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hawkinsbnbg · 4 months ago

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nightingales

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 13: "Please, stay."

tags: mutual pining, mildly dub-con, slight daddy kink (1 word), hurt/comfort, hookups to lovers, idiots in love, post ss2/post starcourt

rated: M | words: 3k | ao3

"Please stay."

That halted Eddie's movements briefly. Only briefly. And then he resumed zipping up his flies and buckling his belt as if nothing had been said.

Eddie's heart trembled in his chest, begging him to obey the voice of his Adonis, but he resisted. Because he had gone into this with his eyes wide open and head cleared of any delusional thoughts.

He knew his place, knew how to get his job done, knew what parts to hide safely away from prying eyes and protruding ears, knew just the way to make every night worth the time.

And knew he wouldn't find real love in one Steve Harrington—the town's sweetheart and golden boy—however lovely their rendezvouses had been so far.

"You're drunk, Harrington," he dared a look over his shoulder, sighing when he found the bane of his existence was already snoring softly.

Unable to help himself, Eddie cursed under his breath and stepped over to the bed once more to tuck Steve under the blanket neatly, safe and sound, and lingered for a bit to admire how young and carefree Steve looked while asleep.

Mouth slacked, eyes closed peacefully, features softened from all the edges, so unlike the bone-deep exhaustion that clouded those pretty hazels with gloomy shadows.

At least, after their little arrangement started, Steve seemed to have benefited from it judging by the lack of his heavy eye bags.

Two months ago, Steve had come asking for something to help him sleep and somehow left with a bag of weed after blowing Eddie's brain out.

It was so surreal that Eddie thought he had hallucinated the whole thing while high off his ass.

Except, Steve kept seeking him out, going from paying for drugs with intense blowjobs to something more, something Eddie could give him without affecting the Munson household's finances.

Since then, Steve would wait for him at the Harrington's residence considering it was easier and safer that way, and Eddie would do his best to pound Steve so good he would conk out by the time they were done.

And yet, more often than not, Steve would already have taken a few swigs from daddy dearest's pricey liquors and would be quite tipsy by the time Eddie arrived.

Not that Eddie hated it. He was obsessed with a tipsy Steve actually. Because tipsy Steve was always sweeter, more open and pliant with everything Eddie gave him, more expressive and vocal in a way that made Eddie weak on the knees.

Then again, tipsy Steve also got quite a loose mouth.

He asked for things Eddie would be dying to give him, he said things that were too good to be true, he sang Eddie's name like prayers, and he always begged Eddie to stay.

None of that helped Eddie's stupid heart to stay at bay at all. Because the moment Steve's pretty mouth pressed on his ear and whispered "Daddy", he was a goner.

Nonetheless, Eddie hadn't survived to this day to not being aware of how dangerous Steve Harrington was.

A rich straight boy who was curious about the world around himself. Who would stamp on Eddie's heart once he got bored and decided to move on. Who would leave Eddie behind to go get a perfect family with a beautiful wife, two kids and a half, and a white-picket-fenced house.

It didn't take Eddie long to make up his mind.

He looked at Steve once more before turning on his heels to leave the room, somehow feeling less hollow and cold after two months of witnessing them together.

So long as Steve needed him, he would be there. And Eddie would make himself sacred when the time came.

———

"Stay the night?"

Eddie glanced up from the task in his hands—wiping Steve down with a warm washcloth—and smiled humorlessly.

"You know I can't, Harrington."

"Why, though?" Steve asked softly, eyes still hazy and bottom lip jutting out petulantly.

"My uncle will worry sick if I stay overnight outside," Eddie offered a half-truth considering Wayne had stopped giving him curfews since he started dealing.

"I'm flattered you wanna keep me in your chamber, princess," he leaned forward to press a kiss on Steve's forehead. "But I gotta go."

For a fleeting moment, Steve seemed sobered up enough to regard him with an unreadable look, like he could see right through Eddie's lie.

But the moment just passed as quickly as it came when Steve let out a teary yawn that shouldn't be as endearing as it was.

"Good night," Eddie whispered as he pulled the blanket up to cover his sleepy boy.

"G'night," Steve smiled, small and sweet, and was off to dreamland within seconds, leaving Eddie sitting by his side and gazing at him longingly.

———

When Steve wasn't drunk, he would be more tense and on guard, which Eddie could completely understand given their circumstances.

What Eddie couldn't understand, though, was that Steve still asked him to stay.

"I, uhm, have nightmares," Steve averted his eyes, he did that a lot lately, like he was afraid Eddie would figure out the secret in them if he looked too long. "It'll help to have someone hold me while I sleep."

It was so sly of him to use that card on Eddie, knowing full well how much of a bleeding heart Eddie was.

Therefore, Eddie knew the decision had been made for him even before he opened his mouth.

"Alright, I'll stay, but only 'til you fall asleep."

It was the right and wrong thing to say.

Eddie realized with great displeasure that he didn't like the way Steve's eyes dimmed right after having brightened up just seconds ago.

When Eddie left that night, he tried to not think about the disappointment on Steve's face when the younger boy woke up to his cold side of the bed in the morning.

(He failed.)

———

Steve didn't ask him to stay anymore.

And Eddie pretended that it didn't crush his heart just a bit when Steve refused to receive the aftercare.

In response, Eddie simply fucked him harder for that so he wouldn't have any strength left to protest by the end of it.

It was worth all the glares and pouts Steve shot his way when he just gave up on the charade after a while and let Eddie take care of him again.

"Stay, please?"

It was said so quietly, and if Eddie wasn't always paying attention to Steve, he wouldn't be able to catch it at all.

Eddie swallowed dryly, wanting nothing more than to return to Steve's side and scoop him in a cuddle until they both drifted off in each other's arms.

But reality was always cruel. And Eddie had learned that the hard way. He couldn't afford to make mistakes now when everything had been going smoothly so far. Especially when his traitorous heart was constantly on the verge of running away from him.

"I can't–"

"Sorry," Steve let out a sigh. "Just... Just forget about it."

When Eddie finished dressing, he turned to look at Steve and was greeted by a sun-kissed back.

He squashed the urge to come closer and run his fingers on it, mapping out the constellations and tracing love lyrics with his lips on those moles and freckles.

Instead, he walked over to the door and saw himself out.

"Have a sweet dream, Stevie."

He lingered a bit, only leaving once he was sure Steve had fallen asleep.

———

They didn't meet quite often anymore. Steve was busy with his summer job and Eddie was well... hung up on the what-ifs.

What if Steve was also a trailer kid? What if Eddie wasn't a drug dealer? What if they both came from normal families that loved and accepted them for who they were? What if then?

Eddie liked to think they would always meet each other at some point in their lives no matter what the circumstances. Eddie liked to think they were star-crossed lovers who couldn't get together because of the period they were living in. Eddie liked to think Steve also loved him back.

And yet, Eddie had seen Steve flirt with endless girls at Scoop Ahoy, making eyes with some guys who looked like college jocks, who could guarantee him a good time once he dropped Eddie like a sack of potatoes.

Eddie had stood on the sideline and watched with burning, acidic jealousy as Steve threw his charm carelessly at everything that could breathe and walk on two legs.

When Steve turned to look at him with that same charming smile, Eddie realized it was time for him to wake up from his dream.

And so he did.

———

"Can you come tonight, Eddie?"

"Sorry, man, I've gotta sell all of this new stuff by the end of tonight 'cause the bills are due next week, ya know?"

"'S okay. Uhm, see you later?"

"See you later."

———

"Are you busy tonight?"

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I have band practice until midnight. And Wayne will be home by the time I'm done. So..."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Uh-huh."

"Rain check?"

"Rain check."

———

Eddie turned up the volume of his music until it drowned out the ringing of the phone.

———

Eddie bit his nails, watching Steve's beamer park outside the Mayfield's trailer, watching him talking and laughing with that red-haired little girl, watching him finally get back into the car and drive away once the sun set.

He didn't know if he should feel relieved or disappointed when Steve never looked at the Munson Trailer once.

———

Eddie jolted up by the sharp knocks on the trailer's door. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only two am, too early for the police's raid and too late for his customers to linger outside.

There was only one answer to that and he hoped Franklin would be cowed away by a broken beer bottle just like the other night.

Stumbling out of his bed and pulling up his jeans hastily, he blearily thanked his lucky star that Wayne wasn't home yet.

Because for all the patience the older man had, he didn't doubt Wayne would pull the shotgun on Franklin and well, Eddie wouldn't be sorry for the drunken bastard but he didn't want Wayne to get involved in his mess too much.

On his way, Eddie picked up his weapon from under the couch as he passed by it and marched straight to the door.

When he threw it open, scowling and ready to swing at his enemy, he was greeted by not Franklin but Steve Harrington instead.

Eddie faltered, feeling sick with worry and cold dread as he took in the sight of the younger boy.

"Jesus Christ," he dropped the bottle, ignoring the clang! it made on the floor, to hover his hands over Steve's face. "What the fuck had happened to you, Harrington?"

Steve honest-to-god giggled.

"S'not important anymore," he slurred and swayed on his feet, eyes swollen in purple and red, face caked in blood and bruises and scratches. He was a bloody mess.

Eddie pulled him inside as gently as possible, trying to stay level-headed for both Steve and himself because it wouldn't do either of them any good if he panicked now.

Carefully, Eddie guided Steve to the couch, flipping on just the lamp on the side table, knowing from experience that too much light would cause discomfort to someone who had just got beaten to a pulp.

He poured Steve a glass of water, watching him drink it slowly before getting up to retrieve the quick aid kit, clean towel, and wash his hands thoroughly with soap in the bathroom.

Once he was done cleaning the cuts on Steve's face, he applied some antiseptic cream on the injured areas—which didn't look that bad after the blood was gone.

During the whole time, Steve remained oddly silent, eyes slightly glazed over like being high or in shock, just watching Eddie do all the work and only letting out a few quiet hisses when the cuts burned.

Eddie had apologized plenty for that, wishing he could share half of the pain Steve was feeling at the moment.

Then he asked Steve about the other possible injuries and concussions, not wanting to overlook anything and receiving a simple "Yes" to both questions.

("Christ, we should bring you to the hospital, Stevie."

"No, no hospital. Please."

"... Have you had anyone besides me checked your injuries, yet?"

"Uh, yeah, the paramedics. They cleared me after a bit. 'Cause there's nothing really bad, though.")

"Can I sleep now?" Steve sniffed, sounding small and lost, making Eddie's heart ache terribly.

"Not yet, Bambi," Eddie smiled softly when those pitiful doe eyes looked at him. "We gotta bathe you first, wash away these dirt and grimes before bringing you to bed."

And he wasn't lying, either. Wherever Steve had been all night had soiled his cute sailor uniform and turned him into a real Cinderella.

"C'mon," Eddie guided him up with a hand around his waist while ducked to shoulder one of his arms. "The quicker we do it, the sooner you can get your beauty sleep."

Fortunately, Steve didn't protest and allowed Eddie to half-carry him all the way into the bathroom.

———

Eddie took in a sharp inhale when he got to see the damage beneath Steve's clothes. It was far more severe than he had anticipated and he wondered if the paramedics would've let Steve go had they seen this.

Sighing inwardly, Eddie used a washcloth and gently scrubbed all the mud and blood off Steve's body, shushing the younger boy softly when he whimpered at the stings and dull aches.

Eddie had half a mind to kiss them better, but he reined in his desire to soothe Steve's pain and concentrated on making the shower as short as possible.

By the time they left the bathroom, Steve was trembling minutely but the fog in his eyes had dissipated and he seemed more conscious than when he appeared on the Munson Trailer's front porch.

After putting on one of Eddie's old Metallica tees and a pair of red flannel pants by himself, Steve ran a hand through his dampened hair and gave Eddie a crooked smile.

"Sorry for bothering you this late."

"I wanted to help," Eddie corrected him quickly.

"Of course, I know you would," Steve swallowed, eyes flickering back and forth from Eddie's eyes to his pale tattooed chest. "But I'm still sorry for having turned up without calling ahead. I was lucky enough I didn't ruin your uncle's sleep."

"He'd do the same for you, you know that right?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, chest tight with possessiveness at the sight of Steve wearing his clothes, standing in his bedroom, and smelling of his shampoo.

"Look," Steve spoke up before Eddie could say anything. "I gotta go now."

"No," Eddie reached for Steve's hand and held on it tightly. "You're not going anywhere."

"Why?"

Eddie clicked his tongue in mild annoyance, wanting to know what made Steve think it was wise to sleep without supervision while having a concussion and cracked ribs.

"I'm not letting you go back to your place alone like this."

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, a hint of King Steve peeking through the veil. He tried to pull his hand back but gave up once he realized Eddie wouldn't let him go.

He settled with a tired sigh instead.

"I don't want your pity, Munson."

"I'm not pitying you."

"So what is this?" Steve hissed as he raised his captured wrist and shook it lightly for emphasis.

Eddie only tightened his grasp further, paranoid that Steve would slip through his fingers like sand.

"It's not pity," Eddie met those hazel eyes, still burning with that same fire he always loved. He brought Steve's hand to his lips, pressing shaky kisses on those bruised knuckles.

He still wanted to run away. But the idea of leaving Steve caused him such unbearable pain that he just knew would break him down if he ever did it again.

"I care for you, Steve," his voice cracked as he confessed quietly, "I care for you a lot."

Steve breathed in sharply, eyes glassy with unshed tears and lips quivered.

"Then why did you never stay?" He asked softly. "Why did you always leave even when I begged you not to?"

Eddie stepped in closer and used his free hand to hold on to Steve's as well.

"'Cause I was scared, sweetheart," he whispered. "Scared of having my heart broken. 'Cause I knew, always do, that I don't deserve pretty things like you. That I can't give you all the good things that you deserve."

"So I'm begging you now," he blinked away his tears and looked at Steve beseechingly.

"You don't have to–"

"Please, stay," he pleaded. "Please give me another chance to show you how much you matter to me. Please trust me to make it right this time. Please."

Steve became worryingly silent at that. But Eddie still waited patiently, knowing it was a lot to take it all at once. Even Eddie himself was reeling from what he just said.

"You ignored my calls."

"I'm sorry."

"You always left although I begged you not to."

"I'm sorry."

"You lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't tell me what I did wrong," Steve mumbled, lips wobbling and nose turned pink.

That cut him deep.

"No, sweetheart, no," Eddie tugged him closer and embraced him gently, heart swelling with fondness when Steve melted in his arms.

"You did nothing wrong, baby, it's all my fault," Eddie sniffled, walking them both to his bed carefully. "I'm so sorry for making you think that way."

As Steve let out a wounded noise and started shaking with small sobs, Eddie cried with him and stroked his back soothingly, knowing he would kill and die for this boy in a heartbeat, knowing that he could never not be in love with Steve Harrington.

When they finally settled on the mattress together, Eddie spooned Steve from behind and pressed kisses everywhere he could reach.

Steve giggled quietly, too exhausted to say anything but still leaning into Eddie's warmth all the same.

Eddie knew they still had a lot to discuss to make their newly found relationship really work, but as he listened to Steve's soft snoring, he was certain they would be fine this time.

As long as they were together.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie angsty august #sionewrites

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what-the-floofin · 5 months ago

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So how do baby taurs work for the equitaurs and cervitaurs in your stuff?

Oh that's a good one actually - lots to talk about! Too much for one post, but gotta start somewhere. Enjoy some messy micro scribbles peppered throughout. They were originally very very tiny so, pardon blurriness.

I've got my Taurs running overall pretty similar to equine cycles and gestations - meaning they are what you call 'long-day triggered' by the spring and summer seasons.

(Though they do cycle throughout the year, just at slower rates and less consistently over cooler seasons)

This goes for the cervitaurs too - rather than using the shorter gestation of their deer alikes - as they and their foals are a bit bigger and more complex to deal with. Which also goes to suggest that twins/multiples are not a frequent occurrence for cervitaurs in comparison to actual deer, and inherently poses as much danger as it does for equines instead. Possible, but high risk and incredibly demanding.

So, you're looking at an 11 month gestation on average, and typically starting in a mid-spring to late-summer window. Which places most taurs at being born early-spring to mid-summer. It's most uncommon to be winter born, but not weird tbh.

Foals are super awkward, there's no getting around that, and in the first year they have a ridiculous growth rate when compared to other sentient creatures of similar lifespans.

These things are weeds - the difference from one day old to three months old is phenomenal alone. They are, however, cooked a little further along than what you'd be comparing to for a newborn human. They're able to support themselves enough to avoid outright injury (think like a 3-4 month old baby), but gaining actual control of all those limbs takes a bit more time. The equine half however would be a touch undercooked for a horse. Just physically, in size. No worries about comparative internal developments, that's all good and ready to go.

So they're typically gonna spend shy of their first month feeding and sleeping, practicing rolling up, sitting and limb coordination to build strength for self-standing. If mama has places to be, that baby is getting carried.

I also absolutely subscribe to the idea of arms being naturally held close to torso prior to having balance and coordination. It would support them a lot! Then it becomes a self-soothing gesture seen in the anxious, and an instinctive positional response when badly startled. Tuck in!

By three months you can expect them to be racing on their little stilt legs - albeit still with the occasional wobble and spill. And wowee did that happen fast when you think about it.

While the zoomies are a lot, they're balanced out by the fact that so much oncoming growth means foals crash nap very frequently. These buggers sleep a lot. It's go hard and sleep hard on endless rotation. Play, snack, nap, rinse and repeat.

This accelerated growth races away throughout their first year, and then drops right back into something a bit more reasonable - at least when you're considering it from the human perspective!

Yet in comparison to how they first started out, it's practically snail paced.

I'm meaning, you look at the size of a 3 month old horse foal, and that's the closest comparison to a 2 year old taur foal in body. Every 'horse foal month' thereafter starts guiding the next 'taur foal year' visual until you hit that yearling horse look for a taur when they're 10-11 years old. Then by that point, they've reached most of their full leg length, and the next 10 years is focused on finishing the bulking out of their frame.

(click to enlarge I hope) - Featuring my lass Thalo here haha

By rule of thumb I just have both equid and humanoid aspects grow in relative balance to each other, lanky stages and all. From the human perspective, the humanoid half grows crazy fast at first and then becomes comparatively similar. From the horse perspective, the equine half is crazy slow and always is. It would also give credit to having a higher physical durability than their animal counterparts. More time was spent growing!

It's worth noting that a lot of perceived 'weirdness' only comes from trying to compare them purely 1 to 1 with either horse, deer or human kids. Taurs are their own thing though! And nature's most consistent attitude is to Find What Works and Do it. No matter how wack, if it works it's used.

So, a rapid starting growth tapered into a much slower rate once they're stabilised and running was just the path that worked best for this Taur survival. Keep it simple!

There's always more to cover, but this is chunky enough for now. Whew!

#dnd #dnd art #centaurs #cervitaur #floof in dnd #its ART #floofy chatter #barely even scratches the surface but dont want to overwhelm!!!#my head doesn't shush for every nook and cranny of my niche

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months ago

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i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #subeddieweek #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 8 months ago

Text

Green

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Chapter Summary: Jackson believes in a green future, which includes marijuana. You like to get high. Tonight, Joel joins you and you get to treat him like he treats you. Chapter Warnings: Smut, marijuana use, soft dom reader, sub Joel, m receiving oral, unprotected p in v, riding Joel's thick thigh, you bite Joel's stomach (because it has to be done), Joel watching himself masturbate in your mirror, Joel drinks water out of your hands. Words: 5,100 A/N: Happy 4/20! I wanted to give you another entry akin to Golden Walkway, a little peek into the future of my Elks babies. Please note, this can be absolutely read without knowing any of the story.

Playlist

Times never change instead of hiding your illicit use from your parents, now you hide it from a teenager. Joel and you always lock yourselves away in your home so you can get high... just in case Ellie needs something. Can’t be a bad influence.

You pull the box of papers and weed out of the drawer before sitting down on your couch.

“So you never really smoked much?” you ask, leaning over your coffee table preparing to build your joint.

“Mm, never really was my thing, too risky if I got caught growing up in Texas during the 'Just Say No' years. Had football eligibility to worry about ‘n then Sarah came, just never was the time for me.”

He leans back into your armchair, brown eyes intently watching your actions. You begin to crumble weed up and place it on your rolling paper.

“Makes sense, it’s good for me when my nerves really get to me,” you begin to roll your joint, “helps kinda soften the harsh lines of reality a lot. Makes my body and my mind a little freer.”

You lick your cigarette closed and admire your handiwork, welcoming the anticipation of being with Joel while stoned.

The match sizzles as you strike it against the box and spark your joint, rotating it in your mouth to light it up. Joel chuckles as you inhale the first hit.

“What’s so funny?” you ask in a cloud of exhaled smoke.

“Nothin'. Maybe I should get high, s'making me hard just watching you do this.”

“Oh yeah?” you sit back against the soft couch cushions, joint dangling from your lips.

“Yeah, maybe I should start, never was one for smoking though.”

“Mm, I can help, I can just blow the smoke into your mouth if you want to try it." Your heart begins racing at the prospect of Joel taking you up on the offer.

“Sounds good sweetheart." He pats his lap. “Now, come sit with me, have nowhere to be tomorrow.”

You stand and grab the ashtray, resting the joint between your lips. Your bare feet pad across the plush carpet of the area rug as you walk over to Joel.

“Hi,” you smile out with a small puff of smoke.

“You look so cute like this, little cigarette sticking out of your mouth, eyes all cloudy and happy. Love it when my girl is happy.”

You giggle at his compliment as you lift your leg up to rest on the chair, your foot tightly fitting within what little room is left on the seat between Joel’s thick thighs. His mouth rests slightly agape when he looks up at you, his usual furrowed brow a lot less creased, more relaxed.

“I am happy,” you answer as his hands begin to massage your calf. “You look a lot less grumpier than you normally look. That makes me happy.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep,” you say before inhaling another hit.

“Why don’t you make me happier and sit on my lap, that’d make me really happy darlin’.”

A plume of smoke blows out of your lungs as you place yourself on Joel’s lap, knees bent against his thighs and the armrests. The denim covered shape of his half hard cock rests against your cotton shorts. Your tits underneath your faded and holey t-shirt are right at Joel’s eye level.

“S’nice,” he whispers staring forward at your chest.

“My eyes are up here Joel,” you chuckle at your own joke, taking another hit.

“I’d tell you to knock it off, but your whole body’s shaking against me ’n your tits are bouncing in my face,” Joel grins leaning forward and kissing a breast through your shirt.

Fuck, now that feels amazing.

You reach the joint out to him. “Hold this.”

He takes it between his fingers, eyes concentrating on you taking your shirt off. So much for relaxed Joel. He holds up the joint, still in his hands, to your lips.

“Take a hit baby,” his voice gravels out, his cock hardening underneath, “‘n lemme have some.”

You inhale and move your mouth to his, forming a tight seal between the two of you. Joel welcomes the smoke and sucks in as you blow out.

You grab the joint from him and take another pull as he exhales, a white cloud of smoke floating above the two of you. Your body feels so much lighter, your brain less complicated.

“Can I have that back?” he asks. “Want to do the same you did for me.”

You hand him the joint, smiling a silent agreement.

He brings it up to his mouth, holding it between his thumb and pointer, the joint disappears between his large fingers save for the glowing orange embers that light as he takes a hit. He looks so fucking tempting, his cheeks slightly puffing out filling with smoke. Everything Joel Miller does is hot, but the way he drags on a joint, pillowy lips wrapping around the white paper, broad shoulders rising when he breathes in, this might just be the hottest you’ve ever seen him. When will you ever get tired of looking at this man?

You bring your lips to his and he exhales into your mouth. Oh, this is the best way to get high. You pull away, releasing the smoke from your lungs.

“‘Bout shot, don’t you think?” he raises the joint and looks at it.

“It’s shot."

He stubs the joint put in the ash tray. A luxurious comfortable groan leaves his lips when he looks at you, eyes heavier than usual, a little red and glazed. You’ve seen his eyes glazed over with lust numerous times, this glaze is a little lighter, a little happier. You scoot farther up his lap and move a finger up to pet the smoothness of the little heart patch in his beard.

“How are you feeling?” you ask as Joel’s hands trace up and down your back.

“Good, real good,” a deep exhale out of his lips answers.

“Relaxed?” You ask, your finger moving to brush back and forth across his lips.

“Mm.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this free before. A light smile underneath half shut eyes staring back at you, his whole face more relaxed. He looks good this way, you love when he’s happy and relaxed, you’ve never met anybody more deserving.

“Feels good,” Joel says as you rub your finger across his soft lower lip. A deep breath leaves his half parted lips, the air blowing against your finger. “Real good.”

“Good,” your hand moves to trace around his top lip, the hair of his mustache bristles against your finger. “I like making you feel good.”

You feel the the lines around his lips rise when he smiles. “You’re so good at it baby.”

“Yeah? What do you like the most?”

“Mm, s'hard to pick. Love the way your eyes always blink as you cum for me, can always tells how good you’re feelin’ by how big your eyes get right before. Love the little gasp you always make when I start fuckin’ you. Love that you grab for my hands at any chance you get, like you need to touch me as much as you can. Love that you always need me.” The last sentence comes out the softest.

“I do need you,” you confess, “all the time.”

“I know baby,” he hugs you against his chest, “I need you too… so much.”

“But, I do also need you for sex stuff, you know?"

Joel’s chuckle vibrates against you. “My girl’s funny, real funny.”

“But really, what do you need tonight Joel?” You pull away from his chest and look him in the eyes. You love it when he compliments you, you love it when he calls you his girl. You love that he needs you just as much as you need him.

“I need you to tell me what you want from me tonight. Make me yours. Talk to me like I talk t’ya.” Joel’s eyes staring into yours as they widen with his admission. “I’m yours baby.”

A bit of trepidation lands in your brain. Joel’s always the one to depend on to chart the stars of your intimacy. He’s so good at predicting what you want, you let him navigate. The thoughts are silenced once you feel his hands move along your hips and thighs. You can tell he wants you to do this for him. You want Joel to experience what you feel after he’s done with you. You want him to believe in you like you believe in him. You sit up higher on him, feeling braver and bolder. Ready to bless him for his confession.

“Okay. I’m going to get up, walk to the kitchen to get something to drink, and when I come back, I want you to stand in front of my mirrored wall over there. Keep your clothes on.”

You’re shocked by the confidence in your voice. Joel as well, his hands pause their movement as you speak. He stares at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

You rise up off of Joel, folding your arms across your naked chest. “Understand?”

“Y-y-yes,” Joel stutters.

“Good,” you wink and turn towards the kitchen, your confident steps leaving a bewildered Joel in your chair. You’ve never acted like this, your brain swirling with ideas of what you want to do, what you want to say, how you want to make him feel.

You grab two glasses out of your cupboard and fill them with water. Your mouth is parched, you’re sure Joel’s is too. You walk back to your living room, your courage building with each step closer. You know you’re ready when you see Joel standing as instructed in front of your mirror.

“Hi handsome,” you walk to stand behind him, still topless and only in your shorts, his eyes moving from looking at his own reflection to your chest. You wouldn’t expect less from him, you love how he looks at you.

“Hi,” Joel whispers. You think he’s a little nervous, a little excited, he probably feels exactly how you feel.

“I’m going to watch you watch yourself get undressed. I want you to listen to me and follow my directions, okay?”

“Yes,” his simple answer resolutely spoken as you put the waters down and turn the lamp on besides you, the light bathing both of you in a smoldering golden hue. You want to fully be able to watch Joel do what you have planned for him.

“Good, I don’t want to hear much from you, okay? I’m the one talking.”

You like this feeling, you especially like the serious nod Joel gives you through the mirror.

“Take your shirt off.”

You watch Joel’s hands move to the hem of his t-shirt and lift it over his head.

“Give it to me,” you step forward and extend a hand out.

The soft gray fabric is still warm with Joel’s body heat as it hits your hand. You bring it to your nose and inhale his scent. “You smell so good all the time. I love the scent of you.” You take one last sniff before putting his shirt on, his smell now encompassing you.

“Wh—“

“Quiet,” you interrupt Joel’s protest, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you, I want to smell like you and wear your shirt while I make you feel good.”

He looks a little annoyed, you like that.

“Look at your chest. It’s perfect. I love how your shoulders are so wide and so strong. I love how your arms are muscular and yet they’re so soft when I rest my head against them. I love how soft your stomach has gotten meaning you’re well fed and healthy. You like the praise baby?”

Joel nods as his eyes darken hearing you call him one of the pet names he always calls you.

“Unbutton and unzip your pants, but don’t take them off.” Your pussy getting wetter at the thought of the sights that you’re about to see, all directed by you. All broadcast on your mirror.

Joel nods, as he unbuttons his jeans, his fingers move to his zipper and pulls it down. You love that he never wears underwear when he comes over. You love how you can see the trail of hair from his belly button down to his bush. He’s the perfect amount of hairy. He’s the perfect amount of manly. He’s just fucking perfect.

“Good. You’re thirsty right?” He nods. You lean over to the table and pick up a glass of water. “Drink all of this. Want to watch your neck move as you swallow it down.”

Joel takes the glass and brings it to his lips, his eye contact not breaking with yours through the reflection. He takes a large gulp brows wrinkling with seriousness for the task at hand, no matter how significant or insignificant it is. It’s so Joel.

“I love watching you drink. I love how small the mug looks in your hand when you drink your coffee in the morning. I love how you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand after downing a whole glass of water when you’re hot. I love how gently form your lips around a glass of whiskey.” You finish your praise as he empties the glass, taking it from him and placing it on the table.

“Good. Feel better?”

He nods.

“Take your pants off,” you think of what Joel would say in this moment. “Lemme see all of you.”

He smirks as he starts to move his jeans down his hips, he knows you’re going to love this part. His cock springs out as it’s freed, fully erect and throbbing, you knew you’d get him good and hard with your attitude. He bends over to shuck his jeans fully off, kicking them to the side, and when he stands up, shoulders back, dick hard and ready to follow your instructions, you almost fall to your knees.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” you breathe out. His smirk still remains, he knows what he does to you.

Your eyes roam his body, he’s so large and so thick, his body screams protector. He’s your protector. He provides for you. You love that you get to love him and make him feel this way.

“I’m thirsty, why don’t you hand me my glass?” You love how seriously he follows your commands, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. You love how powerful it makes you feel to see Joel readily do your every request.

Joel turns towards the table and picks up the glass, handing it to you.

“Thank you.”

Another nod.

You quickly drink the water down, save for the last quarter of it. “You’re still thirsty, aren’t you?”

This time it’s not just one slow nod from Joel, it’s three quick nods. He’s thirsty.

“Then come stand here in front of me.”

You’ve enjoyed watching him from a couple of feet back, standing far enough to be able to see all of him in the mirror. Now that he’s right in front of you though, this is how you like him the most. Right beside you.

You empty the rest of the water into your mouth, your cheeks swelling out with the amount you’re holding. You bring your palms up to your mouth and cup them together. Joel begins to breathe heavily as he watches you spit the water into your makeshift hand bowl.

“Now, drink it up,” you order.

He moves so fast, so eager to please. Joel’s head quickly craning down as his brown eyes look up at you. Your heart begins to race as his tongue comes out of his mouth and begins to lap up the water out of your hand. “I love how you’re looking up at me, you look at me the same way when you eat me out.”

Joel grunts as he leans further forward and starts to suck the water up from your hand, never breaking eye contact. The groove of his dimple getting deeper as his cheeks hollow and he sucks up all of the water.

Now you wear Joel’s cocky smirk just like his shirt. You get to know him like he knows you, you get to play with his body like he plays with yours.

“Very good.” You move your hands to wrap around his erection, the slickness of the water allowing you to easily stroke him. A gruff breath leaves Joel’s mouth, the air landing against your face. You only leave your hands on him for a couple pumps, just enough until he begins to arch his back. His eyes widen as you remove your hands, a small “mmf” is let out of his pursed lips.

“I know, I know, I know you want more. You’ll get it soon. You’re being real well behaved for me, aren’t you?”

Another nod. Joel still hasn’t spoken a word, you miss his voice but you also like to watch him challenge himself to stay quiet.

“Face the mirror again Joel.”

He likes it when you say his name, he’s told you so many times how he likes to hear your voice say his name.

“Touch yourself for me Joel.”

His heavy eyes slowly shut as he bites his bottom lip with a moan, he liked that… a lot. He opens his eyes and with a look of determination, he spits in his hand before moving it down and gripping his shaft as he looks at you for his next command.

“Stroke yourself for me.”

He begins to slowly pump himself, savoring and watching himself in the reflection. His gaze anchoring in on pleasuring himself.

You wonder when the last time he did this was.

“When’s the last time you made yourself cum?” His movements falter as he looks up at you and takes in your question. “Go ahead, you can talk, tell me.”

“That last night you were painting f’me,” a half smile shows up on his face as he begins to stroke again.

Now you’re the one who only nods, your words lost at his confession. “Go on,” you muster up. You need to hear more.

“Went to bed that night, ’n all I could see was your pretty eyes lookin’ up at me, how you looked in those overalls, I felt like I could still feel your lips on mine.” His strokes getting quicker, his hand pausing as he twists his hand around his tip. “Was so hard for you, had to take care of things before I could fall asleep.”

Your whole body shivers, his words making your pussy begin to drip out onto your shorts. The look of his face as he recalls his memories. Those words added to all of his others that prove to you again that you have Joel’s heart, mind and body. He is yours.

“God. Th—that’s good,” you breathe out, your eyes widening when you watch him bite his lip as he squeezes his cock. He has you flustered, and he knows, his mouth grinning into the signature cocky smirk he gets whenever you get like this. As if his sense of self blooms whenever he makes your heart race.

You can’t allow him this pleasure over you, you’re the one in control tonight. You remind yourself that this is what Joel wants. You steel yourself and stand a little taller.

“Stop,” you bark out.

He obeys, mouth slacking open in shock at your raised voice. His hand unwrapping from around himself.

“Good job, I think you were getting a little too comfortable, weren’t you?”

Joel just stares at you, seems he forgot to nod.

“I can’t let you have the power tonight, can I? Acknowledge me Joel.”

“N—no,” an actual stutter from Joel Miller’s mouth. Not a grunt, not a short one word answer, an actual nervous stutter.

“That’s right. Now, I think you’ve had too much fun putting on a show for me. Go sit in the middle of the couch.”

He nods, his broad frame passes by you, he doesn’t even take the time to look at you.

You follow behind and wait until he takes a seat. You love seeing Joel on your couch, in your bed, using one of your bowls to eat oatmeal out of. You love seeing him in your space, all comfortable and domestic, but seeing him now naked on your couch, his hard cock sitting straight up, his large hands sitting atop his strong thighs, shoulders taking up most of the backrest of his seat, sitting ready to listen to your commands. This is how you really like to see him. He’s fucking gorgeous.

“So, you had your fun with your body, I want to have my fun with your body,” you stand over him. Now your body gets to loom over his.

You bring the collar of Joel’s shirt up to your nose, inhale deeply and moan. “Have I told you before how much I love how your smell? Sometimes I’ll be wearing one of your shirts to bed I’ll smell your scent on it and it’ll make me wet while I’m trying to go to sleep.” The sound from Joel’s mouth makes you bolder. “One night, I might just knock on your door, in only your shirt and my jacket, make you help me take care of what smelling you does to me. Would you like that?”

Joel shudders and furiously nods.

“Ohh, had a feeling you would,” you chuckle as you remove his shirt off of you. “I’m going to do something I've been wanting to do, okay?”

A nod, a groan, and a sigh now. The more reactions you get at once, the more you know how good you’re doing.

You pull down your shorts, and kick them aside. His fingers grip into his thighs, his forearms straining at the sight of you. He’s going through it.

“Can you see me glisten for you baby?” You ask as you lift your foot onto the couch cushion and snake your hand down in between your legs. “See how wet I got watching you touch yourself for me?” You take a finger and run it across your folds gathering your wetness. You hold it up for Joel, his eyes glued to your finger. “Open your mouth.”

He listens. You slide your finger into his mouth, his lips forming around it, a low moan vibrating against it.

“Put your hands on the couch, you can’t touch me, you can only watch. Okay?”

Joel obeys. He still sucks your finger as you straddle his thigh. His skin radiates heat against you once you place your wet pussy on it. You’ve wanted to do this since you saw his bare legs for the first time, his thighs are so muscular and yet so supple, much like the rest of his features. Joel groans as you begin to ride his thigh, rubbing yourself back and forth against his skin.

“You like how wet my pussy feels on your thigh?” You pull your finger out of his mouth. “Answer me Joel. Want to hear your voice.”

“Yes.”

“What do you like?”

“Your wet pussy on my th— I like your wet pussy on my thigh,” his low cadence and the pressure against your aching cunt pushing you close to your orgasm.

“I’m going to make myself cum on your thigh, okay? I’m so close.” You begin to grind your hips down on his his thigh, putting the perfect amount of friction against your clit.

Your hands splay against Joel’s chest, feeling his breaths and his moans rumble against your palms.

“I’m gonna cum on your thigh Joel.” You grab and pull on his chest hair as your climax reaches you, cresting over and spilling onto Joel’s thigh as you grind against it. Joel’s eyes boring into you looking forlorn and tortured that he can’t touch you as you cum on him.

You rest your head against his shoulder as you catch your breath. You need to recover quickly, you’re ready to ride him.

Joel grumbles as you stand back up.

“Would you look at that? Look down baby, look how wet I got your thigh.” You place your hands on his thighs, a hand resting in the puddle of your slick left on his skin. You lean forward as he looks down and nibble the bare skin of his heart patch before licking your way down his neck and chest. “Should probably clean that up, huh?” You ask as your rest your lips against the plush of his belly before gently biting it.

He groans as you move your mouth down, bypassing his hard cock to the side. You stick your tongue out and lick a long stripe up his thigh tasting yourself as you clean his skin. His breathing turns more labored as he watches you lick yourself up.

“Mm, wonder how I’d taste licking my cum off your cock?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his crotch, his hard cock throbbing against your cheek.

His hips jut as you turn your head and kiss the shaft of him.

“You’re going to cum fast for me, aren’t you?” You leave a kiss on his shaft higher than your last one.

“I love how hard you always cum for me,” another kiss moving your way up his hardness.

“I love the way you fuck my mouth while you cum down my throat,” another kiss.

“I love the way my name sounds as you chant it when I make your legs shake,” another kiss right under his tip.

“I love how your cum tastes as I lick it from my lips,” another kiss on his tip, tasting the precum collected on it.

“Fuck,” he finally utters, not being able to hold back as you lick along the trail of where you just kissed him.

“Shhhh,” you silence against the soft skin of his firmness. “I think it’s about time for me to fuck you, before you get any more ideas about talking.”

Another deep exhale from him, his nose flaring in frustration. You fucking love this.

“Put your hands on the top of your head, and don’t you dare lower them. Don’t touch me, okay?”

Joel nods raising his hands as you plant yourself back on the couch, straddling his legs. His eyes follow your body, his brows a bit more furrowed now.

You hover your pussy over his cock, leaving enough space between the two of you that if he really wanted, he could raise his hips and stick his cock in, but he doesn’t. He wants to do good for you.

“Open your mouth,” you angle your head forward, your lips right in front of his. Joel’s mouth opens, his heavy breathing hitting you in the face, as you lick into his mouth.

You swirl your hips over his cock slowly lowering yourself on him, you’re so soaked for him he easily slides into you.

A long sigh escapes the back of his throat as you begin to ride him. You pull back from his mouth and rest your hands against his chest. His hands still sit on top of his head, you glance up and see how he’s grabbing at his hair in exasperation.

He watches as you move your hands from his chest to yours, cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples.

“Like watching me touch my tits like the way you do? Like how I pinch and pull my nipples like you?”

High pitched moans and groans of frustration leave his mouth. Joel Miller is whimpering.

“Shhhh, shhh, I know baby. Now quiet. Want to hear my wet pussy ride you, stay quiet,” you say grabbing his jaw and pushing his mouth shut.

You begin fucking him harder, the sound of your wet cunt bouncing on him and his whimpers the only sounds in the room. You lean forward and rest your head in the juncture between his head and shoulder. You slam yourself up and down on him, the rapidness of your movements matching the rapidness of your heart as you bring yourself close to your orgasm.

Your back straightens as you place your hands on his biceps, staring in his big brown eyes as your body snaps, your pussy clutching his cock as you cum around Joel. He bites his bottom lip fighting his orgasm for as long as he can. His biceps straining against your grasp as you feel his body begin to quake.

“Clooooose,” he husks. You slip out of him, moving quickly on shaky legs through the aftershocks of your orgasm kneeling down in front of him. His hands are still in his hair as he looks down at you, watching you seal your mouth over him. You bob your head up and down on him as he cums down your throat.

You swallow all of him down as he chants your name. His hands lower, resting against the hollows of your cheeks as you still keep his softening cock in your mouth.

You stare up at him, his hair left awry and twisted from his hands, eyes wide and still blown out as he blinks down at you, his chest rising and falling still catching his breath. He looks at you, like you’re the only thing in this world. You are the center of his universe.

#tw marijuana #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller ff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel the last of us

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fernandopiastri28 · 8 months ago

Text

high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow.

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received.

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex.

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making.

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by.

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down.

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in.

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white.

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles.

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in.

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down.

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth.

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything.

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up.

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,”

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose.

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much.

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth.

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered.

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle.

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her.

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now.

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw.

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat.

He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him.

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard.

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it.

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire.

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world.

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine.

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down.

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this.

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him.

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length.

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive.

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows.

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her.

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home.

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time.

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose.

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit.

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear.

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing.

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set.

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x original character

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

Text

Let Me Shotgun You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Smoking Weed

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Y/N takes an interest in one of Rafe's favourite pastimes.

Masterlist

Rafe has been smoking weed since high school and that didn’t change when he started university. But when he started dating Y/N, it became less of a habit. Most people extremely against the drug would talk his ear off about it and shame him for doing it. Y/N wasn’t like them though. She didn’t love the idea of him finding his high with weed, but she mostly kept her thoughts to herself. Every so often, she’ll suggest he just uses it as an edible if he wants the effects of it, warning him that smoking or vaping of any kind could cause him severe health problems. And she’d leave the conversation at that. When he smoked, she would remove herself from the room so she wouldn’t suffer from second-hand smoke.

Tonight, she is acting a little different though. When Rafe and his brothers started lighting up, she stayed right by his side. Instead, she cuddles into his side, feeling a little clingy. All she wants is his skin pressed against hers. “Angel, are you sure you want to stay here? What about the smoke?” he worries in a whisper. “I can bring you upstairs to my room if you want.” She shakes her head, pressing her head even harder against his chest. “I’m okay. I just want to be with you,” she promises. Her smile isn’t as bright as it normally is and her eyes droop a little. He can tell she is tired, but won’t argue with that. He likes having her in his arms too much. She sits on his lap, just listening to him talk to his friends about anything and everything. His fingers bring the joint up to his lips. Y/N's eyes flit up to watch his process. The end of his joint is surrounded by his plump lip and she watches as he slowly inhales the smoke. He keeps bringing the smoke into his lungs while breathing in air through his nose until he needs to exhale again. The drugged air swirls in front of him, capturing her attention as it moves around like foam in water. Rafe notices her fascination and moves some of her hair out of her face. “Everything alright?” he questions, watching the joint teeter-totter between his fingers.

“Can I try?” she whispers. Rafe’s eyebrow arches and he asks her to say that again. “Can I try smoking the joint?” she restates louder. Rafe’s facial expression hasn’t changed, “Angel, you don’t like smoking. You always say that it has a bunch of health effects that you don’t like.” “I know, but trying it once won’t kill me. I wanna know why you like doing it so much,” she whines almost. She can see the amused faces of his friends, who just see her as an innocent lamb and she wants to change that. Rafe lets out a chuckle at his girlfriend’s sudden interest, “Okay if you are sure. But let me shotgun you, Angel. It’ll be easier for you.” Rafe looks over at Kelce and points toward something in the boy’s hand, beckoning with his finger for that thing. “Kelce, pass me the bong. It’ll be easier on her throat.”

Kelce obeys his president and hands him the glass vase. “Okay, Angel. I’m going to take a hit of the bong and then I’m going to bring your mouth to mine when I’m ready to exhale. Once the smoke starts entering your mouth, you have to inhale for as long as you can even with the smoke still in your mouth. Remember to breathe through your nose too,” he instructs, bringing the opening of the bong to his lips. His hand finds her chin a few seconds later and gently pulls her lips apart. His head turns so his lips can slot perfectly with hers and create a seal that the smoke can’t escape from. Y/N feels the fume wrestle around her mouth. Not having lungs trained for this, she can’t keep inhaling for long and the smoke eventually leaves her mouth in a fit of cough. The burning in her throat screams at her like a crying baby. She doesn’t understand why Rafe and the others enjoy this so much. She can’t stop her coughs and she hears Rafe order one of his brothers to bring her some water.

He brings her head under his chin, rubbing her back to soothe her. “Are you alright, Angel?” he checks in. She shakes her head, “I am never doing that again.” The room laughs, not surprised by her conclusion.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

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doberbutts · 2 months ago

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Hello, I have a Dog Question.

I grew up with dogs who were rescue mutts but now that I'm an adult I'm looking at getting a dog from a breeder. All my research says "make sure the breeder is reputable" but I don't know at all how to assess a breeder's reputation. I don't even know how much is normal to pay for a dog, and when I look it up, all the websites seem AI generated. Do you have any advice on where to get more information about that kind of thing? Are there any registries that are really trustworthy, or is it better to try to find word-of-mouth networks on who has a good reputation?

If you don't have any advice, no worries, thanks for reading my question anyways.

It can really depend on what type of dog you are looking for! There isn't necessarily one right answer.

Personally I don't care about reputation (reputable) more than I care about the breeder's personal code of ethics (ethical) being relatively close to my own.

Breeding dogs should be health tested. Not just a DNA test but whatever they may be at risk for due to their size or breed or genetic mixup. These results should be made available to you as a potential buyer, and the breeder should be weeding out or making informed choices for dogs with less than steller results. You need to know what is something that just needs to be bred to a dog with better results, vs what shouldn't be bred at all. This, as said, can vary depending on what exact dogs you're looking at.

The breeder should be asking you for more than just money. Talking to you and making sure that you are the right home for their puppy, and letting you also talk to them and make sure you actually want to buy from them. Do they say things about the dogs that don't sit right with you? Are you okay with the way they keep their dogs? Are they well fed, vaccinated, and have their needs met and cared for? Can you see proof of that? People will just say whatever, but seeing is believing.

What's the average price? Different breeds cost different amounts of money. Dobermans are very expensive! Other breeds cost less. Some cost more! If they're mixing breeds, why and what are they looking to create? Does it seem successful or are they just producing a bunch of dogs just to produce a bunch of dogs? Does the high price seem justified? Dobes are expensive because the health testing is very expensive, but less health tested breeds are cheaper. Is the breeder actually doing that expensive health testing or are they charging high without justifying cost?

Registries are not proof of ethics. Being registered with a registry just means that the dog has a traceable pedigree. So we know who the parents are, great. It doesn't determine anything else about the dog though. There is no registry that I would say exclusively has ethically produced dogs. However if a dog is of a breed that can be registered and yet isn't, that is a red flag.

@molosseraptor is a good friend of mine that runs a dog breed matching service and she also knows how to help people find a breeder that works well for them. I would trust just about any recommendation I got from her! She might be able to help you narrow down the list.

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

night walks 2

1.9k | NSFW | older neighbor!Joel x fem!Reader

night walks 1 or can read alone. night walks master list

After having his way with you in his basement, your creepy neighbor is convinced you'll be back for more. When you're not back soon enough, he takes matters into his own hands. You can barely see the silhouette of Joel Miller's messy hair in the shadows. . . He gently takes the keys from your hand. "You're not gonna need these for a minute, are you now?"

content warnings: nsfw 18+, creepy!perv!dark!joel, drugs, possible dosing, dubcon/noncon, unsafe PIV sex, light dirty talk, light stalking, age gap (unspecified), semi-public, no outbreak.

Joel Miller might be a good fuck, but he's such a creep that your wits win out over your want, and you start to distance yourself from him. You wear earbuds when you walk and pretend you don’t see him.

One night, you feel the slow squeeze of his massive palm on your ass before you hear or see him. You tell him to get lost. He raises his hands in surrender and says, "alright, I won't hold it against you." You look him dead in the eye, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. He looks you up and down and adds, "now, if you want me to hold something else against you. . ." You walk away. "You know where to find me," he concludes. You quicken your pace. He stands there and watches you walk away for what feels like forever, but you never turn around to find out.

He creeps into your fantasies more often than you'd like. It shouldn't turn you on the way he tricked you into his basement then locked you in and had his way with you. But you marvel at his determination and urgency in getting into your pants. He was so sure of everything. Never hesitated. He never for a second doubted it would happen. He was always going to make it happen.

Joel keeps his distance for the next few days, but you always feel uneasy when you pass his house. Truth is, you're less concerned about what he might do and more worried about yourself. A pang of desire shoots through you whenever you see the side entrance to his basement. As the days go on, you find yourself excusing his behavior. He knew you wanted him, he could tell. You could have fought back. At this point, when you catch yourself playing Joel apologist, you stop your night walks altogether to minimize temptation.

Instead of taking a walk around the block to get high, you start lighting up in your side yard after your aunt has gone to bed. You have a camp chair outside your door to the basement.

One night, the first night your aunt is out of town, you get home late and your camp chair is gone. You stand there looking around. You hear the flick of a lighter, then smell weed. You can barely see smoke billow out from under the willow tree, and you can just barely see the silhouette of Joel Miller's messy hair in the shadows. You hit the switch by the door to turn on a dim, flickering light. He's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. More muscular than you remember.

“Thought I might find ya here," he says.

You scoff. “Where I live?”

“Got a new strain. You gotta try it.” He stretches and relaxes back into the chair, extending one leg, rubbing his upper thigh, and letting his hand come to rest right at his package.

“Oh yeah? How many girls you buyin' weed from in your sketch-ass basement?”

“Just you, pumpkin." He looks at the joint in his hand and exhales. "This was contactless pick-up." He chuckles to himself. "C’mon, hit this. . . one time, one little puff. . . then you can tell me to leave.”

"Really?"

"Yup. . . Just wanted to say hi, make sure we’re good."

You turn and look at him skeptically as he puts his hands on his knees and stands up. He's wearing a white t-shirt that stretches over his chest and barely contains his arms. His PJ pants leave little to the imagination. You already know what's beneath them, but you don't need the reminder. The silver in his beard glistens as he smirks at you checking him out.

"Oooh, there's my bad girl." His voice is so gruff and low when he says that. You flush and swallow. Shit.

You turn away again, half facing the door, and shift your weight impatiently. You don't want to open the door while he's there. Best case scenario, he leaves. He holds the joint between two fingers and takes his time creeping up behind you. You smell his sweat and get weak in the knees. To hell with it, you were going to smoke anyway. Saves you the trouble of rolling one.

Joel hovers over your shoulder as he raises the joint to your mouth. You close your lips around it, inhale, and hold. He looks from your eyes to your mouth and back. Then, his hand directs your chin toward him, his lips lay loosely into yours, and he takes your breath as you exhale. Your nipples harden and you ache with an unwanted need. He pinches the joint out and tucks it behind his ear.

You wait a few seconds, only getting wetter as his suspicious weed takes effect. Then, you tell him, "Okay, you can leave now."

Instead, he wraps around you from behind, and it feels far too good. His large hands on your breasts and hips send butterflies to your stomach and downward.

You protest, "You said you'd-"

“Said you could tell me to leave, didn’t say I’d listen.”

“Well, listen.” You sigh. "Please."

His strong arms slowly slither around you. You stand completely still as he slips a veiny, masculine hand into the waistband of your joggers. He inhales your neck and slowly caresses your lower stomach. You squirm in discomfort and he twitches against you through his pants, sending a pang of desire through yours. Then, his hand slides further down your skin, hooking between your legs, and his other hand creeps under your shirt and bra to cup a breast. His thick cock rapidly hardens against you and he grunts softly.

You're wet and throbbing.

"I am listenin’, sugar. I'm still listenin' to those sounds you made with me inside you." Your cheeks burn as his thick digits glide along your dripping seam. "Shoot, I'm listenin' to your body right now."

He takes two shiny fingers out of your pants and holds them up in the flickering light as if you don't already know what his depravity does to you. He separates his fingers, observes the clear string between them, then sucks them, closing his eyes with an "Mmm."

He reaches around you for the door knob, but you intercept him. You're not going to unlock it.

"Alright,” he says. “You don't have to let me in." He grazes the nape of your neck with his nose, then his lips. When he plants his lips on the side of your neck, you softly gasp. He gently takes your keys out of your hand. "You're not gonna need these for a minute, are you now?" He sticks your house key into the lock and leaves them hanging there, a visual reminder that he'll do what he wants. Desire floods your body.

Your lips part but you can't form words. He crowds you up against the door and frees his hard cock from his pants then slides it under your shirt, resting warmly on your bare back while he tugs down your joggers. He flattens three fingers and glides through your folds to your clit again. You moan softly despite your best efforts.

“Damn right,” he says under his breath. He pulls your pants down a little more, then spreads your legs with his knee. He backs up a couple of inches before his torso meets yours again, and the swollen head of his cock prods between your legs. Your hips automatically tilt before you can stop them.

“Attagirl," he whispers. "I know you missed this cock.”

He bends his knees and nudges the tip inside your entrance, lining it up just right, then plunges up into you, grunting into your hair. You gasp and he moans in relief as his girth parts your core.

“Tight fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes, his rock-hard cock resting all the way inside you for a moment.

He retreats slightly. Mouth against your ear, he whispers almost angrily, “Yeah, you want this cock,” then thrusts his full length into you again, his momentum sending you to your tiptoes and flattening your tits against the door. He keeps filling you to the brim, and each time, the tension coils tighter within you. Each time, it’s harder not to moan obscenely, but you won't give him that satisfaction. Each time, the keys jingle in the door, taunting you.

A car comes down the street and slows down in front of your house. Your heart races. You quickly turn off the lightswitch, and it hits you that, Jesus, in your futile effort not to fuck him, you’re getting railed against the outside of the house. You relent. You lean back against him and he stills inside you, with his hands on your hips. You unlock and open the door. He slides out of you and you judge yourself for the emptiness you feel. The air is cold against your dripping seam. You only barely pull up your joggers.

You hardly take one step inside before he shuts the door and pins you up against it, face to face. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot,” he growls as he hikes your shirt and bra over your tits, his hard cock digging into your needy front.

He pulls down your pants again. He lifts one of your legs up and it hooks behind him as he positions himself at your warm, wet hole. Then, his stiff cock invades you. As his girth fills you up, you forget not to moan. Your face heats up and you close your eyes, unable to face him.

You have one foot planted on the ground and one leg wrapped loosely around him, held up by his hand, and he's fucking you against the door, hitting just the right spot inside you. You try not to show it, but it’s all over your face - you’re getting close.

“Yeah, come on this cock.” He plunges into you violently, then stays there, rolling his hips in short strokes, grinding into your clit, thrusting just enough to maintain friction inside and outside at the same time, driving you mad.

“Come for me, baby.”

A reluctant, ragged moan falls out of your mouth. You flatten your back and hands against the door as you come, and he thrusts into you harder with a grunt.

He breathes, “Fuck yeah, baby,” and slams into you. You feel him pulse and say, “wait, no,” not wanting his cum inside you. He pulls out just slightly then slams into you again, his cock pulsing harder, filling you with warmth, and extending your climax. You squirm and he holds you still, emptying his balls in enormous bursts that make you come harder. He pins you up against the door, cups your cheek, and kisses you as you both finish coming.

After he pulls out, he puts his dick away and reaches into your pants with two fingers, collecting his spend off your inner thigh. He looks at his cum, disappointed. “Well, there’s always more.” He slaps it up against your pussy and massages you with flattened fingers. He smirks as he draws an aftershock and a moan out of you.

“Let’s do this the easy way next time, pumpkin.” He braces his hand against the door as he leans in and kisses you with an unnerving tenderness on the mouth. He raises his eyebrows and adds, “Unless this is what gets you off.”

tagging people who asked about a pt 2 or wanted on tag list @st4rb0y27 @sexygaypalpatine @mrknifes @borntodogreatthings @silkiers @jbcalway

Thank you for reading! your interaction is always appreciated too! 💐

Night walks 3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #creepy!joel #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #perv!joel #perv!joel miller #pervy!joel #pervy!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️#night walks!joel #toxicnightwalks #nightwalks☠️

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lizzy019 · 1 month ago

Note

Hihi! So, idk if your requests are open (if they're not, feel free to ignore this :))

Could I have the gang (seperately) (idk if you do all of them in one post srry(if not, then just Johnny or Ponyboy)) with an S/O who's uncomfortable with drinking and drugs and gets like, a bit tense/anxious when they see either - including when the gang has any - just cuz of some bad childhood trauma?

Thanks!

Love you sm <3 /p and I hope you have a good day/evening!!

Ahh back again with a request haha! Sure, I'll write short drabbles for each of the gang members :))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1) Ponyboy 2) Johnny

3) Dally 4) Darry IN THIS ORDER!

5) Soda 6) Steve 7) Two-bit

1) Ponyboy

Ponyboy knew that you tended to be a bit uncomfortable when he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it within a matter of seconds. Now normally, you'd just plug your nose and push past it since this was just Pony's addiction, but lately you seemed to cough from the second hand smoke and stood far away from him.

You couldn't find it in you to tell him how your parental figure did it too often when you were still a young kid. You saw how they got when they were high off of their mind, it bugged you ceaselessly and you really didn't want to see Ponyboy like that either. But then again, you were supposed to be a bit tougher, so naturally you didn't tell him.

But Ponyboy caught on quick enough.

Now, it was very common for him to smoke when he got stressed or anxious about something. Though Ponyboy preferred the easy way out of his stress, smoking his cheap tobacco, he tried to keep it away from you. Whenever he was stressed, he'd find you and lay his issues on you to resolve them together.

It wasn't a big fix, but if it had you coughing less and smiling more, he'd do just about anything for the curl of your lips and the laughs you shared.

2) Johnny

Now, Johnny was well aware of your trauma and discomfort when it came to drugs and substance abuse. He tried his best, honestly, to keep his addiction away from you, or to a minimum if he really couldn't suppress the urge.

He understood fully why you didn't like substances like weed or tobacco, especially when you had these tiny freezes every time he lit up a cigarette and took a puff. They could be dangerous, fatal even, and he knew that it deeply worried you seeing him smoking them. As a trauma survivor himself, he knew it could be tough trying to push past something that scars your life.

But Johnny should've known better. He should've tried harder, especially so when you started physically distancing yourself from him when he smoked. Second hand smoke was bad, but it was worse because he knew why you were getting so overwhelmed.

You were scared, and he couldn't be mad at you for it.

So Johnny decided to quit. Just one evening, he handed you his cigarettes and his lighter and made sure you trashed them for him. At the end of the day, it was saving you both from a lot of issues in the future.

3) Dally

Dally by no means meant his teasing when you first told him how him smoking around you made you uncomfy. But he tried to at least grasp why it made you uncomfortable, to prevent the disliked feeling sway you away from him.

While Dally struggled with breaking his addiction (he was 12 when he started), he had a goal in mind. Less than a pack a day, hopefully less than 15 if he got good enough. It was just something he tried to do to keep you safe, he loved you more than anything and he'd prioritize your comfort over something as silly as a few cigarettes.

You were very happy when his average intake of cigs had dropped a couple, and it made you proud knowing you were the cause of it. And as of lately, he even seemed to be more cheery because he wasn't smoking that much anymore.

You both were very happy with what Dally had done for you.

4) Darry

Darry is a simple man. While he did like his beer, a cigarette every now and then helped soothe the stress of taking care of two buffoon siblings and all his friends. The man was overworked, you couldn't blame him for needing some affordable way to release the overwhelming stress building and building.

But you didn't like when he smoked. You were scared, truthfully. He was smart, he was a dignified and respected gentleman. Seeing him smoke was like seeing a rabbit eating corn instead of the stereotypical carrots or celery. It was odd, it wasn't correct.

So the minute you informed him of your dislike to his smoking, along with your reason for the dislike to be trauma, he was quick to throw out his lighter and just hand the cigarette box off to Soda. It was efficient, and at least with beer, the effects were more manageable compared to being high off of his mind.

5) Sodapop

Soda in all honesty doesn't smoke that much to begin with. He just doesn't see it as something he wants to use to calm himself for the rest of his life considering his other brothers already cough up a storm from them.

But he especially tried to quit doing them at all when you came along. He could see your utter discomfort at the sight of the measly tobacco stick, and he questioned you. But he quickly took back any jokes he made directed at your trauma, as he didn't know... and the last thing he wanted to do was drive a wedge in between you two because of some stupid joke he made.

That was the day he stopped smoking around you. Any time he felt the need for a smoke, he'd just tell you he'd be outside for a few minutes and he'd pop back in.

Sure, he smelled of pungent tobacco afterwards, but it was the thought that counted, right? If seeing him smoke bothered you and he was too far into his addiction to quit, he would happily find ways that'd work for the both of you!

6) Steve

Now let's be honest here, Steve drinks more than he does smoke. Regardless of it, he'll happily accept a cigarette when it's given to him, he can't deny a free cig!

But he noticed the tenseness in your shoulders, the pained and fearful look buried in your gaze as you eyed him with just a cigarette between his lips. Were you upset at him for smoking? Maybe worried for his health? He didn't know, but he threw the cigarette out even if it still had a good amount left over.

It was then that you relaxed, shoulders going loose again and eyes soft like always. Oh, so you didn't like cigarettes at all, period. Maybe you just didn't like him doing drugs, but he didn't want to question you. Then again, even if he wasn't the smartest educationally, he was smart when it came to things like body language.

Instead of taking the cigarettes offered, he started brushing them off, smiling a bit in your direction as if to show you how much he cared about you. Steve wanted you to be proud of his responsibility, and you were. Well... you only smiled back because his smile was just too contagious.

7) Two-bit

Deadass, this man has awful habits. From drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, to drinking beer while smoking cigarettes, it wasn't uncommon for him to be seen tipsy or a bit stoned every now and then.

But once you and Two got together, he maintained his sober streak for a good while. Sure, an occasional beer maybe, but never too much and never too many cigarettes. He never even knew of your trauma to them until you both were with the gang, and he started smoking just because everyone else was.

Heavily influenced, you dubbed as one of his many poor characteristics.

But he knew at least vaguely from the gang that you didn't like it. After all, it was noticeable how your usually cheery, warm expression would shift to discomfort and appal. He didn't know how to handle the guilt knowing he possibly triggered some trauma you had, and his apologies were in the form of handing you his lighter and bottle opener.

It wasn't much, but it'd slow him down.

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hyunjinswifelol · 1 year ago

Text

study session. h.hj

warnings: weed, getting high, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f!receive), reader wheres skirt, reader is called y/n, reader is also fem mostly, hyunjin wears rings, reader is a teachers pet, use of slut

summary: reader goes to hyunjin to study, knowing hes really smart. they end up getting high together and do interesting things.

“excuse me, do you know which dorm room is uh.. hwang hyunjins dorm?” y/n asked. the front desk lady gave her a weird look. “why do you need to know?” “hes the smartest in my class and i need tutoring lessons” she said. “hes in room 238 on floor 4. be careful, hes not really a good kind of boy” “i-.. okay thanks!” y/n ran to the elevator, trying not to drop everything, including her bag. she pressed floor 4, and hoped he was even in his room. “room 238.. where is it” she questioned herself, wondering the halls. she found it. her heart was racing. she knocked. “y/n?..” “hyunjin!! hi, can you tutor me please? the math is terrible and-“ “you want me to tutor you?” hyunjin asked, sarcastically laughing. she nodded slowly, afraid he’ll turn her down. “is it too much? are you busy? do i need to come another time-“ “no y/n youre fine. i just wasnt expecting you to come to me” hyunjin said, scratching the back of his neck. she nodded again, less worried. he was much taller than her, she just realized. he was about 5’10, and she was about 5’2. hyunjin opened his door more and let her in. “thanks.. im sorry. i didnt mean to bother you or anything” she said, slightly looking down. “hey its okay.. i understand, schools hard you know? dont worry about it” she smiled and nodded. he was really cute she thought. “do you want a drink?” he asked. “sure.. do you have sweet tea?” hyunjin nodded. “oh sorry.. you can set your stuff down on my table and ill get everything ready” hyunjin said, pulling a chair out for her. “thanks, youre really a gentleman” she said, patting his arm. he blushed. “thanks.. i try to help nice to women. i also try to be nice to you, youre the most favorite in the school you know? the teachers love you” “my parents donated a bunch of money to the school, thats the only reason they love me” “youre really kind to them, they probably like that too, respecting teachers is really important” she nodded. he poured her a glass of tea. “do you smoke?” he asked, sitting down infront of her, handing her the tea. her eyes lit up, and went wide. “do i.. smoke?” he nodded. “do you? i have some weed, we can share a joint before we study, it’ll calm your nerves. youre tense honey” she nodded. “ive never done this before hyunjin.. is it okay?” “ofcourse it is, i wouldnt harm you” hyunjin stood up and went to the kitchen. y/n followed him. he went to roll a joint. he was rolling it up and making it a cigarette type to smoke. y/n was staring at his hands the whole time. the veins, the tings, the tendons, his long fingers. she wondered what they felt like inside her. no. she cant think like that. this is her classmate, and possibly new study friend. “your rings are cool” she softly said. “oh thanks! im glad you notic- how did you notice?..” he said. “i was staring” she mumbled, slightly embarrassed. “you were staring st my hands?” he said, genuinely confused. “yeah.. i mean you have nice hands” “thanks.. are you like.. obsessed with my hands?” “no.. i was just staring cause theyre nice. your nail polish is cool too” she smiled. “thanks” he smiled back at her. “okay done. wanna hit first?” “can you?.. i dont know how to do this” she said, looking at the floor embarrassed. “its okay, dont be embarrassed.. i wouldnt expect you to know how to smoke anyways” he said. he took a big hit, then blew out. “when you take a hit, you’ve gotta inhale it, be careful, it’ll make you cough” he handed it to her. “thanks” she said. she hit it, inhaled, choked a little, then blew out. “wow.. i feel weird” “its normal, after a few more puffs youll feel like youre floating, trust me sweetheart” he said. her cheeks got red at the pet name. she never really liked pet names if she’s completely honest, but she feels warm when he calls her pet names. he took another hit, and did it like a pro. she took another hit, but coughed alot. “its okay, youll get the hang of it” hyunjin reassured her. they took turns back and fourth. after a while, y/n felt very high, and very clingy. “hyunjin.. can we watch a movie?” she asked. “arent we supposed to study?”

“fuck studying” she said. his eyes went wide. she just cussed? “i-.. sure hun, what do you wanna watch?” “romance. like.. shrek!” “thats not a romance honey” he said laughing. “dont laugh.. and yes it is” “okay then..” he took her to the living room. he sat down. she was still standing though. “you can sit down you know..” he said smiling, but slightly confused. “can you spread your legs?” she mumbled. he nodded and did so. she sat in between them. he froze completely. “can you scoot back a little? i dont wanna fall off the couch” she looked back at him smiling innocently. he nodded. he scooted back. she layed back to where her back was against his chest. he got the remote and found shrek and started playing it. she hit the joint again. “jinnie i think im getting high.. am i okay?” she said, now being serious. “its normal love, trust me you’ll be okay” she nodded. she got herself comfortable. her head was resting in ghe crook of his neck, her thighs pressed together between his, her back against his chest, and her hands on his thighs. “this is comfy” she whispered. “good. it is” he smiled. her hair smelled really good. his arms were right beside his thighs, and y/n took that as an opportunity to gran then and wrap them around her waist. he looked down at it, and smiled. “hold me” she said. “okay honey” he said, smiling brighter than ever. she held the joint up to his lips and hetook a hit. she took a hit after him. she turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist. his arms were loosly wrapped around her waist. “hi lovely” he said. she blinked a few times. then smashed her lips on his. he immediately kissed back. his arms tightened around her. she pulled away after a moment. “can we go to your room?” she shyly asked. “what are you wanting to do in there that we cant do in here?” he asked messing woth her soft hair. “can you make me feel good?” she mumbled. hyunjins pants got tight, and she felt that. she was acting so innocent but shes not at the same time, hyunjin loved it. y/n got up and waited for hyunjin to. “right down the hallway lovely” he said, and held her hand softly. she went and sat on his bed, and he closed his door. the only lightin there was a lamp. she stared at him. he stared backat her. “are you sure you want this?” she nodded. “ive never done it before but i want you to be my first hyunjin. please?” she whispered. he nodded. he wanted this as much as she did. hes fucked multiple girls, but none like her. hes always thought that y/n was special and innocent and pretty, but that innocent thought was long gone. hyunjin kissed her, and they started making out. his tounge slid in her mouth, and he bit her bottom lip- making her whine. hyunjin felt his dick get harder. he slowly pushed her down to where she was laying on her back. his hands roamed her body, and she loved it. her mind and his were all fuzzy, most likely from being stoned, but for her it was that and the feeling of his hands all over her. his hand went down to her wet pussy. he broke the kiss. “do you want me to touch you sweetheart?” he asked, teasing her. “yes please” she whined. he rubbed her clothed clit and she moaned. “lets take these panties off okay?” he said, rubbing up and down her thighs. she nodded. he slip them down to her ankles and threw them somewhere across the room. hyunjin rubbed her clit, and it felt even better with her panties off. “you like that? you like my fingers touching you?” “yes- feels s-so good” she moaned out. hyunjin pushed his middle finger in her entrance. she whined and threw her head back on the bed. “you wanna lay down love?” he asked, still fingering her. she nodded. she scooted back to where her back was slightly against the headboard. he crawled in between her legs and he was face to face with her pussy. “can i?” he asked. “please” she whispered. and just like that that, his face was burried in her pussy. his tounge going in and out of her entrance at a fast pace. y/n’s mind was fully blank, only the thought of hyunjin eating her out like a pro. she grabbed his hair.

hyunjin looked up at her. she closed her eyes and whined. hyunjin came up and kissed her, and started fingering her again- but with two fingers. “hyunjin” she moaned. “yes darling? you like it? you like taking my fingers?” he softly said, playing with her hair in his other hand. she nodded and whined. “you look so fucking pretty. a princess getting fucked in that slutty skirt.. my princess getting fucked in her slutty skirt” she moaned. she liked him calling her a slut. “im your slut?” she whispered. “yes darling youre my little slut okay? youre my princess, my slutty princess” he said, fingering her at the fastest pace possible. “hyun- your fingers” y/n moaned out. “my fingers? you like them? they making my princess feel good?” he asked kissing her forehead. “yes they feel so good-your rings they feel” she said before moaning. “they feel good dont they” he said. she nodded. “lets take this little shirt off okay?” he said, pulling her little pink crop top off. she covered her chest. “hey dont cover or be shy my love” he said slowly pulling her arms softly. “here ill take mine off so youre not alone lovely” he said removing his fingers from her pussy. “hyunjin-“ she whined, feeling empty. “i know darling, youll get what you want soon, i promise” he whispered, taking his shirt off and going back down on her again. “you taste like heaven darling” he whispered. he sucked her clit, and she almost screamed. she bucked her hips in his face, practically riding it. “hyunjin im gonna cum- please can i?” she cried. “yes love” he tounge fucked her for a minute and she came right in his mouth. he slurped her juices and came up to kiss her again. she tasted herself. “lets get this slutty skirt off hm?” he said. she nodded, and he ripped it right off. he got off the bed for a minute. he unbuckled his pants and slid them off, as well as his boxers. his cock sprung right out. her eyes went wide in fear. it looked about 9 inches. she was worried it wouldnt fit. “will it fit hyunjin?” she whispered. “yes love, dont worry okay? ill take care of you” he said, laying her down. he aligned his cock with her hole. “im gonna go in slowly okay? squeeze my hand if it hurts” he whispered. he offered his hand and she held it. he pushed in his tip. she squeezed his hand a little. “you okay darling?” he whispered, his thumb carresing her knuckles. she nodded. “you got this” he whispered. he pushed in another 3 inches. he waited a moment and pushed in a few more inches. he still had about 4 more inches to go. so, he went balls deep in her pussy. “youre tight love” he said, smiling at her. “youre big hyunie” she said, eyes welled with tears. “do you want me to move now?” he asked, holding her hand tight. she nodded. he moved about halfway out and pushed back in very slow. he repeated that for a few minutes. “hyun.. faster please” she whispered, eyes shut tight. he hummed an ‘mhm’ and picked up his pace. “shit” he whispered. he went faster now. she moaned his name a few times. “hyunjin faster-“ she said, and then he went at a rapid pace. she moaned even louder than before. “im gonna cum darling, can i cum in you?” he asked. she nodded, tears streaming from her eyes. she felt herself getting closer too. she clenched around him, and then he came. she came a few seconds after him. he layed beside her. she was panting. “you did great love” he said, still holding her hand. sweat was dripping down his neck. she lookrd over at him, and stared at the sweat. she caused that sweat. “lets get cleaned up and head to bed hm?” he said. “im staying here tonight?” she asked. hyunjin stood up and went to grab a towel. “yeah.. if you want to obviously” he said and smiling at her. “can i sleep in here?” she asked, stars in her eyes. “ofcourse lovely” he cleaned themselfs off. she put her underwear and bra on. he put some boxers amd sweatpants on. “hyunjin?” “hm?” “can i borrow a shirt?” “ofcourse, let me get you one” he said. he walked to his closet and found a white t shirt. he handed it to her and kissed her forehead. she smiled and giggled. “what?” he asked.

“you give me butterflies when you kiss my forehead” she said, looking up at him and smiling. “then ill do it more often” he cockily said. she put the shirt on and collapsed on his bed. he layed doen next to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. she rolled over and shoved her face in his chest. “you smell good” she mumbled. “do i?” “mhm” he smiled. he kissed her forehead. “goodnight darling” he said. “goodnight jinnie” “love you” “love you too” she smiled. her face was in his neck and her arms were around his neck, while his was around her waist. they both eventually fell asleep.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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grimesgirll · 10 months ago

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your old roommate was a huge stoner.

she was always rolling up and you were always welcome to join, so sometimes you did.

unfortunately, weed was not a priority in the apocalypse, much less something that could even be sourced. you didn't think much of it. there were greater things to worry about like surviving than getting high.

but that doesn't mean you don't jump at the chance to spark up with daryl after he finds someone's forlorn stash in the crumbling chimney of an untended house - which was one way to hotbox a place. of course, you two have to hide your score from your resident sheriff who you didn't imagine was all too keen on "drugs" - after all, it was the ricktatorship back then.

daryl had squirreled you away to a remote bridge underpass close to where your group was establishing camp for the weekend, undead and all other factors allowing. with the alibi of a sunset deer hunt and the materials for a homemade gravity bong hidden in your backpack, the evening was yours to get ripped.

you weren't as close with daryl back then. that smoke break with him actually pressed a lot of buttons you never knew you had. you even peeled back some layers, something daryl was reluctant to do then, even with you.

whoever had stashed their weed in the chimney'd left over an ounce in there, so you and daryl made that shit last.

suddenly you both were volunteering for earlier watch shifts so you could have a joint every now and then afterwards. it wasn't until rick ripped open the door of the abandoned ice cream shop you two were blazing up in that you knew anyone was onto you.

"can't sneak around a fucking cop," daryl muttered the next day.

rick had immediately asked what was wrong with the two of you; how in the hell could you let yourselves get carried away like that? let your guard down? you could've been swarmed at any moment!

you felt like a kid getting lectured, and daryl did too when despite him assuring your leader, "it's just a way to relax, man," rick just kept going.

looking back, you're pretty sure that half of the problem was jealousy. stumbling upon daryl and you alone and blissed out halfway to the moon must've ground his gears.

so yeah, rick grimes may not be a cannabis enthusiast at first. from then on, it’s a delicate dance of dodging rick. this is only after you stumble upon more weed because the asshole had “confiscated” the baggie and dumped the gravity bong.

daryl is fuming but you know that what’s done is done. it’s the cop in rick. the same man who gives you all the riot act on how you need to shape the fuck up and how he never needs to catch you two doing that again, as he walks you back to camp. you just nod your head and keep your mouth shut. you guys will find a way around it anyway.

and you do.

in overgrown courtyards, on half rotted benches, creaky porches, in old automobiles, remote wings of the prison, on “walks” and “hunts.”

and it isn’t long before you and daryl are sneaking out of bed, leaving a sleeping rick while you finish off an old backwood daryl had saved. the balcony off of the bedroom in alexandria is the perfect place to enjoy yourselves after a long day.

you’re sat on the cushioned patio chair; daryl stands and torches the half finished backwood. as per usual, he offers you the first hit which you eagerly accept. alexandria’s quaint nocturnal stillness is all the motivation you need to silence the cough welling up in your chest. you pass the blunt back to daryl who cups his hands as he lights the end again, protecting the vanilla tobacco flavored end from the elements.

another hit and your mind is focused on daryl. the glint his blue eyes were catching from the moonlight, how the black button up he’d thrown on as you slipped out fits him, how he looked taking a long, rewarding drag before passing it back to you to indulge for a third time.

by this point, you’re higher than the ISS. so faded that you don’t hear the glass door sliding open. you register rick by the low whistle. your insides turn to molten lava. this isn’t the first point you’ve been caught smoking with daryl and it won’t be the last but god, did rick sneak up on you two. scared the shit out of you when you were stoned. rick grimes instilled paranoia was not fun while under the influence.

“you know there are other ways to relax, right?”

daryl scoffs. “when we’re done, man.”

“she looks like she’s all done for the night.”

speak for yourself, you wanna snap at him but you’re too high. you just exhale, rising and standing next to daryl along the railing. the man wordlessly offers another hit. you offer a breathy ‘thank you’ and put the thick blunt between your lips.

you don’t miss the way rick is paying attention to you - now from the patio chair. not missing a moment as you inhale, and after a second or two, exhale. a spot enters your field of vision and you pass the battered backwood back to daryl. it’s not long before you’re feeling the weight of that weed like a whale and backing towards the chair where rick is waiting to draw you into his lap.

he doesn't partake but that doesn't stop him from partaking in you when you're stoned.

you're always fun but there's something about the way your eyes glaze over and you're suddenly in his lap on the chair, pulling at his hair and kissing lazily.

he loves you all giggly and handsy.

“you gonna be a good girl now?” he questions.

you raise an eyebrow. “what did i do?” he gestures to daryl, who is happily bringing the backwood to a close. you shake your head.

“once a cop, always a cop.”

rick snorts. “hope you don’t get weed dick.”

“you wish.”

bored by their banter, you bring your lips to rick’s, not hesitating to open your mouth more for him to snake his tongue in. the ache between your thighs bumps against rick’s bulge; you two simultaneously groan so loud daryl is telling you to hush.

“pants down.” rick orders.

you shimmy your loose pajama pants on. they were perfect to pull on and off. you hang them on the side of the chair.

the sheriff starts shifting a finger between your leaking folds while daryl disposes of the blunt. you bite back a whimper when his long finger twists inside of you.

from then on it’s a grueling rhythm. one you were feverishly responding to. he doesn’t let up - just fingers you until you’re gushing around his fingers. when he decides he would rather have you gush on his cock than all over his lap, he shuffles down his sleep pants, just in time for daryl to observe as you settle over rick’s impossible dick.

“you know there are other ways to relax, right?” you mock as you sink down onto his length.

the ex-cop rasps, hands anchoring to your waist while you buck your hips so your clit gets in on the fun too. you gyrate and roll your hips unforgivingly; rick just huffs and pants, forehead lined with sweat.

daryl twitches in his pants. observing rick fuck your tight little pussy is enough to have him pressing against his jeans from the inside out. what he wouldn’t give just to feel you losing your mind clenching around his finger.

you shudder when you feel a finger probing around your crammed entrance.

“daryl!”

“shh, gonna wake up the whole neighborhood, baby.”

“fuck’re you doin’?”

“relax, man.”

“you’re not gonna fit on this chair with the both of us,” rick disclaims, struggling to catch his breath as you clamp down around him.

daryl shakes his head. “not what i’m tryna’ do.”

his sturdy finger pushes through the resistance your pussy and rick’s shaft face him with. he’s managed an inch in when you start whining. you’re burying your head in rick’s shoulder from the sensation.

numbed slightly by the effects of the kush you and daryl’d just enjoyed, pleasure starts to mount inside of you. your core gets that familiar searing feeling. even more so when daryl picks up the pace. the first few inches of muscle require him to work through slowly, but after enough hissing from rick and squirming on your part, you two groan in ecstasy.

you feel daryl’s finger beneath you as you rock on top of rick. you’re struggling for breath. “love having you both inside of me.”

daryl adds another finger.

“love seeing your face all scrunched up, darlin’,” your leader is whispering raggedly into your neck.

“love being filled tight for you guys.” you pant.

“you’re just right, baby,” rick grunts in response.

“so tight. good fucking girl.” daryl praises, eyes lighting up when you maintain eye contact - all fucked out and on your way to an orgasm, daryl is about to ruin his drawers just looking at you.

he speeds up the motions of his fingers, accelerating the thick digits until they’re suddenly immobilized by your contracting cunt. fingers stopped, he uses the other hand to devote some time to your clit to help you ride out your orgasm.

“‘bout to come.” the brunette under you is rasping.

you can barely compute. you’re just a ragged mess of breath, skin, warmth, and the stickiness between your thighs and daryl’s fingers from rick’s release. you feel him coat your insides despite keeping up the pace. when he comes out on the other side, he has a cocky grin on his face.

“so you like getting stoned and stuffed?”

a twinge of post-orgasm euphoria washes over your face. you nod, “it’s the best way to relax,” you punctuate with a fevered, sloppy kiss, making room for daryl to join you in a threeway kiss before breaking apart to share a telltale look with rick.

you’re too high for this.

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saintsugu · 1 year ago

Text

BAD HABITS. KINKTOBER DAY 2

rating: mature; mdni

pairing: rindou haitani x fem!reader

wc: 6k

content warnings: explicit content, bonten timeline rindou, sort of cnc/dubcon, drugs (pcp + laced weed) + a fairly unrealistic depiction of a high (rindou’s side), mentions of violence/murder, degradation, slight slut shaming, choking, oral (f!receiving), slight usage of a safe word/action.

author’s note: reposted fic !

You let out a deep breath as nicotine saturates your senses. It’s a feeling you’ve been familiar with for a while now. Your body feels lighter and your mind is more at ease. You know that it isn’t true peace, but it’s nice to feel it momentarily—even if it’s fake.

Everyone has their vice, their own little escape from this wretched life that they lead. Drugs, sex, alcohol, whatever it might be. Whether we recognize it or not, we use it, and we abuse it to help ourselves.

You haven’t really found yours. You’ve found small things that help you calm down and cope a bit, but you haven't found that special depravity. You’ve smoked several times with Sanzu— even dropped acid with him on occasion— but it never appealed to you as much as it did him. Ran’s invited you to go drinking as well, but you aren’t a heavy drinker like him. No matter what it is, nothing gets you off like it does with the other people here. Maybe it’s because you have a bigger chip on your shoulder— or maybe there’s no reason at all.

The sound of traffic has always helped calm you, though. You figure that it’s because you grew up around it. Since getting high or drunk doesn’t scratch that itch, over the years you’ve found that the best thing you can do is go up to the roof for a smoke.

“Thought I’d find you up here.”

“I came up here for peace and quiet,” you don’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind you. “It’s no longer peaceful or quiet with someone else up here.”

“Funny.” It’s as if you can hear the way he rolls his eyes when he speaks.Rindou knows exactly why you come up here, so he sees straight through your answer easily. “Why’d you really come up here?”

“Sanzu’s high out of his mind and it’s annoying me.” He hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything; as if he’s waiting for you to continue. “And I’m sick of all this infighting,” you begrudgingly admit.

Today, nothing went as planned and everyone’s been blaming each other. Takeomi pissed Rindou off during the mission, so naturally, Ran is pissed at Takeomi. Sanzu somehow believes that Kakucho is at fault, and like usual, Kokonoi has done nothing but fuel the fire with his snide remarks. The worst part about it all, is that you don’t even care. You just want everyone to shut the fuck up— or for better lack of words, you just want some goddamn peace and quiet.

“There it is.” Finally, you turn your head around, solely to shoot him a glare. “Come back inside with me. I’ll get your mind off things. We can fuck around, it’ll be fun.”

“Wow. Way to sugarcoat things, Rin’.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You hear his quiet chuckle decorating the words, and you swear your lips curl up in amusement at the sound.

“So what, you have new drugs you want to try?” You raise an eyebrow, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Correct, but you don’t have to try them with me. Just want you to keep me company, in case I, you know, go into cardiac arrest or something.” A small laugh bubbles out of your throat, despite the joke really not being that funny. You worry about Rindou a lot— all of them, truthfully. Your feet feel heavier than usual as you follow him back down the stairwell.

Rindou is a lot different when the lights go dark and you’re left to yourselves. He’s a lot less guarded. You figure it’s just because he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances, with Bonten or his brother, but either way, it makes you feel good that he trusts you enough to be a little vulnerable around you.

“So, what is Sanzu on for him to be pissing you off so much?” He muses.

“Shit ton of acid,” you answer, cringing at the memory of the man talking in his circles. He was rambling on and on, yet you couldn’t even understand his words due to the speed at which they left his mouth. You nodded in your head out of pure confusion for nearly 15 minutes before escaping to the roof. “He was about to snort a line before I left, too.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving.”

Currently, you’re staying at Bonten’s base. Most everyone has their own place, but sometimes they still stay here regardless. Sometimes it’s safer, and for others, it’s just more convenient. For you, it’s the latter.

The only current people occupying the building right now are you, Sanzu, and Rindou. Haruchiyo’s access to drugs is more limited when he’s at his own place— due to Mikey’s rules— so he ends up spending more time at the base. And Rindou is only here because his brother’s fling of the week is staying in their shared apartment. You, on the other hand, don’t really have a reason. Just like them, you have your own place and you go back to it sometimes, but it feels so lonely compared to here.

The elevator stops on the fifth floor, which serves as a lobby and leads to everybody’s rooms. When the doors open, Sanzu is sprawled out on the couch. Little white lines decorate the glass coffee table, as well as a credit card and a few opened pill bottles. Sanzu isn’t going to die from a gun or a blade— you swear his own addiction is what will kill him in the end; you pray that you won’t be around to see it happen.

“What do you have in store for us today?” You ask as you follow him into his room and he closes the door behind you.

His room is fairly bland. The walls are coated with the same base of gray that decorates yours as well as every other executive. The room’s layout is similar to your own, but with his bed against the middle of the wall, it feels a little less spacious. Small piles of clothes clutter his wooden floor— taking up whatever space isn’t already covered by his rug. It’s not exactly messy, per say, but it’s not spotless, either.

It’s probably because you were just outside, but you can’t help but notice how incredibly hot it is in Rindou’s room. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen, so you have no qualms about unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting it hang open. Still, you don’t miss the way lavender eyes flit down to the blue fabric for a moment.

“Let me find it.” His words are mumbled together as he kneels before the nightstand beside his bed. “I hid it in case that little shit out there came looking for it.”

It’s noisy as he knocks around things in the drawer, not trying to even be remotely gentle as he looks for it. It doesn’t take long for him to shut the drawer and stand up with a small baggie of pills in his hand.

“Ta-da,” he simply says, sliding onto the bed with you.

You aren’t as knowledgeable as the two bonten executives when it comes to drugs, so you ask, “What is it?”

“Angel dust.” There’s a small grin on his face as he opens the bag. “Knabbed it off the shipment from last week.”

“Ah,” you nod, watching as he pulls out three of the little white capsules. “You seem excited.”

“Cause I am,” he chuckles. “I’ve been wanting to try this shit for ages. Do you think three is too much?”

You softly nod your head in agreement. “Maybe a bit,” watching as he drops a pill back into the bag and the leftovers into his mouth.

There’s a soft smile on his face as he turns his gaze to you. “Now we wait.”

For a while, you were against this—the drugs, but you learned to deal with it, even to participate in it. You’re a fugitive, a truth that came a little too harshly for you. You realized that in the end, it really didn’t matter for people like you. You’re able to gamble with your own life as much as you want because you have no idea the next time you’ll come home from the field. So, people like Sanzu and Rindou will find their freedom in little white pills, while you sit back and watch, silently hoping nothing will go wrong.

A few minutes of silence pass before he speaks up in an alarmed tone. “Oh shit, I got something special for you, too,” he mumbles as he crawls off the bed and returns to his place on the floor. “I almost forgot.”

His search is faster than it was the first time, but as he stands up, you watch him stumble a bit. His hands are quick to grab the edge of his nightstand and you swear that his grip is so tight that he could splinter the wood.

“Rin, you okay?” You figure the drugs are kicking in, but even so, neither of you know how thiswill affect him.

“Yeah.” His voice is shaky and you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut; more than likely trying to focus on something other than whatever shit he’s currently seeing. “Just give me a moment.”

You’re sitting up now, eyes trained on him and chest filling with worry. He takes a deep breath and then returns to his spot on the bed. “‘m okay now.”

While he changes the cart in his wax pen, you settle behind him. You let your hand run up the sides of his arms until they reach his neck. He lets out a low and quiet moan as you dig your fingers into the skin. You continue on and when he drops his head, taking it as an opportunity to press a kiss into the side of his neck.

His voice sounds light as he chuckles, “Shit, you’re good at this.” You feel him shiver as you lick a stripe up his neck and he’s quickly turning his head away. “Stop distracting me or I’ll never get this shit done.”

He returns to the work he was doing and you lean your chin on his shoulder, eyes fixed on his hands and the way they move. He swaps out the carts and throws the old one into the trash can a few feet in front of him. “Here, it’s for you.”

“Ooh, lucky me,” you chuckle, taking the device in your hand and lifting it to your lips.

You take three large inhales and return to your assault on his neck as you wait for them to take effect.

In contrast to your usual highs, it only takes about five minutes for it to start to settle in your system. The hits wash over you like a tidal wave. Usually, three would barely be anything for you, but this… “Holy shit, this isn’t regular weed, is it?”

“It's spiced,” he answers, words sounding tired and a bit slurred.

Intense wouldn’t even be the right word to describe it. You can feel everything and it’s almost nauseating. Even the low-light of Rindou’s ceiling fan is overwhelming your brain. There’s an odd buzzing from outside in the hall, and it’s far too loud for your liking. God, even your clothes make your skin itch. In an attempt to feel better, you lay back down on the bed. As soon as your back hits the matress, he’s there right next to you, greedy hands pulling you closer to him.

You’ve had highs like this before, but never from a pen or weed in general. You’re too aware of everything going on. Rindou’s hands on your body, his warm breath on your skin, the cool draft coming from the vent in the corner of his room—hell, even the clothes you’re wearing.

You flinch as his tongue makes contact with your skin and it’s no surprise that you’re also more sensitive. You suck in a deep breath, trying to focus on something in the room to calm yourself down. “You didn’t just bring me up here for drugs, did you, Rin?” You both know the answer to that question and it’s only confirmed when he chuckles into your skin.

“Maybe not,” he mumbles, not giving you any sort of warning as he sinks his teeth into your tender skin.

“Fuck,” you swear, eyes snapping shut as soon as you feel it. It feels good, yet it’s nearly overwhelming. For some reason, you think eliminating your sight will help rein yourself in. “Rin, you can’t just do that.”

He doesn’t respond, simply flashing you a lazy smirk—that you can’t even see— and tonguing over the fresh mark. “Baby,” he slurs out, fingers beginning to dig into your waist. “Want you.” He lays a kiss on the base of your neck. “Need you.” Another on your collarbone.

It feels so different from every other time you’ve been with him. You’ve been high during sex before, but it’s never been like this. Every touch lights your skin on fire, every word makes your mind cloud with lust. At this point, even if you aren’t voicing it, you’d do anything to fuck him.

“Then take me.” What’s meant to be a statement, comes out as a quiet moan.

If someone were to ask, you wouldn’t be able to pinpoint when exactly this started happening. You’ve known Rin for years and it just of…of…a happened.

You aren’t able to remember the details, but you can remember the fact that you were both drunk and in desperate need of physical contact. It started off as a mistake, then an outlet for stress, and then somewhere along the lines, it morphed into a habit.

Deft fingers fiddle with the waistband of your slacks, and you can tell that he momentarily forgets about the zipper and button because he lets out a frustrated grunt as he tugs at them. You move to do it yourself, but he quickly realizes his mistakes.

You lift your hips when you feel him clutch the fabric and he’s quick to tug the clothing as far down your legs as he can. You help him the rest of the way and your pants end up somewhere on the floor.

“Fuck,” he groans as he sits up, movements a bit sluggish from the drugs. A chill is sent down your spine as his hands grip both of your thighs, spreading them a bit and making you involuntarily clench at the feeling. You swear you can see him drooling a bit at the view.

You try to close them, to push against his hands, but like every other time you’ve tried before, he’s far too strong.

Today’s mission was especially stressful for the both of you. Unncessary killing took place, and while that wouldn’t normally be a big deal for someone as famous as one of the Haitiani brothess, he knows how you feel about shit like that. You aren’t proud of your ‘line of work’, no one here really is (with the exception of Sanzu, maybe), but he can tell that your moodin particulary gets affected by that.

When you two got back— even though you weren’t sure when it would be— you knew you should be ready for him to pull you into his room and fuck you into the mattress.

You made a point of putting on Rindou’s favorite lingerie: a lace and flowery set, a thong with a matching bralette, in a teal color that ‘reminds me of my hair in the old days’. Now, you’re starting to rethink your decision, due to that look in his eyes when he sees them.

“Shit, Rin, give me…wait.” Words are failing you. Your brain feels very overwhelmed. It’s not that you don’t want this, you just don’t know how well you’re going to be able to handle it.

He easily keeps them spread, pinning them to the sheets as if to prove some kind of point. “Gotta taste you ‘fore I go insane.”

He’s painfully slow as he licks a stripe against your clothed cunt. Even though he’s out of it, he’s still using his old tricks.

With your eyes pointed at the ceiling and your stomach tightened out of pure anticipation, you feel the man tap his fingers against the soft skin of your thigh.

“Eyes on me, doll.”

Even his words are setting off something inside of you. It’s as if whatever you took opened up a whole new part of your brain and your body. Now your eyes are staring deep into his as he carefully pulls your panties down. The tips of his fingers drag alongside your hips, the calloused skin tickling your own in a way that makes you almost shiver.

You can’t tell if it’s from the contact, the anticipation of what he’s planning, or just simply the look in his eyes. With the flimsy material out of the way, he runs his tongue over his upper lip and leans closer.

It’s easy to feel his hot breath against your bare skin and it drives you crazy. He starts by leaving messy kisses on your inner thighs, sucking multiple bruises as he goes. He’s surprisingly teasing for a man who’s desperate.

“Rin, fuck,” you swear, breath shaky. “Just do something.”

The first contact his tongue has with your clit, has you quietly moaning, head pushed back a little as you savor the feeling. Sadly, the feeling is short-lived as he quickly pulls away and presses a kiss against your thigh to get your attention.

He stares up at you through tired eyes, and you swear that you have to hold back a moan at his words. “I gave you an order, didn’t I?”

Once your eyes are trained back on him, he returns to his previous actions. His tongue licks a long stripe in between your folds and then a few kitten licks against your clit. He repeats this a few times and it easily gets you borderline panting—especially with the added effect of the drugs.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, and he lets out a deep groan as you grip the strands and push him deeper into your pussy. After one last lick, he takes the puffy bud into his mouth, eliciting a heavenly sound from you. He moans in harmony with you, fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs.

He finds it so cute the way you’re fighting the urge to close your eyes— the way you’re trying your best to obey him. After all, it’s the least you can do after shutting him out all day. He was really worried about you, and it’s up to you to make it up to him with those pretty moans of yours.

You don’t question the way one of his hands leaves your leg, but your eyes shoot open when he pushes two fingers inside of you.

“R-Rin,” you manage to say, the feeling more intense than it has been in a long time. “I don’t think—”

You whine at the loss of contact as he pulls his lips away to speak, resting his head against your inner thigh. “How do you think you’re gonna be able to take my cock, if you can’t even handle two fingers?”

You don’t even have a response, too focused on the way the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot with ease. He’s sloppier than usual. He doesn’t have those precise and practiced movements that usually have you screaming his name. The drugs are probably responsible for it, but your own drugs are making the experience more than enjoyable.

“Rin,” you moan out, barely even sure of what you’re about to say.

“What is it, doll?” His voice sounds tired, yet it maintains that teasing lilt.

While you struggle to answer what exactly it is, he busies himself by sucking on the fat of your thigh; no doubt littering it with marks.

“I need more.” You barely choke out the words, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at the man in between your legs.

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you can barely handle this.” To further get his point across, he abruptly presses hard into your sweet spot.

You can’t control the loud moan that leaves your lips as your eyes roll back. Your hips jerk against his mouth and you know that you’re almost at your breaking point.

“Besides, weren’t you just complaining that it was too much?”

It’s that unparalleled confidence that has always drawn you towards him. Even though he’s probably tripping out of his mind right now, he’s still as cocky as ever. As an executive, you have a lot riding on your shoulders; a lot of responsibility and a lot of choices to make. So it’s nice to have someone take control every now and then, even if it’s just during sex.

“Please don’t stop.” You can’t even register how loud your cries are, your mind too focused on him to worry about keeping quiet. “Please, Rin, please.”

He can feel the way your thighs shake beside his head and goddamnit, it’s really been way too long since he’s gotten you like this. There’s only been time for quickies before meetings or after missions. He hasn’t had enough time to get you shaking for him in a long time, and fuck, has he missed it.

“R-Rin,” you whine. “Rin. Want to—shit.”

“What’s that?” He hums, a condescending tone clothed by faux sympathy. “What do you need?”

You sound high out of your mind when you slur the words, “I want to cum on your cock.”

He can feel himself twitch when you speak. On one hand, he wants to make you work harder for it, but on the other hand—the compulsive hand that currently has a lot more control in his decision-making— he wants to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you right now.

“Fuck, you’re so needy.” The strangled grunt he lets out sounds animalistic as he pulls away from you.

You whine at the loss of contact, but he successfully shuts you up with his mouth on yours. His hands fumble with his belt as he nips at your lips, too high to worry about how he’s wasting all of your arousal by accidentally getting them on his pants. The kiss is sloppy, all teeth and tongue as he leans his frame against you.

You’re too busy entangling your hands in his hair to notice how far along he is in stripping, the only way you can know is when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor.

“Gonna fuck you real good.” Everything he does and says gets you even more drunk. You’re drunk on his taste, his touch, just him. It might be an exaggeration, but you’ve never wanted to fuck him more than in this moment.

You whine his name, hands grabbing at his jaw to pull him closer to you. You moan into his mouth when you feel his tip push into you, slowly starting to stretch you out.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” he curses at the way you tighten around him, making it almost impossible for him to even bottom out.

If it wasn’t for the drugs numbing his senses, he might’ve not been able to handle this. The way you're squeezing him and calling his name, even in this drugged-up state, he’s going to need to get a grip or else he might not last for long.

You arch your back against the mattress as he finally fills you up to the hilt. Your hands travel down to his back, and he moans when you drag your nails against his skin, leaving bright red lines in their wake.

During the time you’ve spent with him, you’ve learned all of his little tells, and he’s done the same with you. You know what makes him tick, what his breaking point is, and how exactly to get him there. You also know that he has a fixation with pain.

Neither of you have talked about it; there hasn’t been a need. It was understood that he liked it in a sexual sense, but for a long time, you didn’t know the nature of it. He can be sadistic when he fights and has always gotten a sense of fulfillment when his skin is painted red, but that doesn’t transfer over to the bedroom. When he’s here with you, he wants to be hurt. Whether that be you pulling his hair or digging your nails into him until he bleeds, it drives him crazy.

His strokes are messy. It’s more of him rutting his hips against yours, rather than fluid motions. Even though it isn’t precise like it usually is, it still feels so damn good. His face is buried into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin.

Your chest is pressed against his, nipples rubbing against him through the thin fabric of your bralette as you push your head into the pillow. “Rin,” you gasp out as his teeth bite down on your neck, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue. When his hand slips down and he messily rubs the pads of his finger against your clit, you cum on the spot.

He lets out a growl into your neck as you clamp down on his cock, whispering words of how fucking dirty you are. He wants to cum so bad, wants to fill you up to the brim so much that it hurts, but due to the hallucinogens in his system, he needs extra stimulation to get to that point.

His pace never falters, continuously fucking into your abused cunt. It doesn’t take long for tears to well up in your eyes.

“Rindou, s-slow down.” Unfortunately, your cries fall on deaf ears. He’s too focused to listen to the weight of your words. “Fuck, I can’t—”

“You can and you will,” he grunts.

It hurts but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t also feel good. You don’t know if you physically can take it, but goddamnit, you’ll try your best. You know that no matter how fucked out of his mind he is, he’ll stop if you say the safe word, so you’ll keep that tucked away until the last possible moment.

Tears fall down your cheeks and Rindou has to admit that it has to be one of the prettiest sights he’s seen. There’s part of him that feels bad for this, for pushing you to your limits, but seeing you like this makes him want to tear you apart. He wants to get you to those limits and push you beyond that point.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Acting like you don’t like this… dirty fucking slut.” His words are followed by a loud and almost pornographic moan. “Sucking me in like this, but bitching about how you can’t take it. P-Pick one—fuck.”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again. It’s more forced and rushed this time, but it still feels euphoric all the same. Now, as he still fails to slow down, you think you might actually pass out.

You’re sobbing at this point, moaning and whining, begging him to stop, but he doesn’t. He just keeps fucking you like an animal in heat— a beast.

“Rindou, please.” You sound pathetic, you know that, but if he keeps going, he’s going to break you.

“Shut up,” he growls, his hand finding its way to your throat. “You’ve whored yourself out to the rest of Bonten, you can handle this.”

His palm presses against the skin, fingers wrapping against the sides of your neck as he applies minimal pressure.

“I haven’t, please, Rindou..!” You deny his accusations, desperately shaking your head.

“Stop lying to me,” he speaks through gritted teeth as he ruts into you. “You’ve slept with my fucking brother, so you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You and Ran fooled around a long time ago, and it was also a while before anything happened between you and Rindou. He knows it was purely sex and it doesn’t bother him that much nowadays, but sometimes, the thought of anyone else getting to see you like this sends him into a feral state.

His speed picks up and his grip on you tightens. His release is close by, right there on the tips of his fingers, but in chasing it, he’s hurting you. He should feel bad, he partially does, but it feels so blissful that he can’t bring himself to stop. How can he when you’re sucking him in like this?

His palm squeezes your throat in an uncomfortable way, and just like that, your ability to breathe is out the window. It always feels good when he chokes you, but it’s not exactly rare for him to accidentally o a bit overboard.

You lightly tap your fingers against his wrist, three times to signify the ‘safeword’ just as you have every time before, but he doesn’t stop. Your eyes widen in surprise as he keeps applying pressure. At this point he’s pressing you down into the mattress.

You repeat the action, a bit harder this time. You’re starting to panic but he continues. You trust that Rindou would and will never hurt you, not on purpose at least, but this is alarming. It’s never happened before and you don’t know why it’s happening now. Until it hits you.

You didn’t calculate the drugs running through him. His senses are numbed, he probably can’t even feel it. You tug on his wrist with both of your hands, but it still doesn’t get through to him. You're losing your strength due to the foggy feeling in your head, and you’re starting to run out of options. You don’t know what to do. You try and pull his hair, but his only reaction is a muffled moan into your neck.

You’re scared. You’re tired, weak, and far past overstimulated. Now you can’t even breathe. You want to be done. You’ll suck him off so that he cums, but you can’t do this anymore—

All of those thoughts leave your head as he buries himself deep inside of you one last time and reaches his orgasm. As soon as you feel him start to fill you up, you’re cumming with him.

“Fuck, baby—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, too lost in pleasure to make coherent statements.

His grip starts to loosen up after his high peaks and you gasp for air as it does. Your body is still shaking despite the pressure on your throat being gone. You genuinely thought you were about to pass out. That’s…never happened before. Rindou has always been tentative and in tune with your reactions. The only other time you had to use your safeword, he was backing off in an instant. You let out a shaky breath as you try to gather yourself on the comedown from your high.

When your eyes finally land back on Rindou, he looks scared shitless. Even though he’s exhausted, his energy comes back in the form of panic. He pulls his half-softened dick out as he leans back to look at you. “Oh my god, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I just—”

“I’m so sorry baby, I don’t—I’m sorry I was so rough. Shit,” he curses at himself.

“Rindou, calm down.” You rub your finger against his cheek and the way he leans into your hand is fucking adorable. “You didn’t mean to, you just didn’t notice when I tapped your wrist.’”

“Fuck,” he groans, laying his head on your chest andturning his cheek to press it against your skin. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” Okay isn’t the right word at this moment, but you don’t need him any more panicked or upset than he already is. All that will do is make you more upset in turn. You’ll discuss this again, once you’re both sober.

“What can I do?” He nuzzles his head into you, laying between your legs. “Would a bath help?”

“Yeah, it would,” you smile at him, running your hand through his lavender hair.

What started as a hookup and led to a habit, has now turned into something you genuinely couldn’t live without.

In the end,

Rindou is your vice.

tagging: @chaoticmoonave @dilfhos @kkittycries @enchantedforest-network @seraphdreams

#rindou haitani #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #rindou haitani smut #rindou haitani x reader #rindou smut #tokyo rev #rindo x reader #tokyo revengers smut #.kinktober 2023 #.ezra’s writing #.file } rindou

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crappymixtape · 2 years ago

Text

laugh like lovers, kiss like friends

you're getting married – steve’s in town for the ceremony and it dredges up old memories, ones you thought you'd forgotten, but you have to decide, will you say ‘i do’ or will your heart realize what you really want has been there all along? | ( 9.1k, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

L A U G H L I K E L O V E R S, K I S S L I K E F R I E N D S 🎶 cold water swimming, quiet houses

“How about these, dear? Eucalyptus pairs lovely with peonies. Besides, wildflowers for a wedding? In all my years as a planner I’ve never seen it. No one does it. It's just tacky, hon.”

Twirling the stem of a daisy between your fingers you bit the inside of your cheek, only half hearing the woman standing next to you among all the buckets and vases of flowers in the greenhouse.

Wildflowers for a wedding? No one does it.

Pulling your eyes off the daisy you forced a smile, “Of course, I’m sorry. Peonies sound great.”

“Wonderful, I’ll add it to the day-of agenda and make sure the florist knows you’ve made up your mind. It’s an excellent choice, one your fiance will be happy with I’m sure.”

Your fiance.

Sam proposed less than a month ago in the kitchen of your little downtown Indianapolis apartment with his grandmother’s ring. A huge, gaudy diamond that made your hands look even smaller than they already were and after you’d called your mom the news had spread like wildfire.

Sam didn’t want to wait, he probably would’ve dragged you down to the courthouse if it hadn’t been for his parents and your mom, but it meant things were moving at the speed of light and you were running to catch up.

When he’d looked up at you, ring box outstretched, you knew what your first thought should’ve been. Tears and overwhelming joy and a resounding Yes! but none of it came. Instead your first thought had been long stalks of grass. The glittering turquoise water of the quarry. Skunky weed and wildflowers and hot, sticky Indiana summers.

Steve.

“Babe, you gotta call the bakery back, the lady doesn’t get it. Idiot,” Sam’s voice cut through into your thoughts and you blinked them away.

“What?”

“The cake? She’s not getting it. I told her we wanted vanilla, like actual vanilla not that imitation shit.”

“Julie’s not an idiot,” your tone grew clipped, short, brow furrowing as you folded your arms across your chest. Julie had lived in Hawkins since before your family moved in across the street from her. The only, and best, bakery in town with the sweetest baker known to man. Julie was a saint.

“Okay, well then you try and explain it to her. I’m done,” Sam huffed, pinching his nose between his fingers and shaking his head. “I’m gonna go get food with my mom. Can’t wait until this is all over,” he grumbled under his breath. “I’ll see you back at the house," and with that he hastily pressed a kiss to your forehead before stalking out of the greenhouse.

“Not really a man’s arena is it,” the planner said giving you an overly sweet smile, “Better to let us take care of it, hm?”

“I guess,” you couldn’t bear to force another smile, “Thanks for your help, but I need to go get ready for tonight. Call me if anything else comes up.”

“On it and don’t you worry, only a few more days. Just think! The happiest day of your life!”

The happiest day of your life.

It sure as hell didn’t didn’t it feel like it.

The high vaulted ceilings in your parents’ living room looked the same as they had when you lived there. Same ugly, bumpy texture and yellowed color, now with a few too-high cobwebs just out of reach hanging in the corners.

The buzz of conversation filling the air around you was incessant, blending and blurring together and making you feel like you were far away. Like you were a spectator and not the bride-to-be and your chest squeezed with nerves. There were so many people packed into the house and as guests hurled their questions at you, your anxiety only grew.

“Oh, sweetie you look amazing! You’ll be a beautiful bride!” “Tell me again, where are you going for your honeymoon?” “Sam is such a catch, does he have any available friends? Just kidding! But seriously?” “Oh my god, look at that ring! He must really love you.”

One of Sam’s cousins had been hammering you with question after question, barely giving you any room to reply and you felt like you were drowning in it. The walls of the living room suddenly felt like they were closing in on you, making you feel claustrophobic and you needed air. Outside. Anything other than this. “Is-is it warm in here?” you stuttered, pulling at the collar of your dress.

“No? What d’you mean–”

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” you didn’t wait for her to finish and instead moved as quickly as you could through the crowd, trying not to project your panic with a fake smile plastered on your lips until you reached the slider door.

“Honey!” your stomach sank. Your mom. “Your aunt and uncle just got here, you need to say hello!”

Looking over your shoulder she was standing with her hands on her hips, brow furrowed in frustration, watching as your fingers gripped the handle of the patio door.

“I know,” your voice was edged with irritation and you bit your tongue. “Please? I just need some air for a minute. I’ll be right back,” and you could tell she didn’t like your answer, but she didn’t fight you on it as you slipped outside, all the noise and voices and music blunted and sliced in half as you shut the door behind you.

Leaning back against the glass, eyes closed, you pulled in a breath of air and let it out slowly. Trying, telling, yourself you had to keep it together. Just a minute out here and you’d feel right as rain. Ready to dive back in.

The happiest day of your life.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?”

Your eyes flew open, an all-too-familiar voice making your heart leap into your throat.

He was sitting on the edge of one of the pool loungers like it was nothing, a few locks of stray hair falling into his eyes, all warm honey and burnt caramel and the boyish grin he was giving you made you feel dizzy. Like it always did.

“I’ve been inside for like two hours,” you shot back, but you couldn’t ever bring yourself to really sound mad at him.

At Steve.

“Well don't sound like you’re having too much fun. Not like you’re getting married in three days or anything,” he teased, scooting over on the lounger, a silent invitation for you to sit next to him and you took it.

“Don’t remind me–” fell out, “–what I mean is–it's just–just planning everything has been...a lot.”

Steve caught your slip up, but didn’t call it out, only humming in reply as he threaded a hand through his hair, watching as you settled down next to him. “I’m about a month late, but congrats,” he offered with a small smile before taking a drink from his beer.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you replied lamely, cheeks flushing when he looked over at you. You were entirely too sober for this. “Here, gimme that,” reaching over you took the beer from his hand, chugging half of it in one go and pulling a laugh out of Steve.

“Jesus,” Steve laughed, amused at you, a sound you’d missed so very much. “Take it easy,” he chided gently, but it was all warm and sticky sweet like popsicles on a hot day and when you gave it back he shook his head.

Silence lingered between you for a moment, the static sound of the pool filter trickling in the background, and your thoughts drifted back to a moment a few years ago. Up in your room while summer spun by outside. The last time he'd been over here. Steve.

Bobbing along to the music coming from your stereo, you crammed the last of your photos into one of the empty supply boxes Steve had brought over from Family Video.

“I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather, but traditions I can trace against the child in your face won't escape my attention,” you sang a little off key, giving your shoulders a little shimmy as you turned to grab the pile of books on your bed.

“You keep your distance via the system of touch and gentle persuasion. I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?” Steve sang back, browed knitted together in dedication to the bit, hips swaying as he wiped down your dresser. Turning with the roll of paper towels in his hand he held it out to you as the chorus neared, both of you singing horribly.

“Oh, you're wasting my time, you're just, just, just wasting time!”

“God, who’s gonna sing shitty with me when you’re not around?” Steve tossed the roll onto your bed, leaning back against the drawers behind him.

“Robin sucks more than I do,” you shot back, and Steve mumbled in agreement.

“Yeah, but she hates Tears for Fears,” there was a slight whine in his voice that made you look up at him over your box and grin.

“Well then save it for me when I’m back on Christmas break.”

Steve gave you a pout and folded his arms over his chest, “That’s like, a fucking eon from now.”

“It’s not that long,” you moved around the other side of your bed to sit in front of him, a small pause swallowing you both into silence.

Clearing your throat you dropped your gaze down your shoes, kicking them in time with the song still playing in the background. You glanced over at Steve’s dirty, beat up Blazers and smiled. “I guess I’ll miss you,” you teased, looking back up at him and he gave you a smile, but it softened the longer he looked at you.

“I know I’ll miss you,” he said, and you knew he meant it, and your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage as the air around you grew thick with words unsaid, but implied. Steve took a step away from the dresser, standing in the V of your legs, hand moving to lift your chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, meeting his gaze, and everything felt hazy. “Miss you too, Stevie,” you murmured and he leaned down slowly. Tilting your chin ever so gently he hesitated for just a second before pressing his lips against yours. Your room and half-packed boxes and everything fell away in the warm, glittering feeling of Steve and summer and the last of the light falling through your window washed you both in gold like it wanted to hold you in that moment forever.

“How long are you in town for?” your voice broke the silence between you and Steve took another drink of his beer.

“Just til the day after the wedding, need to get back to things,” he said softly, stealing a look at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the way your nose scrunched up when you were thinking, “You look really pretty by the way.”

Your cheeks warmed and you stole a look at him too, “You have to say that.”

“No I don’t. I do on your wedding day, but this is a freebie,” he teased, trying to make it seem lighter than it was, but you both knew the weight it carried.

“Babe, c’mon. You gotta get back inside. It’s rude. People are looking for you,” the sudden sound of Sam’s voice sliced your moment in two and Steve sat up straight, leaning away from you as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I just needed some air,” your voice sounded tired and Steve caught the look in your eyes as you roughed your hands over your face, “I’m coming.”

“Harrington,” Sam sniped, and Steve gave him a big smile, knowing just how much the other man hated finding the two of you sitting together.

“Sammy,” Steve teased and you had to bite back a laugh, hiding it in a cough, but Sam knew.

“I fuckin’ hate that,” Sam gave Steve a look and he just smiled.

“I think it’s cute,” you chimed in, but knew you should’ve kept it to yourself when Sam glared daggers at you.

“Inside,” he said, patience short, and you felt your own run out as you glared right back, but moved toward the slider door anyway.

“I’ll see you,” you told Steve and just before you slipped back into the chaos, he gave you a look. The same one you remembered from that hot summer evening in your room as you packed your life into boxes. A look that put fire to the embers lying dormant in your chest and something you thought had been extinguished flickered back to life.

“Sam, hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

“I’m trying. You know how much I hate being outside. These stupid boots are too tight and–” Sam grunted, leaning over to tug at his socks, “–these are itchy as hell.”

“You don’t have to wear them, but your legs are gonna get bit up and scratched on the trail,” you shook your head, yanking your own worn-in boots onto your feet.

“Bit? Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s summer, there are a ton of bugs out right now.”

Sam sucked in a breath and put his face in his hands, standing on the other side of the bed from you. He’d agreed to it at first, thought maybe it might be a quaint little jaunt through a park, but when he realized it was an actual hike up the bluff just outside Hawkins – in nature – he’d thrown a fit.

It was one of your favorite places, a special piece of home, and you were going to go with or without him.

“Just stay home, Sam. It’s fine,” you huffed, kicking your suitcase shut, tugging your ponytail through the back of your baseball cap.

“You know what? Maybe I will. This whole place is too much. Jason’ll get beers with me,” he growled under his breath, yanking his boots off to get to his socks, “Enjoy your hike.”

“Great, thanks, will do,” you almost left the room without saying goodbye, but something made you hesitate and you paused for a second at the door, eyes squeezed shut. Why was everything so damn hard? This was supposed to be easy.

The happiest day of your life.

Resigned, you turned around and retraced the few steps over to Sam. “I’ll see you when we’re back,” you muttered, bending down and brushing a hasty kiss to his cheek.

“See you,” he didn’t meet your gaze, instead scowling at the ground and it was the push you needed to leave, the weight on your shoulders lifting as you hurried down the stairs and out the door.

The sun was just coming up, painting the sky cotton candy pinks and blurred warm tangerines. You could feel the heat already and as you got out of your car at the bluff the feeling of the sun on your bare legs pulled a heavy sigh from your lungs. Breathing out the stress and pressure of the last few days and you closed your eyes for a minute, leaning against the warmth of your car.

It would be okay. Today was for you. This was for you.

Opening them again you heard another car rumbling up the dirt road behind you and when you turned around you grinned so big your cheeks started to hurt.

“OH MY GOD,” Robin squealed. She practically leapt out of the backseat of Steve’s BMW and ran over to you, gathering you up in her arms and squeezing tight. “What the hell! You look amazing! Shit. Is this like, pre-wedding glow or did you stop eating meat or something? I hear it’s like, totally bad for your skin.”

“Robin,” Steve shook his head as he shut his car door before walking around to get Robin’s too.

“What? All legitimate questions! Right, Eds?” she shot back.

“I mean, not the first thing I’d ask,” Eddie replied with a grin, but you could hear the softness of him behind it.

“Alright, well I wouldn’t expect you to know anyway. Weddings are like a foreign language to you plebs,” Robin said simply, clicking her fanny pack around her waist.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I know enough,” Steve chimed in, propping a hand on his hip and giving Robin a look.

“Children, not about us today!” Eddie chided, following after Robin and gathering you up into one of his bear hugs. “Hi, sweetheart,” he held you out at arm’s length and gave you a warm Eddie smile.

“Hi,” you grinned back, the happiest you’d been in days just listening to the comforting sound of your friends bickering, “Missed you.”

“Mmm, you too,” Eddie hummed, shooting a quick glance over at Steve. “Some of us more than others,” he said a bit quieter, bringing his eyes back to you and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Okay, hike?” you deflected, then accusingly looked back at Eddie, “You’re not still smoking are you?”

“Only on Wednesdays,” he flipped back casually, but you knew he was full of shit.

“Munson, you’re a horrible liar,” Steve drawled, rolling his eyes, starting the walk to the edge of the bluff. “Nance and Jonathan are already at the top,” he said over his shoulder, “Jonathan wanted to get a time lapse of the sunrise.”

“Oh, sick,” Eddie clapped his hands, “I gotta see it. C’mon, Buckley get with it.” He waved an arm forward, pulling Robin into a jog and you shook your head with a soft laugh as you caught up with Steve. Starting up the bluff two by two.

The sounds of everything coming to life swirled around the four of you as you walked. The buzz of the insects, birds chirping their morning songs and tractors rumbling to life in the fields alongside the bluff.

Home.

“God, the last time we were up here was so Dustin could talk to Suzie,” Steve half-laughed, Eddie and Robin walking just ahead of you. You grinned at the memory.

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “They might be worse than we are at singing.”

“Didn’t think it was possible to be honest,” he teased gently, smiling over at you, looking for a long moment before dropping his gaze back down to his feet.

You could feel his eyes on you and the warmth of it filled you up and spilled over at the edges, making you happier than you’d been in a long time and a tiny pinch of guilt squeezed in your chest.

“Thanks for getting up so early,” you exhaled, breaths getting heavier as the incline of the bluff steepened, Steve pulling in a breath next to you.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve slept in since high school,” he waved you off, “Managing a store’s got me up ass early every day. Besides, wouldn’t miss it.” Arms swinging at your sides, his fingers brushed against yours as you walked and the embers in your chest glowed bright.

“Yeah,” you sighed, wishing that for once Sam had come along. That he’d put even a little bit of effort into your interests. That he’d care even a fraction of what Steve cared and the embers flickered again with your frustration.

“You two are slow as hell!” Eddie teased and when you looked up you saw he and Robin had been moving much faster than you and Steve. “I’m smoking a victory cigarette at the top!” he yelled and Robin smacked him, both of them dissolving into laughter.

“C’mon, that asshole doesn’t need another cigarette,” Steve’s brow furrowed in frustration and he picked up the pace, pulling you along with him as he lengthened his stride.

Jonathan and Nancy were waiting for the four of you at the top and, much to Eddie’s dismay, Robin beat him by a couple of feet, stealing his cigarettes and jamming them into her fanny pack as punishment.

Jonathan had asked Nancy to marry him two years ago now, Christmas eve under the tree at the farm and they’d eloped that spring there on top of the bluff. It had been a small, but sweet ceremony, with only family and close friends. Perfectly Nance and Jonathan and as you thought back on it your stomach twisted with a longing feeling.

As you sat scattered among the long grass in pairs – Eddie and Robin, Nancy and Jonathan, you and Steve – a breeze picked up and blew through the wildflowers around you, taking then with it and you watched as the buttercups danced in the wind.

You wanted wildflowers. Not peonies and eucalyptus.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Steve’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked over at him, sat close enough to you in the grass that you could see all the little moles and freckles that dotted down the line of his jaw, his neck, the exposed skin along the top of his shirt.

“Flowers,” fell out and you didn’t shy away from him, meeting his gaze.

“Flowers?” he asked, brow knitting together in confusion.

“Stupid flowers. And cake. And nature and socks and–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. What are you talking about?” Steve scooted closer to you, your legs pressing together as you sat facing each other and he put a hand on your knee.

Your throat tightened and you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them away. Not here. You didn’t mean it.

“Hey,” he said softer, hand lifting from your knee to press into yours and you blinked hastily, pulling in a breath to steady yourself.

“I don’t know,” you started, closing your eyes for a minute, trying to ground yourself. “I just–I thought this would be easier. We’re supposed to be in love and planning this should be fun, but it sucks and he–” catching yourself you looked back up at Steve and felt him squeeze your hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just stress. I shouldn’t–”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Steve said, thumb brushing over the bump of your knuckles, soft and warm and reassuring.

He was looking at you again like he had at the welcome party, like you were the only thing that existed in that moment and you felt yourself moving closer, your legs hovering over his with the lack of space.

“I wish Sam would look at me like that,” you whispered and Steve’s lips parted in surprise, anticipation grabbing hold of both of you as the wind picked up again.

“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t,” Steve whispered back, leaning closer still and you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek. The scent of his shampoo and spearmint gum and cedar and wildflowers flooding your brain and making everything feel hazy. His eyes all bright amber and flecks of gold in the sun. Closer and closer and closer and–

“Harrington! You left the food in the car!”

Leaning back from each other you felt the tension shatter with the bark of Eddie’s voice and you leapt to your feet.

“God, what a dingus,” Robin grumbled, “Now we gotta go back down.”

“Hey,” Steve scrambled to his feet ignoring them, grabbing your hand in his, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just–I forgot I have to meet with the baker today about the cake this morning.”

“Oh,” Steve’s expression was edged with concern and he let your hand drop as the others started moving to the top of the trail.

“Rehearsal dinner is tonight right?” Robin asked offhandedly, grabbing a piece of licorice from her fanny pack.

“You have licorice in there and didn’t offer me any?” Eddie accused.

“Yeah, tonight at seven at Hop and Joyce’s farm,” you said, trying to sound casual, but the warm feeling of Steve was still holding you tightly.

“Open bar?” Eddie grinned.

“Oh my god, Munson. Shut up,” Robin chided, shoving him as they all wandered down the path in a line, you and Steve bringing up the rear.

“Course it’s open bar,” you tried to laugh, but it fell short, everything feeling like it was crumbling now.

The breeze picked up, swirling around your feet, carrying spearmint and Steve’s shampoo and boy with it and as you watched the bachelor buttons sway with the wind you felt a thought gnawing at the back of your mind.

What if.

There was still time.

Nothing’s permanent.

People change their minds all the time and…

Come over here. All you've got is this moment, twenty-first century's yesterday. You can care all you want, everybody does, yeah, that's okay.

“Chug, chug, chug!” “Don’t be a pussy, Jason!” “No way, he’s too old!”

It felt like you were back in high school throwing a rager over at Tina Rochester’s house not having drinks after your rehearsal dinner, but after most of the ‘adults’ had all gone home things got carried away.

Hop and Joyce’s farm was far enough outside of town that the noise wouldn’t bother anyone and thank god because it was loud. Maybe open bar hadn’t been the best idea, but Sam was having a great time, smiling and laughing for once and you didn’t fight it. You were having fun too.

“Ohhh! He did it!!” “Get that man a medal!”

Jason Carver, Sam’s best man, crushed his empty beer can under his foot to whoops and hollers. You weren’t sure who started it, but someone had told someone else they could shotgun a beer faster and it spiraled from there. Sam was in his element, partying alongside the other ex-basketball players, and for a minute you felt like maybe things would be okay.

Gathering you up in his arms, Sam spun you in a circle, pressing his lips messy and drunk against your cheek. “God, babe. Should be illegal to look that good,” he slurred into your ear, arms still holding you tight as he lowered you slowly back to the ground.

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. “Gonna write me a ticket?” you teased and he reached a hand around to grab at your ass.

“Maybe I will,” he breathed and you felt a shiver run down your spine, but then a voice pulled him away.

“Sam? Oh my god!”

Carol and Tommy. Great.

“Carol?? I didn’t think y’all were getting here til tomorrow! Tommy, you look like shit,” Sam barked a laugh and lunged at his old friend, grabbing him around the waist and pushing him across the patio.

“Fuck off, you’re one to talk,” Tommy growled back, digging his hands into Sam’s ribs and both of them fell back into their old selves. Talking about a couple of friends that had gone pro, work, what married life was like for Tommy and Carol.

“Babe, go get me another beer, huh?” Sam said over his shoulder and you rolled your eyes, but giving Carol a quick hug you made your way over to the keg.

Priming the tap you started to pour beer into a cup, but it sputtered and choked before spilling foam and you frowned. “Piece of shit,” kicking the keg you shook the garbage can it was sitting in and tried again, but this time nothing came out.

“Need a hand?”

Eyes still on the keg you sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you dumped the foam in your cup onto the ground. “Tapped already,” you grumbled, turning around to see Steve grinning at you, hands jammed in his pockets, tie loose and hanging around his neck and you swore he was the most handsome human being you’d ever laid eyes on.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” he took the last few steps toward you and primed the tap again, giving the keg one firm shake, and grabbed the cup from you. Foam started coming out and you jammed your tongue into your cheek.

“Ha! Told you–”

But then the foam turned into cold, amber beer, and you clamped your mouth shut.

“You were saying?” Steve teased and you shoved him, spilling some of the beer that he’d just poured into your cup on the ground. “Hey! You’re a menace,” he chided softly, shouldering you back, but grabbing the spout again he filled the cup once more and handed it back to you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, glancing over at him as you took a sip.

“Sam seems to be having a good time,” he commented, finding a cup of his own and filling it.

“Yeah, right back to high school.” You watched as your fiance, Tommy, and Jason all snickered and laughed at each other, talking about ‘the good old’ days, and your smile fell.

You couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like that with you. When he was drinking he got more handsy, liked to keep you close to his side and brag about how you were about to get married, but nothing about how hard you worked or the fact that you were saving up to buy a place.

“I dunno,” Steve sighed, taking a drink of his beer, “I don’t miss it.”

“Me either,” you agreed, glancing up at him, and your heart stopped.

God he was pretty. The string of lights that wound around the property washed him in a warm glow. Hair falling out of place as the night spun on, the line of his jaw cast in half light, dark and strong, the long sweep of his lashes as he blinked and looked down at you, the way his lips pulled up into that smile.

“What?” Steve asked, tone amused and playful and your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you echoed stupidly.

Steve laughed and gave you a lopsided smile. “You tell me, you’re the one zoning out,” he teased and your cheeks flushed.

“Oh, n-nothing,” you stumbled over your words and quickly filled the silence with another gulp of beer.

“Okay, well when it comes back to you lemme know.” His eyes lingered on yours for just a moment longer and then a look came over him. Like he remembered something. “Oh, hey. C’mere a minute,” and then he was grabbing your hand and pulling you around the side of the barn.

As he pulled you into motion you felt just how buzzed you were and a giggle pushed itself through your lips. “What the hell are we doing?” you asked, Steve loosing a laugh of his own as he yanked you both to a stop a few yards away from the party out in the long grass of Hop’s field.

“There,” he said pointing up and you followed the line of his arm into the sky until your eyes landed on it.

“Oh,” you breathed, pulling your gaze back to Steve as he looked up into the inky black expanse of the Indiana night. He was just how you remembered him. Hair messed, all boyish and eyes full of wonder and curiosity, just like he’d been those years ago that night in his backyard while you floated in his pool.

“Yeah, that one. Right there,” Steve swam closer to you, grabbing your arm, fingers folding yours in to make a point and tugging it up over your head.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his legs brushed against yours under the water and it took everything you had in you to pull your eyes from him to look up.

“See it?”

“That one?” you asked, pointing on your own, and he nodded as your eyes trailed up the line of your arm to land on an especially bright star.

“Mmhm,” Steve murmured and all you wanted was to look at him again, so you did. “While you’re gone you can just look up at that at night and think of me,” he said matter-of-fact, giving you one of his lopsided grins.

“What if we’re not looking at the same time?”

“I’ll always be looking,” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper and the way he looked at you made you feel like you might melt. Blinking water from your lashes you lifted a hand to his cheek and at your touch his hands slipped along the bare skin of your waist, sliding down to your hips as he slowly pulled you into him.

The pool filter was humming heavy between the all crickets and frogs and lightning bugs, but you knew the thudding of your heartbeat was louder than all of it.

Wrapping your legs around Steve’s torso, you laced your fingers at the back of his neck, wanting him closer and tighter. Hair messed and flat against his forehead, his lips were parted as he breathed you in, water dripping off the end of his nose and eyes glittering in the pool lights, burnt caramel and honey and if he hadn’t been holding onto you, you would’ve floated away.

His fingers pressed into the soft skin at your hips and you sucked in a small gasp.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and you shook your head in reply. It’s okay. And then he gently pressed his thumb to the corner of your lips, swallowing against his nerves, and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Heart racing, fingers still tangled at the back of his neck you whispered, “Yes.”

“Remember when we found it?”

Steve’s question brought you hurtling back to the present and you shook your head, heart racing in your chest like it had that night in his pool. “Of course I remember,” you murmured, and you knew you were crossing a line, knew you shouldn’t have done it, knew Sam was just around the other side of the barn, but something in you snapped. Shifted. Decided it didn’t care and you took Steve’s hand in yours.

His eyes flicked down to where they were joined and then back up to you, “But–”

“We’re friends,” you reasoned softly, “Friends hold hands.”

“Are we?” he asked and you swore you felt your heart crack as your fingers scrambled to tangle up with his.

“Yeah. Yes. We are,” your words came spilling out, the beer spidering warm and hazy through your body as you tried to justify your action and Steve’s brows furrowed as he dropped his gaze.

“I should go,” he said and regret gripped you like a vice.

“Don’t, please don’t,” your tone was almost pleading, watching as Steve’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, working through his own decision and you thought for a minute he would cave like he always did for you, but then his hand was untangling from yours and the ache in your chest was almost enough to pull tears from your eyes.

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said, voice thick and low, and when he opened his eyes finally to look at you, you saw a thousand I’m sorrys, all the regret and lingering kisses on hot summer nights and promises whispered in the dark and you shook your head.

“But it’s not–we can’t–please stay,” nothing you said made sense and Steve ran a hand through his hair, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you at the church.”

And as you watched his figure walk away, silhouetted and dark against the indigo sky, your star blinking bright above you, you felt tears finally well up and spill down your cheeks.

Sucking in a breath you turned back to the the wide open expanse of field behind you and buried your face in your hands, trying to calm down, willing the tears to stop, telling yourself that you loved Sam. You were getting married. The ring on your finger a constant reminder of what was supposed to happen tomorrow and when you finally lifted your head from your hands your eyes fell on a bright patch there in the field at your feet.

Wildflowers.

Walking back to the party felt like a blur, Steve’s words playing over and over in your mind, and when you came back into the glow of the strung up lights your eyes searched frantically for Sam. If you could just hold his hand, pull him in close you’d know you loved him. Would know you wanted to marry him, but he wasn’t there and everything felt like it was unraveling.

“Hey, are you okay?” Robin’s hand was at your elbow and when you looked up at her, her brow furrowed with worry. “Whoa, what happened?”

“I just need to find Sam, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, yeah I think he was just over here, c’mon. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I just need Sam,” you choked out, Robin’s hand grabbing yours and pulling you along.

“Okay, we’ll find him, it’ll be okay.”

And as you rounded the corner into the quiet of the barn you heard hushed voices. Robin flicked on the overhead lighting to reveal Carol and Sam talking, huddled close to one another and your heart stopped in your chest.

“Wha–Sam? Carol?”

Carol’s eyes went wide and she took a couple steps back, giving you one of her smiles, all flimsy and saccharine sweet. “Oh my god, we thought you left!” she exclaimed, trying a laugh and you heard Robin mumble something under her breath next to you.

“Well, I didn’t. It’s my rehearsal dinner.”

“Babe, we were just trying to plan a surprise for you. For tomorrow, that’s all,” Sam said, taking the few steps toward you, taking your hand in his, but you felt sick to your stomach. You knew that look in his eye, his tone of voice overcompensating for something, lying.

“Yeah! Totally,” Carol said a little too enthusiastically and Robin had had enough.

“Oh my god, totally great!” she mocked, throwing one of Carol’s empty smiles back at her before taking your hand. “It’s super late, Carol. Time to go,” this time Robin’s voice was void of all joking and the look she gave the other girl was enough to push her to leave.

“Absolutely, sure thing. See you tomorrow! Can’t wait,” she purred, but her smile faltered as she met your gaze, walking quickly back out into the night.

“Babe, we really were planning a surprise, I–I just want tomorrow to be perfect,” Sam took your hand from Robin, shouldering her out of the way and she scoffed, still lingering in case you needed her.

“In here? In the dark?” your voice wobbled a bit as you realized what you were implying and Sam squeezed your hand, but it felt suffocating not warm or safe like Steve and you pulled it away. “I’m gonna go home, get some sleep.”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need,” Sam crowded around you, rubbing your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, but you didn’t want any of it and shrugged him off.

“Can you give me a ride, Robs?” you asked, pulling away from Sam, your feet not moving you fast enough.

“Yeah, yeah I can give you a ride,” Robin took your hand again, Sam finding himself alone in the wide expanse of the barn on the eve of your wedding.

The happiest day of your life.

“Listen, can I tell you something?” Robin said shifting into park as she turned down the radio and idled in your parents’ driveway.

“Sure,” your voice was small, timid, not you as your thoughts still lingered on what Steve had said. What Sam and Carol had looked like huddled close together in Hop’s barn. Asking yourself why. Asking yourself what you really wanted.

“I don’t think you should get married.”

Your head whipped up from your lap, brows knitted together. “What?”

“I don’t think you should get married,” Robin said again voice softer this time, knowing the weight it carried as she let it settle in the car between you.

“It’s literally happening tomorrow. What d’you mean don’t get married,” you were scrambling now, afraid of what would happen if you let her woods take root, the doubt that had been hovering deep down now pushing itself front and center.

“People do it all the time–”

“No, they don’t!” tears were welling up against your lashes, your face growing hot, willing yourself not to fall apart.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry. Of course I’m gonna support you no matter what you decide,” Robin quickly recovered, grabbing your hands in hers as her expression softened. “Just–” a small sigh escaped her and she squeezed your hand, “–I want you to be happy. That’s all. Are you happy?”

Are you happy?

Robin looked at you, eyes wide, hands still holding onto yours and you felt yourself wrestling with the three simple words she’d thrown at you. Swallowing thickly, you couldn’t meet her gaze and pulled your hands away, grabbing at the door handle.

“I’m happy, I am,” and even you knew how flimsy it sounded, but your friend didn’t push you on it.

“Okay, okay. See you in the morning,” Robin said softly and all you could do was nod in reply before shutting the door and hurrying up the walk and into your parents’ house.

You didn’t bother showering as you moved quickly up the stairs to your room, not wanting to face your parents, not like this. Quietly shutting your door you felt the sob in your chest clawing its way up your throat and you tried to swallow it down as you threw back your covers and hid in the deep pile of blankets. You thought for a split second to call Sam over at Jason’s, ask him if he really loved you, if he still wanted to go through with this, but you buried your face into your pillow and tried to push your thoughts away.

Doubt had started blooming in the pit of your stomach from the moment you’d said yes, but it had just felt like the next right thing. Felt like you were supposed to. Date your boyfriend for a couple of years, move in together, get married. Right? But the things you tried hard to ignore kept bubbling up.

Your hesitation when Sam first asked you out. Your trips home on breaks and seeing Steve. The feelings you wrestled with when you saw him. When he talked to you and listened, really listened and looked at you. How it felt like a giant weight being lifted from your shoulders without Sam there.

Your first fight with Sam over money. How he spent so much of it going out with his friends. How you knew they stayed out late and talked to other girls. The high he got from it too much to stop him from doing it. The smell of the other girls on his clothes.

The first time he cheated on you and begged you to take him back. How the first person you wanted to call was Steve, but you called Robin instead.

And now the planning. All the disagreements and arguing and fighting and you were exhausted and he couldn’t even keep away from other women, from Carol, still after all that time.

Are you happy?

Robin’s question looped in your head and you knew the real answer.

No. But then…

Tap. Tap, tap tap.

Peeking your head out from under your covers your ears strained, trying to decide what it was you’d heard. Then it happened again.

Tap, tap. Tap.

There was only one thing that could make that sound, an all too familiar one that pulled forth a flood of precious, happy memories.

Rocks on your window.

Steve.

Crawling out of your bed you hurried to your window and yarded it open, sticking your head out and looking down like you’d done hundreds of times before. “Steve?” you hissed into the dark, and as the wind blew the clouds away from the moon, it shone down on the lawn below you washing Steve in soft light.

“Can I come up?”

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, but knew there was no debate. “Yeah, hurry up,” and you moved out of the way as he started climbing the gutter before you’d even said yes.

Stumbling in through the open window Steve straightened up and dusted off his old, faded Hawkins High Athletics shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging on his hips, the same pair of dirty, beat up Blazers on his feet.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, tongue jammed into his cheek as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hi?” it came out expectantly, a question, but you couldn’t hide the relief in your voice at the sight of him standing there in your room.

“Listen, I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier,” he said, walking to your bed and plopping down on the messed up covers.

“Oh, that’s okay, I shouldn’t have–”

“Just let me apologize,” he said shaking his head with a half laugh, expression mismatched as it twisted with something between regret and care.

So you listened and kept your mouth shut, instead deciding to settle down next to him on your bed, thighs pressed together on the small twin sized mattress. Silence lingered for a minute, but the air was heavy, loaded, like how it felt right before a thunderstorm. The sky holding its breath before opening up and pouring rain, cracking the sky in half with bright streaks of light.

You both stole a look at the same time and it pulled a smile from each of you, tiny breathy laughs falling from your lips, but when it quieted again the tension flooded back in.

“Do you love him?” Steve broke the quiet and you felt your chest tighten. When you hesitated he grabbed your hand in his. “Do you?”

Your pulse fluttered against your neck, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water and stumbling and choking on your words, but you knew the answer. You both did. You’d just admitted it to yourself before Steve had fallen through your window and the familiar feeling of panic started to creep in around you, flinging you back to right before you’d left home again. Before you met Sam.

“Steve! Wait!”

You were practically running after him as he stalked back to his car, the sky on fire with the sunset and streaked in cherry reds, sunflower yellows, and bright tangerine.

He fumbled with his keys and dropped them into the grass at his feet, “Shit.”

“Please, just wait,” you were out of breath as you finally reached him and you saw his frame crumple as he loosed a sigh.

“Jesus, what?” his tone was short, clipped as he stared through his car window, your reflection playing against the glass.

“It’s only for another year, it’s not like I’m gonna be gone for–”

“Yeah! Another year!” Steve spun around to face you, cheeks red and lips pulled down into a frown, a muddied mixture of sadness and anger swimming in his eyes. “Just admit it, you don’t wanna come back here, and that’s fine! But don’t make me wait. Please don’t make me wait anymore. It–” Steve choked on his words and dropped his eyes to his feet, biting on the inside of his cheek to blunt the feelings swelling his chest. “It hurts. To sit and wait here for you. Please,” his voice edged on pleading and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“It’ll work! It’s just a little longer–”

Steve took a step into you, crowding over you, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the closeness of him. He lifted a hand to your cheek, his brows pulling together as he looked down at you, eyes searching yours. “Then be with me. If it’s not that long then be with me. Long distance for a little while until you’re done with school,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Steve. I can’t–” your throat tightened around what you were about to say, scared of what that commitment looked like, scared to fuck it up between you, scared to lose your best friend, but your hesitation broke it anyway.

He dropped his hand away from your cheek, tongue flicking out to run along his lips as he held back his anger. His sadness. Frustration. Snatching his keys from the grass he unlocked the driver side door and flung it open rough.

“No! Wait! I just mean–”

“No!” he shouted into his car and then lowered his voice, tears streaming silently down his cheeks, “No. No more. Good luck with…everything.” And he piled into his car, slamming the door shut and ignoring your cries as you crowded against his window, asking him to stay. To talk about it. To figure things out, but he shifted it in drive and took off down your driveway and into the night.

You weren’t going to fuck it up. Not again.

“No,” and as your admission left your lips the heavy weight that had settled on your shoulders over the last two years started to melt away. “No. I don’t love him.”

Steve’s hold on you tightened, pressing your fingers into his palm and he lifted his free hand to your cheek, eyes searching yours, “Don’t marry him.”

Don’t marry him.

Your breath quickened and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to reason out what you’d just decided and you felt anxious, but Steve was there. And your room was warm and safe. Just like it was when you were younger. When you both laughed and traded secrets and made promises to each other in the dark.

“But. The wedding. The flowers, the cake, the guests–”

“Fuck ‘em,” Steve said, still holding onto your hand, and his words swirled around in your head. “It’s only a wedding. This is your life,” brushing the rough pad of his thumb across your cheek you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, “You’re not happy.”

And you weren’t. You’d had moments with Sam, moments in time where things felt right and like maybe it could be forever, but they were just that. Moments. It shouldn’t be this hard. You’d sacrificed, compromised, bent and twisted yourself to be what Sam wanted, what he needed, not what you wanted and when you finally looked up at Steve you felt tears welling up against your lashes.

“What will my mom say,” your voice wobbled as you tangled your fingers with Steve’s and he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“She wants you to be happy too. She’ll be okay.”

You were dizzy, hazy with thoughts of not being engaged anymore, buzzing with the anticipation of what this decision meant. Of what it held. What the future could be and you looked back up at Steve, tears started to quietly spill down your cheeks and his hand was quick to gently wipe them away. You shook your head, holding your breath, and when you let it go everything came tumbling out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for making you wait. For hurting you. For everything–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve softly chided, but you pressed on.

“No, no it’s my turn,” you said, voice thick through your tears, and then you turned to cup Steve’s face in your hands. A small smile pulled up at the corners of your mouth even through your crying and you pulled in a breath, “I love you, Stevie. I always have.”

The look on his face then was one of pure adoration, of relief, and he gave you a smile back, “I know. I love you too.”

I love you too.

Pulling him into you, you felt the soft warmth of his breath across your cheek, the smell of his shampoo and fresh laundry flooding your senses. Hesitating, waiting for him to tell you it was okay and he silently answered you by leaning in and closing the gap between your lips, pressing his softly into yours.

It was slow and languid, a thousand I love yous. Years of want and aching set free into the dark of your room as you breathed each other in like air. The feeling of Steve scattering you out into the stars to live with the one you’d deemed as yours, falling between all the glittering constellations and floating in each other.

I love you too.

Reluctantly Steve pulled away from you, eyes fluttering open to look into yours and he took hold of your waist. “Run away with me,” he whispered.

Your brows pulled together, “Run away?”

“Yeah. Right now. Throw your suitcase in my car and we’ll just drive. Get away from everything, just for a little while until you’re ready.”

Mind racing, working through the logistics of what he was suggesting, you almost protested, but something in you fought back. Told you to listen to your heart, not your head. What did you want? What would make you happy?

“Okay.”

“Really?” Steve’s face lit up at your response, like he hadn’t expected it, and you felt your lips pull up into a smile, tears drying on your cheeks as you let the feeling swallow you up in its warmth. The embers in your chest crackling and flickering with life, with a fire that burned only for him.

“Yeah, yeah I don’t care. I just want to be with you,” you felt yourself grow more and more confident, more decided and Steve pulled you in again to press another kiss to your lips. This time it was hotter, bolder, a confession of passion and you grinned into him.

“C’mon, if we go now we can get coffee at that shitty diner just off the highway outside of town,” he was grinning now too.

“They make the best pancakes,” you laughed softly and Steve’s smile melted as he looked at you.

Finally.

He helped you gather your things, carrying your suitcase out to his car, and you felt like you could fly. Lighter than you’d been in years and the thought of just driving down the road with him filled you with warmth. Like watching the sun set at the end of a hot summer day. Like dipping your feet in the pool after sitting in the heat. Sweet like the taste that followed after a tart drink of lemonade.

You left your engagement ring on your dresser, a small folded note under it for Sam telling him sorry. Telling him you hoped he would find what he wanted. That you knew he’d be okay. And as you closed the door to your parents’ house you felt like you were closing that chapter. Ready to start new. To free fall into this open-ended story with Steve and as you settled into his car your eyes caught a small patch of lawn on the side of your house. Bright and soft in the moonlight and full of color.

Wildflowers.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

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