#I’m gonna be stuck here for a while probably

[steddieas-shegoes]

three things

for @switcheddieweek prompt 'spit' (a little) and 'non-verbal negotiation' (mostly this one tbh)

rated e | 5395 words | also on ao3 | cw: under-negotiated kink | tags: switch eddie, switch steve, friends with benefits, bisexual steve, bondage, banter, frottage, spit kink, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, choking, not actually unrequited feelings, open ending but we can play clue together

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve’s jittery and it’s making Eddie fucking jumpy. From the second he walked in the door, Steve’s been bustling around, moving things he doesn’t need to, taking sips of Eddie’s drink, knocking into things. Eddie’s ready to tie him to a chair and—

Well, that’s an idea.

Just as he considers acting on it, Steve groans.

“Do you think I’m too high strung?” He asks as he paces the floor anxiously.

“In this moment or in general?” Eddie has to tread carefully here. Whatever’s got Steve on edge like this needs to be taken seriously. One wrong word and Steve will shut down and it’ll be a long fucking night of trying to pull him back in.

“Like, always? Or most of the time.” Steve stops pacing, sets his gaze on Eddie where he’s sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. “Do you think I think too much about little things?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. Where the hell is this even coming from? Steve’s not usually high strung. He gets anxious sometimes, like when he knows they have to do their annual check in with the government doctors, but that’s not unreasonable. If he knows one of the kids is flying, he gets a bit nervous, but Eddie just keeps him distracted as best he can and it passes.

“Suzie mentioned that sometimes I get stuck on small problems and they ruin my day,” he continues. “Do you think that’s true?”

Suzie is going to school to be a therapist and likes to psychoanalyze her friends. It’s equal parts fascinating and annoying, especially when she talks to Steve. He takes everything she says seriously, even though she isn’t licensed yet and probably shouldn’t be giving her professional opinion to him anyway.

“I think that you do what every normal human does sometimes and catastrophize a little when you worry. It’s probably the trauma,” Eddie shrugs and stands, moving close to him, but leaving him space to get away if he needs to. He’s acting a bit like a cornered animal right now. The last thing Eddie needs to do is actually corner him. “If you think it’s harming you, maybe you could talk to a licensed therapist.”

“Suzie’s as good as licensed.” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “And she said I rely too much on you.”

“Did she?” Eddie scoffs. Steve doesn’t. Steve doesn’t rely on fucking anyone. He’d be better off if he did rely on someone more. “What made her come to that conclusion?”

“Apparently I talk about you too much. She thinks you’re my only friend.” Steve sighs. “Now that I say it out loud it does sound wrong. I have friends.”

“No shit.” Eddie grins, leans in until he can smell the cologne Steve always wears to work. “I’m just your best friend.”

“Other than Robin.”

“Other than Robin,” Eddie agrees. He straightens his back and nods his head back towards the chair he was sitting in before. “You wanna sit while I heat up leftovers?”

“Oh, not sure I can stay.” Steve suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “I uh, I have a date.”

Eddie ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest, painfully tightening. Steve’s still antsy, he can tell. He’s gonna go to his apartment and pace and worry until he has to pretend to be fine for his date. And the date won’t realize he’s faking it, that he’s pretending to be fine when he’s not. Eddie can’t let that happen.

“You should cancel.”

Steve gives him a look, one that says he knows what Eddie’s doing and he isn’t gonna fall for it. He has before, though. He probably will this time.

“She’s nice. I’m not gonna cancel just for us to fuck around. What about that guy you saw last month?” Steve snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the quite frankly unremarkable guy Eddie sucked off at a club. “Jeremy? Joey? James?”

“Isaac.”

“I was close!” Steve claps.

“Alphabetically, sure,” Eddie groans. “He was boring. Didn’t even fuck my face when I told him to. He’d probably run screaming if I showed him my plug.”

“I almost ran screaming when you showed me that thing,” Steve laughs. “I’m gonna head out. You find someone more interesting than Isaac.”

Eddie could beg. He’s done it before.

He could go along with it and wait for Steve to inevitably show back up at his place later when he didn’t get what he wanted from whoever this woman is. He’s done that before, too.

He could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. That’s not something he’s tried before. Bound to work, though.

Before he can muster up the fake tears, Steve is walking around him and staring at the chair.

He looks back at Eddie and squints, then back at the chair.

Eddie waits because that’s all he can do. Steve’s either gonna leave and go on his date or he’s gonna stay and they’ll fall into their comforting pattern of being the only people who understand what the other needs.

Steve walks to the phone on the wall, grabs a piece of paper from his wallet, and angrily dials.

“Julie! Hey!” Eddie rolls his eyes, mouths Julie and makes kissy lips while Steve’s back is to him. “Sorry this is so last minute, but they need me to close tonight. Maybe next week?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slowly relax. Julie’s probably letting him off the hook, thinking he’s such a hard worker for staying when asked. Maybe she thinks he’ll be up for a promotion, making the big bucks soon.

Eddie knows that Steve’s gonna fuck him up tonight.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only focusing back in when the phone drops back on the hook and Steve laughs.

“You should get the ropes.”

It’s not a suggestion as much as a demand, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do it. Steve doesn’t like getting tied up, not even if Eddie’s the one doing it, but he loves tying intricate knots around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, sometimes his chest and neck if they have time. It helps ground him, keeps his mind from wandering into anxious territory.

It’s perfect for tonight.

Eddie keeps his ropes in his closet, hung up so they don’t get tangled together. He grabs all of them, in too much of a rush to make a decision about which ones to use.

Steve’s pulled the chair to the center of the room and he’s wringing his hands together like he needs something in them. Robin mentioned getting him a keychain that doubled as a silent clicker so it would keep his hands busy when he needed it, but Steve turned it down. Maybe Eddie can convince him later.

After.

Eddie sits, holds the ropes in his lap, and waits.

Steve circles him like a predator circles their prey before they attack. He’s hot and his heart is racing, and he hopes that he can be forgiven for being selfish enough to get Steve to stay.

He kneels in front of Eddie, grabs his face in his hands, and grins.

“You wanted this.”

It’s true. But he never said it explicitly. Steve just knows. It’s why they work so well.

“I wanted you.”

It’s a bit too honest for them, but Steve doesn’t stop to take Eddie’s words in. He’s up and grabbing the rope from his hands, shoving his shoulder back until he’s almost worried it’ll bruise. Eddie’s pale and Steve’s rough and as much as he likes the reminders of what they do, he’s going to visit Wayne this weekend and doesn’t wanna risk him seeing it.

“Hey. Easy,” Eddie says with just enough bite to make Steve pause. “No bruises.”

Steve nods, apologizes, but continues his work. Eddie lets him.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

There’s something peaceful about letting Steve tie him up, making him helpless in the middle of his own apartment. He knows he’s safe, they’re both safe. He doesn’t have to feel the emptiness inside that he feels when Steve’s not with him.

He feels full, even without the plug.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie does. His eyes feel heavy for a moment and then he sees how dark Steve’s eyes are, how blown his pupils have gotten. How long has Steve been working on him? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

“Too tight?” Steve asks, for what must not be the first time. Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. I’m gonna grab the plug.”

Eddie’s not sure why, but he knows it’ll come to him eventually. He nods and waits. Steve’s only gone for a moment, familiar enough with where Eddie keeps everything to be quick.

He sets the lube and plug on the table, then turns to Eddie.

Eddie’s a bit in love with him, he has to admit. It’s pretty terrible to be in love with your best friend, especially when it’s a guy who has made it pretty clear he’s never gonna be ready for a relationship with any man, let alone Eddie.

But he drops everything to do this with him, and he comes here right after work even when he’s exhausted, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even though it’s two miles out of his way. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed when they get too high for him to get back to his place, curled up into his side or around his back. He uses Eddie’s soap in the shower and wears Eddie’s shirt when he forgets to bring the clothes he keeps here home to wash them. He leaves notes around the apartment for him to take his meds and to call Dustin and take out the trash. He does everything with love and it’s hard for Eddie to separate it sometimes.

Steve straddles his lap and waits.

It’s Eddie’s turn now. Focus.

“Gonna be good and listen to me?” Eddie asks him, voice rough.

Steve shivers in his lap. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Eddie uses all his strength to sit up a bit straighter, appear bigger. Steve loves when he’s tied up and bossing him around. He loves being told what to do while Eddie’s like this.

“You gonna stay dressed?” Eddie asks, not caring much either way. Might be hard to get the plug in, but they don’t have to do anything with it if Steve changed his mind.

“For now.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Eddie watches as Steve runs his hands down his chest, skims the edge of his shirt, slides them underneath. He wants him to strip it off, wants to see the way his nipples harden under his own touch, the way his chest hair darkens as sweat beads on his skin the more worked up he gets. He doesn’t make any noise when he pinches his own nipple, just lets out the breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

“Now the other one.”

Steve listens, stays quiet and obedient, just the way Eddie likes him.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks, but he already knows it does. Steve’s nipples are sensitive. He loves having Eddie’s teeth on them, tugging and sucking them into his mouth.

“Yeah, but I want more.”

“Greedy, but fine.” Eddie glances behind him, sees the bottle of lube. “You planning on using that or no?”

Steve follows his gaze, hands never leaving his chest. “The lube or the plug?”

“Either. Both.”

Steve shivers. “Maybe. Rather you do it later.”

Eddie’s not opposed. He likes watching Steve, but if he gets to have his hands on him later, have his plug in him, then he can wait.

“You gonna get yourself off like this then?” Eddie thinks he might be able to if they play their cards right. He’s never come just from playing with his nipples, but it doesn’t seem impossible. He’s riled up right now. On edge in every way. It might be time to try it out.

“Don’t think I can,” Steve admits, pouting his bottom lip out. It should look ridiculous, but it makes heat coil in Eddie’s stomach. He wants to bite it, suck it into his mouth and taste the spit pooling on his tongue. He wants to make him bleed so he can taste that too, find out if it’s as sweet as the rest of him. “Not without a hand on me.”

���I think you can.” Eddie laughs when Steve groans at him. “C’mon. I’ve seen you do harder things. Find a way.”

“Don’t have to be mean. I canceled a date for you,” Steve bites out, pinching his nipples again and scooting forward in Eddie’s lap. His dick is hard in his jeans, but he’s not gonna find what he needs with the way Eddie’s chest and stomach are pulled back with the ropes. Not unless he gets real close. “I’m not doing it all by myself.”

“You tied me up,” Eddie snorts. “I assumed that meant you were gonna do it yourself.”

Eddie’s own dick is straining in his jeans. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Steve will be pissed if he asks him to unbutton his pants. He’s supposed to sit here and take it, and Steve will sit there and do what he says. That’s how this works.

“Sit still then.” Eddie hasn’t moved, but he wants to now that Steve’s made the demand. He scoots even further up, so his dick is rubbing against Eddie’s stomach. It’d feel better if he took his pants off, but he’s stubborn. “I’m gonna get off like this.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Eddie.

“I’ll wait.” Eddie smirks when Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Go ahead. I’ve got all night.”

His legs are a little numb from being tied and having Steve’s weight on them like this. The dining room chair isn’t exactly comfortable to begin with. He’s a little shocked it’s holding both their weight like this.

Steve ruts forward once, twice, groans before he drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He isn’t gonna get as much friction as he wants like this, but he can get the job done.

“That’s it. You just need something to rub your dick on, huh? Anything would work,” Eddie teases, voice low. “So desperate.”

He tries to sound annoyed or uninterested, but he knows he sounds a bit awed. Steve’s hips move faster as he talks, the room gets hotter, and the air gets thicker. Eddie gets impossibly harder in his jeans. If it’s possible to break a zipper, he may do it any minute.

Steve whimpers as he bites down on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s a bit sweaty from the day, and he knows his shirt can’t smell or taste good. Steve doesn’t seem bothered.

“Can’t believe you tied me up just to hump me like a dog,” Eddie grins around the words. “You know there’s better ways to do this.”

Steve pauses in his movements, but doesn’t sit up or move his face away from Eddie’s neck. It’s all Eddie needs to know that he can keep going like this.

“So stubborn. I should make you use the wall next time.” Steve whimpers and ruts forward. “You’d love it. I could sit here and watch. Probably hurt after a while, huh?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie smiles to himself.

“You like when it hurts though. That’s why you can’t stop what you’re doing now.”

“Mhm. Like it when you hurt me, though.”

Eddie bites his lip. God, he does love hurting Steve. He’s so good at being hurt. Takes it so good and then gives it right back to Eddie as if he isn’t covered in bruises and scars left by Eddie’s teeth and fingers.

“I like it too,” Eddie allows himself to say. It’s important to keep the boundaries there, but sometimes he can be vulnerable. If Steve starts it, he can follow. “You gonna let me touch you?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, baby.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, breath hitching at the way it tugs the ropes tighter around his wrists for a moment. Baby is allowed. Steve said it first months ago, one of the first times they did this, and it stuck. It’s fine, especially when it’s slightly mocking like this. “I could make it feel so good. You know I take care of you.”

Steve tenses, almost like he’s going to come, then groans and pulls his head back, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie looks back at him, calculating, trying to get a read on what’s going on in his head.

He’s still unsure what truly caused his panic earlier, other than Suzie’s words. Something had to, though. He’s still sifting through it, not quite over the tension.

And then it hits him.

His date.

Steve hasn’t had a real date in months. He’s definitely done questionable things in bar bathrooms, but he hasn’t taken a girl out since…

Since they started this.

Eddie rushes to think back to what Suzie told him, thinks about things Steve probably left out of his explanation. How quick he was to cancel the date once he knew what was on offer.

Steve struggles with being the one to call the shots. Not just in bed, but always. He always asks others to choose what they do, and usually tries to leave another adult in charge as often as he can.

Other than life or death situations, Steve Harrington likes to follow someone else’s lead.

This thing they have, whatever it may be, it works. Eddie calls the shots a lot, but there’s still times when Steve’s in charge. Like now, when Eddie’s tied up, completely at his mercy. He may be encouraging Steve to do things, but he’s not the one making the decisions, not really.

It’s Steve’s safe place to call the shots. Eddie’s his safe space. Not this girl he was going to take to dinner or a movie or back to his place.

“Hey.” Eddie wants his hands free, but it’s selfish. His mind is reeling as he thinks of a way to do this without making Steve lose the control he has. “You’re gonna do something for me.”

It’s another demand, but he knows Steve will listen.

“What?” Steve asks, flushed and struggling not to find any more friction.

“Tell me three things you want me to do.”

Steve’s shaking and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from being so close to the edge or from nerves or from being overwhelmed with all of it at once. He’s never looked so unsure when they’re doing this, not even the first time when they hadn’t figured out how to communicate yet.

“Like…now?”

“I want you to answer now, but it can be stuff you want me to do later.”

Everything shifts again; A whine marks the moment that Steve gives in.

“Can you-”

“No.” Eddie leans in, gets close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against his own lips. “Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes his shoulders. Eddie watches, waits patiently. His legs are starting to get tingly, almost painfully so. The feeling comes and goes as Steve shifts in his lap, moving weight from one leg to the other and then settling on both.

“Open me up.” Steve says so quietly Eddie almost asks him to repeat it. “I want four fingers.”

“Four? You sure?” Eddie’s never given him four. Steve’s never given himself four as far as he knows.

“Yeah. I can take it.”

“Okay. That’s one,” Eddie wants to kiss him, but he won’t. He can’t. Even if he weren’t tied up, he wouldn’t. “Another one.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Steve pauses like he’s going to say more. Eddie waits again, less patiently now that he knows what the next hour might entail. “In your bed.”

The silence that follows his request is louder than their breaths, louder than the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating in their chests.

They don’t do that. They do a lot of shit, but they don’t do that. They fuck on the couch, the chair, against the wall, the shower, the floor. Never the bed. Not Eddie’s, not Steve’s.

It’s like kissing, in a way: silently forbidden.

Steve tenses when Eddie doesn’t respond. He starts to scoot back to get up, but Eddie lets out a noise close to a whine. He wants to move his hands, grip Steve’s hips so hard that there’s no way he doesn’t have bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“What’s the third thing?” Eddie asks, making sure he knows he needs to stay right where he is.

Steve doesn’t say it. He’s pushing Eddie, seeing how far Eddie will push back. He could get up right now, go to Eddie’s bed, and they’ll forget all about the third thing. Eddie will let it be left in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He should insist on it now, but he won’t. Steve’s taking the reins now.

“Untie me.”

Mostly.

Steve works quickly, letting the ropes fall to the floor as Eddie slowly moves his limbs to get feeling back. He shivers when Steve’s fingers brush against his wrist, pulse speeding up under his careful touch.

“Anything hurt?” Steve asks, checking in the way Eddie showed him to the first time. Eddie taught him a lot of things. “Need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m good,” Eddie smiles, a real one, a soft one. Something almost too gentle for what they’re doing. “Let’s get in bed.”

He almost forgets to grab the lube and plug on the table behind him, but remembers when he watches Steve adjust himself in his pants and awkwardly half-waddle out of the room. He wants to use them when they’re done, after Eddie’s fucked him until he can’t talk.

Steve’s finally undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It feels like they belong there, like they could find a home in Eddie’s laundry basket, and then in his closet. Like pieces of Steve could stay.

Steve looks good in his bed, on his back, parting his legs. His hand cups his balls, lifts them as if he’s showing off exactly where he wants Eddie to go. Eddie’s dick leaks at the thought of being inside him.

He could probably lick him open and shove inside him with no argument, even though it would be uncomfortable and probably a little too painful even for Steve’s taste. He likes feeling the pinch of too much, the drag of skin that should be wetter. Maybe next time.

Eddie’s not gonna be mean like that, but he is gonna be quick. He’s not patient enough to take his time the way Steve may have thought he would.

He spits on Steve’s dick as he settles between his legs.

“Keep touching yourself. Don’t come,” he orders, pouring lube onto his fingers. “If you come, we stop.”

Steve whimpers and nods, accepts the challenge for what it is. His hand moves slow, languid in finding the perfect level of pleasure to keep him on the edge but not sending him over.

Eddie starts with two fingers, a happy medium between the pain Steve likes and the pain Eddie wants to try someday. It’s still enough to have Steve tighten around him, letting out a noise he’s never made before.

Eddie pauses and raises a brow up at him. Steve relaxes. Eddie continues.

He’s not gentle, but he could be a lot rougher. He has one purpose: open Steve up. He doesn’t even try to find his prostate until he’s ready to add the fourth finger that Steve wanted so bad.

Steve’s barely moving his hand anymore, just squeezing the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat building on his thighs, darkening the hairs just enough to be noticeable.

As soon as Eddie pushes the fourth finger into him, Steve goes still and silent. Any sign of the anxious mess of a person who was pacing his kitchen floor earlier is long gone.

Eddie only gives him a second before he moves, pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. It’s tight, really tight.

“Gotta relax or I can’t fuck you like you wanted,” Eddie reminds him. He looks down at where he’s stretching Steve, watches his hole flutter around his fingers as he desperately tries to relax. “Bet I could get my whole hand in if I used more lube.”

Eddie’s actually not sure he could with how tight Steve is now with just four, but Steve pants, nods like he agrees. Maybe they can try that, too.

Now that the bed is an option, Eddie could try a lot of things. So could Steve. Eddie thinks feeling his entire hand inside him might be enough to send him over the edge, dick untouched.

Steve finally relaxes enough around him so he can move and there has to be a direct connection between his fingertips and his own dick with how it jumps when he stretches his fingers. He’s sweating now, too, using his free hand to brush the hair off his shoulder for a moment.

“Your hand’s so big,” Steve whines, lifting his legs back further with what little strength he has left. ”So much.”

Eddie agrees. He’s watching how much he’s stretching him out and thinks it should be impossible.

He feels lost right now, shocked into watching what he’s doing rather than doing what the logical next step is: getting his dick inside Steve. It’s mesmerizing.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is unsure. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to his face, unblinking.

“You need me to tell you what I want?” Steve asks, letting his legs fall to the bed. The new angle shifts his fingers so they brush against Steve’s prostate. He bites back a moan, but so does Eddie. “Let me.”

Eddie nods. He can’t fucking think for himself right now. Some switch flipped when he saw the way Steve took him, and he’s not sure he can switch it back by himself.

“Touch yourself. Get yourself wet.”

He does it. How can he not when Steve is taking deep breaths to keep himself calm? How can he not when he’d do anything that Steve asks of him?

He misses Steve around his fingers, misses the heat of it, the warmth that ran from his hand to his chest. The direct link is gone, even if just for a moment.

Eddie spits on his hand, makes the glide of his hand easier. He knows not to come, but he knows he could. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching and assessing, figuring out what he’ll do next.

Steve isn’t the type to drag this on. He doesn’t like delaying his own pleasure. He’ll make Eddie come inside him the way they both want, he knows that.

But he still worries this will be the time he can’t hold back, that Steve will watch him until he comes and then the night will be done.

“Just the tip.” Steve’s words make Eddie whine. It’s not enough, but it might be too much. “Take it slow.”

Eddie leans down, lines himself up. The moment he’s inside Steve, he groans and his brain resets, focuses.

He waits for Steve to say he can give him more. He wants to give him more, he needs-

“More.” Steve is barely holding it together at this point, Eddie can tell from the way his voice shakes and his hand grips Eddie’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Slow.”

Eddie goes slow. One inch further, one degree warmer.

Another inch and Steve’s grip is harder, bringing him back to earth.

He shares a look with Steve, sending the message that he’s good, he wants to take things from here. Steve will let him.

“You’re so good,” Eddie groans against his mouth as he kisses him, pushes in until he feels tight heat surrounding him completely. “Always so good for me.”

Steve tightens around him, legs wrapping around Eddie’s back and tugging him closer. It feels too much like something he can hold onto, something way more than what it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t comment on it. He can’t.

Steve tilts his head back, lids heavy as he begs Eddie for something only Eddie can give him.

He wraps a hand around Steve’s throat, squeezes once, and fucks into him hard.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s wrist, his silent permission to keep going, understanding of what he has to do for this to keep going.

They’ve never properly talked about this. It’s stupid and Eddie knows he needs to be careful.

He is. He’s always careful with Steve.

He only does it twice more, but it’s enough to have Steve pushing back against him, asking for more. Eddie removes his hand, grazes it down his chest, grips at his chest hair and tugs.

Steve yelps and Eddie smirks. “Thought you liked when I was mean,” he says to be extra mean. “You beg me to be rough all the time.”

“Be rough. But slow.”

Eddie is too close to go slow, but he thinks Steve’s in the same boat. He can probably get away with a few minutes of being rough before he comes.

“Wanna taste you,” Steve says, and it sounds like it might be the third thing he wanted. Eddie’s not sure what he means, though. They don’t kiss so it can’t be that. “Please, let me taste you.”

Eddie holds his chin, considers his next move as he fucks into him once, twice, grinds into him until they’re both breathless. He digs his fingers in, keeps Steve’s jaw open.

He leans in close enough to feel Steve’s breath in his own mouth.

“You wanna taste me?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

Eddie licks Steve’s bottom lip, so quick he could almost convince himself it didn’t actually happen.

Then he spits. Right in Steve’s mouth, watches it pool on his tongue.

Steve swallows it without being told to, closes his eyes and groans. He looks blissed out, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. He’s never been more beautiful, never made Eddie want to devour him quite like this.

It’s hard to keep things slow after that, but god, he tries. He would do anything for Steve, but he’s only human. He can’t be this close for much longer.

Steve’s eyes open and he doesn’t have to say anything for Eddie to know he’s too close to keep going.

They come seconds apart, so close Eddie’s not even sure who got there first.

Eddie fucks into him until he physically can’t anymore, wincing when it’s too much for his softening dick. He always pushes too much.

Steve lets out a laugh as Eddie falls to the side, grunting when his cheek smacks against Steve’s arm. He sighs and rests his lips against the skin there, scared to bring attention to it, but not wanting to put space between them yet.

It’s quiet for a while, their breathing evening out slowly as they come down. He still doesn’t move, but his brain’s starting to catch up and he’s left wondering something. He probably shouldn’t ask.

“What’s the third thing you want me to do?” Eddie asks anyway.

Steve is still, and Eddie thinks he hears his breath hitch.

His other hand comes up, resting gently on Eddie’s head. It’s a heavy weight on him, making him hotter when he’s already overheated. A comfort when he’s been giving and taking so much.

“Love me.”

Eddie should be more surprised to hear it maybe. He doesn’t even have a reaction at first, just soaks in the words.

Loving Steve Harrington has been easy so far, even though it’s been in silence. Understanding who he is, what he likes, what makes him tick, all of it has been a gift.

Even when he overthinks things, even when he’s high strung.

But loving Steve Harrington loudly, in the way he needs, the way he craves, might be even easier.

So he lets his lips pucker, kisses Steve’s arm.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking up at Steve with a smile.

[goddamnitmahtin]

All in Your Head

(a dc x dp au)

Bruce: *shaking Harley’s hand* Thanks for coming to see me on short notice.

Harley: It’s no problem. I didn’t have plans today.

Bruce: *leads her to the sitting area, sitting in an armchair*

Harley: *sits across from him* What’s going on Bruce? Is it system stuff? I thought you all were doing pretty okay last session. All things considered.

Bruce: I thought so too but…. I found another voice or alter I guess? And I don’t know when he got here. If he’s been here the whole time or if maybe I got stressed out and split? I dunno.

Harley: *nods* Both are possible… your split tolerance isn’t the best Bruce. What do you know about this new alter so far?

Bruce: He says his name is Danny and that he’s 15. *shrugs* I don’t know what he looks like. Matches says that he looks the way we did in high school but sometimes he’s a ghost. I don’t even know what that means.

Harley: *writing down notes* So he’s a non human alter. This wouldn’t be the first one you’ve had.

Bruce: *thinking about the dark shadow person with bat ears that crawls around on the ceilings in headspace* I’m aware…

Harley: Is Danny close to front right now? Is there any way we can communicate with him?

Bruce: *trying to check* Um… no. But B is near front. He says he’s gonna look for him.

Harley: *smiles* Your gatekeeper is very responsible.

Bruce: *sighs* I do not know what I would do without that guy- I would not be able to handle our kids- *dissociates*

Harley: *waits patiently*

Bruce: *realizes someone is trying to switch* Gimme a second-

Harley: Take all the time you need.

*a few moments pass in silence*

Danny!Bruce: Someone asked for me?

Harley: *smiles, holding out a hand* I’m Doctor Harleen Quinzel. I am assuming you are Danny?

Danny!Bruce: *sits up excitedly* Oh my god lady- you gotta help me- I possessed this rich guy thinking I could lay low for a bit while my core healed but now I’m stuck in here and there’s like a lot of dudes in here and some sort of bat shadow thing? It’s scary as fuck- I just wanna go home-

Harley: *calming voice* It’s okay Danny. You are probably a little confused about your situation.

Danny!Bruce: *groans, his face in his hands* I just wanna go home…

Harley: *assuming Danny is talking about false memories* Why don’t you tell me a little bit about that? What you remember before joining the headspace?

Danny!Bruce: I live in Amity Park. It’s a pretty secluded area. I have a mom and dad and a sister named Jazz. I’ve got two best friends, Sam and Tucker. Literally where am I right now- because this isn’t Amity Park.

Harley: You are in a city called Gotham.

Danny!Bruce: Fucking Gotham!? Holy Cheerios, no wonder this guy’s brain is so weird…. This place is practically as volatile as Amity Park. This also explains the huge amounts of ecto in some of these kids-

Harley: *frowns* Ecto?

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

Being locked in a closet with all Diaboys NSFW please <33

SETUP:

Someone (probably Admin) locked you and each vampire in a cramped, dark closet — the kind that forces body heat to rise and limbs to tangle. There's no room to move, no way to escape, and you can feel the way their breath hitches when you squirm against them. The door is stuck, and the tension? Even worse.

Shu Sakamaki

Lazy smirk. “Tch. Guess we’ll kill time some other way.” He slouches down, dragging you into his lap. Hands snake up your thighs. “So warm already? We haven’t even started, Livestock.” His mouth trails lazy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck while his fingers trace the waistband of your underwear, humming lowly. “Want me to make you forget where we are?”

Reiji Sakamaki

“Tch. How undignified.” But he doesn’t push you away—no, he uses it. “You’re trembling already. Is it fear? Or anticipation?” His voice drips with condescension as he pins your wrists above your head, his knee between your thighs. “Perhaps I should punish you here for being so indecent… letting your scent intoxicate me like this.”

Ayato Sakamaki

“Ore-sama’s so close to you, huh?” He presses his body flush to yours, cocky grin fading to something darker. “I can feel you, Chichinashi… your heart’s pounding.” His hands grope and wander under your clothes. “What if I just lifted your skirt and had you here? Would you scream? Or beg for more?”

Kanato Sakamaki

He giggles. “This is fun~ like a secret game. Can you stay quiet?” His hands are cold, roaming under your shirt as he whispers right into your ear. “I want to hear you whimper. But we’ll get in trouble if you’re too loud, won’t we?” He nips at your throat, humming as he toys with your nipples through your bra. “So be a good doll and squirm quietly.”

Laito Sakamaki

“Oh my, Bitch-chan~ You’re pressed so tight against me… Can you feel what you do to me?” He rocks against you slowly, voice dripping with heat. “We could make this so much more fun. I’ll keep my hand over your mouth if you can’t control yourself.” His fingers are already under your panties, teasing your entrance. “Let’s see how wet you get before someone hears.”

Subaru Sakamaki

He’s stiff at first. “D-don’t get so close…!” But you’re both flushed, panting, pressed against each other. When you shift your hips and brush against his arousal, he groans low. “You’re doing this on purpose… right?” His hand slips under your skirt, breathing ragged. “Tch. Fine. If you want it… I’ll give it to you. But don’t cry when I wreck you right here.”

Ruki Mukami

“How indecent,” he murmurs, but the way his fingers slide around your throat say otherwise. “Trapped together like this… what a perfect chance to break you down.” His voice is dark velvet. “I want you to beg—quietly.” He pulls you down into his lap, his clothed length grinding into you. “Let’s see how disciplined you can be while I ruin your composure.”

Kou Mukami

“Heh~ So close, little kitten. You smell like sin already.” He presses his forehead to yours, smirking as his hands roam under your shirt. “What if someone opened the door and saw me fingering you like this?” He pushes your panties aside, slowly sliding a finger in. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Such a naughty girl~”

Yuma Mukami

“Shit, you’re practically beggin’ for it.” He grabs your hips, pinning you against the wall. His breath is hot, full of grit and hunger. “You grind against me again like that, and I’m gonna make you come on my thigh before we even get outta here.” His voice is low and filthy. “Think you can take me in this cramped-ass space, Sow?”

Azusa Mukami

“Ah… you’re so close… I can feel… everything…” His fingers tremble as they slide along your skin, his voice soft and breathless. “Do you want me… to touch you more?” His arousal presses against your thigh, and he lets out the tiniest gasp when you grind into him. “Let’s… hurt together. Gently… or not.”

Carla Tsukinami

“How curious… your pulse quickens the longer we remain in darkness.” He’s composed, but there’s hunger in his eyes. “Perhaps I should see just how easily you come undone without ever being seen.” He touches you with expert precision, voice calm but commanding. “Let me hear you whisper my name as you fall apart.”

Shin Tsukinami

He’s grinning like a devil. “I could fuck you right here.” His fingers trail teasing circles over your thighs. “Cramped. Hot. Desperate.” He pulls you into his lap, grinding into you. “Want my scent on you when they open the door? Want them to know who made you cry like that?”

Kino

He growls low. “You’ve got no idea how dangerous this is, sweetheart.” He’s breathless, hand already slipped under your waistband. “You shouldn’t press that pretty ass against me like that unless you want me to lose control.” And he does. Rough kisses, whispered filth, hot grinding—he wants to ruin you before the door even opens.

[steveyockey]

I saw tv glow is like YES the realization you are trans might implode your life and make the world you live in uninhabitable but that will happen anyway if you don’t do anything about it. if you retreat from your own needs and refuse to let yourself resurrect you’re still gonna run out of air and even the tv show that kept you alive at one point won’t be able to bring you back

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[seventh-district]

so uh. that 2.2 Special Program, huh

[quibbs126]

I wonder why my brain is so fankid-focused, even when dealing with Transformers (I don’t say it out loud as much as I think it, but it is)

But then I remember, I spent over a year and a half making 100+ fankid requests for Cookie Run, and technically speaking I never stopped, I just have kind of forgotten about continuing them, particularly with my new Transformers fixation (though that’s not necessarily an invitation for new ones, since I feel like it’ll be even slower than the snail’s pace it already is at this point, and that’s assuming I don’t just stop at some point. Just an FYI)

Like at that point, I feel like this sort of mindset makes complete sense. Yeah I did other stuff during that time, but you probably don’t do all that and not have a brain oddly centered on this sort of thing, especially when it’s another series where there’s no clear answer to where children come from (though in Transformers’ case that’s because they don’t have children, even if it is a widely fanon concept. But my point still stands)

[lady-luckk]

how about a cowboy or a farmer with a bimbo city girl reader??

itd b so funny if she was just like “do brown cows make chocolate milk??”

or maybe she almost kills the guy by accident trying to rake some hay

i love the trope “she’s an idiot but she’s my idiot”

so like, what’s the wifi password?

# pairings: yandere farmer cowboy x bimbo / himbo reader

# synopsis: while making your way to a fun hangout with your friends your car suddenly breaks down. a kind farmer allows you to stay with him until someone can pick you up. but why are the roads weirdly empty?

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, kidnapping, and murder. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

you’re not entirely sure what led to this. one second you were on your way to hangout with your girlfriends, the next, your pink convertible broke down next to the most farm-ass farm you’ve ever seen. and now? you're standing in front of a barn that smells like hay and something suspiciously meaty, trying to get a signal with your rhinestone-covered phone held toward the sky.

"phone ain't gonna save you out here, princess."

you nearly jump out of your glittery crop top. standing behind you is a tall, broad, sun-scorched wall of man with stubble, a permanent scowl, and arms like they personally fought god for dominance. he's wearing a stained flannel shirt, worn jeans, and a scuffed cowboy hat pulled low like he’s hiding from the law—or just the concept of smiling.

you blink up at him. "omg, hi! are you like, the farmer or cowboy guy?"

he snorts. "i’m the farmer. ain’t another soul within miles, and i sure as hell didn’t call for no... barbie doll on a breakdown."

you gasp, offended. "excuse you, this is Y2K chic. and my name isn’t barbie—it’s..."

"...of course it is."

“you’re not from around here, are you?"

"nnooope. GPS brought me out here for, like, reasons. and then my engine started making this very dramatic sound. sooo now i'm, like, a damsel."

he crosses his arms, face unreadable, then sighs. "you standin’ out here in the heat for long?"

"i mean, i guess? i was gonna call someone, but I’ve only got like, one bar and a lot of hope."

another pause. then he turns and mutters, "c’mon."

"huh?"

"you want heatstroke or you want a glass of water?"

you blink. "omg, you’re nice."

"i ain’t nice," he snaps, opening the screen door wider. "i’m just not leavin’ some glittered-up stranger to roast in a ditch."

inside, it’s a mix of rustic charm and obvious bachelor chaos. he pours you a glass of water without asking, sets it down in front of you like he’s done this a hundred times, and leans against the counter like he’s regretting all of it.

although internally he’s a whole different story. he can’t believe his luck meeting someone as cute as you in this area. he swore he felt his heart leap out of his chest the minute he saw you. 

"name’s eli," he says at last. "i’ll take a look at your car. if it’s fixable, i’ll fix it. if not… guess you’ll be stuck here a bit."

you bat your lashes. "you wouldn’t mind that, would you?"

he shifts, jaw flexing. then: “don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”

but he won’t meet your eyes. and he doesn’t notice he poured you a second glass of water before you even finished the first.

you follow eli outside, trying not to trip on your own wedges as you strut across the gravel like it’s a runway and not, in fact, a minefield of dirt and despair.

he walks a few steps ahead, toolbox in one hand, broad shoulders shifting beneath that flannel like they’ve never known a day of weakness. he doesn’t say much, but you catch him glancing back once—just once—to make sure you’re not lost or dead or doing something ridiculous.

you're doing all three, probably.

when he reaches your car, he pops the hood with one rough tug and peers inside like he’s about to deliver bad news to a family of four.

after a beat, he grunts. “when’s the last time you had an oil change?”

you blink. "what’s that?"

slowly, so slowly, he turns his head and looks at you.

his face is completely blank. emotionless. a man on the brink. like he’s just been told that gravity is optional now. or that the cows have unionized.

you smile up at him, unbothered, chewing your bubblegum. “is that, like, something you get at a drive-thru? because i only do drive-thrus if they have fries.”

he says nothing.

just stares.

a long, long pause.

then: “you shouldn’t legally be allowed to own a vehicle.”

"that’s what my driving instructor said!" you chirp.

eli shuts the hood and mutters something to the lord, probably begging for patience, strength, or a strategic lightning strike.

“you’re lucky i don’t believe in abandoning helpless creatures,” he mutters, already walking toward his truck. “i’m gonna get the part you need. stay put. don’t touch anything. don’t lick anything. don’t—just... don’t.”

you wave sweetly. “k love you, byeee!”

he stops mid-step. shoulders stiffen.

and without turning around, he mutters under his breath, "you’re gonna be the death of me."

later that day, eli returns with what looks like half a junkyard and a grim set to his jaw. he spent hours elbow-deep in your car, occasionally muttering things like “what the hell is this glitter doing in the engine?” and “is this a sticker of a unicorn on the oil cap?”

finally, he slams the hood shut, wipes his hands on a rag, and delivers the verdict with the gravity of a man announcing a funeral.

“pinky, she’s dead.”

you gasp dramatically. “pinky? you named her??”

he squints at you. “she named herself the minute i saw the pink steering wheel cover. and now she’s toast. fried the transmission, shredded the belt, and i’m pretty sure the air freshener doing psychic damage.”

“oh noooo,” you moan. “so what do i dooo?”

he sighs. long and loud, like you physically pained him. “you’ll stay here until i can find someone to tow it and get you back to civilization.”

"yay!" you beam.

“that wasn’t meant to be exciting.”

as the days go by, eli gains a large affection for you. he believes that since you’re “living” with him now, that practically means that the two of you are married. 

when you two finally travel into town. he doesn’t like people looking at you. not the guy at the gas station who dared compliment your lip gloss, not the mailman who called you “darlin’” with too much sugar in his voice, and definitely not the tourist who asked if you were “lost” with that fake concern dripping off his words. 

eli’s a walking warning sign the second you step into town with him. the locals know him—eli carter, the mountain of a man with a scowl carved into his face and hands that could bend steel. most folks keep their distance, half-respecting, half-fearing him.

they say he’s good with his work, bad with people, and meaner than a rattlesnake if you push the wrong buttons. so when he rolls into town with you, all glitter and sunshine and questions like “do horses get cold?”—yeah, people notice. the butcher’s wife whispers that he’s gone soft. the old mechanic raises a brow like he’s seeing a ghost. when someone chuckles a little too long at your rhinestone boots, eli’s jaw ticks. when a guy at the feed store offers to help you lift a bag of seed, eli’s already there, grabbing it with one hand like it weighs nothing. “they’re good,” he says flatly, not even looking at the guy.

even when you try to chat with the locals, eli’s always close—never rude, but not exactly inviting either. he doesn’t trust easily, especially not when it comes to you. and if someone even looks at you sideways, he’s suddenly all sharp glances and low muttering, hand at your lower back like a silent claim: they’re mine to worry about.

eli’s jaw gets tight, voice real low when he steps between you and anyone who so much as thinks about flirting. once, a farmhand from a neighboring ranch tried to strike up a conversation with you at the feed store—eli didn’t say a word, just calmly picked up a full grain barrel, one-handed, and moved it like it weighed nothing. the guy left before eli even had to speak. you giggled, called him “jealous,” and he growled something about “men like that not knowin’ how to treat you right.” 

he won’t say this out loud , but every time someone shows a little too much interest in you, he finds a new chore to do right beside you. fencing, fixing the barn door, chopping firewood shirtless in the sun like that’s normal behavior. once, you saw him bend a crowbar back into shape like it was a breadstick and he acted like it was no big deal. he claims he’s just “lookin’ out for you,” but you’ve noticed how fast his mood shifts when someone else tries to.

eli always has an eye on you. he always seems to know exactly where you are. no matter what he’s doing, his eyes find you like it’s instinct. you’ll be picking flowers by the fence or sneaking another cookie from the jar, and somehow, he’s already looking. not hovering, not smothering—just always aware. like keeping you safe is a reflex, not a choice. it’s subtle, but constant. protective, almost possessive. like some part of him’s decided you’re his to watch over, even when you don’t realize you need it.

he can’t keep his eyes off you. to him, you’re just his precious darling.

eli gives you a curfew like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “sun’s down, you’re inside,” he says one evening, arms crossed and eyes steady like he’s expecting a fight. you blink at him. “wait, like... a bedtime?” he grunts. “ain’t about sleep. it’s about not wanderin’ into a coyote den in your platform heels.” you try to argue, but he doesn’t budge—just mutters something about you being a “walking hazard” and how “ain’t nothing good happens after dark out here.” and true to form, every evening as the sun dips low, he’s there on the porch, arms folded, waiting.

if you’re even five minutes late, he’s already out with a flashlight like a grumpy dad looking for a runaway puppy. he won’t admit it, but the curfew isn’t just about safety. it’s about knowing exactly where you are. keeping you close. keeping you his.

every night, without fail, you end up in the kitchen with eli—him cradling a mug of coffee, you wrapped in one of his old flannels, sitting on the counter like you belong there. the light is soft, the air warm, and he’s always gentle with you at this hour, like the quiet makes him softer. he’ll brush your hair back without thinking, pass you the sweeter drink without asking, and murmur low little comments that sound more like affection than teasing.

sometimes he rests his hand on your knee when he walks past, like anchoring himself to the moment. he doesn’t smile much, but with you like this—half-asleep, blinking at him under kitchen lights—there’s a warmth in his eyes that says more than he ever will.

there’s always a comfortable silence between you, broken by the occasional sarcastic quip or dry comment from him when you ask if cows dream or if the moon looks closer out here. sometimes he’ll pass you a spoon to taste something he’s cooking, or nudge your knee with his hip to get you to move over so he can reach a cabinet. it’s quiet, almost domestic. like this little nighttime routine just… happened. and neither of you questioned it.

and just like that it’s been a month. you no longer notice how the roads seem to “get worse” whenever you mention leaving, or how eli’s smile always grows just a little too warm when you say, “maybe i’ll try calling a tow service again.”

you’ve stopped wondering why your cell service hasn’t come back. you’ve accepted that the mountains are just “that bad,” as eli puts it. eli’s a good guy, there's no way he’d do anything to sabotage you from going back home. like eli totally did not install a signal jammer two days after you arrived or that he's murdered everyone who ever offered to take you home. there's just no way. 

now, you’re completely settled in—no wifi, no car, and definitely no cute outfits from home. but honestly? you’re so content. the cozy flannel shirts, freshly baked cookies, and endless cups of lemonade have turned life here into a dreamy routine.

but something nags at you.

you’ve been living with eli, enjoying his hospitality, but you don’t want to feel like a useless freeloader. so one afternoon, you decide it’s time to step up and offer to help around the farm. you can’t just keep eating his food and just looking pretty, right?

you walk up to eli, who’s messing around with the tractor, and clear your throat.

“eli, I was thinking… i should help out more around here. you know, so i don’t just sit around all day being a freeloader.”

eli glances up, his face a mix of surprise and a hint of reluctance. he wipes his hands on his pants, a sigh escaping him.

“you sure about that?” he asks, his voice gruff. “you’ve been here for a month and you’re just now deciding to help?”

you nod, determined. “yeah, i wanna pull my weight.”

he doesn’t seem convinced but shrugs. “alright, fine. you can start by feeding the animals. that’s simple enough.”

you beam. “great! i can totally do that!”

you were definitely not cut out for farm life. after eli told you to help with feeding the animals, you felt determined, but that determination quickly turned to chaos.

you squinted at one of the cows and asked, "so, uh... do brown cows make chocolate milk?" eli froze mid-step, gave you the most soul-dead stare, and muttered something about regretting every decision that led him to this moment.

then the chickens got involved. you tried to scatter feed like in the movies, but instead slipped on your own glittery flip-flop and fell right into the middle of their breakfast—cue one chicken hopping onto your back like it was claiming a new roost. 

the goats were no better; one of them chewed on your hair extensions while you screamed, "sir, boundaries!" and the pigs? the pigs chased you across the yard when you accidentally dropped a granola bar from your purse. eli didn’t even try to hide his grin as you ran by him yelling, “they smell fear, eli, they smell fear!” 

by the time it was over, you were covered in hay, dirt, feathers, and regret, and eli just handed you a wet rag with a grunt, like this was all perfectly normal. 

but this wasn’t the first time you’d gotten yourself in a mess. oh, no. this was just the latest installment of “you vs. farm life.” you had managed to almost flood the barn by forgetting to turn off the hose, break a shovel trying to pry open a stubborn gate, and somehow trip over a rock and sprain your ankle—while sitting down. eli had bailed you out every single time. and he didn’t even seem to be all that surprised anymore.

like that one time you got it in your head to “help” eli with a small fix on the tractor. it involved welding, and you’d sworn you could do it. five minutes in, you had almost burned off your eyebrows and started a small fire by the side of the barn. eli was on you in an instant, throwing a bucket of water over the flames, shaking his head like you’d done this a million times before. “i swear to god, you’re gonna burn this place down before we even finish building it,” he grumbled as he handed you a fire extinguisher.

"you really know how to ruin a moment, eli," you pouted.

“moment?” he muttered, sounding exhausted. “you were about to become a human torch.”

there was that time you tried to be helpful in the kitchen by making dinner, only to end up dropping an entire pot of spaghetti on the floor, then attempting to "clean it up" by throwing it into the trash—half of it splattered on the walls and the other half stuck to the ceiling. you’d been standing there, horrified, when eli walked in. “don’t even ask,” you said weakly.

he’d just sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work fixing it. “get out of the kitchen before you burn yourself,” he grumbled, tossing you out of the way with a gentle nudge, as if you were a ragdoll. “and don’t try cooking again until I’m here to supervise.”

you gave him a smile that could’ve melted the coldest of hearts. “you love me.”

he grumbled something unintelligible, but you could see the hint of a smile beneath his gruffness.

and it wasn’t just accidents. oh no. it was your sheer ability to get into trouble. like the time you wandered off into the woods to “explore” and ended up trapped in a thorn bush because you thought you saw a unicorn. yes, you. a unicorn. by the time eli found you, you were stuck, practically covered in thorns, and looking like a glittered-up forest creature. “if I hadn’t come to find you,” he’d said, grinning slightly, “you’d still be out there, trying to make friends with a unicorn.”

you had the decency to look sheepish. “i was trying to be imaginative.”

"yeah, well, next time, try not to get stuck in the thorn bush before you start trying to talk to magical creatures.”

safe to say after that incident eli forced you to wear and carry an airtag with you permanently.

then came the day you decided to help eli with manual labor—big mistake. you tried lifting a hay bale and almost dislocated something. when you grabbed the post hole digger, it practically dragged you across the yard. eli didn’t even let you finish struggling; he took it from your hands with a grunt, muscles flexing like it was nothing, and muttered, “you’ll break before the tools do.” you huffed, but he didn’t budge, already finishing the job in half the time. apparently, your job was now “supervising,” which mostly meant staying out of the way while he manhandled the entire farm.

and then there was the one time you decided to “fix” your own car because you were “bored” and “needed a project.” that involved you somehow locking yourself inside the trunk while trying to find your spare tire. it was a whole dramatic saga that ended with you yelling for help from inside the trunk, much to eli’s amusement. when he finally popped the trunk open, you had the nerve to ask him, “how’d you know i was in here?”

“because you’ve gotten yourself in a mess, like, again,” he replied, his tone dry.

you beamed up at him. “i’m just that special.”

“special? yeah, that’s what we’ll call it.” he smirked before pulling you out of the trunk and checking over your car like he wasn’t wondering why he didn’t just lock you in there himself.

but despite all the chaos you caused, despite the non-stop antics and trouble that seemed to follow you, there was something comforting about it all. eli might grumble, he might make fun of your messes, but he never left you to fend for yourself. he had this way of always being there—whether it was pulling you out of a thorn bush, rescuing you from your own cooking disaster, or simply watching over you while you made another mess in the barn. eli didn’t get frustrated. he just dealt with it—and, in his own way, he took care of you.

you were a disaster, sure, but you were his disaster. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for both of you.

[heetr]

newbie ── ( 심재윤 )

synopsis — jake visits for a hangout with your brother, but things take a sharp right that night. ── smut (m.), mini fluff, requested. afab virgin!reader x brothers best friend!jake (requested) b/n = brothers name, y/n has a basement bedroom. wc: 4.2k!

warnings — detailed full fic / slow burn, being a virgin is not embarrassing—keep it as long as you want. trust me you’re not missing anything. losing your virginity, unprotected sex (safety first), kissing, slight pain and crying, prn with a mini plot, reader is innocent (kinda), yunjin (lsfm mention), masturbation, back shots, a little teasing, creampie, hints at breeding, mentions of aftercare, lots of kissing!

here’s the thing, every time your brother's best friend visits—you get this gut feeling. he recently moved back from korea and now he’s over more than ever. you thought you had escaped your tiny crush, the one you knew was so wrong but you never looked back after he’d left. he was back, and he was HOT.

“jake, long time no see.” you smiled leaning against the wall, in the last two years. both of you had changed, he’d gotten taller, gained a few muscles and the style changed too. you? same height but a little curvier, nice hips with a nice ass on you too. needless to say, the glo-up was serious—jake especially thought so, the way he looked at you, flirting with you without speaking a single word. “jake moved back officially, about time, we’re gonna hang out in the basement though, wanna join?”

this was odd, your brother never invited you to hang out with him and his friends before. it’s usually ‘get out’ or ‘please go away y/n.’ but it was jake, someone you both grew up with. “i was gonna go get yunjin, and go shopping but i’ll hang with you guys or some other day,”

jake watched as you walked away, gently biting his lip, smelling the floral scent that exuded from your body. vanilla was his favorite. “stop checking her out, it’s creepy.” your brother sighed, shaking his head as he walked away. you couldn’t help but look back on the way to your car, smiling towards jake as you waved to him.

“so jake came, back…? and he’s—hot? i’m sorry i don’t see innocent little jake who played the violin as hot.” yunjin chuckled as the two of you walked through the mall. god, he’s all you could think about, it made you sick. why did he have to look this good? those lips, his gaze.. the stance. he walks like he owns the place. “y/n fantasizing about your brother's best friend taking your pants off is very dirty and wrong, young lady.”

yunjin laughed, watching as you snapped out of your daydream about him. truth is, no one has ever touched you. simply because. ‘you’ll wait for me right..?’ replayed in your head way too much. the day jake said that to you—it just stuck with you, “he’s not even into me like that. once he finds out i’m a virgin still he’s gonna run, guys hate virgins.” you told yunjin.

“guys love virgins.” she rebutted, “you’ll see.”

a while after you walked back in the front door of your house. hearing the boys laughing from the basement downstairs, your room. you placed your bags on the counter along with your keys and wallet, “i’m home b/n.” you called out to your brother, making your way downstairs. “what’re you guys doing?” without even looking at you, jake made your heart race.

you still couldn’t believe he was back, it was surreal. “we were talking, catching up. i was about to head home though.” jake smiled, looking back at you from the couch. he’d probably be back again tomorrow... “i gotta use the bathroom—that burger ran through me!” your brother stood up, running into the bathroom.

“gross!” you groaned, sitting down next to jake, now you were alone. for the first time in two years. it was silent but it wasn’t uncomfortable—you played with your fingers as jake looked at you. watching you fidget and smiling at your face. he spoke but spoke lowly. jake admired you and he’s always has.. “i missed you, you know?”

“really? you never called,” you replied, humming softly as you finally looked at him. you hadn’t realized it yet, but jake was getting closer to you, “i waited for you though.” that look, you folded—like a piece of laundry… it's erie how he gets you like this.

“yeah?” he smiled. jake was no stranger to intimacy but he took it seriously, only engaging in it with someone he cares for. “i’m glad, i’ve been waiting for you too—it’s been a long time.” he inched closer, and closer. hand gently resting on your thigh, “you were all i thought about..” his eyes flicked to your lips, pretty and they looked a little cold to him.

the tension was so thick—you didn’t know if it was sexual or romantic or if you were just nervous and reading to deep into it. as jake leaned closer so did you, kinda like a magnet. it just happened, his lips touched yours, brushing against one another’s. “can i kiss you?” he whispered; always one to ask for consent.. you loved that in a man. you nod, leaning in and closing the kiss between the two of you.

your brother would be gone for a little bit, and jake knew what he wanted to do. although it may not get that far—he’d get far enough to have you stuck on his mind for the rest of the night. jake pulled your body closer, laying you down on the couch softly while closing the space between the two of you. his lips: soft, warm, and gentle for yours. finally getting what they’d been craving for all this time.

it was the first time, the first time you ever kissed someone, on the lips—and the first time you ever really been this close to a boy- no, a man. the both of you knew this was wrong, you’ve always known this was wrong, but it felt so right. how could you resist him.. and how could you pass up on the opportunity to let him be your first anything. practically a once in a lifetime thing…

jake stopped though, the guilt of it crept up to his cheeks. clearly showing as they painted themselves with a pastel shade of pink. he pulled away, looking between your lips and your eyes, “i should go..” jake cleared his throat, standing to his feet and shuffling away, “bye, y/n..”

you ran your hand down your face after you heard the front door close, silently screaming, you were so close to… “i’m gonna be a virgin for the rest of my life..” you sighed. — “yeah you will, loser.” your brother said coming out of the bathroom, patting his hands on his pants as he made his way upstairs—to his room. you sighed, gathering your things to go shower and bed.

a few days had gone by and jake had visited every day since he’d gotten back, and since that night he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you. “y/n~ lovely to see you awake this late?” it was close to midnight, your brother was passed out in his room and jake was most likely staying over. “what you up to?” he plopped down next to you, the basement, you’d placed your book down—glancing at him.

eyes slightly shifting to his lips before refocusing on his eyes. “reading,” you hummed, “nerd,” he chuckles, only teasing. it was so you to just sit on the basement couch and read.. he took the book gently, bookmarking it, and closed it. “promise you won’t lose your place, you owe me a movie night though.” jake hums sadly, he hadn’t gotten a chance to sit with you.

“what movie should we watch?” you pulled your knees up, sitting on them and slightly shortly your body towards his. what you were wearing? so simple and relaxed but… it turned him on a little. sweats and a cropped sweater, jake was a dog. “stop staring at my tits.” you teased him, pushing his shoulder playfully.

it was all playful. full of jokes and funny games—until now. jake wanted you, he wanted you bad, “anything,” he muttered, eyes locking with yours. he was almost positive you could feel the tension too. “still a virgin?” he hummed, crap you were practically praying that question never popped up. the silence told him what he wanted to know.

you played a random show, something you wouldn’t get to fixated or worried about missing out on. jake’s eyes still on you, it’s like he never looked away, never blinked—no emotion just mind all on you.

“told you i’d wait for you.”

“yeah, but i didn’t think you’d not indulge a little.” because he did—how could he not. he lived in korea, in an apartment building for people his age... he’s had his fair share. “do you want to.. lose it one day?” you nod. “when?” he quickly answered, he wanted to be that person, it was clear and obvious. he never said it out loud, nor did he explain what ‘wait for me’ meant.

“is this an interview?” you laughed, nervous? but jake was still serious, focused and the gaze was intense. “really soon, i’m the only virgin left in my friend group it’s kind of embarrassing.. but i don’t want to do with just anyone.. not everyone is clean or have the right intentions.” jake understood, running his hand through his hair. he needed to think about this—so he looked away.

‘could i take her virginity..? i mean what if i hurt her—or what if she doesn’t enjoy it, or it’s too painful? i don’t want to see her hurting..’ jake fought the mental war with himself. god knows how long he’s wanted you, how long he’s waited for this moment, but is it fair? you guys watch a few more episodes—the show you were watching? you. of all things—and there’s this scene, where he cums too fast, jake couldn’t help but chuckle, placing his hand on your thigh just to see what you’d do.

you shifted your eyes down for a second, heat creeping up to your face and your heart slowly speeding up. suddenly the moments from the other day flooded your brain, and your legs squeezed together. if he’d stayed a little longer, maybe you would’ve done this already—“y/n.” jake was already looking at you when you looked at him. “come closer,”

you did just that, scooting closer to him—even laying your head on his shoulder. this felt domestic. “no here.” jake pulled you up, sitting you in his lap and made you straddle him. the tv was now background noise as all your attention was solely focused on him. “you trust me right?” jake’s hands land on your waist, gently rubbing small circles with his thumb.

you nod, “you have to use your words.” this was consent, without explaining to you that it was—he was getting your consent. “yeah..” — “come here,” his hand goes to your cheek, pulling you in closer and placing a small kiss on your lips. followed by another and then another one. “tell me if you want to stop okay?” your heart fluttered.

“okay,” assuring him that you wanted to keep going, you don't think you’d stop honestly, his lips were soft and his lap felt like home. when your lips collided again—all your worries and problems left the room. it started slow, slowly turning into something more, his teeth taking your bottom lip between them and sucking on it. the soft moan you let slip out as his did that.

your bodies couldn’t seem to help themselves either, it’s clear they knew what they wanted too. slowly grinding against one another, parted lips and panted breaths as the kisses started getting rougher. “do you want me to be your first?” immediately yes! is what you wanted to say but your voice got caught in your throat. he wouldn’t go through with it if you didn’t answer so you know you had to say something. quickly.

“only if you start slow,” you were scared now, for so long you’d been wanting to lose your virginity and now that the moment has approached you—you’re scared. “i’m kind of nervous.” you admit, jake grins and shakes his head, rubbing his hands down your thighs and then back up to your waist. “that’s normal, but trust me. you’re perfect.” was that a raindrop? a waterfall? were your sweats… sweating? “i got you okay?” jake stood up, with ease, walking over towards your bedroom and shutting the door with his foot.

this would be the first time he’s taken someone’s virginity—and he understood what came with that. the responsibility of the aftermath of it. a soul attached to him, dramatic but it’s true. “relax,” he sat you on the bed, standing between your legs and making you look up, “tonight is about you.” jake locked the door, taking his jacket off and dropping it on the floor. no shirt? abs galore—should you cum now or later?

“i-.. you..” you stutter, jake only coming closer and leaning down to your level, before you knew it his lips were back on yours. his hand was slowly rubbing your torso, going up your shirt, feeling what was going to be his soon. your soft moan slipped as his lips made their way to your neck, careful not to leave any marks where everyone could see—“let’s take this off,” he tugged your shirt.

you lifted your body and let him slip your shirt off, he admired your chest—something he’s always liked. but this wasn't his favorite part. hands roaming each other's body, he let you seem like you had control but he did. he focused on the soft spot on your neck, slipping his fingers down between your legs slowly. “excited?” he chuckled.

“don’t laugh,” you whined, looking down at his hand. “i just.. got turned on easy..” you groaned, plopping down on your back while looking at the ceiling. jake took it upon himself to take your sweats off, tossing them with his jacket on the floor. he spread your legs with ease and kissed you above your panties. “o..oh.” you whispered. tingles flying up your spine.

“just gonna make sure you’re really ready.” he smiled, kissing your waist as he gently tugged down your panties. it was like an instant reflex for you to spread your legs wide—jake was amazed by the sight. it’s prettier than he imagined. “so wet, you’re leaking.” the string of essence from your cunt to your panties proved that before he could even look. it’s too good to be true.

jake placed a kiss on your cunt, shutting his eyes to taste and savor the flavor of you. his tongue swiped along your folds, and immediately, relief hit your back—you had been craving this. his mouth on you and the feeling of it running through your body. quiet hums left your mouth. followed by jake—and his moans. finding pleasure in pleasing you—a giver at its finest.

it didn’t take much for him to wrap his lips around your clit and devour you the way he wanted to. it felt so good—too good, you had to cover your mouth so your family wouldn’t hear you. “fuck you taste so..” he sighed digging his face into you, lapping up your essence and using it as his personal moisture and lip balm. your hips rocked steady—feeling this in your stomach, and the way you felt so close to finishing. it’s like he knew.

he stopped.

“hey!” you looked at him, the devious smile plastered on his lips, his deep chuckle echoing through your room—hitting your walls. “i’m not done yet,” he assured you.. “can let you finish and i haven’t even gotten to the best part.” he climbed between your legs, kissing your lips again, and distracting you from the fact he just edged you. he slipped his pants off without you even noticing, but once your eyes started to wander down he grabbed your chin.

“eyes on me,”

his voice was deep and assertive, and it made you listen. keeping your eyes focused on him. “tell me if you’re sure you want to do this.” — “i am, im ready. i’m swear it.” jake kissed your lips, caressing your cheeks gently before rubbing his tip along your folds. using your essence to wet himself more—“it’ll only hurt for a minute.”

he teased you, distracted you—and kissed you with passion. like he was in love with you— and he did it with so much ease. and you were under his spell, all until you finally felt him. “ow-.” you whimpered, jake kissed you again, resting his forehead on yours. “jake.. it hurts.” you muttered, “i know, i’m sorry, it’s gonna be okay.” your eyes squeezed shut—trying your best to bare the pain.

when he saw you, his heart stung. she’s in pain. “look at me, don’t think too hard.” he whispered, pecking your cheeks gently before you opened your eyes. he maintained eye contact, only using his tip to get you to open a little. “you’re okay, don’t cry.” he wiped the tears that dropped from the side of you face. “you’re doing so good.. it’ll be over in a second. i promise.”

jake’s words were soothing, comforting in a way. you didn’t even realize he was finally inside of you—too distracted by his comforting words—maybe it was love? jake’s hips rocked steadily, moving at a slow and gentle pace to get you used to it. “wait-.” he stopped, your hand on his chest used as a signal. “whenever you’re ready.” the moments passed, you waited for your heart to slow. finally moving your hand and looking up at him with those pretty eyes you have.

jake could get lost in them, “okay go..” you hummed, and he did. instantly started to move again—the pain was bearable and it slowly started to turn into pleasure. your soft and strained moans mixing with his ‘mm’s and subtle, occasional ‘fuck’s that slipped. “you’re huge..” you didn’t get to see it yet, but you felt it—and he wasn’t all the way inside of you yet.

“and you’re so wet, oh my go-..” he moaned, eyes shutting slight just from the sound of your cunt. intoxicating, it’s like a massage he’d been waiting to get from you and only you could do it right. it’s better than he’d imagined, than he dreamed. “holy shit..” he murmured, he was typically the quiet guy in bed, but you—were doing something.

“faster.”

it’s like a switch flipped in his head. eyes suddenly darkening, he might finish too fast. you were fresh, tight and the sound of wetness mixing between your thighs was the sound he needed as a ringtone. jake leaned his body up, kissing you again before he towered over you, head leaning back as he grabbed the back of your legs—holding them in his arms with ease. this sight was undeniably beautiful to you.

his moans were encouraging, you liked it more than you dreamed you would. the feeling was unmatched, and you’ve heard the stories about first times—this was nothing like that. your hands reached to rub his torso, fingers falling through each crease in his abs, down to his v line and the sight of his hips snapping into you like this—turned you on more. you didn’t know it was possible to get even wetter.

“shit baby,” he took one hand, rubbing your clit with it—new fear unlocked. the pleasure that shot through your body—you could probably cum right now. but jake would find it as a fun game, he’d push you to cum more. “you like that, baby?” echoed through your room, his firm hands moving to your waist to bring you closer, push deeper into you. “you feel like heaven.” his head tilted back once more, the sight of his adam’s apple bouncing from the moaning and the deep breaths he slowly started to let out.

panting, and he’d hadn’t even given his all yet. he was trying to save you—trying to give you grace. but god, did he wanna take you there.. he slowed his hip, gesturing for you to sit up. and when you did, he did all the work from there. “you’re holding back, you can moan into the pillow then.” he chuckled, he saw how hard you were biting your lip, the way your throat sunk from the deep grunts and muffled sounds you threaten to let out.

jake flipped you—turning you on your stomach and pulled your hips up towards him. his hand rested on the small of your back and the other on your ass—so plump and juicy. it was screaming his name—he’d been waiting to feel it since he’d gotten back. “fuck..” he mumbled under his breath, helping you get comfortable and relax again. his hips never stopped but they got faster, the skin slapping against the backside of your body. the feeling unimaginable, he wasn’t lying when he told you you’d need that pillow.

your moans were louder now but muffled, nobody would hear these. your eyes were fluttering with every thrust you tried to keep them open. but the way he was doing you in—you succumbed to the pleasure. gripping your sheets and pillow tighter each time. jake watched as your ass bounced back against him, the sounds of your moans and then the sound of your wetness echoing through his ears like a song. he was so entranced with it.

he couldn’t hold back anymore, your walls squeezed around him. feeling the wetness dripping down your thighs and the cold feeling made you clench more. “fuck keep doing that.” jake spoke, voice deep. his brows furrowed in concentration—making sure you felt good while also trying not to embarrass himself with cumming too fast—or inside of you. “that feels so good!” you moaned, more confidence in your voice. jake liked that—“right there,”

he found your spot, the spot. you didn’t even know what it was but it just felt too good every time he hit it. snapping his hind relentlessly into you, his hand went up your back, grabbing the back of your neck and pressing you into the mattress. he was so deep, you took all of him—you were doing so good for him. he was proud of you, proud of your reaction and the moans you let out. you were a different person when you were under him.. legs trembling ever so slightly but jake wasn’t finished with you yet.

he pressed his head against your shoulder, biting the skin gently and leaving kisses there too—his eyes slowly rolled back just from the mere scent of you. “oh my fucking god you feel so good. so tight, so..” he moaned next to your ear. that turned you on more than ever. he trapped your hands behind your back when you reached back to touch him. common mistake—but you weren’t complaining. it felt too good to you, how deep he was. the sweat and heat coming off of each of your skins.

you never wanted this to end.

the night got louder and you prayed nobody could hear this—which they probably couldn’t. your moans were louder, tears of pleasure dripping from your eyes as you said his name so sexily he couldn’t help but go faster. you didn’t know he could go faster but he proved it. “fuck i’m gonna cum, you feel so fucking good y/n.” he reached his arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his.

your moans and pants were synced with every piece of movement you were just closer to reaching that limit you so desperately needed to reach. “me too—oh my god.. please don’t stop!” you dipped your head into the pillow arching your back deeper, feeling it 10x better than before. your eyes rolling back and legs shaking as it finally started to hit you. “f…fuck ja-.” he was holding out, waiting for you to cum so he could—it was gonna be a lot to clean but it was worth it.

“cum for me, come on i know you can do it.” he grinned, proudly, and his thrusts started to get sloppy and drawn out. harder than before, your legs closed up but that only made it feel even better—he felt you squeezing his cock, clenching repeatedly and gasping for air in your pillow. he just listened to it, the sound of your cunt mixing as you came, the creamy substance slipping down your leg and his cock.

if he didn’t pull out now, he’d creampie you—it was too soon for that.. or was it.. he didn’t care either way. “i’m cumming,” he moaned breathlessly—leaking out into you but he slowly released himself. it was hard and loads of it, just dripping from the entrance of your cunt where he laid his cum to rest at. he took a deep breath, as your body fell limp with exhaustion. “felt good?”

you glanced at him, “too good.”

jake got up, walked towards the bathroom to get a towel, and came back to you quickly. he knew you’d probably be sore for the next few days. too. “you should soak in lavender and epson salt tomorrow, to help relieve the soreness. you did so well for me though.” he smiled as he turned you around, and cleaned your cunt. watching as more of his cum leaked out of you each time you clenched around nothing. “i could go another round.” he joked while kissing up your chest and then to your lips.

“thank you, jake.” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and looking up at him. “but no more rounds for you,” the both of you shared a laugh, “i’ll go start a shower, wait right here okay?” he stood up once again, making his way to the bathroom. “looking good~.” you cooed as you stared at his backside, “hey, stop looking at my ass!”

submit a request or tell me how i did ! reblog and like and comment. thank you for reading, mwah! reposted from old account.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 | eddie munson x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | based on a request from the lovely @ultraintrovertedgryffindor ; getting stuck in an elevator with his best friend (and secret crush) was absolutely not on eddie's morning agenda, but it leads to one of his most wild fantasies coming to life.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 3.8k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT (18+ only!! semi-public sex, oral m receiving, kinda pervy eddie but also slightly pervy reader with a balls fixation gee I wonder where that idea came from), best friends to lovers (but very very limited plot haha), pretty much exactly what it says on the tin y'all not sure what to say

Eddie laughed as he pressed his hands to the elevator doors, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement— it was exasperation, frustration, an is this really happening? laugh.

"Soonest we can get a crew out there is uhh... noon?" the voice on the emergency phone informed you.

"Noon?!" you yelped. "It's not even half past eight!"

"What did I tell ya?" Eddie recalled, hanging his head in defeat for a second. "Nothing good happens before ten."

"Just try to stay calm and we'll be there when we can," the operator suggested, like it was so simple.

You didn't even reply to that, just scoffed and hung up.

It wasn't like he'd been looking forward to his GED exam, in fact he'd almost been hoping for a way to put it off or get out of it... but this was definitely not what he was imagining. Of all the elevators to get stuck in, this generic government building where he was supposed to have his big test proctored was probably the most boring option.

He glanced over at you, and stopped himself from making a dirty joke: you heard that Aerosmith single, right? Love In An Elevator?

That probably wouldn't have gone over well. He used to say stuff like that when you were both a little younger, but he'd since given up hope of it ever actually... inspiring anything.  You two were probably better off as friends anyways; or, that’s what he told himself to make it sting a little less.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck in here for a while…” he mumbled instead.  “Did they say what the issue is?”

“Some kind of power failure?” you recalled with a shrug.  “It’s gonna take a while to fix, that’s the important thing.  Do you think they’ll call the fire department?”

“Who knows,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the wall as you sank onto the floor and dropped your head back against the wall.  “I guess we should just try to get comfortable.”

Which was easier said than done, but at least he was stuck here with you— you were generally pretty fun to talk to.  Of course, you weren’t exactly in your best mood due to the circumstances…

At 8:32, Eddie checked his watch.  “I’m officially late for my exam,” he noticed.

At 9, you checked your own; “And I’m officially late for work.  We'll see if I even still have a job when we get out of here," you groaned. "I was on pretty thin ice already."

By 9:14, the stuffiness of the elevator was becoming harder to ignore.  Eddie slipped off his jacket and vest in response to the heat, but resisted the urge to take off his Ozzy shirt. You'd seen him shirtless before, of course, but he figured out would be weirder without the right context.

"Fuck, it's hot in here," you whined quietly.

"I guess the power issue affects the A/C, huh," Eddie noticed.

"You think?" you scoffed, reaching up to unbutton the top of your shirt.

For some reason, he kinda liked when you were condescending like that; of course he loved it when you were sweet like usual, but when you got frustrated and sarcastic and looked at him like he was crazy... for whatever reason, it worked for him. And it was definitely working like never before when combined with your hasty efforts to open your shirt.

He expected you to stop after a couple buttons, but you just kept going, exposing more and more of your chest glistening with sweat. His eyes were glued to it, until you got low enough for him to see a glimpse of your bra, and he coughed as he turned his head quickly.

"Woah, hey, uh--" he stammered out awkwardly.

"Oh whatever, you've seen me in a bikini, it's the same thing," you rolled your eyes.

But it's not the same thing, because you were stripping, untucking the button-up from your tight skirt, fanning your flushed skin...

And he was tugging the crotch of his jeans down a bit when you weren't looking, trying to keep his oncoming boner from being too obvious. 

Leaving your shirt open, you sighed and sat down on the floor, splaying your legs out on the ground.  He could see how uncomfortable you were, and it made him press his lips together while he sighed through his nose.  Though he was a little afraid you weren’t in the mood for any friendly behavior as your frustration and stir-craziness increased, he walked across the elevator and sat down next to you.  “I was probably gonna flunk the test,” he decided.

“What?  No you weren’t,” you scoffed.  “You studied so hard!  I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“Just ‘cause we’re stuck in here doesn’t mean you should get all sappy with me—” he started.

“No— ‘cause we’re stuck in here I’m not gonna put up with you trying to be down on yourself,” you decided sternly with a little glare at him.  “You were gonna fucking ace it, I know you were.  You worked your ass off.  I know you wanted to act like you didn’t care, but you actually got your shit together and did it.”

“You… you helped me a lot,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Please, I hardly did anything— mostly just kept you from getting too distracted,” you denied, blissfully unaware that he actually found you more distracting sometimes, but never minded it.  “Can you stop being a pussy and just admit you’re actually smart, and dedicated, and more than capable of nailing this?”

He blinked quickly and looked down into his lap, feeling his face warm up— not just from the heat.  How could you be so mean and nice at the same time?  

“And now it’s gonna go to waste, ‘cause of this godforsaken elevator,” you sighed, dropping your head back; a pessimistic end to a pep talk, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Think of it this way: it couldn't get any worse!" Eddie offered with a faux-upbeat tone.

Right then, the lights in the elevator flickered and turned off, plunging you both into darkness. "I fucking hate you," you announced after a short silence.

He heard a whirring sound from somewhere else in the shaft, and a dimmer orange lighting came on inside the elevator; some kind of emergency back-up generator thing, probably. It was enough to see decently well, especially as his eyes started to adjust, but still made it feel like you were both in an even more perilous situation.

“I didn’t sleep enough last night,” you admitted, “I might try to catch up on that.  Maybe if I can sleep this will go by faster…”

“I like that plan,” he decided, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do the same.  Eddie had a hard time keeping still and quiet, but he managed to do it so you could get your rest.

He suspected you had fallen asleep when your breathing seemed to slow down a bit— but he knew you had when you limply slumped to the side, your head gently landing on his shoulder.  This happened every once in a while, a sign of how comfortable you were with him. He supposed he should be thankful for it, but sometimes it just made him furious. Because what cruel punishment was this, to have you lay on him like this when he can't put his arm around you and kiss your head and tell you how perfect you are?

The half-boner he’d wound up with earlier when you unbuttoned your shirt had never really gone away, and it noticed your proximity with renewed interest.  Maybe it was just because he was so bored with literally nothing to do but think about you, but his mind kept coming up with all these fucked up ideas based on the eyeful he’d gotten.  

What if you’d taken off your bra as well and let him see the tits he’d been fantasizing about for longer than he cared to admit?  What if this had happened in winter instead and the elevator was brutally cold and you two had to hold your naked bodies together for warmth?  What if that guy on the phone said this thing was airtight and two only had an hour to live and you decided you wanted to go out with a bang, literally?  

He wondered if he’d be brave enough to tell you how he felt about you, if either or both of you only had an hour left.  For better or for worse, this elevator shaft had airflow, so you were more likely to die of boredom than anything.

He shifted slightly, stuck in a somewhat awkward position, but it didn't help much— though thankfully it didn't wake you up, either.  He just wished he could get some relief, somehow.

Obviously, he knew it was a bad idea. But the thing about his dick is it usually talked him into some pretty bad ideas…

He tested the waters with a whisper of your name, but you just kept breathing slowly— you were out cold. Maybe you were even more nervous for him than you'd let on, if you were that underslept.

Reaching up with his free hand, all he had to do was grip himself through his jeans to get some relief; he sighed through his nose, shutting his eyes.

His cock flexed impatiently as he unzipped the jeans as slowly as possible to avoid making too much sound. But god was it worth the wait— as soon as he slipped his hand into his boxers he had to bite his lip, it was so good just to get some attention for his poor, lonely dick.

This was far from the first time Eddie had jerked off to the thought of you. But he was sure he'd never done it while you were this close.

He did it once or twice in your bathroom while you were on the other side of the wall, that was probably the closest he'd come to this before. And that was chump change compared to this-- this was so risky it made his heart race and his hands shake with adrenaline, but it only made him more desperate for whatever reason.

He wouldn't have swiped his thumb through the precum at his slit if he had known how good it would feel— or maybe if he'd known how good it would feel, he would've been able to prepare himself for it. But the anxiety of getting caught had made him even more sensitive, so he hadn't really seen it coming, and when he did it he let out a little moan through his teeth that he couldn't stop.

You stirred again and he froze; when you lifted your head off of his shoulder, he hastily shoved himself back into his jeans, trying to cover up the open fly with the bottom of his shirt.

“Were you… jerking off?” you realized, and he felt sick with fear as his heart raced like never before.

“W-what?” he scoffed incredulously.  “I— are you crazy?”

“Ed,” you warned firmly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I— sorry—”

“Are you that bored?” you mocked with a snort, and he felt even more flushed; it made his cock flex under the mediocre covering of his shirt when you degraded him like that.

“N-no— well, yeah, I just— you put your head on me and I—”

“It was because of me?” you realized, and his mouth fell open.  He hadn’t realized that you hadn’t actually put that together yet; of course he’d ended up just digging himself deeper.

“W-well, uh— I mean, no, no I— well.  Kind of?”

“Kind of, as in…”

“Completely,” he blurted out.

You were quiet for a long time, and he couldn’t see your face well enough to even try to guess what you were thinking.  Although you probably could’ve given him a thousand guesses and he never would’ve guessed what you ended up saying: “You want some help with that?” you offered.

But before he could even answer— not that he really could, he was too busy having a short circuit in his brain— you were reaching for his lap.  And even if his mind was blown, his body knew to just lift his hands up and out of the way and let you do whatever you wanted to him.

You pulled up the bottom of his shirt and sighed a little when you saw his cock, still hard and leaking and curled up against his stomach.  You carefully wrapped your hand around it, and he swallowed thickly, wondering if he was dreaming or something— you were so… soft.

“Like this?” you asked gently, making his hips twitch up into your hand for a second.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, eyes glued to the way your hand looked wrapped around him.  If only the lights weren’t out, he wanted to see it even better.

He looked at your face, moving your hair a little to make sure he could see you, but from what he could tell your eyes were trained on his lap.

“Fuuuck,” he whispered when you stroked him a bit more confidently.  He wanted to shut his eyes from how good it felt, but he didn’t want to look away from a moment of this in case you, you know, came to your senses and stopped.

“S’really thick,” you said, under your breath, a little bit shyly.  He groaned and ran his hand over your back, trying not to do too much in case it startled you but also totally helpless to how badly he needed you.  “I wonder if I can…”

You trailed off, and before he could decide if he should ask what you were going to say, you 

As soon as you leaned down and put your mouth around him, his back arched and his legs kicked a bit.  “Fuck, baby,” he choked out, melting into the warm feeling of your lips, your tongue— god, he couldn’t believe you were doing this to him.  He actually had to fight the urge to tell you so, to admit how much he’d imagined this; he settled for whining out your name and running a hand over your hair encouragingly.  “S’fucking warm, oh my god—”

You hummed around him, sucking a bit harder, swirling your tongue around the tip; who the fuck taught you that?  It made his chest burn with some targetless jealousy even while it made his cock flex proudly. 

Your hand still gripping the base, you took him a little bit deeper, moaning a little bit once again while you did it.  No way you actually enjoyed this, right?

You pulled your head up a bit— he took his hand away quickly, not trying to hold you down or anything— and just when he wondered if you might stop, you dropped down lower so you could run your tongue up from the very bottom all the way to his leaking slit—

“Jesus,” he laughed thinly, “what are you doing to me, baby?”

“Whatever I wanna do,” you replied— if he was a little braver, he would’ve asked what made you want this, how long you wanted this— but he was more than content to let you do whatever you wanted, so far you had some pretty fucking good ideas.

Your head sank even a little bit lower, and he pushed his jeans down just a bit in case they were getting in your way.  Boy, was he glad he did.  “Fuck,” he gasped, watching in shock as you looked up at him while your tongue ran over his balls.  “Sorry, they’re, uh, kinda sweaty…”

“Even better,” you purred; what the fuck were you doing acting so dirty like that?

“Baby,” he laughed thinly, “is this some kind of claustrophobia-induced psychosis or something?  Who are you and what have you done with my prude best friend?”

“Prude?  That’s unfair,” you laughed.  “Just ‘cause I don’t advertise every dirty thought that goes through my mind doesn’t mean I’m not as much of a freak as you…”

“Freak is an understatement,” he sighed, struggling to keep his voice even when he was literally watching you lick all over his balls like this.  “You’re a proper fucking slut.”

You hummed proudly, eyes getting a little heavier— when you looked up at him like that, he was totally helpless.  “It’s slutty to wanna taste your best friend’s balls?”

“F-fuck, of course it is,” he whined, cock flexing in your hand again when you licked a stripe up between then.

“Well then yeah, guess I’m a slut,” you agreed. 

“G-god, I— I’m gonna—” he tried to warn you, but it happened so fast— it happened the second you started to gently suck on his balls, in fact.  What was he supposed to do when you did that?!  How could he not shoot cum all over his now-definitely-ruined shirt?

“Oh shit,” you giggled— his cock was still flexing and you were already mocking him.

“What— what the fuck,” he began, trying to catch his breath, “made you wanna do that?”

But you were already straddling his lap, pulling up your skirt to your waist.

“F-fuck, baby, I— are you seriously—?”

He cut himself off and whimpered when he got a good look at your panties, the cute lacy kind— and pretty fucking soaked already.

“I-I don’t have a condom,” he warned you, cursing himself inside for finally throwing out the one in his wallet thinking he would never end up needing it.

“Don’t care,” you sighed, pulling your panties aside and guiding his tip right up to your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s—”

He was gonna say it was insanely hot, but you hardly noticed; you were already sliding down onto him, taking him in one motion right to the base.

“Oh fuck!” he nearly shouted, gripping hard onto your thighs.  “F-fuck, you’re so tight, fuck…”

You started moving right away, grinding on top of him for a second before lifting your hips and bouncing up and down.  “Fuck,” you sighed, “so deep…”

Was it wrong that he loved the way you were basically just using him?  You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence, you didn’t ask if he could handle it right after coming— you just started riding him, and far be it from him to complain about that.

“Take this off,” he pleaded, tugging at your unbuttoned shirt and trying to push it off your shoulders.

You helped him get it off, and before you’d even tossed it off to the side he was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.  The gods of bra clasps smiled down upon him that day, because he was sure he’d never gotten one open so quickly, and if there was any time he really needed it, it was now.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he got a good look at them— not good enough in this dim orange lighting, but it would do— and instantly got a hold of your chest.  You didn’t seem to mind the clammy hands, considering the way you whimpered a little and clenched inside around him.  “God, baby, your tits…”

As much as he’d been waiting ages for a chance to see you naked, he couldn’t deny you looked way too good with the skirt, stockings, and heels still on.  He could already tell this was going to give him a complex.

He ran a hand up your leg as you moved just to feel the silky nylon; god, he hoped you didn’t get fired for the unexplained extreme lateness, if not just for your sake then so that you would keep dressing like this every day.  “So pretty,” he sighed, wondering if you could see in the dark how totally in awe he was of you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, in that way he’d always imagined you would in a time like this.  Your head fell back and he couldn’t help but reach up and grab your neck— not applying much pressure, just holding you there, just admiring how goddamn perfect his hand looked wrapped around you.  

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Eddie sighed, “fuck, look at you go.”

You smiled a little, he could see it even with your head tilted back like that, and it was just amazing seeing you so… free?  So relaxed and totally shameless, giving in to your pleasure.  But it wasn’t enough: he wanted to see you lose all your composure, he wanted to hear you scream his name, he wanted to make you shake and cry and beg— that was why he grabbed a tight hold of your hips and pulled you down onto him, bucking his hips up to meet you halfway.  It forced his cock even deeper and you yelped a little.

“Not too big for you, is it?” he taunted.

“No, fuck, s’perfect,” you moaned, your voice deep and rough and so fucking beautiful like this.  “Fuckin’ perfect, Ed, o-oh god—”

“Keep saying my name,” he ordered.

“Eddie,” you said, again, but this time all needy and cute; it just made him fuck you harder, biting down on his lip to muffle some of his own noises— he just wanted to hear you.  He pulled you down and hugged you close, keeping you still so he could fuck up into you exactly how he wanted; you moaned right by his ear, fuck it was too precious.  

“I’m already close again,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “Fuck, look what you do to me.”

You whined louder, clenching on his cock— he seriously did not know how much more of this he could take.

“Wanted you so bad,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, “wanted this for so long.  Wanted to fuck you— I wanna make you come, fuck, please, please come.”

He felt you nod against his shoulder as you gasped, and he shut his eyes tight, just focusing on his movements and trying his best not to speed up too much just to chase his own high.  He needed you to come more than he needed his own pleasure, even if everything in his body was screaming for a chance to come inside you. “So close,” you panted, “fuck, Eddie, don’t stop— please don’t stop— yes!”

The lights turning back on suddenly startled you both, making him freeze and look around (and squint a little from the brightness), but that was nothing compared to the shock of the doors opening.  Behind them was mostly just concrete, the space between floors, but up top was about two feet of the eighth level, where a crew of firefighters could be seen peering in.

“Are they alright?” someone from the building asked as Eddie scrambled to grab his jacket from the corner and cover you up with it.

“Yeah, looks like they’re doing just fine,” one of the men announced as they broke out in surprised laughter.

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

Pain Relief Pt. 1

Jack Abbot x chronically ill f!reader

series master list, part 2

synopsis: reader with pots isn't taken seriously by a student doctor. jack steps in.

warnings: language, student doctor is an asshole (original character), drugs

words: 850

notes: as a chronically ill girly, i need me some self indulgent the pitt fics

You couldn’t believe it. Well, actually, you could. By this point, you were used to doctors underestimating your disabilities, but it still hurt none-the-less. Your chronic illness was identified five years ago, thank God, but still no one took it seriously. Especially not the male doctors. And of course that’s exactly who you were stuck with: a male student doctor. Student, you scoff. He outta learn some goddamn manners.

“Trust me,” you say. “I wouldn’t be here unless I absolutely had to.” You shift on the bed and wince at the pain it brings. “I’m in a lot of pain,” you continue. “My pulse is higher than usual, which says a lot, and last time I came here they gave me fluids and morphine. I just…” you flinch at a sharp pain in your chest. “I need some help here.”

The doctor - Student Doctor Howards - crosses his arms. “Look, lady. I know a faker when I see one. I’ve been trained to look.” He moves his hand to his eyes to mirror binoculars. “I’m gonna write you a note and send you home to whatever alleyway you crawled out of.” He squints at you. “Go buy some cocaine like a normal person.”

“Are you serious right now?” You scoff in disbelief. No way in hell were you gonna let some kid talk to you like this. “I’m not a drug addict, but I do have dozens of prescribed pills at home for a serious medical condition. Ever heard of POTS?” The kid laughs and shakes his head at you. “You’re on some pot, alright.”

You open your mouth to retaliate when the curtain to the room rips open. Towering behind the asshole in front of you stands a silver fox. Screw a knight in shiny armor; you’ve got a silver fox in scrubs. His arms are crossed, flexing his biceps, and he has a scowl on his face as he fixes an icy glare on Student Doctor Howards. “Out,” he barks.

“She-” the kid starts, but the attending cuts him off. “If you looked at her chart,” he says with a collected cruelty, “you would have seen the list of medically confirmed health conditions. And if you read her notes, you would have realized that she fainted in chairs - which is why she got back here sooner than the standard weight time.”

Your mouth drops. “I think I’m in love,” you say aloud. 

Your savior shifts his eyes to meet yours, and if you weren’t already lightheaded from the pain and fatigue, you would be now. “Out,” he orders again. You barely notice the student doctor leave.

“Asshole.” The doctor slides the curtain shut and sits in the sliding chair across from your bed.

My thoughts exactly. You wiggle into a more comfortable position for your aching limbs. “How long was I out for?”

He checks his watch. “Fifteen minutes. It wasn’t serious.”

You sigh in relief. 

“I’m Dr. Abbot,” he introduces, and you smile, giving your name back although he probably already knows it.

“I didn’t want to come,” you explain. “I’m used to it at this point.”

He tilts his head. “Used to what?”

“My body shutting down on me.”

Dr. Abbot nods solemnly as you continue. “The pain got really bad yesterday, but I just pushed through. But then I started passing out, and that only happens when things are really bad. My roommate Keira drove me here; she panics easily.”

“Is she in the waiting room?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “She had work. I wasn’t going to get her fired because of a little fatigue.”

He nods in thought. “I’ll push some fluids. Where does it hurt?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Everywhere.”

He nods again. “Did you take any pain relievers?”

“Like eight hours ago. I don’t really like taking that many pills.”

“‘I’ll go get some morphine.”

When he gets back and gives you your fluids, you relax in relief. “Thank you. This is the worst flare I’ve had in a while.”

Dr. Abbot offers a small smile of understanding. “I know what it’s like.” He pulls up his pants leg, revealing a metal leg. 

“I’m sorry,” you offer. “I’m sure it hurts…in more ways than one.”

He lets the pants fall back down. “I’m sorry too. Especially about Dr. Howards. Trust me, he’ll be restricted to surface wounds from now on.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Is that a punishment?”

He grins. “Totally. He’ll be bored within an hour.”

You grin back. You didn’t want him to leave. Just as he starts to go, you speak up. “If you ever want to give your leg a breather,” you say, and he turns back to face you, “maybe we could go sit for a coffee sometime?” 

He takes a moment to respond, and you’re terrified you’ve made a mistake. Just as you’re about to apologize, a lazy grin spreads across his face. “I’ll go, but only if I’m the only one who has any coffee. Caffeine isn’t good for inflammation.”

You beam at him. “Bossy. I like it.”

[aajjks]

Stuck With You. (m)

synopsis. Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

genre: crack, 18+.

pairings: jungkook x fem reader.

warnings: stûck în â rôôm tôgêthêr trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr.

note. If this flops- oh well. But if this becomes a hit, I will make it a series hehe, gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest. OMG ENJOY!

pt 2 on high demand.

You are absolutely going to lose your mind. Not because you’re stuck in a room—

no, that part isn’t even the problem. It’s who you’re stuck with.

“Don’t look so mad, babe. You’ll get wrinkles,” Jungkook says, leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed, looking every bit like he owns the place.

His black t-shirt clings to his annoyingly perfect body, and his smug grin stretches wider every time he catches your glare.

“You’re the reason we’re stuck in here, you idiot,” you snap, pacing the room. “Who even breaks a doorknob while trying to open the door?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he protests, throwing his hands up. “The thing was loose—like, super loose. I barely touched it.”

You stop pacing and point at him. “You yanked it like you were in a strongman competition!”

Jungkook shrugs, like being accused of destroying things is just another Tuesday for him. “Maybe. But hey, at least we’ve got… each other?” His grin turns into that stupid wink he loves so much.

You groan and flop onto the bed. It creaks under your weight, and you make a face because this feels like the start of a very bad rom-com. “I can’t believe this. I have work tomorrow.”

Jungkook leans against the bedpost, towering over you with that annoyingly pretty face of his. “Relax, princess. I’m sure someone will fix it soon. Meanwhile…” His eyes trail down your body in that blatant, shameless way that only Jungkook can pull off. “…you’re looking pretty comfortable.”

“Stop staring at my tits, Jeon.” You cross your arms over your chest, even though you know it won’t stop him.

This is seriously ridiculous.

“I wasn’t,” he lies, biting back a grin.

“You were.”

“Okay, I was,” he admits, laughing. He flops down onto the bed beside you, making the mattress bounce slightly. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “But you can’t really blame me. They’re right there.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it, hard enough to knock some of the smugness out of him. He lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. “Abuse! yn, you’re abusing me!”

“You deserve it!” you say, your voice rising with every word.

you like being evil.

“Oh, come on.” He shifts closer, so close his shoulder brushes against yours. His voice drops, teasing and low. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

You scoff. “I’d celebrate.”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Cold. That was cold, yn.” He shakes his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes. “You’d be crying without me to entertain you.”

“I’d cry tears of joy.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin widening. Then he leans in, his voice dropping again. “But… if you’re gonna cry, you might as well do it on my shoulder, babe.”

You hate the way your stomach flips at his tone. His big, stupid eyes are focused on you, and for once, they’re not looking at your chest.

You roll your eyes to hide how flustered you feel. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he fires back, leaning in even closer. His breath tickles your skin, and you shove him away before he gets any ideas.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence as he lays back on the bed, his arms tucked behind his head. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You’re always thinking something,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “But if I told you, you’d probably hit me again.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He laughs, loud and carefree, and it’s so annoying that you can’t help but smile a little.

Even though he’s so fucking annoying.

Time passes slower than it should. You’re lying back now, one arm thrown over your face to block out the overhead light, trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that you’re stuck in a room with Jeon Jungkook.

“yn,” Jungkook says after a while, his tone softer now.

“What?” you ask without looking at him.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know… entertain me?”

You pull your arm off your face and give him a deadpan look. “What am I, a clown?”

His grin returns, and you immediately regret your choice of words. “You could put on a show for me, babe.”

You groan. “Shut up, Jeon.”

“Or,” he says, his voice dipping lower as he rolls onto his side to face you, “we could play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare with you, Jungkook. I know how your brain works.”

He pouts, and it’s so absurdly dramatic that you almost laugh. Almost. “You’re no fun, yn.”

“Good. I don’t want to be fun.”

Jungkook sits up suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. Then let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?” you repeat, suspicious.

“Yeah.” His grin turns wicked. “If we’re still stuck in here after another hour, you have to go on a real date with me.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Take it or leave it, babe.”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “And what happens if we get out of here before the hour’s up?”

Jungkook’s grin doesn’t falter. “Then I’ll stop making inappropriate jokes for a week.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers.

You stare at him for a long moment, weighing your options. Then, finally, you sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to regret this when we’re out of here in twenty minutes.”

Jungkook just smirks, his confidence radiating off him in waves. “We’ll see, babe.”

And as much as you hate to admit it, you kind of hope you lose.

You stare at him, his stupid is grin practically glowing in the dim light of the room. He’s lying on his side now, looking way too comfortable, while you’re still sitting upright like you’re waiting for a rescue team.

“You seem a little tense,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your eye twitch.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, gesturing to the locked door. “Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in here with a man-child who thinks ‘truth or dare’ is an appropriate solution to boredom.”

Jungkook props his head up on one hand, his biceps flexing in a way that feels intentional. “I’m just saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun. And let’s face it, yn, no one else makes you laugh like I do.”

You snort, leaning back against the headboard. “You don’t make me laugh. You make me want to scream.”

“Same thing,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You hate that he’s right.

As much as you want to throttle him half the time, the other half? You’re too busy laughing at his ridiculousness to care.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Let’s play your stupid game.”

Jungkook perks up immediately, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you say, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you think I’m hot?”

You blink at him, stunned by his audacity, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says, his smirk growing. “Come on, yn. Be honest.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating against your will. “Fine. You’re… decent-looking.”

He’s very hot, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Decent-looking?” He clutches his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Good,” you say, fighting back a grin.

“Your turn,” he says, recovering quickly. “Truth or dare?”

You pause, considering your options. “Dare.”

His smirk turns dangerous, and you immediately regret your decision. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’s just a dare,” he says, his tone deceptively innocent. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I murder you in cold blood, for starters.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning back against the pillows like he’s got all the time in the world. “You’re no fun.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It is when you’re this cute.”

You throw a pillow at his face, and he catches it effortlessly, laughing as he tosses it back at you.

Another twenty minutes pass, and you’re lying side by side now, both of you staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” Jungkook says, his voice softer now, “this isn’t so bad.”

You turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowing. “Being locked in a room?”

“Being stuck with you,” he says, and for once, there’s no teasing in his voice.

Your stomach does a weird little flip, and you quickly look away, your cheeks heating. “You’re such a sap.”

You Kind of like it, but…

“Only for you, babe.”

You groan, shoving him with your shoulder. “Stop calling me babe.”

“Why?” he asks, rolling onto his side to face you. “Does it make your heart race?”

“No,” you lie, glaring at him.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

“Idiot.”

“Hot,” he counters, his grin widening.

You don’t dignify that with a response.

Eventually, the tension breaks when the doorknob jiggles, and a muffled voice calls from the other side.

“Are you guys okay in there?”

You spring off the bed like it’s on fire. “Yes! Get us out!”

Jungkook stays lying down, his arms tucked behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. “Take your time!” he calls out.

You glare at him, your heart pounding for reasons you’d rather not analyze. “Get up, Jeon.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

“Get. Up.”

He sighs, sitting up with an exaggerated groan. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

You grab the nearest pillow and whack him one last time, just for good measure.

[bweeeb]

HARD HEAD

Joel Miller x young reader

Summary: Joel gets caught with a hard-on when you're not supposed to be at his house. Your dad wouldn't be too happy to hear about it.

warnings: bad writing, i think this sucks, smut, light sex, cocksucking, cum inside, exposed sex, slutty reader, age gap, they get caught, we all wanted him so yes.

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And there you were — sitting outside with your hair down, wearing an oversized shirt that clearly wasn’t yours, probably stolen from one of your friends.

Joel felt like a goddamn pervert, standing there at his kitchen window, watching you blow out smoke from the joint, the weed scent drifting into his backyard — and still, his cock hardened at the sight of you laughing, lazily bringing the joint to your lips.

It made him feel even worse knowing your dad was his friend. He had no business thinking these kinds of thoughts about his neighbor’s twenty-year-old daughter.

Letting out a frustrated huff, Joel yanked himself away from the window, forcing himself not to do anything stupid — like touching himself right there at the sink, or worse, running upstairs to his bedroom for some damn privacy.

"Hey, I dropped the stuff from the truck in the garage,"

Tommy’s voice pulled Joel out of his thoughts, but all he got in response was a low grunt.

"You still stuck on that, man? Thought I was the one hooking up with college girls and you were the one judging me."

"I’m not gonna do anything," Joel grumbled. "Just tired. Need to clear my head."

Tommy smirked, grabbing his keys off the counter.

"Yeah, tired and backed up. Obvious."

"Shut up," Joel muttered.

"I’m serious, man. Try keeping it in your pants while Sarah’s gone, alright?"

"Get the hell outta here."

When Tommy finally left, Joel threw himself onto the couch, cracked open a beer, ordered a pizza, and flicked on the TV. Anything to get you off his mind. Anything at all. But then the doorbell rang — and there you were, hair messy, that sweet, mischievous smile on your face.

"Hi, Mr. Miller. My dad’s still at work, and basically everything at home stopped working."

Joel frowned.

"What do you mean, kid?"

"The wiring’s shorted out, the heater’s dead, no lights, no phone… everything’s just gone."

Joel shook his head, stepping aside to let you in. "Well, come on in."

"Thanks, Mr. Miller."

"Joel," he corrected gruffly. "Told you to call me Joel."

You just smiled that soft, knowing smile and curled up beside him on the couch.

"Sorry if I’m ruining your night," you said sweetly.

"You’re not," Joel lied. But every second you were sitting next to him, he could barely think straight — the scent of you, the warmth of your body — it was all driving him insane.

"I saw you smoking earlier," he muttered. "Shouldn’t be doing that."

You laughed, a sound that made his skin heat up.

"Come on. You never smoked a little to relax?"

"In college," he admitted. "But trust me — you don’t wanna get hooked on that crap. Your dad wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about his daughter turning into a pothead."

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping.

"So you’re saying this because you care what my dad thinks... not because you care about me?"

Joel shot you a sideways look.

"Why the hell would I care about you?"

You giggled — and then you moved the pillow from his lap, your hand finding the bulge he’d been trying to hide ever since you walked through the damn door.

"Looks like you do," you whispered.

"Stop," Joel warned, grabbing your wrist — but he didn’t pull you away.

"I don’t think you want me to stop, Joel."

You pouted, and Joel cursed under his breath, the fight draining out of him. You sank to your knees between his legs, pulling him free from his shorts, and took him into your mouth without hesitation.

"Shit," he groaned. "We shouldn’t be doing this."

But he didn’t stop you. Not even close.

"Oh baby," you murmured around him, making his eyes roll back."You wanna cum in my mouth, Joel?" you asked sweetly, and he gave a broken, desperate

"yes."

You sucked him harder, faster — until his hips bucked, his hand tightening in your hair — just as your phone buzzed against your butt. He snatched it up, meaning to ignore it, but then saw the name flashing across the screen: your father.

"Fuck," he muttered. You didn’t stop. You just smiled up at him wickedly — and answered the call.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joel hissed under his breath as your father's voice came through the speaker.

"Sweetheart? That you?"

"Hi, Ron," Joel said quickly, trying not to gasp.

"It’s Joel. She’s... uh... she’s stuffing her mouth, with...with pizza in the kitchen."

You gave him a warning look. Play it cool.

"Ah, figures. Got the alert about the outage. Just checking in to see if she was alright."

"Yeah," Joel managed, his voice strained as you sucked him deeper.

"All good here."

"Thanks for looking after my little girl."

"Yeah, no problem..." Joel said, right as you climbed into his lap, threw your shorts aside, and sank down onto him without any warning.

His head fell back, a deep groan tearing from his throat.

"I’ll let her know you called,"

Joel gritted out, barely hanging on.

"Alright. Thanks, man."

Without waiting for a goodbye, Joel ended the call — and immediately grabbed your hips, bouncing you hard in his lap.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered.

"You feel so fuckin' good."

"You’re so big, Joel," you whimpered against his neck, clinging to him.

Joel's hands gripped your waist tighter, his thrusts deep and desperate, his need overwhelming him completely.

You shattered first — your whole body trembling as you cried out his name — and Joel followed right after, cumming deep inside you with a low, guttural growl. When it was over, the room was filled with nothing but your panting breaths — until you both heard it. A familiar voice, furious and dangerous: "What the hell did you just do to my daughter, you son of a bitch?"

You were so screwed.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◆◇◆◆◇◇◇◇

[pockystickupyour]

unfiltered, 18+

nerd!armin x reader, modern college au!

part 1 part 2

Inspired by current fanart circulating on tt (yes he has a tongue piercing).

Warnings: Vaginal sex, f!receiving oral, blow job, perversion, slight praise kink, fingering, cervix kissing, dry humping

—————————————————————————

What a bummer.

You’d probably spent 20 minutes looking for him amongst the heaps of people and strobes of light, unable to find a trace. Maybe it was your fault for accepting an invite to someone’s party with the intention of meeting someone else. But, now you were stuck wandering around like a ghost, unable to find either of them.

Being here with Mina would’ve guaranteed you a good time and the urge to call her was growing like the bitter cherry flavouring in your mouth. The sting of regret was settling in your system with each passing minute, that or the effects of whatever drink you had. 

While loosening and tightening the grip around your phone and contemplating whether to actually do something or not, a purple strobe hit you right in the eye, which ironically enough was all you needed to land in a decision. 

You were here after all.

The vibes were decent and you hadn’t been out doing something fun for weeks. Besides, it could be an opportunity to find some new eye candy. So you made your way out to the dance floor, looking to see who was out tonight. 

Your eyes traveled across the room and quickly found who you’d been looking for. You told yourself that downing a shot seemed like an easy way to get some courage, but truthfully? Everything tasted bland and like non-carbonated soda. 

”Jean! I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Did you sound too excited?

He turned around, mullet grazing the nape of his leather jacket as he looked over his shoulder. His eyes turned small as he tried to pick you out in the dim lighting, forming a grimace as he did. 

“Oh. Hey,”

“Uhh Hi? You busy or something?” You didn’t deem yourself the most confident, though you were well aware of the fact that you were a catch, and were kind of underwhelmed by his reaction. 

“Can I help you with anything?” When he finally turned his full body, a tall yet smaller frame revealed beside him. A black haired girl, pretty with a scar on the side of her cheek. 

Oh. 

“No, just wanted to say hi. Hey,” You waved at the girl and she smiled warmly. “Hi, I’m Mikasa.”

”Nice to meet you Mikasa. Well, I’m not gonna bother you any longer.” Jean didn’t answer, only returned his attention back to the girl. 

You brushed his indifference off and continued advancing towards the other side of the vast space that enclosed the party area. Despite the amount of people, many whose shadows very well could be mistaken for another person in the dark, one person stuck out. 

Perhaps it was their green graphic tee that reminded you of a Minecraft creeper, or the thin black frames that covered half of their face. Possibly their timid demeanour that contrasted the white light blaring blindingly behind their silhouette. Or the silver gleam that flashed whenever they lipsynced to the music in the back.

Mostly, it was that you couldn’t shake the familiarity that somehow drew you to them. 

With nothing to lose, or gain for that matter, you made your way to strike up conversation with the mysterious person. 

“I didn’t come with any of my friends either,” 

“Pardon?” Initially, you thought you had approached a girl, but the deep undertone of the single word spoken made you second-guess yourself. The visuals didn’t help either, so you took a step closer.

”Oh sorry, I just kind of assumed that you came alone.” You expressed, and hoped your sincerity was felt through what you said. 

“Feels like it,” he spoke and readjusted his glasses with his pointer. ”Hey, I know you.”

You’d always found it hard to distinguish him from a crowd or in a group because of how little he enjoys taking up space. But, certain gestures and mannerisms made him stand out, like tonight. 

He laughed, no, scoffed. Tauntingly, like you’d said something ridiculous. “Bet you do,”

”Armin?” 

“In the flesh,” you internally cringed when he said that, just as much as you found it funny. 

“Arlert. Majoring in marine biology, minoring in engineering. Likes anime and manga, and PC games,” you started listing off things you’d remembered over the few years you’d known him, which was more than you expected. You had never really spoken to him, but up close he was really cute, and you wondered how you hadn’t noticed before. 

“Didn’t take you for a stalker to be honest,” he was more candid than you thought, and his venomous sarcasm made you laugh. 

“We’ve taken 4 courses together?” 

“Yeah, I know. Haven’t spoken to me during any of them so why now? Did Mikasa ask you to? I saw you two talking,”

Amusement tugged at your lips, apparently he’d been taking notes of things other than whatever your professors were saying. “Didn’t take you for a stalker either,”

”Ha-Ha. Seriously though, I appreciate your concern but I don’t need a babysitter. If anything I was hoping Mikasa or Eren would,” 

You both kept your gazes straight ahead, walls coated purple and watching people eat away each other's faces or getting messed up and stumbling over. Not really either of your scenes, and the music was only getting louder. 

“Armin, no one’s told me to come talk to you. I literally spoke to Mikasa for the first time tonight when I was—“ 

“Looking for Jean? I was wondering how long it would take you to realise,” His voice was soft and mellow, like a pillow dipped in honey or a marshmallow coated in silk. It could distract anyone from the things he was actually getting at. 

“Realise what exactly?” 

His glasses had slid down along his flat nose bridge once again, prompting him to push them up, before he said “Come on, you're smart. You don’t need me to spell it out.”

You sighed, he was right. Jean had only entertained trivial flirting instead of genuine conversations. It was obvious that he was pining for someone else. “If I was him I’d also like Mikasa,”

”I was more so referring to the fact the he’s an ass. In spite of his horse-face,” 

“That too,” He was right again. 

“Hey,” For the first time that night, Armin looked up at you and seemed interested in whatever was about to exit your mouth next. “Do you know somewhere quieter we can go?”

”I think so,” 

You were happy that he showed no aversion to your suggestion. 

”You’ve been living with Eren this whole time?” You asked, dissecting the intricacies of his room as you landed on his bed. 

”Yes, no offense but you’re not really a good stalker.” He smirked and rested his back against his desk, removing his frames and placing them neatly into a maroon casing.

”Clearly not since I didn’t know you were one of those fake-glasses wearers.” The posters around his room were aesthetic, and his shelves were adorned with non-fiction and mangas alike. ”Shojou?” 

He pushed out his desk chair, eyeing his shelves as you spoke. ”Nothing wrong with a little romance, and other things.” 

”Other things?” Everything he said sounded like an inside joke with himself that you had no part of. For all you knew, you could be the joke. 

”That’s what I said yeah,” 

”I understand why Jean liked to beat the shit out of you now, with that smart mouth of yours.” Teasing was your way of testing the waters, and you perceived him to have teased you all night. You just hoped he didn’t take it the wrong way. 

Luckily, he didn’t. He took it surprisingly well. He cackled in a way you’d only seen when he’s been looking on his phone shadily in a corner or talking to Marco. 

It also hinted at another surprise, a metallic one. 

”You have a tongue piercing?!”

He suddenly closed his mouth and was from what you understood, a little embarrassed. 

”You don’t have to get shy,” You tried your best to give an assuring smile, though his ears only burned brighter.

”It was an impulsive decision,” 

He spun around his chair, avoiding your gaze, and you seized the opportunity to take in the rest of his room. ”Is it uncomfortable?”

”Not really. Fun to play around with when I’m bored.” He had a whiteboard and schedule mounted on his wall, with small stickers adorning both. 

”Have you tried kissing with it?” 

He halted his spinning to choke out a ”Sorry?”

”You don’t have to answer, I'm just curious. Bet your romance books don't give tips on that.” 

He got up from his chair and moved towards you on the bed, steady and appearing firmer from above as he approached. 

”I wouldn’t say that it gives tips but,” He pulled down a manga with a male lead full of facial piercings. ”They have sex and they seem happy,” 

”If my boyfriend looked like this I’d be happy too,” you appreciated the panels showcasing the male lead’s feminine beauty yet masculine aura. Similar to Armin.

”You mean like a girl?” He snickered and slumped down next to you by the bed.

”What’s wrong with that? Besides, you and Historia could easily be mistaken for one another.” 

He rested his head against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, brown lashes hitting the high points of his brow bone. ”All blue eyed blonde people look alike,” 

”Is that why you and Annie didn’t work out? Felt like dating your sister?” 

You made Armin laugh again, and it felt like you were collecting metaphorical golden stars each time. ”More like my twin. And I realised I wasn’t getting what I was looking for,” 

Your face took on the look of a pensive one, making Armin wonder what’s gotten you in such puzzlement. ”What’s that?”

”For starters she has no time or energy for relationship related things. I get that she doesn’t like dates and girly stuff but she wouldn’t even do movie nights with me,” 

Armin made himself more comfortable and stretched out his body while leaving enough space for you. ”And she never wanted me to hold her hand or touch her,”

”Not even a kiss?” You asked. 

”Not even a peck.” He breathed out. ”She’s already not an expressive person so you could imagine how many problems that created too,”

”And that’s why you haven’t had a chance to try the piercing out,” 

”I mean, I got it afterwards. Not that it would make a difference, but I’m pretty confident she hates it.” The latter words came out like a whisper, but were just as clear if not clearer than the rest.

”What do you feel like you want from a partner instead then?” Your curiosity was getting the better of you, and the candid questions were fighting their way out. 

”Someone who is reassuring, affectionate. Someone who isn’t afraid of talking or touching or just being normal. Someone who is open to try new things and wouldn’t be disgusted by a stupid tongue piercing,” 

”Sounds like you want someone who’s just a decent person.” You said, thinking about what you’d want as well.

”Sounds like I want you now that I think about it,” He sat up for a moment, though appearing occupied with his thoughts rather than present in his bed with you. 

”Sorry I didn’t—” He closed his eyes tightly, trying to formulate a smart way to undo what he’d previously said. ”I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want to make things weird, I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you. Not because of that, sorry,”

You put your hand on his knee and rubbed it lightly for a second, ”Don’t worry Armin. I don’t find it weird. I think you’re cute for what it’s worth,”

He laid back down, feeling the warmth of your palm as a marking on his leg still, before saying ”I think you’re pretty too.”

”Really?”

”Ever since you sat in front of me freshman year because you didn’t want Mr Smith to see me on Crunchyroll instead of doing his assignments,” He blurted out.

”I thought you didn’t notice that,” you smiled to yourself, glad he remembered something you’d suppressed deep within your memories.

Armin made a sound of relief, ”’Course I did! The one time you didn’t he caught me and made me write an essay by hand.” 

”Well I’m happy to have been of service,” 

”You know,” He sat up once again, this time to get out of the bed and head towards his wardrobe. ”If you really wanna be of service you should,” 

He made a motion with his hand, folded in a fist and moving it back and forth, as his tongue repeatedly poked the inside of his cheek. 

At first you didn’t understand what he was doing and wondered if it was some anime thing, but the moment you realised you wanted to bury your face in his blanket. Given what he was signaling, you didn’t know if you could trust the cleanliness of it though.

”Relax, I’m just messing with you.” He pulled off his green tee and the black long sleeve underneath, to reveal an impressively toned body, especially his abs.

He folded them neatly before putting on a loosely fitted white tshirt. Classy and simple. ”Armin,”

He eyed you suspiciously, then made his way to the bed and made sure to keep a safe distance. ”I’ve always wonder what it’s like to kiss someone with a tongue piercing,” 

His face flushed pink, probably three different shades. Just like he deserved. ”I’m messing with you,”

He covered his face briefly before rubbing his eyes and chuckling dryly. ”Yeah? I think you do.”

”What?”

”I think you do wonder what it’s like.” He said flatly, like the most serious thing in the world. ”In fact, I think you noticed it before and made a whole plan to end up here in my bed.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you could’ve been in your own bed by now. Talking to Armin was a mere chance.

”Don’t act surprised, you even started asking me about my relationship to gage my availability, my wants,” 

He took up more space, entrapping you in his presence, then proceeded to say. ”My needs.”

You stared at each other, intensely, like you were playing a mind game of some kind. Throwing darts at each other on a psychological play field.

”Armin, what are you talking about?”

”I don’t know. But I saw the way you were undressing me with your eyes just now. And I know I’m not crazy,”

So what if you’d given him some eyes? He was already undressing. ”There was nothing to undress, Armin. You were already half naked.”

”Bet you wish it was more than half. I say, ¾? You seem like you like boxers,” 

”I do.” 

”Calvin Klein?” 

”Anything nice and neat really. Regardless, that has nothing to do with you.” His waistband had been peeking the whole time, why did he have to point it out?

”Isn’t that a double standard?” Armin spoke, soft and sharp, infiltrating your thoughts like a corrupt file. 

”I see what you’re doing.” You called him out, earning you another conniving and half-hearted smile from the one and only. 

”Enlighten me. What am I doing?” 

”You’re trying to make me seem like a pervert.” 

”Don’t really have to try, do I?” It was easy, a witty comeback was like bread and butter for Armin. 

You rolled your eyes, unable to tell if you were enjoying or feeling patronized by the way he was talking to you. ”See?”

”Maybe I am. Or, maybe I’m just trying to convince you to want me as much as I want you right now.” The indifference in his tone made it seem like he was being sarcastic, but the softness in his eyes told a different story.

”You don’t have to convince me,” You said, the most honest thing you felt you’d said all night.

”It’s the boxers, isn’t it? Either way I want you to say it,” He was making it harder for you. Harder to speak, harder to think.

”How about,” You put a hand on his chest lightly pushing him back and steadied yourself on the bed. ”I show you instead?”

”I’ve always been more or a visual learner,” 

The second you lowered yourself to place your lips on his, Armin tilted his head up to meet you halfway. He tasted like cherries, real cherries, not the artificial flavouring that polluted the punch downstairs, and a hint of chapstick.

His lips were soft, plush and warm, and it felt like two polar ends met when the cold metal ball swiped across your lip as you kissed. You almost had to suppress the urge to bite it or hold it between your teeth. 

You placed your legs on either side of him and his hands automatically landed on your hips, ready to hold you down as he bucked his hips up. 

It was easy to get overstimulated by the pressure from below and the sensory experience you’d gotten a taste of. 

You broke your kiss and hovered above his mouth as you grinded down on him, feeling him grown beneath you, through thin layers of fabric.

The sounds that were leaving him were, treacherous and lewd, and you loved it. Sweet and sinful sounds and mantras of your name followed by, ”I need to put it in, can I please put it in? ” 

In the neediest and softest yet most demanding cadences you’ve ever heard. 

”Armin you feel so good,” He smiled against your skin, and swept the metal ball across your neck as he pressed kisses and nips along the landscape of your throat and chest. 

”Can I take this off?” He asked, but was too eager to wait for your answer as he rid your shirt up. 

”No bra? Can’t tell if you cared so little about Jean’s attention or were too excited to let me see them on full display like this.”

A hand snaked its way up your waist to your chest, while the other ran a deft finger along the lining of your underwear. Your skin flexed as a response to the tickling sensation.

In response you ran your hands further down towards his stomach and pants, alternating between palming him and grinding.

”Wanted me to put my mouth to use?” You panted out, unimpressed by how low your stamina had gotten. 

”Only if I can return the favor.”

You took that as a yes and placed yourself by the foot of the bed. You pulled down his sweatpants and were greeted with how tight his boxers were hugging him. 

You looked up at his flushed face, lips bright pink, as you pulled them down. It didn’t take much for you to get to work, holding him and stroking as you took as much as you could in your mouth. 

Your hands grabbed his thighs which flexed and were more well-trained than you’d anticipated. He caressed your hair, stroking your cheek with the light of his fingers and tried to tell you how good it felt in between moans and bitten-back whimpers. 

”You feel so good, just want you to take all of me—”

Whenever you licked or sucked a little extra you could feel him struggle and his legs become wobbly next to you. He came close to finishing but immediately pulled you off of him.

”Sorry I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I just want to return the favor first,”

You felt comfortable with Armin, even though your first real conversation was a few hours ago. But you didn’t feel that comfortable.

”You don’t have to be scared. I’ll take good care of you, I promise. Just relax,”

You switched places and he placed a pillow near the small of your back to get you into a more eased position. ”Trust me,”

He moved himself to kneel in between your legs, most intimate parts still covered. He ran his warm fingers up your calves and along your thighs. Teasing the inner parts of your skin with trails of wet kisses.

He lifted your skirt up, and looked to you for a moment. “Is something wrong?”

“No, just wasn’t expecting you to be this wet already. All for me?” 

He pulled your underwear down and moved your legs apart, warm breath fanning you like feathers. He started slow, just kissing and petting. 

Then, swiftly motioned with his fingers that knew exactly where and how to touch. It already felt amazing, like you could reach over the edge like this. 

However, once he pushed a finger inside, a whole new world opened up. If he hadn’t done anything with Annie, you really wondered where he’d learned all like this.

His tongue and piercing were the cherries on top. Like when you kissed, the heat of his mouth paired with the cold steel that pressed and powered against you made your knees weak and your voice collapse. 

Armin didn’t have to ask because he already felt it could by the way you were squeezing around his fingers and gripping his hair and bed sheets. 

It nearly pushed him over the edge too and he had to remove a hand from you to stroke himself. 

What really set you over the edge was when he started moaning into you. Deep into you, so much so that you could feel the vibrations in your walls more than you could hear them in your ears.

You could only muster an “Armin!” before the moment crescendoed. 

“I’d love to do this again but I really need to be inside you right now,”

He got up from the bed and in your hazy state there was little you could do but allow him to adjust the pillows again. 

He wasted little time putting it in, only rubbed himself with little friction against you before sliding it in. 

You were a perfect fit, and for a moment Armin wondered if you were meant to be together since he could practically feel himself melt into you. 

His strokes were deep and slow, at first, hitting your hidden spots that your own fingers could only dream of. 

His whimpers didn’t make it easier, but his groans just forced you to wrap around his waist and try to push him in more.

“You look so pretty like this,” He leaned down to kiss you, and it got intense the moment your lips brushed. “I would do this all night and all day with you if I could,”

He picked up his pace, still able to manage to speak between the strokes. “I’d kiss you all over,” He pecked your cheek and jawline. 

“And I’d touch you just like this,” His hand found its way to your chest once again and pressed down and moulded, sadistically playing with your sensitivity.

“And”, he almost pulled entirely out before thrusting in you so deep and hard that you felt it in your soul. “I’d be the only to to make you feel this good,” 

He pressed down on your lower stomach, which evidently caused you to spasm around him before you reached another high. Barely able to make out a word. 

“Fuck,” You both said it, you loudly and him under his breath. Mantras of swear words and borderline love confessions kept spilling out of both of you.

“I’m gonna coat you all over,” he pulled out, just in time to release a load over your stomach and chest. 

“Sorry for messing up your top. You can wear one of mine but I can’t say I’d prefer it.” 

He collapsed beside you for a moment, kissing you on the forehead and spooning you to the best of his abilities, then moved up to get a towel. 

“I’ll clean you up real nice. Should I get you some food?”

Your legs still felt highly unstable so you didn’t trust yourself to do anything except put on one of Armin’s shirts, which you think he chose on purpose for being 90% see-through. 

“Do you have popcorn? I’d love to watch a movie.”

Armin smiled, genuine and without any sign of patronage or sarcasm. “I’ll be right back,” 

[fiastomatocheek]

NO CREEPY GUYS ALLOWED NEAR MY WIFE

pair: dad!will smith x f!reader

genre: domestic fluff, protective dad, subtle angst, romance.

warnings: unwanted flirting (non-graphic), strong emotional themes, overprotective twins, soft husband!will, hockey dad pride, will being hot when he’s mad.

summary: as a dad, will’s always blended into the background at the twins’ games, cap low and presence quiet, it’s a shadow of love instead of a spotlight. but when a stranger crosses a line while will is away for the first time, the twins step up to protect their mom. and when will returns, he realizes it’s time to stop hiding the family he’s so damn proud of.

fia’s notes: the idea originally came from a post on fiakive (me), and after seeing a few anons and moots show interest in the concept of dad!will, i figured that why not write one? so here it is! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed bringing it to life. also in this story, eli’s mom can be a hockey mom in this, but she’s never really been into hockey herself. maybe her husband is the fan, but she’s never been all that interested in the sport.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @kell9rs @nokiaholland

“Morning, gorgeous,” Will murmured,

“You ready to cheer our boys on without me?”

You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “I’ll manage. But you owe me for doing this solo, Smith.”

He grinned, that boyish charm still as potent as the day you met.

“Name your price. Dinner out? Back rub? I’m at your mercy.”

You laughed, swatting his chest.

“Let’s start with you not being late for practice again. Coach was not happy last time.”

Will’s face fell, his blue eyes clouding with guilt.

“I hate missing their games. Charles and Theo are gonna be out there, probably pulling moves I taught them, and I’m stuck doing line drills.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing his stubble.

“You’ll be there tomorrow, and they’ll light up when they see you. I’ve got this. I’m their loudest fan today.”

He leaned down, kissing you, the kind of kiss that reminded you why you’d said yes to him all those years ago.

“You’re the best, you know that?” he said, pulling back.

“Tell the boys I’m proud of them, win or lose. And…”

His tone shifted, taking on that serious dad edge he used before every game. “Make sure they remember the rules.”

You nodded, mimicking his stern voice.

“Enjoy the game, have fun, and be brothers on and off the ice. No rough stuff, just clean hockey.”

“Exactly,” he said, but his expression softened.

“And one more thing, tell them to look out for you. Protect Mom when I’m not there.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart warmed. “Will, it’s a middle school rink, not a war zone.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stealing one last kiss.

“You’re my world, and they’re my boys. Gotta keep you safe.”

“Love you,” you called as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

“Love you more, babe.” he shot back, winking before the door clicked shut.

At 11, the twins were carbon copies of Will, tall for their age, with his sandy blond hair and blue eyes, though Charles had your smile and Theo had your quiet intensity but still they had a big love for hockey. They stumbled downstairs, already in their hockey mindset, their jerseys draped over chairs, Charles in #2, Theo in #43. Those numbers were Will’s from his USA Hockey days and his time with the Sharks, but the boys thought they were just his ‘weekend game’ numbers from pickup games with friends. You and Will had kept his NHL career under wraps, wanting them to grow up as regular kids, not as ‘Will Smith’s sons.’ or whatever nickname others people would gave them. Privacy was sacred, a shield against the media’s prying eyes.

In the car, the boys were a whirlwind of energy, their gear bags rattling in the trunk. Charles, the chattier one, leaned forward.

“I’m scoring at least two goals today, Mom. Watch.”

Theo, in the back, smirked.

“Only if I don’t block you first. My team’s defense is solid.”

You glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning.

“Okay, hotshots, what’s Dad’s rule?”

Charles groaned, flopping back. “Have fun, play clean, and be brothers on and off ice.”

“And don’t go too hard on each other. Oh and protect Mom when Dad’s not here.” Theo added, his voice softer but firm.

“Good,” you said.

“You’re on different teams, but you’re a team at home. Dad said he’s proud of you, no matter what.”

Charles puffed out his chest, his jersey crinkling.

“We’ve got you, Mom. Nobody’s gonna mess with us.”

“Yeah,” Theo said, his eyes narrowing. “We’re Smiths.”

You laughed, pulling into the school parking lot. The rink was a hive of activity, coaches barking last-minute instructions. The boys hopped out, hoisting their bags like pros.

“Go get ready,” you called. “Put your gear on, lace up, and I’ll meet you inside.”

They waved, disappearing into the crowd of jersey-clad kids. You parked, grabbed your jacket, and headed to the rink, you spotted Charles and Theo already in their warming up position, their names bold on their jerseys with number #2 SMITH and #43 SMITH. They skated with Will’s effortless grace, weaving through cones, firing pucks with precision. Charles flicked a playful shot at Theo, who blocked it with a grin. Just like their Dad, their focus unbreakable.

You found a seat in the front row, close enough to feel the thud of the puck. Lisa, the mom of Eli, Theo’s teammate, slid in beside you, her red scarf bright against the gray bleachers.

“Hey, girl!” she said, nudging you.

“Your boys look like they’re ready to run today game.”

“They’re hyped,” you said, grinning.

“Their dad gave them the full pep talk before he left for practice.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Will’s not here? That’s new. He’s usually glued to the glass, yelling like he’s coaching the Sharks.”

“Yeah, he’s got practice. He’ll be here tomorrow, though. The boys are counting on it.”

The game kicked off with a roar, the puck zipping across the ice. Charles, left wing for the Blue team, was a blur, dodging defenders and rifling a shot that hit the net five minutes in. The crowd erupted, and you leapt up, screaming,

“That’s my Charlie!”

Theo, right wing for the Red team, wasn’t about to let his brother steal the show. He snagged the puck, deked a defender with a move straight out of Will’s playbook, and snapped a wrist shot into the goal. You clapped wildly, your heart swelling.

“Go, Theo Smith! Go!”

Behind you, parents whisper, their voices a mix of awe and curiosity.

“Those Smith boys are unreal,” one dad said.

“That’s not just practice. They’ve got serious talent.”

“Look at that footwork,” a mom added. “Their dad must’ve been a hell of a player.”

Lisa leaned over, her eyes twinkling.

“That’s all Will’s doing, right? He’s got those boys skating like pros.”

You smiled, keeping your answer vague.

“He’s taught them a lot. They’ve been on skates since they were three.”

You never mentioned Will’s NHL career, not even to Lisa, who was as close as you got to a rink-side confidante. It was a promise you and Will made early on to keep the boys out of the spotlight, to let them be kids. The less people knew, the better.

The first half was a showcase of the twins’ skills. Charles threaded a no-look pass to a teammate, who scored. Theo blocked a shot, then set up a goal with a pinpoint assist. They were competitive but never crossing into dirty play, just as Will had drilled into them. You could see their personalities on the ice for Charles’s flair, Theo’s quiet intensity but they respected eachother, even as opponents.

At the break, you grabbed a hot chocolate drink, chatting with Lisa about the team’s playoff chances. That’s when a man approached, his smile a touch too warm. He was tall, with dark hair and a kid’s Blue team jersey slung over his shoulder, his son probably one of Charles’s teammates. His name tag read ‘Joseph.’

“Hey, you’re Charles and Theo’s mom, right?” he said, offering a handshake.

“I’m Joseph. My son, Max, plays with Charles.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand out of courtesy.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Those boys are incredible out there,” he said, stepping closer.

“You must be so proud. Raising twins on your own must be a lot, though.”

You frowned, caught off guard.

“Oh, I’m not, my husband’s just at work today.”

He either didn’t hear or chose to ignore it.

“Still, you’re doing an amazing job. Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime, swap stories about the chaos of hockey parenting.”

His tone was unmistakably flirty, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

You’re already felt the discomfort. You hadn’t worn your wedding rings today, they were at the cleaner, and you’d left your engagement ring at home, worried about losing it in the chaos of the game. Maybe that’s why he’d misread the situation.

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” you said, stepping back.

“I need to get back for the second half.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, but his smile didn’t falter.

“Think about that coffee, though.”

The second half was just as intense, with Charles and Theo trading goals and assists. The game ended in a 3-3 tie, the kids spilling onto the ice in a flurry of high-fives and laughter. You stood, clapping, but your smile faded when you saw Charles and Theo skating toward you, their faces etched with concern.

“Mom, you okay?”

Charles asked, his helmet tucked under his arm, sweat matting his hair.

“That guy was weird,”

Theo said, his voice low and protective. He glared toward the stands, where Joseph was chatting with another parent.

“He was talking to you all funny.”

You forced a smile, not wanting to worry them.

“It’s fine, boys. He was just being friendly. Let’s get your gear off and head home. Dad’s waiting”

They exchanged a look, more of Will’s look, all fierce protectiveness and skated to the locker room. You exhaled, relieved they didn’t push it further. On the drive home, the boys were back to their usual selves, dissecting every play and plotting strategies for tomorrow’s game. They didn’t mention about that guy, so you assumed they’d let it go.

When you pulled into the driveway, Will’s car was in its spot. The boys bolted inside, their gear bags thumping against the doorframe.

“Dad!”

They shouted, tackling Will as he stepped out of the kitchen, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.

“Whoa, slow down, champs!”

Will laughed, ruffling their hair. He was still in his practice sweats, his face flushed from a hard skate.

“How’d my superstars do?”

Before you could answer, Charles blurted,

“Some guy was talking to Mom, and she looked super uncomfortable.”

Theo nodded, his arms crossed.

“Yeah, he was all smiley and weird. We told him we had to go, and he backed off.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze snapping to you. You saw the jealousy, but it was tempered by humor, his lips twitching into a smirk. He crouched to their level, his voice conspiratorial.

“Is that right? What’d you do, huh? Give me the play-by-play.”

Charles grinned, puffing up.

“We skated over after the game and said we had to leave. He looked like he was gonna run.”

“Good job, boys,” Will said, high-fiving them.

“You gotta protect Mom when I’m not there. No creepy guys allowed near my wife.”

“Will,” you said, rolling your eyes as you kicked off your shoes.

“It was nothing. Can we eat? I’m starving.”

Will stood, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

“Nothing, huh? We’ll talk later,”

He whispered, his tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity.

To the boys, he said, “Go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Dinner was a lively affair, the kitchen table covered in takeout pizza and garlic bread. Charles and Theo recounted every goal, their voices overlapping in excitement.

“Dad, I used that spin move you showed us!” Theo said, waving his slice of pizza.

“The goalie didn’t even see it coming.”

“And I passed like you do in your games,” Charles added, mimicking Will’s wrist flick.

“It was so smooth.”

Will leaned back, his smile wide and proud.

“You guys had fun out there? That’s what matters. I’m so damn proud of you, you know that?”

“Dad, you said ‘damn,’” Theo pointed out, smirking.

Will laughed, holding up his hands.

“Oops. Don’t tell Mom I’m corrupting you.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Too late for that.”

After the boys went to bed, their gear bags neatly stowed for tomorrow, you and Will settled on the couch, a glass of wine in your hand and his arm around you. Will tilted his head, his voice low.

“So, this guy… what’s his deal? Hitting on my wife when I’m not around?”

You sighed, leaning into him.

“His name’s Joseph. He’s a dad on Charles’s team. I didn’t wear my rings today, they’re at the cleaner, and I left my engagement ring at home so I wouldn’t lose it at the rink… he probably thought I was a single mom. I shut it down, but the boys noticed. I feel bad for not wearing something to make it clear.”

Will’s jaw tightened, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“No rings? Babe, that’s like leaving the goal unguarded.” He kissed your temple, his voice softening.

“But seriously, you okay? He didn’t push too hard, did he?”

“No, it was just awkward,” you said.

“I was polite, but he mentioned coffee or something. The boys swooped in before it got weirder.”

Will chuckled, pulling you closer.

“That’s my boys. Got my back. But tomorrow? I’m coming with you, and we’re making sure that whole rink knows you’re mine. Charles and Theo’s mom, my beautiful wife, no question about it.”

You laughed, swatting his chest. “You’re ridiculous, Will Smith.”

“Ridiculous and crazy about you,” he said, kissing you deeply, his hand cradling your face.

“Nobody’s forgetting who you belong to.”

Sunday morning dawned bright and early, the alarm blaring at 6:00 a.m. You groaned, but Will was already up when you shuffled downstairs, wrapping your robe tighter.

Will glanced over, grinning. “Morning, Mrs. Smith. Ready to show that rink who’s boss?”

“You’re way too chipper for this hour,” you muttered, but you smiled, grabbing a coffee.

Will was in full dad mode, checking the boys’ gear with the precision of an NHL veteran. He sharpened Theo’s skates, tested Charles’s stick tape, and packed their water bottles with the same care he put into his own pre-game routine.

“Can’t have dull blades or sticky tape,” he said, more to himself than you.

You woke the boys, who stumbled down, rubbing their eyes but lighting up when they saw Will in his Sharks cap and hoodie.

“Dad’s coming!” Charles cheered, fist-bumping Theo.

“Gonna yell louder than Mom?” Theo teased, dodging Charles’s playful shove.

After a quick breakfast, Will drove, his hand resting on your thigh as the boys chattered in the back. At the school, you spotted Joseph near the entrance, talking to another parent. Theo nudged Charles.

“That’s the guy from yesterday.”

Charles nodded, his eyes narrowing. “The one who made Mom look all weird.”

Will’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he kept his cool, his jaw set.

“Don’t worry, boys. I’ve got this.”

Inside the rink, Will claimed a front-row seat by the glass, pulling you close and kissing your cheek for good measure.

“Gonna make sure everyone sees us,”

He whispered, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. You noticed Joseph a few rows back, his expression unreadable.

Will turned, his smile polite but razor-sharp.

“Hey, man, didn’t get to meet you yesterday. I’m Will, her husband. Play for the Sharks. Had practice yesterday, so she was flying solo. You a big hockey fan?”

Joseph’s face went white, and he stammered,

“Uh, yeah, I, uh, my son plays. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,”

Will said, his tone friendly but with an edge that said, Back off. He turned back to the ice, his arm around you, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The game was a thriller. Will was on his feet the whole time, banging on the glass and shouting.

“Nice hustle, Charles! Keep your stick down, Theo!”

When Charles scored with a slick backhand, Will roared, “That’s my boy!” Theo answered with a goal, his shot a carbon copy of Will’s, and Will high-fived you, grinning like a kid.

Theo’s Red team won 2-1, but Charles skated over to hug his brother, their helmets clinking. After the game, kids swarmed Will, recognizing him from Sharks games on TV.

“Mr. Smith, can you sign my stick?”

One boy asked. Another shoved a phone at him for a selfie. Will obliged, his arm around you the whole time, while Charles and Theo stood nearby, confused.

“Dad, why do they know you?” Theo asked, his brow furrowed.

Lisa, Eli’s mom, laughed as she approached.

“No wonder your boys are so good. They’ve got an NHL dad coaching them at home.”

You and Will exchanged a look. It was time. That night, over pizza and root beer, Will sat the boys down.

“Guys, I play hockey for a job. That’s why I’m at practice a lot, why I travel for games. I’m with the San Jose Sharks.”

Charles’s eyes widened. “Like, the real Sharks? On TV?”

“Yup,” Will said, grinning.

“But you two? You’re already better than me. Got your mom’s heart and my moves.”

Theo smirked. “Cool. But we’re still gonna beat you in the backyard rink.”

Will laughed, pulling you into his side.

“That’s my boys. Now, who’s up for ice cream?”

As you watched them bicker over chocolate versus vanilla, you leaned into Will, his warmth your anchor. He was the best dad, the best husband, and your boys were growing up just like him, protective, passionate, with ice in their veins and love in their hearts. On the rink and off, they were yours, and you wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

[r6eduss]

Girllll what if an imagine where S3! Daryl and y/n are a thing and when Daryl left with his brother, rick and the others were the one who told y/n that he just left and she was so devastated that when daryl eventually came back she treated him coldly then eventually breaking down in front of him because they think it's easy for daryl to leave them

Idk maybe angsty in the beginning then fluffy at the end?? This scenario is stuck in my head for D A Y S 😩

Anws thanks!!

Listen before I go.

•Summary: Daryl leaves with Merle without thinking how it would affect you. (Fem Reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Twd violence, angst, fluff

•Word count: 2.6k

•Setting: The Prison

•A/N: thank you for the request! I’m really sorry if this isn’t what you wanted and you aren’t happy with it 😭 I rewatched a couple episodes to try and make it as accurate as possible to the actual series. also I’m a very strong believer that Daryl would call his partner sweetheart 🤞🏼(I promise I’ve seen all the other requests I’ve gotten!)

Rick, Daryl, and Oscar had set out to rescue Glenn and Maggie, who were being held prisoner in Woodbury. Michonne had accompanied them, serving as their guide through the hostile territory. The operation, however, hadn't gone as smoothly as planned. They had lost Oscar in the chaos, and the Governor had captured Daryl, forcing him into a brutal situation—pitting him against his own brother, Merle.

As the dust settled and the group reconvened, Glenn and Michonne stayed behind to watch over the car while Rick and Maggie went back for Daryl, determined not to leave him behind. Against their better judgment, they returned with more than just Daryl—Merle had tagged along, at Daryl’s insistence. Now, back at the car, an intense discussion was brewing over whether Merle and Michonne should be brought back to the prison.

“The Governor is probably headin’ to the prison righ’ now. Merle knows how he thinks and we could use the muscle,” Daryl’s eyes locking on Rick, his tone resolute. One way or another, he was bringing his brother back.

Tension radiated from Glenn and Maggie. Glenn, still nursing wounds from Merle’s brutal interrogation, was barely containing his anger. Maggie stood close, her face tight with the memory of her own trauma at the hands of the Governor. “He had a gun to our heads! You really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol or Beth?” Glenn's voice shook, both with fury and concern for his family’s safety.

Daryl shot back quickly, defensive. “He ain’t a rapist.” But Glenn was faster. His words were sharp, cutting through Daryl’s protest like a knife. “Well his buddy is.”

Daryl’s face tightened. “They ain’t buddies no more. Not after last night,” he said, growing more frustrated. To him, this was simple—Merle was family. Family was non-negotiable. Why was this even up for debate?

Rick, observing the growing argument, finally stepped in, his voice measured but firm. “There’s no way Merle’s gonna live there without putting everyone at each other’s throats.”

Daryl’s patience was fraying. “So ya gon’ cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” His irritation was clear. They were even considering taking Michonne—someone they barely knew—while debating his own brother?

The group paused as Maggie spoke up, her voice softer but filled with conviction while gesturing towards Michonne. “She’s in no state to be on her own,” The trauma they'd all just endured weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't understand why Daryl seemed blind to it.

Rick and Daryl exchanged a look. They had their doubts about Michonne, and Rick had voiced that, telling the group that she’s not going back with them. “That’s righ’, we don’t know who she is. But Merle? Merle’s blood.” Daryl threw the statement out like it should end the conversation, as if everyone would automatically agree.

But Glenn’s response was immediate and cold. “No, Merle is your blood. My family is right here. And they’re waiting for us back at the prison.” His words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Maggie nodded in agreement, she wasn’t about to let Merle, of all people, endanger what little they had left.

Rick stepped closer to Daryl, his voice steady, attempting to bridge the growing divide. “And you're part of that family, Daryl. Not him.”

The statement struck Daryl hard. He looked baffled, wounded even. If they considered him family, why wouldn’t they accept his brother? “Man, y’all don’t know.” He shook his head, anger and confusion swirling inside him.

The silence that followed was tense. Everyone stared at Daryl, unsure of what more they could say. In their eyes, the decision was obvious—but for Daryl, it was far from simple. Finally, Daryl exhaled sharply. “Fine. We’ll fend for ourselves.”

The words hung in the air like a threat, and instantly the group erupted in protests. There was panic now, a desperation to keep Daryl from making a stupid decision out of anger. “No him, no me,” Daryl snapped, his voice thick with frustration. He felt cornered, like there was no room for him to protect both his blood and his new family.

Maggie stepped forward, “Daryl, you don’t have to do this.” He looked at her, and for a moment, his hardened expression faltered. “It was always Merle and me before this,” he said quietly, the pain in his voice clear. He was torn, and it was written all over his face.

Glenn, still reeling from everything, asked a question that Daryl forgot to consider in the heat of the moment. “What do you want us to tell Y/N?” It was a simple question, but one that carried so much weight. They both knew it would devastate you.

Daryl hesitated, his gaze dropping. “She’ll understand.” But there was a crack in his voice, a hint of uncertainty, deep down he knew that you in fact wouldn’t understand. The group fell silent, letting the gravity of the moment sink in.

For a long moment, Daryl stood there, chewing on the inside of his lip, torn between his past and his present. Finally, he began moving, heading toward the car. “Say goodbye to your pop for me.” Directing his comment towards Maggie. Rick quickly followed, refusing to let this situation go. “Hey, hey. There’s got to be another way,” he pleaded, knowing how hard this would hit not just Carol but you too.

Daryl paused, his back still to Rick. “Don’t ask me to leave him,” he said, accent thick as ever. “I already did tha’ once.” Arriving at the trunk he begins stuffing supplies into his bag, while telling Rick and them to take care of themselves. He hoists it over his shoulder, glancing one last time at the group, and walking away with Merle.

You stood quietly, arranging your belongings. Your cell had become somewhat of a sanctuary for you, a space to shape, however fragile, into a semblance of back home. You carefully sat down on your bed, deciding that you were going to nap, until you heard a knock, and saw Rick standing just outside. His hands rested against the cracked walls, not wanting to intrude too much. “How are you doing?” he asked, his voice very careful.

You offered a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay.” It was silent for a moment, you could tell he had more to say. “Is everything okay?” Rick slowly brought his gaze from your face to the ground, wondering how he could bring the news to you. “Listen.. Daryl’s gone. Left with Merle.”

Your heart lurched violently in your chest, but outwardly, you kept still, trying to keep your breath steady while each inhale felt like swallowing glass. “Is he coming back?” He was coming back right? You two had something special did you not?

Rick’s expression was one of apology, his shoulders heavy with the weight of what he had broke to you. “I don’t know. He told me you’d understand.” Understand? Understand that Daryl had chosen to abandon the love you thought you both had? Without even saying goodbye?

“Okay.” You replied softly, your voice refusing to betray the devastation roaring inside you. You couldn’t fall apart, and especially not in front of Rick.

He lingered for a moment longer, “if you need anything..—“

“I’ll be fine, Rick. Thank you.”

He gave you a solemn nod before stepping back into the hallway, the silence in your cell feeling almost suffocating. You sat frozen for a very long moment, staring at ceiling. Then, like a dam breaking, the tears came, hot and unbidden, blurring your vision as the enormity of it all crashed down on you. You sank onto your bed, your body shaking with silent sobs and your heart aching in ways you hadn’t expected. You’ve always known that Daryl was complicated, guarded.. but why did he leave? Were you not important enough to him? Did you really mean that little? A hundred questions burned in your mind, and none of them had answers.

It felt like an eternity before the next day finally arrived. The night had been restless, your mind circling endlessly around one thing, and that one thing was Daryl. The way he had just stood up and left you behind, it left a pit in your stomach that only deepened with each passing hour. But today, you had bigger problems, problems that made personal heartache seem almost insignificant.

Glenn was gone, in attempts to clear his mind. With Daryl gone and Rick wandering crazy town, he was the next in charge, and right now he had a lot of pent up anger on what the governor did to Maggie. But of course, while he was gone, the Governor had made his move, and it was brutal. His forces stormed the prison with a cold, ruthless efficiency, and everything erupted before you had time to prepare. Axel was the first to fall, a sharp crack of gunfire cutting through the air as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Carol, who had been standing just beside him, let out a sharp cry of shock. In a heartbeat she ducked behind Axel’s now motionless body, using him as a shield.

Bullets ripped through the air, the deafening sound of gunfire filling the space as you scrambled for cover. You crouched behind the crumbling remains of the prison walls that were near the gate, heart hammering in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins. You clutched your rifle tightly, hands shaking slightly as you peeked out from behind the wall, eyes scanning for targets.

There. One of the Governor's men was in your line of sight, crouched low, his rifle trained on the courtyard. Without hesitating, you aimed and pulled the trigger. The recoil jolted your body, but you didn't wait to see if you hit your mark. You ducked back behind the wall, the echo of gunfire ringing in your ears. Around you, The group fought just as hard, each of them locked in their own battles.

As you leaned out again, carefully scanning for your target who you hadn’t known already retreated, your eyes fell on Herschel, who was still exposed in the courtyard. Rick, positioned just outside the fences, was also in a precarious situation. At that moment, the Governor and his men launched an assault, sending a car to smash through the courtyard fence. Herschel, crouched in the field with his rifle, began to feel the weight on him as walkers started to flood in from every direction.

The fear was palpable among you, Rick, and especially Maggie as you all dreaded the possibility of losing Herschel. Just as the Governor began to leave, Glenn had returned, driving into the courtyard while Michonne followed the truck, cutting through the walkers that stood in her way. Their intervention was a lifesaver; they quickly rescued Herschel, escorting him into the truck and out of the courtyard, into the safety of the prison gates.

Outside, Rick was struggling to fend off the relentless walkers closing in on him. Just when things seemed dire, a bolt flew through the air, striking the head of the walker attacking Rick. Daryl and Merle had returned, joining forces with Rick to clear the remaining walkers. Daryl and the rest of your family were okay.. and that’s all you needed to know before bolting back toward your cell, trying your best to avoid the archer in the process.

A couple hours later you found yourself sat on your bed, running your fingers absentmindedly over the pages of an old journal you started keeping. Without looking up, you could heard the familiar sound of boots shuffling just outside your cell. Daryl stood awkwardly in the doorway, his hand brushing against the frame of the cell, his shoulders hunched slightly as though the weight of the world rested on them. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, the air between them thick with tension.

"Hey," he muttered finally, his voice gravelly and hesitant.

You looked up at him then, your expression unreadable. Daryl shifted his weight, uncomfortable under your gaze. Without a word, you stood and brushed past him, your shoulder grazing his as you walked out of the cell. Daryl flinched at the contact, his jaw tightening. The cold shoulder hit him harder than any words could have, and as he watched you walk away, he felt the guilt gnawing at his insides.

The distance between you two only grew more unbearable. As the days flew by, you continued to ignore him, feeling as if he didn’t deserve your attention, while Daryl found himself missing the soft touch of your hand, the warmth you brought into his life that no one else ever could. He couldn’t stay away any longer. He needed to fix this.

He found you sitting on the edge of your bed again, scribbling quietly in your journal like yesterday, not looking up when he entered, just blatantly ignoring him.

"Damn it, why’re ya avoidin’ me?" His frustration finally boiled over, his voice harsher than he meant it to be. You paused, setting the journal down slowly before looking up at him with steely eyes, the walls around you finally beginning to crack. "Why did you leave, Daryl?" Your was voice trembling but controlled, laced with anger. "Was it that easy?"

Daryl froze, his usual tough exterior faltering. He wasn’t used to being confronted like this, especially by you. He fidgeted, biting the inside of his lip. "It ain’t like that… Merle— he’s my blood."

"And what am I, Daryl?" You instantly snapped, voice rising higher as your emotions spilled over. "Why was it so easy for you to leave me? You didn’t even say goodbye. Did you not care?" Daryl’s gaze fell to the ground, avoiding yours at all costs. “I wasn’t thinkin’ straight”

Your eyes instantly widened in disbelief and hurt. “You left me here, alone, when I thought we had something! You weren’t even clear headed enough to think about how it would affect me!” Daryl flinched at edge of your voice. “I didn’t know what to do! I was tryin’ to do what I thought was right.”

You stood up abruptly, your anger radiating off you. “What was right?! You think abandoning me without a word is doing what’s right? Why’d you even come back if clearly all you needed was Merle.”

Your words cut deeper than any wound he’d ever taken. He stood there, staring at you, the silence stretching painfully between you both. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I came back 'cause I realized I love ya."

Your heart fluttered at his words, the anger in your eyes softening, though the hurt was still there. For a very long pause you just stared at him, scanning his eyes for any possible doubt for what he just admitted to you. “..Actually?” You really couldn’t believe it, you never thought he’d be the one to say those words first, but he did. All You wanted to do was stay mad, to push him away for making you feel like you didn’t matter, but the vulnerability in his voice stopped you. He again chewed the inside of his lips and nodded slowly to answer your question. "I’m sorry." he mumbled, looking down. He looked like he was about to cry, and in that very moment you just wanted to nurture him.

So without thinking, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him. Daryl tensed at first, his back stiffening at the unexpected embrace, but after a moment, he slowly relaxed, his arms wrapping around you in return and leaning down into your neck, feeling comfortable and safe.

"I love you too.. but don’t ever leave me again."

Daryl leaned back and pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead, lingering just for a moment. “I won’t, sweetheart.”

And that was a promise he’d never break. Not for anybody.

@vampiresluv