.

“Correct, Sinclair!”

He and Wheeler make gagging noises, earning a shove from Erica as she follows them. Yeah, she’s definitely his favorite.

Henderson lingers on the doorway.

“Any other rules you wish to impose on us, Master Nog?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dustin shakes his head, curls bouncing. “No, I’m just- I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

Eddie blinks. “Oh,” he exhales softly, touched by the kid’s words.

“Thanks, Henderson,” Steve says, and he sounds touched too.

“Yeah, thanks, kid.”

“And I love you both, but if you get divorced, I will pick sides.” And with one final narrow-eyed look, he turns on his heels and leaves.

“Which side?” Eddie asks, but the little shit pretends he doesn’t hear him. “Henderson! Which side?” His shoulders slump. “Brat.”

“Too bad we’re never gonna find out,” Steve says, turning around to face Eddie without dislodging his arms or legs that are still wrapped around him.

Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest. “Never? That’s presumptuous of you,” he says, echoing his words from before.

Steve shrugs. “I just know I don’t plan to break up with you- or divorce you like the kid said.”

Oh yeah, Eddie definitely needs a pillow to scream into right about now. “Um, yeah, me neither, so I guess we’re stuck together.”

Steve nods with a dopey smile. “And we’ll never know who Dustin would’ve picked.”

There’s a short silence.

Then, “He would’ve picked me,” they both say at the same time.

Steve squawks. “Me!”

“No, me!”

“I’ve known him longer!”

“He thinks I’m cooler!”

And so on until Eddie gets tired of arguing and shuts Steve up with a kiss. Before they can deepen it though, they’re once again interrupted by the kids.

“Eddie!” Dustin yells.

“Stop sucking face and let’s go!” Wheeler adds and Eddie can’t see him, but he knows his nose is scrunched up in disgust.

“We’re gonna be late!” Sinclair adds, urgently, and Erica mhm’s in agreement.

Eddie throws his head back with a groan. “Jesus H. Christ! They’re so annoying.”

“They are,” Steve chuckles, brushing their noses together. “Hey, you wanna come over tomorrow? We can work on that character thing together. Just you and me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, lips parted in awe. Steve and D&D? There must be hearts in his eyes right now or bursting out of him like he’s a cartoon. “You’re offering to do nerdy shit with me? God, you’re a dream, Jesus Christ!” He says, hands coming up to cup either side of Steve’s face and peppering kisses all over it- his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and finally, his lips.

Steve giggles. “So, that’s a yes?”

“I’ll be here,” Eddie says with a grin.

Steve wraps his arms around his neck. “And since the kids won’t be there I expect there to be kissing and flirting.”

Eddie inches closer, smirking. “Hm, you can count on it, sweetheart.”

This time they don’t even get to kiss before the kids are yelling again, this time in unison. “Eddie!”

Eddie lets go of Steve’s waist and slaps his hands against his face. “Motherfucker!” He groans. Then louder, “I’m coming!”

Steve shakes his head with a laugh as Eddie hops down from the counter.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie tells him.

Steve gives him another dopey smile- or rather the same one since it hasn’t left his face at all. “Can’t wait.”

Eddie sweeps in for a quick kiss, one that the kids can’t interrupt, marveling for a second at the fact that he can simply do that now. Then with a final tug to Steve’s flowery apron, he skips out of the kitchen, turning around at the doorway to look at Steve one last time. He’s leaning against the counter, smile firmly plastered on his face and looking at Eddie like-

Well, exactly like Eddie is looking at him. Lovestruck, he thinks comes close to describing it. And ain’t that something.

He gives Eddie one of those little finger waves, and in return, Eddie blows him a kiss. Steve’s cheeks turning pink is the last thing he sees before he leaves the kitchen and joins the kids in the living room.

“Okay, shitheads!” He says, clapping his hands together to get their attention. “Which one of you am I sending home walking?”

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stficbingo #yet another getting together fic because i love them clearly #this one featuring the hellfire club #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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narcissisticmf · 1 year ago

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draw me | benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

description: you ask benedict to draw you, wearing almost nothing.

trigger warnings: nudity, sexual content, seductive behavior, oral sex, etc. please do not proceed in reading if you are under the age of 18.

word count: 1.8k

You walked through the halls with servants of the Bridgerton family, standing outside the opened door to Benedict's study, where he was working behind a canvas.

"You have a caller, Mr. Bridgerton," Stated the servant, bowing his head. You walked into the room, in a silk dress, a silver chain was dangling beautifully around your neck. You stared at Benedict with a soft expression, eyes gentle and calm.

"Leave us," Benedict offered a generous grin to his servants as they left the room, latching the door shut behind them. You continued gazing at him, never turning away, not even once.

"Am I too early? I didn't realize you were already working on something else," You explained as he stared at you with the utmost loving gaze.

"No, not at all, please, have a seat," He gestured to the sofa beside you. "Can I get you a drink?" Benedict asked politely after you planted your bottom against the soft cushions.

"I'm quite well for now, thank you," You admitted.

"Shall we get started then?" He smiled. You nodded softly. "I'd like you to lay down, on your back," He instructed as you did as told, you followed every word that he spoke. Your stomach bubbled with ease and excitement.

Benedict stared at you for a little while, his fingers gripping his chin as his eyes squinted, scanning your body's position. He walked over to you with a gentle demeanor.

"Permission to touch you?" He asked as he looked at you, his gaze never broke from you.

You looked up to him and nodded softly, "Yes."

Benedict gently grasped your wrist and moved your arm to lay against the top of your head. He stepped back and examined your position, smiling.

"Benedict?" You called softly after he had turned around to head back to his canvas, that was propped up on an easel. He turned around with asked 'what' with his eyes, pupils blown out.

"Might I make a small suggestion?" You asked and he nodded. "Wouldn't the image be more raw if my form wasn't so.. cladded?"

Benedict did his best to fight the growing smile. He agreed to your suggestion, as long as you were alright and comfortable. He made sure that you were one hundred percent on board with it.

After confirming your wishes, you stood up from the sofa and lifted the dress from the bottom, over your head, tossing the silk material across the room, beside the windows. You removed all your undergarments, and soon became completely vulnerable. Your breasts laid naturally against your ribcage. Benedict admired you, his eyes traveling up and down your exposed body.

You laid back against the sofa and fixed yourself to be in the form which Benedict had you in moments ago. All that was against your skin was a silver chain. Your hair was down and curled, the way your servants did it the morning of.

Benedict did his best to fight the smile that was against his lips. You smiled softly, but soon it ceased, wanting to keep a serious expression for the final product of the piece.

"Does an artist often blush when drawing one of their subjects?" You grinned mischievously as Benedict let out a small giggle.

"Shh," He hushed you and continued painting away. He managed to get every curve, every beautiful detail amongst your body, matching your skintone perfectly. He even got the subtle glassiness in your eyes and the way the sunlight reflected against your body and about the room.

You were unsure if it was the temperature of the room or the fact that you were at your most vulnerable in front of a man, but your nipples hardened and Benedict took notice of this. He smirked, a lopsided one and stared at you for a moment, ceasing his motions of the paintbrush.

"Are you cold?" He questioned.

"Uhm, no, why?" You asked.

"'Tis my duty as the artist to make sure that my subject is comfortable and satisfied in all ways possible," He replied with a grin.

You smiled softly as you watched him continue to illustrate. He was so focused, looking to you and back at the canvas every few seconds.

Finishing the image, Benedict smiled and turned his easel around so that you could see it. Your lips curved into a grin as you saw how beautiful the painting was.

"It's beautiful, Benedict," You replied, still lying there, unclothed.

"Thank you, Miss. Y/N," He replied with a smug grin as he stared at you, admiring your body. "Will you.. uhm.. be getting back into your dress now?"

You stared at him for a moment, thinking. "If you wish it," You whispered.

"I certainly do not, but do you?" Benedict asked.

"No," You replied quickly. He smiled, his most famous lopsided grin. You slowly arose from the sofa and noticed how Benedict's eyes were glued to you. You walked towards him and noticed he was backing into the bookshelf behind him, pressing his hands against it, for leverage.

"Permission to touch you, Miss. Y/L/N?" He breathed out, almost desperate.

You leaned forward to whisper into his ear, "Yes."

Benedict hastily wrapped his arms lowly around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. You cupped his face and molded your lips with his perfectly. He tasted of brandy and mint. His hands moved down your bare back and towards your bum, gripping your cheeks softly. You released a whimper against his mouth as you pulled back, resting your chin to his shoulder. Your lips parted, to allow soft whines and moans to escape. Benedict moved his lips down your neck and across your shoulder, burying his face into your skin.

He slowly stepped forward, guiding you to the sofa you'd be lying on while Benedict was painting. You sat against it while he begun to remove his coat, tossing it beside your silk dress. You stared at him, eyeing his body up and down. He smirked and removed his suspenders, then his blouse overhead, tossing it to the side. He unzipped the side of his pants and kicked them off effortlessly. Soon, he was left is absolutely nothing.

The sun was setting outside, creating a beautiful reflection of light against Benedict's skin. You smiled as he walked towards the couch, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You kissed him back and gripped his biceps, pushing him to sit beside you. You wasted no time and straddled his waist, draping your arms around his neck, molding your lips perfectly against his.

You'd forgotten about everything; the servants just outside the door, the painting, the fact that your actions were so scandalous that both your life and Benedict's could be ruined if anyone found out. You were focused on him and only him, it was tranquil and comfortable. You felt safer than you had in a long time.

Benedict's hands were holding your sides, slowly dragging his fingers to your back, tracing your skin lightly. You moved your hips with his softly, making him groan quietly into your mouth.

Without taking his lips from yours, he pushed your to lay against your back, so that he was on top of you. You pressed your fingers against his face, engrossed in the taste of him.

Benedict pulled back to admire your body a little long. He noticed how hardened your nipples had become. He lowered his head, without breaking eye contact and placed his lips around your left breast, sucking on your nipple. You whimpered, leaning your head back as the arousal begun to stick to your inner thighs. His eyes were on you the entire time. He moved from your left to your right, repeating the same actions.

You leaned your head back against the cushions, releasing moans that were soon suppressed by Benedict's palm. You closed your eyes and used on hand to push through his hair, gripping it softly.

He dragged his wet lips down your stomach, around your navel and towards your heat. You released a shaky breath as his breath fanned against you. You slowly spread your legs to make it easier access for him. He slipped one finger into your mouth, making you blink in surprise.

"Suck on it. We don't want any unwanted ears hearing us, do we?" Benedict stated as he looked up to you, only raising his eyes. You nodded and begun to suck on his finger, hoping it would be enough to keep you quiet.

He pressed his mouth against your private, using his tongue to toy with your folds. It took a lot for you to keep quiet, but luckily his finger was doing the trick. You closed your eyes as let the feeling consume you. You wrapped your legs around Benedict's shoulders as he moved his lips and tongue against your strings.

Despite his finger keeping you silenced, there was still a beautiful melody within your whines that escaped into the atmosphere.

After a little while, Benedict arose and removed his finger from your mouth, using it to softly graze across your folds. You bit your tongue, having no desire for anyone to hear, but there was adrenaline in that, in knowing you could be caught or heard.

Benedict was on top of you, yet again and held your side with one hand, pressing his lips against yours. You hummed at the taste of your own heat, finding it sweet yet savory at the same time.

You felt Benedict slip effortlessly inside of you. You gasped into his mouth, feeling so many ecstasies all at once. He moved his hips to and fro, feeling how loose you'd been. The comfort in him and his actions was unlike anything you'd ever felt before or experienced.

"Benedict.." You moaned into his mouth as he continued his motions. He was a moaning mess as well, perhaps that was why he was kissing you the whole time.

"You feel absolutely wonderful, Y/N," Benedict whispered through a broken moan.

You had locked eyes with him, as the two of you became close to undoing. You felt your stomach unravel all the knots, reaching your climax. Benedict swiftly pulled out of you, releasing his sticky load against your stomach.

You were both out of breath as he smiled down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. He reached onto the ground to grab a cloth, gently wiping his essence off of you. He was sure to be careful, knowing that you must've been sensitive.

"That was perfect," You whispered, taking notice that the sun was already set and the moon was the only think illuminating the darkness of night.

Benedict smiled, chuckling lightly as he pressed a warm kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Perhaps, we should do this again sometime."

Smiling, you nodded.

a/n: hi, cuties!! so i just started watching bridgerton and i absolutely LOVE benedict! he's the sweetest character that i think i've ever seen and couldn't wait to write something for him! i'm sorry i haven't been posting much, work has been really crazy as well as my mental health. i hope you're all doing good! thank you so much for reading! — angelina. <33

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rebelfell · 9 months ago

Text

bells will be ringing

crush!steve harrington x fem!reader x fwb!eddie munson

The annual Harrington Christmas Party is an elegant affair, complete with decorations, fancy food and flowing libations. But when your friend-slash-fuck buddy Eddie tires of you and Steve dancing around your burgeoning feelings for one another…he offers a creative solution.

Part One│Part Two

18+, MDNI 8k

cw: MMF, allusions to poverty and implied family strife, light alcohol and weed use, kinda mean/crass Eddie, semi-public fingering/oral (f receiving), r’s hair gets pulled once.

The Harrington’s were white light people.

There wasn’t a single inch of their stately home not adorned in festive finery for their annual Christmas party. It was all silver candlesticks with cream-colored tapers, deep red ribbons tied into bows and hung at perfectly spaced intervals, long garlands of rich greenery draped along the banisters—real as shit and smelling like a goddamn pine forest.

It was a far cry from what you and Eddie knew growing up next door to one another way on the other side of town. For you two, it was scrawny and half-dead trees purchased at a discount as close to Christmas as possible when their vendors were just trying to unload them, covered in a hodgepodge of homemade ornaments and faded multicolored lights, only about half of which worked half the time. When your families could afford a tree, that was.

The Harringtons’ own stood at the far end of the house, glowing bright as a nuclear reactor with seemingly endless strands of bright white lights wound around its branches. It was methodically decorated with matching red, silver and gold baubles, each one hung precisely in place and polished to gleaming perfection.

Elegant. Proper. Pristine.

The party was already well underway by the time you arrived, Steve nowhere to be found in the sea of people. They all stood together in clumps, exchanging jovial smiles that pushed up rosy cheeks, the women cooing over each other's outfits and jewelry while the men swapped stories about their quarterly earnings. Weaving through the throngs, cater waiters floated past carrying trays loaded with hors d’oeuvres and tall glasses of shimmery, bubbly liquid.

It made you and Eddie glance around, furtive and unsure as you skulked into the foyer. The two of you might as well have been invisible for all the attention anyone paid you.

“See Steve anywhere?” you asked, peering deeper inside the house.

The former stud of Hawkins High had always been easy to spot in the hallways of his former domain, seemingly towering over everyone even after he stopped sporting that gravity-defying bouffant hairstyle. Those days were long gone now, but an occasional glimmer of his old self would still shine through, reminding you of when King Steve reigned supreme.

“Nope, nowhere,” Eddie grumbled. “I told you this was a mistake.”

His warm breath on your ear as he leaned in to whisper in it had your head snapping to the side. Some of the snow that had just started to fall outside dusted his dark, unruly curls and he still had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, as though he wanted to be ready to turn heel and run at the first opportunity. You’d seen him look more relaxed about to shoplift.

“What do you mean?”

“Look around, sweetheart. See if you can spot what doesn’t belong.”

It was kind of irritating how right he was. Everyone else in attendance tonight looked perfectly at home in this pretty picture. It was all business partners and their wives, clients who probably made more in a year than you or Eddie would hope to see in your entire lifetime, other miscellaneous friends and fellow members of the Hawkins upper echelon.

To call you fish out of water would be putting it lightly. You were like fish on a space station.

“What were we supposed to do?” you whispered back. “We had to come.”

That was debatable. Steve had invited you, yes, but he also practically tripped over himself to assure you it was totally fine if you couldn’t make it. He’d sat on the edge of Eddie’s sofa running through all his most blatant tells—hands pushing through his hair, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, foot jiggling non-stop—as he told you about the party.

“It’s all my parents' friends, so it might be kind of lame. But I’m allowed to invite people if you guys want to come. It’d be really great to see you.”

He’d worked himself up into such a state, it almost felt cruel to say no. You weren’t sure what it was—something about the earnestness with which he asked, and the way his eyes shone so hopefully when you smiled and told him you thought it sounded like fun.

Eddie’s gruff voice sounded in your ear again.

“Think we’re just here to piss off daddy?”

You followed his eyeline to the living room, gaze promptly drawn to the imposing frame of John Harrington as he reached out to grip the hand of someone important. Or at least someone who seemed to think they were. Even never having seen or met him before, he was easy to pick out as Steve’s father. They had the same square jaw, the same perfectly angled nose and rich, light brown hair. Although, John’s was cut shorter and tamed into a much more manageable style than his son’s long locks that lived in a near-constant state of tousled messiness.

“Steve wouldn’t do that,” you said firmly. “He asked us to come because we’re his friends.”

The words still felt strange to say. It made you wonder, yet again, if it would ever stop feeling so surreal that you now hung out with Steve “The Hair” Harrington on an almost daily basis.

When you were in school together, you never even landed on his radar. Eddie had some notoriety as the town’s supposed demon summoner, but you were just…around. A plain face that blended into the crowd; a background extra with no lines in the scene; wallpaper and set dressing for the popular kids who were living out their exemplary lives.

If this was only a few years prior, he probably would be spending this evening sneaking drinks with Tommy H. and Carol, or parading around with Nancy Wheeler on his arm to show her off to all his dad’s colleagues and brag about her getting into Emerson. Instead, his falling out with all of them and his subsequent fall from his high-school throne had led him here—to an unlikely friendship with The Freak and The Invisible Girl.

Whenever he came over to Eddie’s to smoke, or you three piled into his car to go to the movies or drive the winding back roads that snaked along the edge of town, it almost felt natural. And the more time you spent with him, the harder and harder it became to remember why he’d always seemed so…untouchable.

“So, what should we do?” You wondered aloud as you glanced around again, still hoping Steve might materialize somehow. Behind you, Eddie’s head shook and his shoulders shrugged.

“How should I know? You were the one begging to come tonight.”

“I wasn’t begging.”

“Oh, really?” He scoffed as he leaned in close again, raising the pitch of his voice in an overly breathy imitation of you. “Please, Eddie? Please, can we go to the party? I’ll let you eat me out from the back if you—”

“Stifle,” you hissed, jamming your elbow into his stomach.

He grunted at the sharp jab, but his lips remained curled in a sly smirk. “What’s wrong? Worried your little crush will find out what I’ve been doing to you after he goes home?”

“I don’t care if he knows,” you sniped. It’s almost convincing, but the flash of alarm in your eyes told a different story. Not that it mattered, Eddie didn’t buy it for a second anyway.

“Well, that’s good,” he tutted. “Because he already knows we’ve fucked.”

“Wait, what?” You whirled around fully now. “How?”

“He, ahh…” Eddie fought to contain his grin as he scratched at the short stubble on his cheek. “He saw that picture you let me take.”

Your eyes went wide, both horrified and enraged as you shoved his shoulder—hard.

“You showed it to him?”

“No, he found it,” Eddie hissed. “We were looking around for some weed I had stashed and he happened to open the drawer it was in.”

Your whole body—your very being—surged with white hot shame. If it wouldn’t have given Eddie so much satisfaction, you might have run straight out of the party right then and there. The thought of Steve seeing you like that…

It was almost unbearable.

The details of you and Eddie’s attachment had always been strictly under wraps. You weren’t exactly keeping it a secret, per se, but most people weren’t super accepting of the idea and you’d learned to play it close to the vest. And with how much time the two of you had started spending with Steve, you didn’t want to risk making him uncomfortable.

It had been going on for ages. Pausing, albeit briefly, if one of you found yourself in a relationship, and picking right back up when said relationship inevitably fizzled or if it tipped into the dangerous territory of getting too serious. He was one of the few people in your life you trusted intrinsically, and it wasn’t like guys were banging down your door as it was.

The picture was a one-time thing—a polaroid you’d let Eddie snap as a belated birthday present because you’d been too busy to find him something real. You had made him swear upon pain of death it was for his eyes only. And now he’d shown it to the last person on earth you wanted to see it? Oh, you were going to garrotte him with tinsel in his sleep.

Also, Steve wasn’t your crush. He was…a preoccupation. A distraction. A vague interest.

You couldn’t even say for sure when it had begun. All you knew was just last spring, there was a month of Friday evenings where you found yourself back in the Hawkins High parking lot pulled in alongside Steve’s distinctive maroon beemer. He was leaning on the hood, waiting for Hellfire to let out so he could drive home his little horde of nuggets, and you had shown up acting as Eddie’s ride while his van was out of commission.

And that night, for the first time ever, you had a real conversation with Steve Harrington.

A fairly illuminating one, at that.

There was a sweetness to him you never would have guessed was there. And a dorkiness that brought light to his eyes when he did his elaborate handshake with Dustin Henderson, or the way he exalted along with the kids when the group burst through the double doors leading out of the school, whooping and cheering from a successful campaign. It warmed your whole body from the inside out, the feeling only growing stronger the more time you shared.

And now he’d seen your bare tits covered in Eddies cum. Perfect, just perfect.

“You’re such an asshole,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “That’s so humiliating.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I think he kinda liked it.”

“He…he did?”

“I mean, he was staring at it pretty hard. I think he needed some alone time with it.”

You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder another shove for good measure, muttering a you're disgusting at him under your breath, hoping it would hide the nerves creeping across your face. Unfortunately, it only seemed to add fuel to Eddie’s fire. He leaned in one last time, his voice a gritty rasp in your ear that made shivers run down your spine.

“So you don’t wanna know what he said, then?”

Tension seized your shoulders as you glared at him, jaw clenched, ready to spit back a vicious comment—or maybe just spit—only to stop short at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey, guys! I’m so glad you made it!”

Steve was beaming as he came over, his bright hazel eyes shining, the golden flecks in them brought out by the color of his sweater. He drew you into his embrace, his strong arms curling securely around your body and his gourmand scent filling your nose as you breathed him in.

Your hands smoothed over the planes of his back, relishing in the softness of the knit he wore and the solidity of his broad chest pressed against yours. Your pulse quickened, blood pounding in your ears as you did your level best to force what Eddie had just told you out of your head.

“I’m the coat check tonight,” Steve explained, tipping an imaginary cap. “There’s a guest room upstairs we can put them in.”

“I gotta take a leak,” Eddie said, already shrugging off his leather jacket and pushing it into your arms. “Take care of that for me, will you sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but Eddie just grinned back at you with a suggestive bounce of his brows behind his curled bangs. Steve pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and then turned straight back to you as he tilted his head upstairs.

“Shall we?” he asked.

The sounds of the party became distant and muffled as Steve led you upstairs to the designated dumping ground for all the furs and wraps of the numerous guests. It was dark inside, lit only by the moonlight that streamed through the window and the warm glow of the lights strung on the outside of the house that cast across the heap of coats on the bed.

You laid Eddie’s jacket down on a chair in the corner before you began to undo the belt of your own tied around your waist. As the thick, gray poly-blend slid off your shoulders, you shivered at the cool air hitting your heated skin for the first time that night.

When you turned back around, Steve was much closer than you remembered.

His eyes studied you with a kind of reverence that made your body tingle with excitement in a way you didn’t dare to name. The way he looked at you sometimes…whether it through a haze of pot smoke in Eddie’s trailer, or in the flickering light of a screen at the multiplex, or beneath the harsh amber wash of a single streetlight in an empty parking lot…

It made you wonder.

“You look really nice,” he finally said, his voice as soft as his eyes.

The dress you’d worn was fairly simple, made of maroon velour with a burnout pattern of leaves you thought looked a bit like holly. It was loose and flowy, but had laces in the back you had pulled tight so it cinched in your waist and pushed up your chest, not unlike a corset. The neckline was just low enough to flirt with impropriety and it nicely complimented the length of the pendant that sat in the center of your clavicle.

A dainty (fake) gold snowflake you thought was festive.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice even softer than his as you folded your arms in front of your stomach. “I hope it’s okay. I don’t have a lot of nice outfits.”

Steve shook his head, captivated eyes still scanning over you. They landed briefly on your legs, the black stockings you’d worn in an attempt to stave off the cold now prickling warm on your skin as if it was his hands running over them instead of just his gaze.

“You always look perfect,” he said.

It’s not just the words that made you falter, but the plainness with which he states them. As if it’s something obvious. As though he thinks it all the time and he just happened to say it this time. It makes your stomach twirl and all at once, you feel like an empty-headed teenager standing at her locker, dizzy from being complimented by the cutest boy in school.

“So, this is quite a spectacle,” you chuckled, glad for the dimness of the room that somewhat hid your reaction to him. “Are there any poinsettias left in Hawkins?”

Steve smirked and took a careful step forward. There was only about a foot of space between you now, if that. “I think if there were, my mom would already have a guy on it,” he said.

Your eyes met his and you shared a soft laugh. “Well, it’s really beautiful,” you sighed. “It must have taken her ages to do all this.”

“Not really,” Steve chuckled. “She has, like, a whole team that comes in and puts it all together.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Your gaze dropped and you gave a regretful shake of your head. Rich people stuff, you thought a bit bitterly. No wonder that hadn’t occurred to you. “But…you must decorate the tree together, at least. Right?”

“No, they do that too. I’ve, uh…I’ve never actually never decorated a tree for Christmas. I kind of thought that was just something they did in movies.”

He huffed out a laugh, trying to hide the sadness that had started to pollute his smile, and rubbed the back of his head, tugging at the hair there that curled along the nape of his neck.

All you could do was stare.

You thought about that gleaming, twelve-foot behemoth downstairs with its dazzling lights and ornaments all spaced and hung so perfectly. It was stunning—looked like something straight out of a magazine. But now it was tinged with something hollow and unsatisfactory.

Cold. Fake. Empty.

It was you who stepped closer this time, the muscles in your arm tensing as if fighting against your brain’s instructions to reach out and touch him. He was close enough now you could feel the warmth coming off his body and smell the spice of his cologne and the clove cigarette he must have smoked. Your lips trembled, parted slightly, still searching for what to say.

But words refused to come.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Steve soothed, flashing you that easy and charming smile you’d grown to love and loathe in equal measure. “I just meant, like, Christmas really isn’t a big deal to me. And neither is this party, honestly, but…”

He fell silent as his hand reached out to squeeze your elbow, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing gently across your forearm. You stared mutely at his hand where it rested, already dreading how cold it would feel there when he let go of you. Except he didn’t.

“I’m really happy you’re here, though,” he said.

Steve’s chest rose with a sharp inhale and the tip of his tongue swiped along his bottom lip to wet it. His head tilted towards you, a few stray pieces of hair falling into his eyes that were bright and shiny with the string lights around the window reflecting in them.

It made your own breath catch, praying you weren’t imagining it as he started to lean in.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

You and Steve flew apart like shrapnel, both of you too wrapped up in the steady draw of your bodies together to notice the heavy thump of Eddie’s footsteps in the hall. Steve’s hand came up automatically to run through his hair, dragging up the bottom of his sweater and flashing the briefest glimpse of torso as his arm lifted. It made your mouth dry as a bone.

“I just realized I forgot about my hostess gift,” Eddie said.

His brow cocked at you and yet another little smirk curved along his lips as he brushed past, nudging you ever so subtly back in Steve’s direction. He then started to rifle through the inside pockets of his leather jacket until he exhumed a plastic bag with a few joints inside.

“Got it!” he chimed, holding it up triumphantly. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

The little baggie sailed through the air, crinkling when it hit Steve in the center of his chest.

“Oh! Thanks, man,” he chuckled, fumbling to catch it. “That’s great.”

Turning it over in his hands, he paused, mulling in silence as he stared down at the joints and glanced over his shoulder at the open doorway. From downstairs, you could now hear the faint tinkling of a piano being played and Eddie noticeably winced at the first few warbled notes of an unrecognizable carol being sung by a particularly drunk chorus.

“You know,” Steve said slowly. “We could bail on the party. Take this out to the pool house?”

As soon as he asked, his eyes darted up to meet yours—interrupting your intense study of the side of his face. Round and hopeful, they shone with his earnestness and you felt dizzy all over again. It made your brain scramble, trying to act like you weren’t just consumed by thoughts of what might or might not have been about to happen. You smiled.

“What are we waiting for?”

Steve left the lights off in the pool house, not wanting to draw too much attention if someone wandered onto the patio for some fresh air. The three of you made your way out in shifts—you with a plate of decadent treats you’d filled from the long table of desserts, Eddie with one loaded with food he’d swiped from the circulating trays, and Steve with a bottle of champagne he’d snuck out of the kitchen while the caterers were distracted.

The satisfying pop of its opening bounced off the walls that were mostly windows, sounding all the more illicit and clandestine in the darkness. The contents of the bottle fizzed as he held it out, offering you the first swig, and you took it with a nimble grasp.

Bubbly liquid splashed on your tongue and the dry, almost acidic, taste of it surely would have impressed someone with a more refined palette. But it made you wrinkle your nose as you squinted to read the French name scrawled in a loopy script on the shield shaped label.

“Gross, right?” Steve chuckled as you handed the bottle back. “But it gets the job done.”

He took a deep swig, head tipping back and giving you a long, long moment to study his neck as the muscles flexed with his swallow. You stared shamelessly, transfixed by the pairs of moles that sat along the line of his strong jaw, head empty of thoughts except how much better thechampagne would taste if you were licking it from his lips.

Eddie coughed, all loud and fake, drawing both of your eyes to him where he sat on a rattan sofa in the center of the room. He stared at you expectantly as he slouched down further in his seat, his knees spread wide and his arms draped across the back. He’d wasted no time making himself more comfortable, loosening the evergreen tie you’d made him wear and rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt he normally only broke out for funerals or the odd court appearance.

“Don’t I get some of that?” he asked with a wry smirk.

Steve hurried to offer him the champagne, wiping away a little dribble of it that had started to trickle down his chin. You followed behind and slotted into a chair adjacent to Eddie’s as Steve handed off the bottle, making your brain short circuit when you saw the way his wide grasp nearly engulfed the entire bottom. It didn’t restart until he settled in the seat next to you.

After taking his sip, Eddie sparked up one of the joints and started it in a rotation along with the champagne. After only a few pulls from each you started to feel the effects, your head getting all light and floaty, your body warming from the blood pumping through you, your skin buzzing from the way your fingers kept brushing Steve’s whenever you passed him the joint or the bottle.

Or maybe it was from the way his eyes lingered on yours when you did.

Eventually, you dropped out of the rotation and sank back in your chair to gaze up at the house. The whole thing seemed to glow with the warmth of the party within, its windows bright yellow, the lights twinkling on the eaves. And the snowfall had remained soft and steady, dusting everything with a fine layer of white like powdered sugar.

The picture was immaculate, like a life-size snow globe. If Steve’s mother had somehow managed to pay Mother Nature as a decorator, it wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest.

“Seriously, Harrington,” Eddie snorted, evidently sharing in your bewilderment. “If all this is just the weekend before, I’m scared to ask what your family does for the main event.”

A deep chuckle bubbled out of his chest as he took a long swig of the rapidly draining bottle. He’d said it mostly as a joke, but Steve’s reaction revealed a nerve had been struck. He began to cough, sputtering out his words as he pulled the smoldering joint from between his lips.

“Oh no, it’s not—they aren’t, uh…they won’t be here.”

His eyes darted to the floor as he shook his head and stammered out his non-answer, wearing that same look on his face you’d seen in the guest room. Half-sad and trying to hide it.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. Steve just shrugged.

“They always go away for Christmas. I think it’s St. Barts this year. Maybe Turks and Caicos? Their flight is sometime tomorrow night.”

“Wait, so…they just leave you here?” you asked. “By yourself?”

Steve shrugged and shook his head again, the move almost reflexive, like flinching away from the sting of alcohol cleaning a fresh wound. “A nanny would stay with me when I was little. But from the time I was old enough…yeah, pretty much.”

You and Eddie’s eyes met, the same unthinkable thought seemingly crossing your minds. You actually felt bad—not just bad, but sad—for Steve Harrington.

“It’s not so bad, seriously,” he said, all flustered trying to salvage the mood. “I just hang out and watch movies and eat pizza. It’s fun. Honest.”

Despite his attempts, you can’t help but frown as you think what Steve’s Christmas will look like. His big house that was bursting at the seams with people right now being cold and desolate; him sitting all alone at a long dining room table eating leftover appetizers for every meal.

The thought tugged at something buried deep inside you. Something you’d packed away long ago and shoved into the furthest recesses of your mind. A box wrapped and taped and stapled and tied shut and then shoved behind a closet door. It made you turn to look at Eddie and he nodded knowingly, needing no words to know what you wanted him to say.

“You should come over,” he said, speaking so suddenly it came out loud in the tense quiet.

Steve’s head lifted. “What?”

“To me and Wayne’s,” Eddie supplied. “For Christmas Eve. We have dinner together and watch old movies and play games and shit. With this one.”

He jerked his thumb at you and you smiled as Steve’s eyes flitted over to meet your gaze.

“Only because they can’t cook to save their lives,” you said, shooting him a wink that made the corners of his mouth curl upwards.

“It’s not gonna be like this,” Eddie assured. “But it’s something, you know?”

“That, um…” Steve looked down at his lap, his long lashes fluttering as he tried to blink back the beginnings of tears. “That sounds really nice.”

Your hand moved without permission, reaching out to close around his wrist and squeeze. Steve’s head turned, staring at it like he thought he was dreaming. And as your brain suddenly caught up with the action and your body flooded with embarrassment, you started to pull it back only to feel the warmth of his palm covering your hand to hold it in place.

The only sound in the room was yours and Steve’s soft breathing and you swore you could feel the way both of your pulses were racing in time. His eyes lifted to meet yours and you became entranced all over again by his handsome face, the freckles that dotted his tanned skin, hazel eyes that shimmered as he scanned your expression, the deepness of his cupid's bow.

“I, um…I should check in with my mom real quick. You guys, uh…sit tight.”

Steve sputtered out his words as he rose to his feet, leaving your skin cold as he pulled his hands from yours. He looked around, his eyes searching to land on anything besides you or Eddie as he turned and stumbled towards the door. Eddie watched you watch Steve leave, an expression on his face as bemused as it was mocking.

“Jesus Christ, you two are exhausting.”

He shook his head, laughing to himself as he stuffed the last of the appetizers in his mouth. You glared back at him as he chewed and tried not to think about how your hand still burned where the ghost of Steve’s warmth remained.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. If I knew I was gonna have to watch you make googly-eyes at each other all night, I could have stayed home. I get enough of that as it is.”

“We’re not—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Eddie scoffed. “You are. He is. Just make a move, already.”

It was actually painful rolling your eyes as hard as you did. “Right. Sure. And what kind of move am I supposed to make? Considering how he ran out of here just because I touched his arm?”

“You’re not serious, are you? You’re pulling my dick, right?”

Eddie hunched forward as you deadpanned him, answering with a slow blink of your eyes and humorless expression until he threw his head back in a loud laugh.

“He had a fucking boner, smartass!” he cackled.

It’s not only your cheeks that warm now, but your whole body igniting like a bonfire. The feeling grips your shoulders, it’s talons digging into your flesh, threatening to pierce it to the bone.

“Bullshit,” you whispered, your mind reeling.

“You think I don’t know Steve well enough to know when he goes from six to midnight? It happens literally any time you touch him.”

Eddie was still snickering to himself as he took a final puff of the joint that had been smoked down to a nub. You stared at your hands in your lap, thoughts going into overdrive. Because this wasn’t just some random guy at the Hideout or an ex-classmate hitting on you at a house party. This wouldn’t be just a fumbled touch, grabby hands groping blindly in a dark closet that you would recount to Eddie before he gave you the orgasm you’d sorely been denied.

This was Steve. This would be something. Wouldn’t it?

“Only one way to find out,” Eddie said, as though he could hear the question you were asking yourself. “Anything’s gotta be better than this.”

“But what if he—”

The rattle of the doorknob cut you off, your eyes darted to the door just as Steve pushed it open to slip back inside. Eddie’s dark curls fell forward, sliding off his shoulders as he leaned in.

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered.

Your eyes bulged in your skull, but before you could retort or argue, Steve had plopped back down in the chair next to you and your lips were effectively sealed.

“So the singing is still going on,” he chuckled. “But I think everyone will head home soon. We aren’t missing much.”

“That’s okay.” Eddie groaned softly into a stretch as he settled back into his reclined position. “I’m sure we can think of something to do.”

Heat flooded your core at his insinuating tone and you sat up a little straighter. He let his head loll to the side, his eyes finding yours automatically, dark irises glinting in the scant light.

“Hey…c’mere, doll.”

Eddie shifted down in his seat, rubbing his ringed hand across his thigh as an invitation. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the fancy, and surely expensive, champagne you’d been sipping all night. Maybe it was the way Steve’s gaze followed you so intently as you stood and walked over to where Eddie sat on the wicker sofa. Whatever it was, it was working.

You laid your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you kneeled on the cushion next to him and went to straddle his lap. But his hands came up to grip your waist and stopped you.

“Uh-uh,” he said, motioning his index finger in a circle. “Other way.”

You hesitated, glancing from your crouched position over at Steve. His eyes smoldered in the darkness as he watched you—leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, his long fingers laced in front of him. With a hard swallow, you stood and turned.

Eddie jerked you back against him, roughly pulling you flush with his chest. His knees pushed between your own and he spread them wide so your legs were held open, draped over the tops of his thighs. It made the skirt of your dress glide upwards, hem skimming the tops of your stockings, threatening to reveal the strips of bare skin between them and your panties.

His words from earlier still rang in your head. Follow my lead.

Well-worn hands splayed wide across your stomach, squeezing at the softness of your waist. Beneath you, his hips began to shift and the beginnings of his hard-on pressed insistently into the fat of your ass. It made you shiver all over, a gasp falling from your lips.

“So well behaved,” Eddie hummed, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips, suddenly gripping your chin in his hand to turn your face towards him. “She’s such a good girl, Stevie…. and we have so much fun together…”

The words and the deep timbre of his voice sent more shivers down your spine as he bumped the tip of your nose with his own. He pecked lightly at your lips until they opened up for him, his tongue probing the warm cavern of your mouth until you were moaning into his kiss.

It was lazy, but punishing. He nipped gently at your top lip, his own feathering with a tiny snarl as he revered back to his conversation with Steve.

“Why don’t you tell her about that photo you found?” he asked, hot breath fanning across your cheek. “Tell her what you thought about it.”

Your gaze flashed to Steve’s and you wondered if there was more light in here whether you’d be able to see a rush of scarlet covering his cheeks. His eyes had gone round with nervous energy, but they remained locked onto yours as he spoke.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he rasped, his voice almost cracking his throat was so tight. “I wish I could see it again, I…I wish it was me she’d done that for.”

The pit of your belly burned at his words, a breathy sigh fluttering in your chest and an exquisite ache now radiating between your legs. Eddie’s fingers trailed along the center of your body, over your sternum, tracing the dip of your navel through your dress until it quivered under his touch.

Slowly, he drew up the bottom of your dress like a curtain to reveal your core and the black lace your arousal had begun to seep through. The tips of his fingers stroked your entrance, mercilessly teasing your second set of lips.

“You wouldn’t believe how good she feels, Steve,” Eddie husked, his fingers holding their pace, making you grind into his lap. “Way better than that prissy cheerleader pussy you’re used to.”

The room filled with the sound of your breath and the wet schlick of Eddie’s fingers in your folds.

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie snickered. “I should say honor society pussy.”

Steve’s nostrils suddenly flared, his gaze tearing away from you and your body as if coming out of a trance. You looked back over your shoulder with a horrified look.

“Eddie—”

“Shush,” he snapped, cutting you off by plunging his fingers inside of you. They hooked upwards and your back bowed at the sudden stretch, a broken moan slipping past your lips. Steve’s eyes were drawn to your face at the sound, Eddie’s mention of his ex flying right out of his head.

“You want a taste, Harrington?” he asked, all dark and leading.

A little whimper escaped you at the thought and Eddie grinned wickedly. He smiled as he kissed the back of your neck, his teeth flashing as he nipped at your racing pulse.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? You’d like his tongue?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, your eyes darting to find Steve’s. “Please.”

At your plaintive mewl, the very moment you asked, Steve instantly rose to his feet and hurried to kneel between yours and Eddie’s spread legs. His long fingers wrapped around the gusset of your underwear and he wrenched them to the side to reveal your dripping core.

He licked his lips as he stared at it, practically salivating. Your own lips trembled, fighting back the urge to cry out for him as you let your head fall back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

The wet heat of his tongue met your pussy in long, languid swipes. He nodded his head with each motion, dragging it through your folds as he inhaled deep and needy breaths of your scent like you were his air. His eyes burned with lust as he looked up from between your thighs, gauging your every reaction in the way you fluttered around his tongue.

With a trembling hand, you reached out and brushed your fingertips along his brow, skimming the stray pieces of hair that had fallen forward into his eyes. The intensity of his stare, the depth of his gaze, made you glow brighter even than that behemoth of a tree inside.

He sped up his movements, working you up, the tip of his tongue pointed to swirl in a pattern as magical as it was maddening, flicking it teasingly over your clit and making you clench with each too-quick pass. At the same time, you felt Eddie’s hand creep up between your shoulder blades, fingers weaving into your hair to grasp it at the root. He gave it a firm tug and pulled your head back, bringing his lips to your ear so he could whisper to you—deep and rough and just loud enough for Steve to hear.

“Why don’t you tell him how long you’ve wanted this, huh?”

Another pitiful whimper left your lips as Eddie’s other hand squeezed a little more intensely at your chest, tweaking your nipple through your dress, loving how it made you tremble.

“Si-since Junior year,” you panted. “When he w-won the state swim meet…”

Just the thought of that day nearly has you flooding Eddie’s lap and Steve’s mouth. Your mind filled with the memories of it—visions of him in a Speedo that confirmed just about every rumor you’d ever overheard in the girl’s locker room; his arm and back muscles rippling as he pushed himself out of the pool; water spilling over freckled skin, droplets collecting on his shoulders and running down, down, down to where the small of his back met the fullness of his ass.

You had sat in the stands, thighs pressing together, feeling almost perverted staring while he celebrated with his teammates and whipped off his swim cap, his wild hair exploding out of it and making you wonder how he’d even managed to fit it all underneath in the first place.

The mere mention of his glory days seemed to have a similar effect on Steve. The movements of his tongue and lips turned more fervent, more determined to unspool you as he moaned like he’d never tasted anything as good as you.

Tremors began to roll through your body, making your thighs twitch and spasm.

“Tell him how good it feels,” Eddie husked, hips now punching up to create some friction against his own cock as it strained inside his dress pants. “Tell him how much you like it.”

“Yes, Steve, fuck—I love it so much,” you whined. “Keep going, I need it.”

The pretty lilt and waver of your voice had Steve unraveling before your very eyes. Another low groan rumbled from deep in his chest and he buried his face further, more eagerly, in your heat.

“God, you taste so fucking good, honey,” he moaned. “I could do this all night.”

The thought of having his mouth on you all night is enthralling, but there was no way you would last. You were barely going to make it another minute as it was. Steve was too good.

Every flick, every swipe, every swirl of his tongue you could feel in your entire body. Pleasure rushed across you in waves, a torturous winding upwards, that burning feeling deep in your gut coiling tighter, tighter. Your breaths grew shallow and your pulse raced until you were shaking in Eddie’s lap, fighting so hard to keep your legs spread apart that they shook from the effort.

Steve’s hands came up to grasp at your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the meat of them as he kept you pried open for him to ravish. Like a man possessed, he lapped and sucked and kissed at your entrance, his whole body seeming to move along with the motions of his tongue and lips. Beneath you, the wicker couch suddenly slid backwards and you realized it was because he had tried to grind against it—desperate to feel something, anything, against his cock.

Wishing it was you.

“C-close, close, I’m so close. Steve, I’m co—oohhh—”

Your orgasm rushed in, plowing through your body, making you lose all sense. You squirmed wildly in Eddie’s lap, almost having forgotten he was there until he reached around to give both of your nipples one last pinch—knowing how it always pushed you further over the edge.

Steve’s lips never left your clit and his eyes never left your face as he ushered you into your climax. He stared up at you, his eyes all glassy and round, searching for your reassurance as he rose from between your legs. His face hovered in front of yours and he lifted a hand to cup your jaw, his massive palm warm on your flushed skin as you panted to regain your breath.

“Good?” he asked. Hushed, like a prayer.

“So good,” you exhaled, chest still heaving. Your voice wobbled as you spoke, so overwhelmed with all your buried feelings being dredged to the surface. “Steve, that was—”

“Steven? Are you out here?”

Every hair on Steve’s head went flying as he whipped his head around hearing his mother’s voice. Through the sheer curtains, he could see her as she stepped outside onto the porch, peering into the darkness, wrapping a fur stole tighter around her elegant cocktail attire.

Panic struck his face like lightning, his mouth hanging open, his lips and chin still shiny with your spend. He looked back at you, his cheeks nearly as deep red as the velvet ribbons hung all over his house. You scrambled off Eddie’s lap to stand, frantically straightening your dress and hair, nervously wiping at your lips that were swollen from biting down when you came.

“I, um…the party’s probably over,” Steve said. “I just have to say goodbye to some people.”

He ran his hands through his hair a few more times as he strode towards the door, even though any damage you’d done grabbing it must have been righted by now. You looked over at Eddie, your own eyes swirling with questions you were terrified to hear the answers to.

His shoulders bounced, standing to tuck his shirttail back into his dress pants.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.”.

Steve was waiting in the foyer with you and Eddie’s coats when you snuck in from outside. His parents, thankfully, were too occupied giving the caterers instructions for clean-up to exchange any pleasantries at the door. You could only imagine how that would go…

Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. I’m the girl your son made come all over his face in your pool house. What a lovely party, thank you so much for inviting us.

There was still a smile on Steve’s face, though it felt almost pasted on now compared to his expression when you first arrived, sort of forced in an attempt to look more normal than he felt. He handed off Eddie’s leather jacket and then held yours open, his eyes remaining glued to you as you turned and pushed your arms through the sleeves. His fingertips trailed along the nape of your neck as he helped straighten the coat on your shoulders, his index tracing its curve all the way to your hairline in a way that felt so intentional it made your skin buzz.

With your ears pounding from your heartbeat thundering in them, you spun around to face him, your lips parted to speak only for no words to come. Because what was there for you to say? Or for him to do? Kiss you? He hadn’t even done that during, would he do it now to say goodbye?

Steve’s handsome face was as conflicted and contorted as your own. A faint blush still dusted along his cheeks and his eyes shone bright from the candlelight coming off the tapers that had burned almost all the way out. At last he drew a breath, and you felt your heart stutter.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

Eddie could barely contain the snort that burst out of him, even as he slapped a hand over his crooked smile and your eyes shot daggers straight into his chest.

You couldn’t get out the door fast enough.

There was only silence as the pair of you trudged along the driveway to the street where Eddie had parked his van, the snow on the ground having melted into slush mottled with gray where it mixed with excess oil on the road. Without the glow of the Christmas lights coming off the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, the darkness of Steve’s street now felt oppressive.

It made you walk a little quicker to the van, your hand curled tight around the passenger side door handle waiting for Eddie to unlock it. As the two of you climbed inside the cab, he cranked the engine and flipped open the air vents for the heat to blast, finally breaking his silence as you yanked your door shut behind you with a sharp tug.

“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I thought I was helping,” Eddie muttered, his hands gripping tight around the steering wheel. “You were being so fucking obvious, I thought you needed a push.”

His chunky rings glinted in the street light as he busied himself messing with the radio, static scratching in your ears as he searched for something besides Christmas music.

“Are you really mad?” he asked, still fiddling with the dial, barely able to look at you.

You shook your head.

“I just…I don’t know, I feel like it’s weird now.” You let your face fall into your hands and shook your head furiously. “I mean, was that totally fucked up? To do that?”

“Nah, that wasn’t fucked up,” Eddie said assuredly.

He sounded confident enough that you let your shoulders actually relax and finally expelled the breath you were holding. The relief was short-lived though, when Eddie piped up again.

“I’ll tell you what might be, though.”

With a heavy sigh, you looked over at him warily. “What?” you asked.

Eddie sighed as he slumped back against the seat. His foot rested on the gas pedal and he pressed it down lightly, barely revving the engine to get some hot air flowing from the vents.

“When he comes over for Christmas Eve.”

Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate any time taken to read/comment endlessly ♥️

Started on this last year in December so that should tell you everything you need to know about my writing process. Enjoy some Christmas in whatever-month-you’re-reading-this. 😉

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