#on one hand I fucking hate her I fucking think she's annoying she drives me bonkers she makes me hate myself with her bare existence

[swallowed-by-the-moon]

am I not fucking special?

[traveler-at-heart]

Anger Issues

Natasha Romanoff x Super Soldier!R

Summary: Nobody messes with Natasha, not on your watch. (And she loves every second of it)

----

You were the worst spy in the world. It didnt’t have anything to do with physical abilities. Being a super soldier gave you resistance and strenght that was above average. It was not related to your analysis skills either, as you could crack any code faster than Natasha.

The problem is, you’re for all intents and purposes, an open book.

If you’re happy, everyone within the Compound will hear your laughter; if you’re sad they’ll see you moping around looking at the ceiling while sprawled across the living room.

When you’re angry, most of them hide.

You call it being honest. Steve thinks they’re anger issues.

So now, you’re being reprimanded after your third failed atempt at the anger management course.

“Why did you call the instructor stupid?” Steve says, both hands on the table that separates you.

“I didn’t call him stupid, I asked if he’s stupid”

Natasha has to cough to hide her laughter and Steve glares at her.

“You told me to be here. I don’t have a bone to pick with Y/N” she reminds him.

“It’s reckless to lose control of your emotions. You’re an agent and an Avenger…”

“No, I’m a government experiment that failed. Mind you, my own country sold me out to see if anyone could survive the new serum” you remind him, casually mentioning all the ways in which they failed you. “So, losen up and back the fuck off, Grandpa”

This time, your demeanor changes, and as you stand up to leave the room, Natasha catches the annoyance in your eyes. Still, you wink at her as you close the door.

“Can’t you just let her be?” Natasha scolds Steve, leaving the room right after you. You’re nowhere to be found.

Still, Steve announces that you’re on probation and that the whole team should keep an eye on you.

Yet, when the evening comes, you’re at Stark’s party, happy and friendly as always. The moment Natasha walks in, you go and meet her, offering your arm. She accepts it with a smile, her hand around your bicep.

“You look beautiful” you say. “Can I get you a drink?”

“That would be lovely, thank you. Dirty martini”

Natasha waits while you walk to the bar to get her order, bringing back a beer for yourself.

“I wasn’t expecting you here” she says, nodding her thanks when you hand her the martini.

“Why? Because Steve says I’m grounded?”

“Well, yes. I thought it would annoy you” Natasha smiles, taking a sip.

“What’s he gonna do? Fire me? That will mean the government has to pay me for doing nothing, which sounds pretty damn good to me”

“You don’t like to be here” Natasha says. It’s not a guess, or a question.

Again, you’re not working very hard to hide it.

“Yes and no”

“Why yes and why no?” Natasha arches an eyebrow, intrigued.

“You’re gonna have to get me drunk to fess up, Agent” you wink at her, and you smile once again as she tilts her head. “God, you really are beautiful”

“Do you always say what you’re thinking?”

“Yes. I don’t have time or patience to be coy and I hate mind games. Either way, I’m here to knock down doors, not interrogate people. That’s why we have the very talented Black Widow” you raise your bottle of beer.

“I may be losing my touch. Couldn’t get you to answer one simple question”

“Maybe you have to dance with me first” you stand up, offering your hand. “I think that outfit looks too good on you to just sit around the room all night”

“Fine” she nods. As you lead her to the dance floor, and place your hands on her waist, Natasha pushes the subject to the back of her mind.

Maybe you don’t like being an Avenger, but you look happy holding Natasha in your arms, and that’s enough for her.

—

Being on your best behavior is quite the challenge. People make it especially hard.

Like now, that you’re driving back from the store with Natasha. She’s trying to get out of the parking spot, but a car is blocking her way. When she honks, the man waves dismissively, and though he mutters under his breath, you can still hear it.

“Stupid bitch”

Seeing red, you step out and stand next to his door. He doesn’t open, so you decide to do it for him, almost ripping the whole thing apart.

Now, he does look at you. And he’s terrified.

Well, good.

Dragging him by the collar of his shirt, you slam him against Natasha’s side and she rolls her window down, almost looking bored.

“Apologize” you say to the man.

“S-sorry”

“Nope. Say I’m an asshole and I’m sorry"

“I’m an asshole and I’m sorry” he repeats back to Natasha.

“One last chance. Mean it” you warn him. He tries one last time, looking like he’s gonna pee his pants. You turn to Natasha. “Good enough for you?”

“Eh, I’ve heard better” she says, and the man goes pale. “Come on, let’s go, movie’s about to start”

You nod, throwing the man to the floor. Walking to his car, you lift and drag it so it gets out of Natasha’s way.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’ll have to do anger management a fourth time” you say, still pissed at the way he insulted Natasha. She didn’t hear it and she doesn’t need to know what he said. But the fact he even said it was enough to make your blood boil.

“I don’t think Steve needs to know” Natasha shrugs her shoulders. “Dude had it coming”

“Alright” you smile at her, feeling better. “Thanks, Tasha”

The redhead wonders what Steve’s problem really was. After the incident, you go back to being your usual self, joking around, offering to buy her popcorn and opening the door for her. It’s not like you’re turning green and unable to control your own strength.

Still, as the evening progresses, Natasha understands that what sets you off is unkindness, particularly aimed at her.

Like when you’re at the movies and a man keeps taking calls behind you. Natasha turns to glare a couple of times, and then tells him to keep quiet.

“I paid for my ticket, just as you did. Mind your business”

Ten seconds later, you’re standing up and taking his phone away, crushing it between your hands.

“Here. No one’s calling you anymore” you say with a fake smile.

Natasha eyes you, amused at how much of an ass you can be for her.

It’s hot, she can’t deny it.

Or when you’re walking out, and she asks for someone to hold the elevator door for you two. Her request is clearly ignored, until you catch the door at the last second, bending the metal slightly as you force it open.

“She asked you to hold the door” you reprimand the man.

“I’m…”

“You can take the stairs or wait for the next one” you kick him out, making sure Natasha gets inside and as the door closes, you wink at the guy, still terrified by your strength.

“I’m not sure if I should go out with you anymore. It seems like every jerk we come across pisses you off” Natasha jokes.

“I just don’t like people being rude to you” you comment, and the next thing you do is pout, looking like a sad puppy. “You don’t wanna hang out with me anymore?”

“I was just kidding, Y/N” she says, resting her head on your shoulder.

Truthfully, she’d never felt safer than when she’s with you.

—

Next time you lose it, Steve finds out but you don’t give a damn.

See, training new recruits is bad enough, because most of them are slow and stupid. But then you add the fact that a group of them are very obviously staring at Natasha’s ass and commenting on her body and you’ve got yourself a perfect storm.

“For next exercise…” Natasha instructs, and you walk from behind the gym, pushing past everyone.

“You’ll be fighting me” you interrupt her. “Hawthorne. Front of the class”

One by one, you call all the creepy assholes in that little group until there’s only one left. It’s funny how he thinks he can beat you, or maybe he’s clueless as to why he’s called at all. Either way, you dodge his punches and place him on a headlock.

“If you’re gonna talk shit, better be ready to pay the consequences, nasty little turd�� you say against his ear and he stops struggling. Now he knows why you’re doing this and he’s lost all hope of winning.

You free him and when he tries to punch you, you knock him down. He falls face first on the sparring mat and you tilt your head, bored.

“Didn’t even last three minutes” Natasha says, looking down at him.

“Bet his ex said the same thing” you whisper, and the redhead laughs.

“Everyone’s dismissed” Steve says, glaring at you. He waits until the room is empty to scold you. “We have an urgent mission, but we’ll talk about this later”

“No, let’s talk about it now. Your recruits are mysoginistic pigs and I’m gonna treat them as such unil they learn how to respect her” you say, loud enough for everyone to hear.

FRIDAY interrupts you, calling for everyone into the conference room. Steve saves his comments and goes out of the gym, and you begin to walk out as soon as he’s out of sight.

Natasha stops you in the middle of the door.

“I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me”

“I’m not in trouble”

“Yet. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself” she insists.

“It’s not about that… I know you can take care of yourself” you say, looking at your feet. “I just can’t stand it when anyone’s rude or mean to you. You don’t deserve it”

“You’re sweet” Natasha says with a smile, nodding towards the hall. “Let’s meet the team, before Cap gets too crazy”

“Yeah”

You sit in the back of the room, while Nat takes her usual place next to Clint. Rogers goes on and on about a mission, some information extraction and an interrogation. Your job is to keep the path clear and remove obstacles.

“I hope you can have some self control” Steve tells you, after noting Fury paired you with Natasha.

“You know what, Steve?” you sigh, playing with your knife. “It was Ross who gave the order to have me injected with the serum to see if I could survive. Against my wishes. You don’t see me walking up to his office and crushing his head against the desk, do you?” everyone stays quiet, and you ignore Natasha’s stare. “I think my self control is pretty fucking good”

“We’ll meet at the hangar in 10 minutes” is all he can answer, leaving the room. You’re the next one to leave, slamming the door on your way out.

—

“Are you ok?” Natasha says as you try your comms.

“Fine”

Natasha nods, knowing you always say what you feel. If this is all she’s getting, you don’t have anything else to add.

As she walks to the computer room, you stay right behind her. When you reach the warehouse, she changes and let’s you take the lead, knowing the next part of the area is heavily guarded.

“All good?” she checks when you fight with three guards that are attacking you simultaneously. She knows you can handle yourself, and they’re like stress relievers for you.

It’s kinda cute, like watching a tiger playing with their food.

“Clear” you say, throwing them over the railing.

As Natasha retrieves their files, you sit back, looking around the room.

“Is what you said true?” Natasha asks, even though she knows you never lie.

“What part?”

“About Ross”

Natasha turns to look at you, and you immediately regret telling her this bit of information.

“Yeah, he did it”

“I’ll kill him”

“Can we go out on a date before we get arrested?” you try to joke, but she doesn’t smile at all. You lean your forehead against hers. “It’s fine. I made my peace with it” you promise, taking her hand. She sighs, about to say something else. But you get distracted and then a man walks in, weilding a knife. He almost gets Natasha but she manages to escape. Barely.

You groan, kicking him down and getting ready to throw him out the window.

“Wait! I still need to ask him some questions”

“Oh, sorry, Tasha” you say, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt. “Answer her and I’ll consider sparing your life”

They begin a conversation in Russian, and you can’t understand anything. What you do understand is Natasha’s angry stare at some point, so you smack the back of the man’s head.

“You don’t even know what I say” he complains.

“I don’t need to, you pissed her off”

He reluctantly gives more information and then Natasha nods to you.

“Listen to your master, pet” he grumbles and you glare, but are about to cuff him when Natasha tsks.

“I don’t need him at all”

“Alright, then” you nod with a smile, pushing him out the window. You don’t even bother to watch him fall to his death, or listen to the many curse words he utters on his way to the last floor. You take Natasha’s hand, knowing you’ve spent too much time in this building and it will be increasingly dangerous to stay here.

“Where’s everyone?” Natasha says through comms.

“On my way to give you backup” Steve answers.

“That’s hardly necessary, we have all the information we need” Natasha says. You take her hand, leading her through the halls and listening for any guards that are coming your way.

“What is it?” she asks when you stop abruptly.

“It’s too… quiet”

Sure enough, you walk into an ambush. At least thirty agents are pointing their guns at you. Not even your strenght can help you out of this one.

“Get behind me” you nudge Natasha, walking until your backs are pressed against a railing.

Natasha is looking around, heart beating out of her chest. She’s been through some very tough situations, but this is different. She can’t imagine how you’ll both get out of this one.

Something catches her attention. A shadow, moving out of the corner of her eye. But you’re pushing her, and she falls over the railing, Steve’s arms around her a second later.

“Wait! We have to come back” she writhes in his arms. Truth be told, he feels awful when he uses all his strenght to keep Natasha from escaping.

There’s gunshots and explosions in the distance, and he doesn’t let go of her until they’re in the Quinjet, Clint flying them out of there.

“Turn back, now!” Natasha barks at him.

“We need to regroup” Steve says, but stays quiet when she glares.

“Natasha, listen…” Clint approaches her, but she walks around him to the console. “Tasha!”

“We have to turn around” she says, pushing him until his back hits the wall.

“Cap is right. I’m sorry. Let’s go back and find out what we can. She’s alive. We’ll get her back”

Natasha’s hand rests on the gun still attached to her hip. She could do it. Throw Rogers out of the Quinjet -she wants nothing more right now- and force Clint to turn around.

And then what?

She’s being irrational.

But it’s you.

She has to get you back.

“Fine”

With that, she’s gone to the back of the Quinjet.

—

Three locations circled.

“What now?” Natasha says, arms crossed and fists clenched.

10 hours and 33 minutes since they lost you.

“Let’s get intelligence to give us all the information. Maybe we can split up, attack them simultaneously. If we go one by one they could change locations” Steve says, looking at the map.

“I’m not waiting on intel. It’s been long enough” Natasha says, making everyone in the room share a look.

“So you’ll go to each one and risk her life” Steve points out.

“No, let’s move now. Whatever intelligence tells us, we already know. They have guards, weapons, explosives, we go there and kill them all. She’s out there and we have to get her back” Natasha insists, looking ready to murder Steve.

“Maybe you should sit this one out” Steve says. He instantly regrets it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem… too upset. I’m worried you’ll put yourself at risk, Natasha” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Of course I’m upset. I care about her”

That’s not all she feels for you, but it’s the only thing she can admit to right now. She wants you to be the one to hear it first, not them.

“You’re staying, and it’s final” Steve sighs, avoiding her eyes. But he knows she’s evaluating him with that infamous glare, probably considering how to kill him.

Now she understands why you get so protective of her. Because now it's her, fighting against everyone to bring you back. And she'll do anything to make sure you're safe.

Natasha takes a couple of steps towards him until he can no longer ignore her.

“I’m not so sure I’d trust you with my life now, Rogers”

It’s a simple line, that takes them back to a time where they were running away. When they trusted each other. This refusal to back her up, to get you back whatever it takes, is enough to build Natasha’s walls up.

Without another word, she turns on her heels and walks out of the room.

“That went well” Sam comments, raising his eyebrows as Bucky walks out as well. “You too?”

It’s no secret that Bucky’s been a close friend of yours for a long time. He’s the only that can understand a lot of the challenges of being a super soldier that doesn’t fit the expectations set by Captain Role Model.

“Romanoff, wait” he calls after her, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s the Vitebsk location. That’s where they’d have the facilities to contain… her. While they figure out what to do”

Natasha does stop, turning to look at him.

“What else do you know?”

“Very old security systems. Not a lot of cameras, but a lot of guards. So, carry a ton of ammo"

“Oh, I’m not planning on shooting them. I’m going to slit their throats"

A shiver runs down his spine at her icy tone. That’s not Natasha Romanoff. That’s the Black Widow talking.

And she’s not holding back now.

—

The only light in the room is red, and it comes from a giant lamp above your head. It’s disorienting, along with the fact there are no windows, no sounds from the outside. You’re probably underground, but that’s not even a certainty.

You woke up here, wrists and feet trapped in special cuffs. The chair you’re sitting in also has a special band for your head and neck. There’s no escape from this.

You already tried it, and they already electrocuted you. Even if you had been compliant, you have a feeling they’d still torture you. It’s been an endless cycle of physical and psychological torture, followed by periods of quiet that are interrupted by a man reciting words in Russian.

They’re hoping you become their little murder robot.

As the man in a military uniform prepares himself for another round -words, electrical shock, neddles in your arms- an alarm begins to alert everyone of something.

Is it a security breach?

Maybe so, as the man picks up his radio and no one answers.

“They’re a little busy” a voice says through the radio, and your head snaps up.

Natasha.

You begin to struggle against the restraints, desperate to break free and help her. Is there anyone else with her? Is she fighting alone?

If anything happened to her because of you, you’d never forgive yourself.

And you’d make sure that whoever was behind it would pay accordingly.

To the guard’s shock, one of the cuffs around your left wrist gives in, breaking. With the free hand you try to break the other one. He walks over to a console and pushes a button that sends an electrical current straight to you.

He keeps increasing the power, making you writhe and scream in agony, but you still try to break free.

“I’d stop if I were you”

Natasha wants to kill him with a bullet to the head and get you out of there, but a part of her is craving more blood. She’s already taken the lives of every single mercenary that got in her way, and she hopes the gory scene serves as a warning that no one messes with you.

At this point, you’re so dazzed that you can barely identify the voice. Your brain’s full of fog and you’ve lost all the strenght in your body to break free.

“Step away from her” Natasha says, but the man begins to recite the words he has been using to break you. He still has his hand on the console, which makes Natasha hesitate. She doesn't know if any of the buttons there can harm you beyond repair.

Between each word, the man keeps electrocuting you. And finally, you destroy the metal that’s holding you against the chair, body soaked in sweat and walking towards the man.

By the way he’s smirking, he probably thinks he broke you and are now under his control. Except when he orders you to kill Natasha, and you look up at him.

“Go fuck yourself” you say, grabbing him by the collar and smashing his head against the floor, breaking his neck.

“I got you” Natasha says when you lose your balance. “Come on, we’re going home”

“I’d never hurt you” you say, aware that she’s trying to drag you to the Quinjet. “I’d never let them make me hurt you, Tasha”

“I know” she says, squeezing your hand as she guides you out of there.

—

“Don’t look so upset, Cap” Tony says, with a stupid smirk that is a clear sign he doesn’t understand the severity of this.

“She left alone and has been gone for six hours. Now we’re all compromised and down two team members”

“Nah, here they come” Tony shows the tablet he’s using to track the Quinjet Natasha took.

Everyone rushes to the hangar, Bucky already waiting.

“In and out of consciousness, low heartbeat” Natasha says as soon as the door opens. Bucky rushes to her side to carry you to the Medbay.

Everyone follows, and Natasha doesn’t take her eyes off of you as the team works in stabilizing you. She winces when she sees the marks on your skin. Looks like they were testing how fast you can heal.

Suddenly, she wishes she could have killed more of them.

More painfully, too.

Once the doctors are done, Natasha walks inside, approaching the hospital bed where you’re fast asleep.

“Maybe we should… cuff her to the bed” Steve says. “We don’t know if they got into her head, Natasha”

“They didn’t. She could never hurt me” Natasha says, her hand pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“We’d still need to do a debriefing…” he starts to say and she looks up.

“Not now”

“Ok” he finally agrees, hoping she’s right and you haven’t been programmed to kill your colleagues.

Everyone but Natasha leaves the room, and she pulls a chair to sit close to you. After a few hours, you frown and move around, clearly upset about a dream you’re having.

On impulse, Natasha climbs on bed with you. The weight and warmth of her body next to yours are what stops the nightmares.

—

The first thing you notice is the IV. That brings back bad memories.

But then, just as you’re about to rip it off, you feel the weight of someone on top of you.

Natasha is fast asleep, her face resting against your shoulder.

You try not to wake her up, but she can probably feel you staring.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired” you admit with a smile.

“I’ll go get the doctor” she says, trying to stand up. Instead, your arms go around her waist and you let her sink further in your arms.

“In a minute” you say, letting her touch ground you to the world around you. “You came for me”

“Of course I did”

“I’d never hurt you. They tried to break me, turn me into their own weapon. But thinking about you kept me sane. Thank you” you place a shy kiss at the top of her head.

“I’m always here, detka” she says, smiling against your neck. "But Rogers is totally making me do the anger management course now"

You laugh at that, and the sound makes Natasha's heart flutter.

"We'll do it together, love"

[miley1442111]

Imagine Robby and/or Dana clocking that reader is pregnant because of how hover-y Langdon is being around her and which patients she sees and such 😭🖤

dr.worrywart- f.langdon

summary: frank is not an openly affection man. what happens when that changes? the entire ER falls into the role of detective. robby and dana figure it out, of course.

pairing: frank langdon x fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thrities)

warnings: litch nothing it's all just fluff and everyone in the Pitt being nosy as fuck

a/n: thanks for requesting, i LOVEEE this idea you're a genius! banners from my good friend @no-144444 !

Part two -> dr. worrywart returns

Langdon is hovering. That’s the first thing Princess notices. He’s always been the type to leave you to your work, mostly because you’d chew him out if he even dared step inside one of your trauma rooms, you’d see it as an offence. He had accepted that since your first days of med school together, he knew his place. You were Barbie, and he was Ken, just there. You two barely saw each other while on shift other than a few quick glances and waves or the occasional break room chat. Both of you were workaholics, and you both liked to go at it alone, so this was strange. You two walked in, and Frank had his arm around your waist. Regular-you would’ve hit his arm away. You just shrugged him off once you got to your station. She stared at you and you shrugged. 

“He’s being clingy, I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” you shrugged, dropping your bag down. It was a partial-lie. You knew why he was being clingy, you were fucking pregnant. You did, in fact, not know what was wrong with him though. He was always a strange man. He stood beside you, looking at the board as he tried to cherry-pick, gaining a glare from Dana. He pretended he didn’t hear you two.

She chuckled. “He’s obsessed with you. It’s annoying to watch,” she shook her head. “Remind me again why you married him?” He sent her the middle finger behind your back. He lingered despite the fact that he had a case to work on, one he deemed interesting enough for him. His hands landed on your hips and he pushed his front against your back, acting like he was part of the conversation. 

You rolled your eyes and pretended to think about the answer for a second. “I was in med school and needed someone to fuck so I could release the rest of my energy?” you joked and he rolled his eyes with a scoff. “What?” you looked back, smiling. “You should take it as a compliment, you’re so sexually talented, I’ve stayed with you all this time!” you sent him a bright smile and kissed his cheek as he rolled his eyes and removed himself from you. He walked off to his patient, mumbling something about ‘drive me crazy’, as Princess laughed at him. 

“He’s hovering today,” she shook her head. “You’re not concussed again or something, right?” she questioned, referencing the time you got a concussion on shift and he wouldn’t leave you alone. It was the day everyone found out that you and Langdon didn’t actually hate each other, and that you actually shared the last name. You’d gone by your maiden name in your first year, mostly because you hadn’t bothered to legally change your name after the wedding for a long time (med school kept you busy), and also to avoid the awkward explanation. 

You laughed. “No concussion yet, but the day is still young,” you smiled before walking off to your first case. 

Princess shook her head. Something was up. 

Mateo stared at Frank as he stared out the window. “You good?” he questioned. Everyone had been a bit nicer to Frank since he joined back to the Pitt after his rehab stint and sabbatical, so he didn’t go straight to teasing. Everyone knew it was difficult for him, and they understood that sometimes he might be a bit more snappy, or a bit dazed. They did their best to accommodate because, even if he was an asshole, he was an integral part of the Pitt, and people loved how happy he made you. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, biting his lip and he didn’t take his eyes off whatever he was staring at. Mateo sucked in a breath. 

“Dude,” he cleared his throat. Frank finally pulled his eyes away from whatever he was so entranced by. He faced Mateo. “You good?” He asked again, a hand on his shoulder. 

He nodded slowly, then quicker. “Yeah, yeah,” he shook his head, like he was shaking off whatever was in his head. “Yeah I’m good. Just tired. Forget how hard these shifts are sometimes.” He chuckled semi-convincingly. Mateo just nodded, filling it into the back of his mind if Robby ever asks him about Langdon and how he thinks he's doing. 

Frank left the room, pulling his stethoscope around his neck as he left. “He’s being weird,” Mateo shook his head. “Makes me nervous.” 

Trinity let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “Right? Super weird, he didn’t even chew me out for making a joke about his hair today.” She stared at the spot he’d last been like he’d just disappeared into thin air. Mel looked between the two of them, it being an unnaturally slow (she knew she was jinxing herself by even thinking it) day, meaning both her and Santos were on a case together. 

“I think he’s being normal,” she shrugged, confused by their reactions to him. “He’s just… getting his bearings. It’s his first week back and his first day was the 4th, and that was terrible. He’ll be back to normal in a few days.” She offered them her signature smile, and got nothing but shaking heads in return. She frowned. 

“He’s being strange,” Mateo repeated. He walked up to the window, searching for him. “I mean, look, he’s filling up Y/n’s bottle for her. That’s weird.” 

“Why would that be weird?” Trinity and Mel asked at the same time. 

Mateo’s jaw dropped. “You haven’t heard of the bottle incident of 2022?” he scoffed. They both shook their heads. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, so back then, none of us knew they were together, and all they used to do was bicker, which we all now know is their foreplay, which is gross,” he made a face, then continued on. “And one day, it got so bad, Y/n spilled Frank’s bottle all over him when he’d asked her to refill it, in front of Gloria and a patient. Ever since they’ve literally been banned from touching each other’s bottles. It always ends badly,” he looked out the window again to see him hand you the freshly refilled bottle, with a quick kiss to the cheek. 

Mateo knew he had to consult Princess’s sheet. 

Trinity stared at Frank in the breakroom. He was looking at something on his phone, but he was covering it with his other hand, like he didn’t want people to see. She raised an eyebrow, and kicked him in the leg (softly). “Watching porn at work?” she joked, Frank quickly turning off his phone and sending her his signature glare. “Come on, I’m kidding,” She smiled. “It’s good to have you back.” 

He nodded, rolling his eyes. “Weirdly, it’s good to be back,” he agreed. He looked down. “Look, I was a dick to you before-” “aw thanks-” “Not finished. You can still be a pain in the ass, but you’re a good doctor. You’re talented. I was… well I was fucked up before, and I’m sorry I treated you the way I did. It wasn’t cool.” He finally met her eyes, an awkward sense of accountability filling the air. She blinked at him. 

“Thank you for apologising,” she said tentatively. “That’s really… adult of you, I guess.” She chuckled to try and diffuse the awkwardness of the moment. Maybe Dr.Abbot was right about her needing to switch to nights? Day shift was too personal for her. 

“Yeah well, I have to become one at some point,” he huffed before walking out, and she stared as he left, her jaw dropped to the floor. Had Frank Langdon just made a self-depricating joke? ER Ken, ‘the chin’, handsome squidward (okay maybe she came up with two of those), had actually admitted to having flaws. She watched as he swung by your workstation, a granola bar in hand, pressing it into your palm as he kissed the top of your head. 

She was adding it to Princess’s list.

Jesse hated it when Langdon interfered with your work, because you always let him. Langdon wasn’t the most openly affectionate husband, hell, no one had known you two were together for about a year. Neither of you had anything to prove, no PDA would change the fact that you two loved each other, and everyone knowing really just made things more complicated. 

So why the fuck was Langdon taking all the good cases and Jesse was stuck with him for half of them? It was no secret that you were Jesse’s favourite doctor, you were cool-headed, always kind to nurses, and always in a good mood somehow. He’d seen you lose it once, and it was the day Langdon’s drug problem was uncovered by Robby, and then the mass casualty after it. You’d sobbed in the breakroom with Jesse and Yolanda at your side, emotionally exhausted from the toll of the day. As the months rolled on and Langdon started his rehab journey, you still stayed positive. You were still smiling, still updating everyone and telling them he was doing well, telling them he missed them, even though they knew he didn’t. He missed you, missed being at work with you. Everyone else was just a side-character to him, you were everything. 

“What the fuck is going on? You’re taking all the good cases and leaving Y/n with the shit,” Jesse asked as he threw his gloves in the bin. “I mean, come on, she’s getting all the easy ones! I did CPR in there for 4 rotations before someone else came to help!” He scoffed as Langdon turned to him. 

“She’s tired,” Frank shrugged, dropping his own gloves into the bin as he passed Jesse. “She asked me to take ‘em, I took ‘em.”

Okay, Jesse knew that was bullshit. You always thought about yourself last, it was always the patients first. You also wouldn’t let Frank have all the fun with the difficult cases. 

Jesse stared at the sheet as he stood at the nurses station. He added it, just to be safe. 

Perlah was appalled by the sight in front of her. She had half a mind to write you both up. Frank had his hand around your waist in the breakroom, a hand sprawled over almost your entire stomach, with his head leaning on yours, just listening to whatever story Jack was recounting. She watched him. Chewing slowly against you, a thumb running back and forth over your scrubs. 

You noticed her staring and sent her a mouthed sorry and a shrug, like you had no idea what had gotten into him. Perlah decided to blame it on first week back-jitters. She just averted her eyes when he leant down and stole a quick kiss, shocking the both of you in the process. 

It was the next line on the list by noon. 

Dennis Whittaker took no pleasure in making the right call when it meant he would face the wrath of Frank Langdon. He’d made a quick save, realised something before him, and he’d ordered the correct meds before he could consult. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to calmly explain that technically, Frank had made the wrong call. 

“You alright Whitty?” You called out, Frank at your side. Whitty was something you’d started to call him a few months ago after he’d made a witty joke out of nowhere, making you laugh so hard, you’d cried. “What’s up?” You questioned. Frank’s eyes snapped to him and he took a very sharp breath. 

“Y’know Mr. Gregor?” he asked, you shook your head and turned your attention to Frank. He nodded. “Well I was going over his CT scan and I notice how close his bleed was getting to causing a seizure and I know you told me not to push Atorvastatin unless he was actually seizing, but I tried it anyway, and his BP went way down and he’s stable enough to go to theatre,” he blurted out. “Sorry, I know I should’ve told you, o-or gotten you, or-”

A smile bloomed on Frank’s face. “Good save, kid,” he smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Go check on Mrs. Taylor, yeah?” 

Whittaker walked away genuinely concerned that Frank had been replaced with a different person. He added it to the list after he told Trinity about it.

It took a lot for Mel to notice something. She usually just assumed everyone was alright, and if they weren’t, they could speak up and say something about it. She knew that Frank had been a bit… antsy since coming back. He constantly looked for you once he left a patient's room. He stared all the time. He kissed you whenever you got close enough to him. You just laughed it off. Called him clingy, or a big baby. He didn’t bite back. He just smiled. He didn’t argue, just tried to kiss you again before you pushed him off, warning him about being written up. You acted like this total 180 personality change was normal. She swallowed back her surprise when Frank had started rattling off facts about pregnant women, to the pregnant woman in front of him. Obviously, every doctor and nurse here had knowledge on pregnancies, but this was overkill. Random facts about fetal anatomy and positioning. Those ‘lovey-dovey’ (as Santos had so elegantly branded it) things about mothers and babies that he would’ve called bullshit a year ago. 

She blinked when she started talking about various tracking apps he wouldn’t have known the name of a year ago. 

The patient was discharged with a smile, and Mel turned to him. “Trying to get patient satisfaction up?” She asked incredulously, completely at a loss for words.

He shrugged. “No, why?” 

She stared, mouth open and helpless, like she thought he should know what she was talking about. He just stared back. “But, you knew all that?” She chuckled, more surprised than laughing. 

“You don’t?” he asked before leaving the room, probably off to find you. 

She added it to the list after a talk with Dana.

Dana had been keeping an eye on the both of you all day. Princess had shared her strange findings on a small chart at the nurse’s station. Frank had gone to find you 18 times in 7 hours, when he could usually go the entire shift without looking for you. Dana looked it over, confused, what the fuck was he doing? 

“How’s your resident doing?” Dana asked as Robby came up beside her. Her eyes stayed on the piece of paper. It had add-ons from Mateo, Santos, Jesse, Perlah, Whittaker, even Mel was in on it. He stared at Frank from across the room, talking animately to a patient. 

He sighed. “I don’t know yet. Still wondering if we brought him back too early,” He shook his head and noticed the sheet of paper. Robby stared at the sheet for a moment, then ripped his glasses off his face. He huffed. “Fuck’s sake.” he breathed out, and she turned to him expectantly, then it dawned on her. 

“We’re going to be losing two of our best Senior residents in about 8 or 9 months for paternity leave,” She shook her head with a smile, and Robby couldn’t exactly hide his own.

Of course. 

He’d had his hands on you all day. He kept looking for you to make sure you were alright. He refilled your water without having to be asked. He gave you his protein bar. Come to think of it, he’d been taking the strenuous cases and leaving you with the easy ones. He even took Trinity off your hands so that you could take Mel and have an easier day. Robby chuckled, grabbing Frank as he passed by, his eyes set on one thing, you. 

He didn’t notice the hand reaching out and grabbing the collar of his scrubs, so he kind of tripped into stopping. “Woah!” he scoffed, his hands up in air as he balanced himself, Robby’s hand retracting. “What the fuck was that for?” 

Robby smirked as Frank turned his attention back to you, those tiny glances everyone had seen all day. “Y/n’s still going to be there in 4 seconds,” he shook his head. Frank looked at him, faking confusion. “What’s going on? How far along is she?” 

Frank’s face went blank. Dana laughed, gaining the attention of Princess and half the nursing staff. Frank cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shook his head. Frank Langdon was many things. Blunt, rude, annoying. One thing he was not, was a good liar. Dana laughed into Robby’s shoulder as a chuckle left his own lips. 

“Sure kid, just let me know so I can book off your paternity leave,” he clapped a hand on Frank’s shoulder, who quickly brushed it off, irritation surging through his body. Robby stayed smiling. “I’m happy for you two, congratulations.” 

Frank gritted his teeth, stepping in closer, his voice cutting and final. “She is not pregnant. We are not pregnant!” He practically shouted, gaining the attention of nearly the whole ER. Everyone stared, he went bright red, he cleared his throat, and he walked. 

Straight to you, of course. You laughed at him as he pushed some of his hair out of his face, following you around like a puppy. You hadn’t heard his outburst, but no doubt you’d hear about it.

“Nice catch Robby,” Dana smiled. “I wouldn’t have guessed it.” She shook her head. 

He shrugged. “He’s such a worrier the second she gets sick, we’re going to have to deal with this for months now.” 

The small group that had gathered all realised they’d have to deal with Dr. Worrywart for a whole 9 months. They quickly went back to work. 

“I think everyone’s onto us,” You chuckled as Frank came up to you for the 24th time that day. He shook his head. 

“No, I think we’re good. No one knows-”

“Everyone knows!” Both Robby and Dana cheered from behind you. Dana hugged you from behind as you laughed, Frank’s blank expression breaking into an annoyed squint. “Congratualtions,” she smiled. “You’re going to be the coolest parents.”

“I think you already fill that role,” you chuckled, taking her hand. “But thank you.” 

“Congratualtions.” Robby smiled, shaking Frank’s hand and then pulling you into a hug as Dana pulled Frank into a reluctant hug. 

They left you after a few more congratulations and you turned to Frank. “You’re totally right, no one knows,” you teased.  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” he couldn’t fight the bright smile on his lips.

the pitt masterlist

navigation for my blog

[iwritefandomimagines]

SOULMATES — STEVE HARRINGTON

masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x reader, platonic!eddie x reader

descriptions: for someone who so totally isn’t crushing on his best friend, steve harrington is not a fan of her close friendship with eddie fucking munson.

tags/warnings: jealous!steve, swearing, eddie is flirty but ur friendship is platonic, reader uses she/her pronouns, steve is pathetic and silly and overreacts because he’s so down bad

author’s note: ok so i may or may not have essentially dreamt this scenario & woken up half remembering it but determined to put it down for u all … please enjoy and pleaaaaase let me know what you think!!!

———

Steve isn’t sure you’ve ever bounded into Family Video quite so enthusiastically. Nor has he ever seen you move quite so quickly.

Your hair is frazzled, your eyes blown wide, and your whole body lit up with energy as you skip to the counter and lean your elbows on it.

“Hey Stevie,” you hum, “Figured I’d come say hi on my break to tell you this crazy story about last night.”

You worked just down the road from Family Video, in a small diner that required you to wear a traditional (and yet crazily short) waitress’ uniform that showed off your legs frustratingly well.

Not that he was ever looking.

You often found yourself spending lunch breaks loitering around Steve when you were on shift at similar times, and he’d return the favour shortly after when he took his break.

It was a routine that you both loved, but one that had fallen away a little recently as you’d been moving around your shifts more and taking on fewer of them while you studied part-time.

It wasn’t like you didn’t still spend a ridiculous amount of time together, though — Steve’s was like a second home to you, and yours to him, and any day you didn’t see eachother would at least end with an hour long phone call full of gossip and mindless chattering.

Not last night, though. He’d called, but with no answer.

He’d even considered driving by your place just to see if you were home — but he decided against it. That would be way too intense.

Steve nods, his brow quirking up curiously as he waits for you to elaborate.

You’re obviously free to do whatever you like, whenever you like, and with whoever you like… But he’ll be damned if he’s not intrigued to know where you were last night.

“So I’m at Eddie’s, right?” you begin, and you watch as his eyes widen and his jaw clenches.

He scoffs, “You were at Eddie’s?”

You nod, furrowing your brows at his reaction, “Yeah, we all went back after the gig?”

“After the gig?”

“Yeah, dummy, after the Corroded Coffin gig,” your chin is resting on one palm, and the other waves at him as if his cluelessness is ridiculous, “I told you I was going to their show last night. Remember?”

He doesn’t remember, but he’s sure he recalls you telling him off for falling asleep intermittently on the phone a few nights ago and giving you mumbled answers.

“No, I don’t remember,” he shakes his head, expression still tense, “And I think I’d remember you telling me you’d be with Eddie.”

Your hands are on your hips now, irritation evident on your face, “Okay, what the hell is your problem and why do you keep saying Eddie’s name like that? I totally did tell you, you just obviously weren’t listening.”

Steve takes in a sharp breath, watching the frustration in your features as he conjures up his excuse.

“I didn’t know you were close enough to be hanging round at his trailer,” he huffs.

He shouldn’t be annoyed by that fact, and he hates that the feeling in his stomach at the thought of you in the confined space of Eddie’s trailer can definitely be read loud and clear as jealousy even by himself.

He knew you were friends with Eddie and that you had plenty in common — he’d noticed as much every time the curly-haired boy loitered around you when the whole gang hung out — but not that you were that close.

You roll your eyes, unimpressed, “What, like I wasn’t hanging out in your room like a week after we met? Alone, for that matter!”

He remembers that time well.

When you’d first met, he was enamoured with you, and he loved that you’d clicked so quickly and dragged him straight out of the hole of wallowing he’d found himself in post-Nancy.

He’d told himself the crush he harboured when you first got close was just situational and that it had long gone, but he knew that wasn’t the case really.

He was just grateful to have such a good friend and so he’d shoved those feelings where they couldn’t resurface — until today, apparently.

“Well he’s obviously got a thing for you, inviting you back to his trailer after his gig, acting like the big rockstar after a show to, like, six people,” he pouts, and as he says the words he feels increasingly pathetic for how he’s acting, but he can’t help it, “Did you stay the night?”

It’s your turn to scoff now, and you fold your arms over your chest as you see his eyes grow shy while he awaits your answer.

You shake your head, “You’re ridiculous. I didn’t go to his trailer alone, he does not have a thing for me, and he dropped me home right when everyone else left, smartass.”

“So you’re not screwing Munson?”

“You know what, I’ll tell you my story when you’ve got your head out of your ass,” you huff, turning on your heel to leave the store, “My break’s basically over, anyway.”

He’s an idiot. And he knows he’s an idiot.

But the niggling fear that something’s going on between you and Eddie has unsettled his stomach and he does not like that one bit.

—

The hour that follows before Steve has his own lunch break passes agonisingly slowly.

He’s tapping his fingers on the counter, a pen between his teeth as he pretends to read today’s returns list with at least some semblance of interest.

His mind, though, is on you and on the fact he knows you’re pissed off with him for overreacting about your friendship with Eddie and he doesn’t know how he’ll explain it when he grovels for your forgiveness.

As the door dings open and Robin walks in to start her shift, he finally lets out an apprehensive sigh of relief.

“Hey dingus. Why do you look like you’re gonna crap your pants right now?” she asks, eyes glinting with humour as she furrows her brow.

Steve shakes his head, “I need to speak to Y/N about something. It’s important.”

At that, the humour in her eyes meets her smile and she lets out a small laugh, “Uh oh, lovers quarrel?”

“Something like that,” Steve mumbles, “Not that we’re lovers she’s just— She’s spending a lot of time with Eddie. It’s weird. We clashed a bit about it.”

Robin saunters round to join him on his side of the counter, dramatically removing her coat as she nudges his side.

Steve is eternally grateful for Robin’s friendship and the fact that, despite her teasing, she’s always a listening ear when he needs her.

She’s more than aware of how he feels—felt, he’d usually insist— about you, and she’s been trying to get you to admit that you feel the same too, just with little success.

“Dude, there’s nothing going on between her and Eddie Munson,” she scoffs as though it’s the most obvious fact in the world, “She worships the ground you walk on. You’re literally, like, soulmates.”

Steve pouts, “Platonic soulmates, maybe.”

He’d heard you say those words to the kids once when Dustin had called you soulmates and you’d gotten flustered.

“Platonic soulmates, sure. He’s my favourite person and I love him. But as a friend, Dusty.”

Yes, it was just an awkward reaction to the teens prying, but it was like a bullet to the chest to hear for him.

“Not even gonna ask where you learned that term,” Robin dismisses, waving her hands wildly in gesticulation as she speaks, “But you’re totally wrong. Look, buzz off for your lunch and go see her. And apologise for whatever you’ve said to her that’s got you moping around like a kicked puppy.”

Steve draws in a deep breath and bites his lip, nodding as he leaps over the counter and shakes off his nerves.

It’s a humid day, and he can’t tell if the sweat beading on his forehead on his short walk to your workplace is because of that or the sheer panic induced by his amalgam of current fears.

Was he going to have to come clean that he was jealous? Would you see right through him if he didn’t?

The ding of the bell to the diner doesn’t spark your immediate attention as it usually does, and at this Steve finds himself frowning.

The frown only deepens when he sees exactly why.

You’re leaning over the table into a booth on the far side of the diner, face lit up with a beaming smile and the sound of your laughter echoing in Steve’s ears.

But it’s the mop of curly brown hair opposite you that twists the knife that feels like it’s lodged in Steve’s chest.

So much for there being nothing going on.

He catches himself thinking this, trying to rationalise Eddie’s presence with the fact he’s not alone in the booth, but he can’t help the unease that has overcome him.

“Oh hey Steve!” your manager Mary grins, “She’s been in a right grump since she came back from her lunch break, hopefully you can cheer her up. I’ll get your usual ready for you now.”

Mary adores Steve, and you’ve always teased him about it — the way she dotes on him is so adorable and if you were totally honest you mostly just enjoyed how the mention of this made him blush.

“Oh it’s okay, thanks Mary,” he sends her a small smile to reassure her as her face drops, “Just a quick visit this lunch, mom’s leftovers for lunch for me today!”

That was an obvious lie that his rumbling stomach cursed him for.

His parents were never home, let alone the kind of parents to cook big family meals and send him away with leftovers.

She nods, “Okay sweetheart, you go say hi. That Eddie boy seems to be helping with whatever got her so down, but I know you put the biggest smile on her face.”

“Thanks, Mary. I’ll try.”

He can’t ignore the pang in his chest at the fact it was him that was the cause of your bad mood, nor the fact that Eddie of all people was the one here cheering you up.

Almost on cue, you turn around just as he starts making his way towards you, and he frowns as your expression sours.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m a bit busy right now,” you shrug, “Serving customers.”

You soften a little at the sadness in his eyes and as much as you’d like to stay strong and stoic to wait for him to grovel, you heave in a deep sigh, “Go grab a table and I’ll come over once I’ve cleared up Ed’s table.”

Ed.

He makes eye contact with Eddie now, who flings him a smirk and a wave and leans towards you, “What’ve I told’ya about calling me Ed, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, and when you turn back to Steve he’s already stalking over to another booth with his arms crossed and his feet practically stomping.

Sweetheart put a bad taste in his mouth and he didn’t want to stick around for more flirting.

You shoot Eddie a glare and watch the smirk on his face grow, “Told’ya he was jealous. God, he looked about ready to hit me.”

You shake your head, blushing crimson, “He is not jealous he just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s jealous,” he shrugs smugly, “You need to just tell him you like him before either his head explodes from that jealousy or I’m found dead as a result of it.”

Gareth pipes up beside him now, “He’s right. I don’t even know him and I can tell he’s literally head over heels for you. And apparently he has been forever.”

You ponder their words hopefully — maybe they’re at least partially right.

It would certainly explain why he was so concerned by you spending so much time with Eddie and in particular with the potential of that time being spent alone.

“You pair are a pain in my ass,” you huff, hands on hips.

Eddie pokes out his tongue, “Say that again when you’ve told him how you feel and he confirms that we’re right.”

With another roll of your eyes, you’ve turned on your heel and are headed straight over to your best friend’s table.

He doesn’t look up.

“Does Ed over there mind you ditching him to talk to me?” Steve is pouting and you’d find it adorable if it wasn’t so frustrating.

You laugh, “Eddie doesn’t care, in fact he encouraged it. Did you mind me being over there?”

He sighs, eyes flickering over to where Eddie and Gareth were watching the conversation intently.

He doesn’t answer and you find yourself slipping into the booth opposite him and reaching out to place your hand atop his — which is currently fiddling with a napkin.

“They’re certain you’re jealous,” you hum, your gaze challenging him as he finally meets it, “That you’ve convinced yourself I’m into Eddie because you’re into me and scared I like him better.”

Again at first he’s silent, unsure of where this conversation is going and how honest to be.

“And… Uh…are you? Do you like him better?”

“Are you seriously asking that question?”

“Well I don’t know, he called you sweetheart and you didn’t look happy to see me and—,”

You scoff, “I was upset at you for being so weird earlier. You’re my favourite person in the world, Stevie. I’m always happy to see you. Of course I don’t like him better.”

He can’t decide whether to take this as a signifier that hope for reciprocation of his feelings isn’t misplaced, but he takes the plunge and flips his hand over to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“You’re my favourite person too. Fine… Maybe I was jealous,” he runs his free hand through his hair as he gazes into your eyes and tries to read your response, “Maybe I’ve been trying to pretend I haven’t been crushing on you since, like, literally the day I met you because I didn’t want to screw up our friendship. And everyone’s into you—look at you! I just—,”

The smile that lights up your face is so bright and so beautiful that he wishes he had a camera on hand to snap it and retain the image forever.

“You never thought that maybe I’ve been feeling the same way and it might be worth the risk?” you raise your brows, “We’ve just been total fuckin’ idiots this whole time, huh?”

Steve laughs now too, all of his nerves washing away as you grip his hand even tighter.

Melodious laughter radiates from the two of you as you drink in the moment, and you know Eddie will be teasing you about the cliche moment later, but you never want to let go of Steve’s hand.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you being jealous of Eddie Munson for this. He’s known how I feel about you for ages, by the way, he just likes getting a rise out of you,” you shake your head, stifling laughter with the back of your other hand, “Plus he is so not my type!”

“He’s not, huh,” cocky, jokey Steve is back now as he pulls your intertwined hands up under his chin, “What is, then?”

You pretend to be deep in thought for a moment, “Hm. Massive dorks with disturbingly good hair, pretty brown eyes, a jealous streak and a concerningly bad sense of humour.”

His mouth forms an ‘O’ as he feigns offence for a moment, before he presses a kiss to the back of your hand and leans forward a little.

The kiss leaves a tingle on your hand when his lips pull away and you’re sure you’re going to ascend to heaven at any given moment.

He’s watching you so tenderly, his soft hand still tight in yours, and you just want to bottle up this time forever.

“Checks out,” he smirks, “But I do not have a bad sense of humour. Unless you count me pretending that your jokes are ever funny.”

“Thin ice, Mr Romantic,” you pout, “You’re supposed to be sweeping me off my feet right now, remember?”

He leans up so that your noses are touching, “Yeah, yeah. Well I’ve been waiting all the time I’ve known you to kiss you, so how about we start there?”

“Perfect.”

The kiss is every bit as tender as his lingering touch, lips plush and minty and ever so eager despite the gentle kiss.

You don’t dare intensify it, however much you want to, knowing that all eyes are on you.

You pull back, both of your eyes wide and your breathing ragged, and he licks his lips, “Oh I could get used to that.”

You’re interrupted by a cough.

“As pleased as I am to see you lovebirds finally getting some sense,” Mary tuts, a smirk on her lips as she taps her toes, “Perhaps save that for when Y/N isn’t supposed to be serving customers, hm?”

“Sorry ma’am,” Steve looks down sheepishly, and you want to kiss the adorable expression off his face immediately.

You place your palms on the table and scoot yourself up and out of the booth, but not before pressing one last quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ll come to Family Video when I finish at 4,” you sing-song, “We can pick up where we left off, yeah? Talk a little, kiss some more… Whatever you want.”

“Sounds perfect. You can finally tell me your story later too, yeah?”

Your eyes twinkle and you let out a belly laugh at the reminder of the stupid tale that had set all this in motion, “Yeah, maybe. I’m sure I’ll be distracted though.”

That sets his whole body alight even though he knows you’re not insinuating anything like that, and he briefly ducks his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Mhm, yeah, maybe.”

You twirl away with a spring in your step and a knowing smirk on your painted lips, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

After a slice of pie (on Mary’s insistence), Steve goes back to Family Video a very happy man.

And now he can’t wait for 4PM to roll round to make up for all of the time he’s spent pining.

———

eeee i hope you enjoyed this !!! it’s not perfect but please let me know what you think because it was so fun to write anyway. i love jealous silly steve ! feel free to request some steve/eddie/jonathan fics btw <3

[grenadehearts]

get undressed, and bare yourself, for my eyes only.

warnings: wlw, gender swapped katsuki, smut, overstimulation, oral reader!receiving, top!katsuki, praise, thigh r!ding, finger svcking, fvcking infront of a mirror. masterlist link. not proofread.

authors note: this is not my best work been going through a slump rn, but had to get smth out for fem!katsuki since shes been taking up my mind baddd. reblogs + likes are much appreciated! word count 2k.

Thinking about fem!Katsuki, who absolutely hates the outfits you wear—not because they’re ugly, but because they’re inconvenient as hell. And she knows what’s coming, like clockwork: your sweet little voice drawing out a syrupy “babyyyy,” bottom lip jutted out in that way that makes her pussy ache, drives her wild, makes her wanna fuck you till you forget what your pretty mouth was even complaining about.

Maybe then you'll finally learn not to dress like that when you know it’s gonna be a whole thing.

Like earlier today when you insisted on doing a full beat before a hike. She watched, arms crossed, grumbling from the bathroom counter while you overlined your cupid’s bow and flicked your eyeliner just right. Your face already so damn pretty—and you’re still adding more.

She’d never admit it out loud, but she loves watching you do your makeup. Thinks you look so damn pretty, loves how focused you get, the steady hand when you do eyeliner, the cute face scrunch you do—it all makes her weak. But that doesn’t stop her from being a brat about it. She leans forward, grabs your chin, and plants a messy, tongue-filled kiss right onto your freshly glossed lips—then pulls back laughing as you gasp and swat at her.

“I did tell ya. Ain’t no point doin’ your makeup,”

“You don't need all that. Hot as fuck out, ya just gonna complain.”

Then when you walked out in a pretty light pink baby tee and mini shorts—

She had narrowed her eyes, scanning your bustful figure, then she scoffed, “Ya gonna regret that choice, baby.”

And what happened five minutes into the hike?

Exactly what she predicted.

You stumbled into a branch, fell into a patch of dirt, and let out that familiar whiny little whimper, “Sukiiiii…”

She sighed hard, boots crunching on the forest floor as she turned around, crouching beside you with a cocked brow. Her spiky blonde hair shifted with the movement.

“What’s the magic word?” she asked, voice full of smug amusement.

You glared.

She grinned. “C’mon. Use that pretty mouth—I know that tongue of yours works.”

You grumbled under your breath, cheeks flaming red. “You were right.”

“Atta girl,” she smirked before effortlessly scooping you up over her shoulder, hand patting your ass and dusting the leaves off all while doing so.

“Hmph. You don’t have to carry me like this!” you grumble in annoyance.

“And you don’t gotta be a pain in my ass, but you are,” she grumbled.

Annoyed, you bit her shoulder.

“Ow—brat.” She adjusted you with a huff, now carrying you bridal-style. “There. Better, you idiot?”

“So damn annoying…” she muttered, but yet her hold never faltered.

Back at the car, she set you in the passenger seat and knelt down between your legs, hands caging you in on either side as she reached into the backseat for the spare bag. She pulled out one of your comfier shirts and a pair of her basketball shorts—ones that hung low on your hips, just the way she hated everyone else seeing.

She held them up with a cocky grin. “Alright, princess. Lift up.”

You raised your arms, rambling on about how you “didn’t think you’d actually fall” and “it wasn’t that deep,” while she dressed you with gentle ease, no roughness apparent.

“S’fine. I gotcha.”

When you were done, you started pouting again, facial features crumbling like a kicked dog, as you whined, “I look ugly now.”

Her expression softened—eyebrows furrowed as she leaned in close, lips ghosting over yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath.

So close that if you were to exhale, your lips would touch.

“Dummy,” she muttered, flicking your forehead, then tugged you up by the waist. “C’mon. Let’s finish the hike.”

Yeah, she hated the inconvenience of your outfits. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love taking them off your pretty body.

Especially tonight.

Fresh from your shower, skin still dewy, you came out wearing a black dress, delicate lace adorning your chest, those thigh highs riding down just enough to tease the skin she loved biting. Sitting there, all done up and perfect.

She didn’t even let you leave the bathroom.

Before you could blink, she had you cornered against the bathroom counter, hands gripping your thighs.

“Ya look so fuckin’ pretty, y’know that?” she growled, nipping at the skin of your neck as her tongue swirled soothing circles over them. You giggled, soft and warm, the sound echoing inside her chest, turning her insides into goopy mush.

Your fingers ghosted up to brush the scar that bloomed over her cheek, admiring her flushed face and heavy eyes.

“You’re so pretty, Suki. My pretty baby.”

She groaned, burying her face in your neck, hands creeping up under your dress. “Stop sayin’ dumb shit like that.”

Normally, you’d argue. Lecture her about how it wasn’t dumb. But instead, you kissed her—letting her know with soft kisses, that you meant every word you said.

And that kiss turned into you sprawled out on the plush bed you both shared, dress hitched up, lace panties askew, while she hovered above—her baggy jeans and worn-out skull tee blocking your view from bare skin.

“Mph—off,” you mumbled, wriggling beneath her as you tugged at her shirt.

She caught your hands, and lifted the shirt off with a roll of her eyes—exposing her soft, milky breasts with hardened pink buds, Calvin Klein waistband peeking above her jeans before those, too, hit the floor. She climbed back over you, lips crashing to yours, one hand gripping your thigh and slowly inching up.

“Told you,” she murmured against your skin. “Told you not to wear that.”

“Suki,” you whined. “Not right now…”

“Nah.” She bunched your dress up to your breasts, kissing along your belly. “Lemme finish.”

Her lips pressed lower, mouth hot and wet against your skin. You squirmed and gasped, full of need—she looked up through her lashes, pupils blown wide, lips pouty and red, face flushed.

She looked cruel in the amber glow of your bedroom, sun slipping behind the clouds.

“Don’t ever stop wearin’ that stupid shit,” she muttered between kisses. “Fuckin’ love it on ya. Love takin’ it off ya.”

Then she nipped at your thigh and you let out a breathy yelp, fingers tangling in the sheets as your hips bucked.

“Don’t stop,” she rasped out again, against the skin of your thighs.

She trailed lower, one hand sprawling your thighs apart, leaving your glistening pussy pink and pretty for her eyes. She hiked your legs over her shoulders, her lips curling into a cruel smirk only adding to the pool of wetness between your legs, as she cursed low and raspy under her breath, her hands grabbing your dress and pulling it off your body with need.

“Wanna see those pretty tits bounce when I get you screaming,” she growled, crawling back down and positioning herself between your legs. “You’re fucking soaked for me, huh?” Her voice was rough with desire. “Such a needy girl.”

She moved back down, settling between your legs, breath ghosting over your soaked core.

“So wet for me already,” she murmured, lips brushing slightly against your folds.

She lowered her head fully, her tongue swiping through your slick folds, muffling more curses and praise as she devoured you like she could never get enough. Her hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still as your hips bucked into her face, desperate for more.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good,” she muttered against your core, her tongue diving deeper as her eyes locked on yours, filled with hunger. “Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy.”

Your hands tangled in her hair, tugging her closer, and you gasped, “Suki—more, please, fuck, please, more…”

She sucked your clit hard, making your thighs tremble. You were unraveling, breaths choked out between whimpers and gasps. But she didn’t let you release—not yet.

“Beg,” she growled, lips brushing your soaked cunt. “Come on, baby. Wanna hear you really beg for it.”

You whimpered, grinding against her mouth, voice fractured and incoherent. Your body squirmed, overwhelmed. And then—she stopped.

Abruptly.

She crawled up your body in a haze of heat, her chain dragging cool metal over your fevered skin. You shivered. Her hand caught your jaw and guided your mouth open, slipping her thumb past your lips.

“Missed you,” she whispered, before kissing you hard, biting your bottom lip until you tasted iron and her spit and yourself.

Her mouth dragged lower, teeth scraping your collarbone, tongue swirling over your nipple until it puckered. Then she latched on, sucking until your back arched off the bed.

“Suki—f-feels so good—fuck—”

You moaned, clutching her hair tighter, grinding your cunt into her stomach. Her mouth wet on your breast.

Quickly She moved back down, to your needy, sopping pussy, and you spread your folds eagerly. “Look at you, so fucking perfect,” she growled. “Gonna ruin you again, don’t worry.”

You moaned in response, your body already trembling as she dove back in, her tongue flicking and thrusting into you with wild abandon. “Fuck, Suki…” you gasped, gripping her hair tighter, feeling the tension build inside you.

“Fuck—can’t take this,” she moaned into your cunt as you came, crying out, your slick coating her mouth. She didn’t stop. She licked you clean like it was worship, like she was starving for you.

“So fuckin’ ruined for me. Just how I like you.”

She lifted you easily, fingers digging into the fat of your ass, and set you onto her thigh. Her eyes burned with want.

“Ride me, princess. Wanna see you make a mess all over me.”

You whined, exhaustion creeping in your bones. overstimulated with tears welling in your eyes.

“Suki, please—wanna feel you inside me.”

You reached for her hand, guiding it down, but she pulled away with a slight turn of her lips, slipping those fingers into your mouth instead.

“Suck.” she demanded, and you obeyed eagerly. Which shut you up. As you You begin grinding against her thigh, your wetness smearing on her skin with every rub. Her fingers dug into your hips as she groaned, head tipping back.

“Fuck, baby… just like that.”

She brushed your hair from your face, her palm warm and soft against your cheek.

“My pretty girl,” she rasped, eyes locked on your flushed, needy face. “So fuckin’ pretty. Don’t ever say otherwise, you hear me?”

She smacked your ass, making you yelp and ride her harder, breasts bouncing with every desperate roll of your hips.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous—can’t take it—gonna show you just how pretty you are.”

You whimpered, clinging to her, exhausted and full of need for her fingers in your pussy.

Then she hoisted you again, muscles rippling as she carried you in front of the mirror.

settling behind you, your back to her chest, her slick pussy pressed against your ass. Her arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you open and on display.

Her fingers trailed slowly down your front.

“Look at you. Look how fuckin’ beautiful you are.”

She kissed your neck, teeth nipping your skin with feverish bites, and whispered,

“Say it. Say you’re pretty. I wanna hear you.”

You turned your head shyly, voice muffled in her neck, cheeks burning.

“I’m so pretty…”

“Again.” Her voice was rough, her fingers hovering just at your soaked entrance, teasing.

“Pretty. Pretty. Pretty,” you repeated, breathless.

Then she plunged two fingers inside you, curling them just right.

“Good girl." Her praise sent a rush of heat straight through you, your mouth falling open as you tried to ride her hand.

She added another finger, fucking you hard and fast, your wetness slicking her knuckles. Your head fell back against her shoulder as you came, pussy spasming around her fingers.

She pulled them out with a wet pop, sucking them clean.

“Taste so fuckin’ good.” She rasped out around her fingers, licking your sweetness clean off them.

She turned you around to face her, sitting you in her lap, fingers still glistening with your cum.

“Taste yourself, princess,” she cooed, sliding them into your mouth. Watching the saliva drip from the corners of your lips, as you sucked on her cum coated fingers.

taglist: @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @van9lla @dienamiight @sk1ppy-art @ni-aaaaaaa @kelisewrites @chosostonguepiercing @izzymff @swuzzin @aryuunachigiri @badslittlemuffin @yuhkai @candiiee @ugh-ellie69 @khloefrlsss @camydoesstuff @11thlife02 @alixezae @diamondocean001 @izycarrot7 @vivitg @cupkiki @wonubby @lotusstarr @tatumsscream96 @babriye @cphlo @mwahs-stuff @r0m4nth33rizzl3rr @makaroni-and-chez @mightydynamight @soundtrqck @gethexxed

[natsnerd]

Answer your fucking phone.

Warnings: G!p Nat, Mentions of Husband, cheating(On husband) Billionaire nat, Mean nat, mentions of spanking, a little stalkish.

Word count: 806

________

Your words is what she liked “Your terms” is what made her smirk, she loved that you knew immediately she would be in control, it put a thrill through her

Natasha put her phone down so she could think about terms, she wasn't going to be soft on you, that would allow you to be a brat and her husband is enough of one for her, she wanted an obedient girl who she could dot on.

After a few minutes of thinking she sent you a list.

The list

I'll give you a 10,000 dollar monthly allowance, if you don't spend all that in one month, I'll give you a spank for every thousand you didn't spend, if you don't spend it, it will be added onto your next monthly payment.

 if your going to beg me for something, call me mommy whilst begging, for example "Please mommy, I want this dress"

you'll get a copy of my black card

you will not flirt or sleep with anyone. as long as your spending MY money you belong to me

I'm going to pay your tuition. end of discussion 

you must send me a picture of every thing you use for school, if I find them acceptable, you can keep them but if they're cheap? I'm buying you better ones.

 no touching yourself without mommy's permission, when I come see you - that is if your comfortable meeting face to face, I want you to wear a dress

 Pick a safe word baby, I want you to be comfortable. 

 If you're comfortable I want to see your writing.

Tell me your kinks, I want to see if you're my good little girl.

I'll add more if I think of more

She smirked and hit send, a satisfied smile crossing her lips as she packed her things back into her purse, she had enough of work and just wanted to go home and take a break.

Her phone did not ping with a notification which annoyed her greatly but she decided to ignore it, she fixed her suit and left her office, walking down to the garage where her Lamborghini sat, enjoying the dark against its skin, the blood red colour matching Natasha's aesthetic perfectly 

________

By the time Natasha got home, the sun was starting to set, she parked her car and scanned her security card on the apartment complex entrance before getting into the elevator, the drive here was over an hour and a half so she hadn't had time to check her phone yet, she digs her hand into her pocket to pull out her phone and checks if you've massaged her, a frustrated groan leaves her lips when you haven't, she checks and you haven't even read her message.

One thing Natasha could not stand was being ignored, she understood you were in college but you didn't even have time to reply to her message? Enough was enough. She decided to text you again

“Don't be a brat. I hate brats. Reply to my message now.” Her tone was stern and strict, she wanted you to know she wasn't playing around, she wanted you. She would get you even if it meant driving her ass to your school and spanking you until you understood that.

She unlocked the door to her penthouse and walked in, shrugging her jacket off

“Hello, Mrs Romanoff!” The maid says cheerfully as she pours Natasha a glass of vodka.

“Shut up, whore, I know you flirt with my husband, fuck him if you want, his small cock means absolutely nothing to me” She takes the vodka and walks off, not even noticing the maids face pale as she stuttered out apologises.

She drank her vodka as she checked her phone, you still havent fucking replied. 

She was starting to get pissed off, she slammed her glass down on the bedside table and ripped off her tie, rolling her sleeves up and walking back out the penthouse.

She was going to find your school. Your ass would be aching by the time she was done with you.

She checked your social media as she got in the driver's seat, she checked your friends and then your families until she found your college dorm address,

It only took her 15 minutes to get to your dorm, she was very happy it wasn't far, the closer you were to her personal home the more she could see you without her husband thinking she was cheating, she didn't care if he found out but she could not be bothered to go through the whole divorce process.

She checked what dorm your room was and began walking there, ready to spank your ass till her handprint was engraved.

She checked each dorm number before finding yours, a grin coming onto her face as she banged on your door.

[wainawtmai]

tags: 18+, toji x fem!reader, oral, semi-public, likely inaccurate representation of the divorce process (my bad), creampies, overstimulation, squirting, toxic themes

It shouldn’t be this difficult to get a divorce. Your relationship had become too strained, too toxic, it had to end.

But what didn’t soon-to-be ex-husband!toji make annoying and tedious??

Your first meeting after filing ends with you sprawled over the table, your legs on his shoulders, stilettos dangling from your toes in time with each thrust Toji made into you, the entire table rattling, paperwork scattered across the floor.

“FFuck, I hate you,” you mewled, but your words sound barely believable, all shaky and jumbled as you stifle your moans.

Toji gave you that annoying little smirk in response, the one you’d found endearing the first few months of your relationship before he became the most insufferable piece of shit you’d ever met.

“You sure?” He hums, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust that you can’t help moaning from, “‘don’t believe it when you’re dripping so much down here.” He brings a beefy hand to your pussy, lightly slapping at your clit and chuckling at your little whimper. “‘Feel how easily you take me?”

…After that you sped up your move out, no interactions meant no tension and an easier, less stressful divorce. Right?

Wrong. Your second meeting was with the attorney, a pretty brunette clad in a ridiculously unprofessional outfit. For fuck’s sake, her tits were practically out in the pathetic excuse for a blazer she had on.

And Toji spent the whole session flirting with her, accepting her light touches to his arm and biceps as she giggled and squirmed. Tossing her winks and smirks like you weren’t sitting right in front of him. Were you wrapping up a marriage or setting up a fucking date??

You didn’t overreact. Why would you? He could flirt with anyone he wanted, you were in the middle of getting divorced it didn’t matter, you didn’t care…

“Should I call her back?” You taunt, bouncing on Toji’s cock with a hand around his throat, “Make her see you all stupid from being inside me?”

“F-fuck you.” Toji groans, glaring up at you despite the way he trembled from overstimulation. His cock was practically numb as it slid in and out of your already cum-filled heat. He could barely move, barely breath, but he still mustered that smirk, “you’re so fucking pathetic—”

“Oh, shut the hell up, Toji.” You demand, grip around his throat tightening in tandem with your pussy, thighs slapping roughly against his. He let out a little growling whimper and you smiled, “You know you can’t fucking get off without me.”

Your third meeting starts fine, the two of you are listening to your consultant chat about shared expenses and whatever other legal crap you needed to worry about—

Then you feel Toji’s big hand on your thigh, and you already know what’s coming as he subtly shoots you that infuriatingly attractive grin.

You glare at him, but shift up your skirt nonetheless, letting your legs fall slightly open. More than enough room for him to slip his hand past the fabric of your skirt and underwear and rub his fingers against your moistening pussy.

You suck in a shaky breath as his thick fingers fill you up, thumb toying at your clit. The consultant asks you a question and you manage a response, a tight lipped smile on your face as you white knuckle the arm of your chair through the pleasure.

He turns his attention to Toji and of course he gives a vague response, you take advantage of it nonetheless, sucking in deep breaths and grinding slightly on his fingers.

“I‘m fine with that” Toji hums, he turns and looks at you with a sadistic sort of glint in his eye, “but what do you think, hon?”

You can barely even glare at him. You were already close, the fucker knew your body, what places to press to drive you insane. Your thighs felt damp, Toji’s fingers thrusting in and out of you without a shred of remorse. His eyes were daring you to speak, demanding you.

“I think t-that makes sense.” You manage, your vision growing foggy. Your legs are trembling, and you’re convinced Toji was sent to earth to torture you. You allow your eyes to slide shut, hoping you can get away with your vagueness as you slowly rock onto his fingers.

But Toji slides a piece of paperwork in front of you, “Which part?”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you, “U-Um, I…” Fuck, you barely stifle a moan, you spare a glance at the consultant who seems none the wiser, well that’s a relief. You glance down at the paper in front of you, none of the legal bullshit making any sense, at least not now when you were gushing on Toji’s fingers and trying to stop your eyes from rolling into your skull. “I t-think—” Toji’s fingers slide along your sweet spot and you can’t hold back your whimper at the feeling. The consultant’s eyes widen in surprise.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not feeling very well,” You try, your voice practically slurred. It’s useless though, the guy’s already uncomfortable, face flushed and hands folded tightly in front of him.

“W-Would you excuse me for a second?” He musters before bustling out of the room.

The door barely closes before you moan again, shooting a death glare to Toji. “You’re fucking ridiculous—” You barely finish your words before you’re cumming.

“Don’t be shy, finish your sentence.” He responds, pulling your chair closer to his with a leg. His lips ghost along your ear as you tremble and moan, spilling all over his fingers. He looks down at the mess you’ve made with a satisfied grin. “Or not.”

You’re too delirious from your orgasm to feel his fingers leaving yours, or him sitting you down on the table, your thighs all shaky and sticky. But you come too when you feel his tongue along the plush of your inner thigh, lapping up your juices, “C’mon, give me another, let’s give the guy a surprise.” You have no room to protest as his lips fasten around your clit.

By the time the fourth meeting comes around you guys are fucking with no shame. The two of you don’t even show up to the fifth meeting, you made the mistake of thinking you could drive there together…Toji bullshits some excuse while you ride him in the backseat.

The sixth meeting doesn’t even happen before the two of you give up, accepting that you’re really just a pair of horny fucks that like the thrill of fucking apart. And well, who else could satisfy you as well as your husband did?

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬?‧₊˚──

(ft. sevika, vi, ambessa, grayson, ellie williams, abby anderson, kassandra of sparta)

Content/Warnings: x reader, no pronouns used but reader is described as wearing a dress and jewelry in ambessa's, some suggestive content for ellie's and kassandra's, mentions of smoking weed for ellie's) A/N: this will probably flop but as i was driving home with my passenger princess butch beside me, i started thinking about all of my fave characters and what their driving preferences would be... a very important subject to ponder obviously. i'm working super hard to get part two of dancer!vi x dancer!reader and sweet as honey out, but i needed a little break so this brain dump ensued and i thought i'd share with the class. please comment your contributions to my theories, or you fail the socratic seminar! (kidding we don't do those i love you my fellow socially anxious babies)

anyway, here we go, starting off with my arcane sexies:

──˚₊𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚

୨ৎ okay so this may be controversial... but 𝐲𝐞𝐬, i think she is a passenger princess- BUT, only when she's with you. you're the only person she trusts with her life, so you're the only person she lets drive her, but for the longest time, you had no idea she preferred being in the passenger seat. she's a very chivalrous partner, so you got used to her volunteering to drive and assumed it was because she liked being the one driving; until, one day, she slipped up and let out a sigh when you mentioned an errand the two of you needed to run. it had already been a long day at work, friday evening traffic had been terrible on the way home, and frankly, she didn't want to be behind the wheel at all before her commute to work on monday. you ask her what the fuss is about, and she (very bashfully) admits that she actually hates driving. the poor baby is terrified you'll think she's a bad butch, but you assure her that you have no problem at all being her chauffer. she does enough for everyone around her as it is <3 (she still DD's tho that's a non-negotiable)

──˚₊𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 

୨ৎ 𝐲𝐞𝐬, she is a passenger princess. no, this was not of her own volition, nor did she get a say. not after she rolled her window down at a red light to tell the jackass who cut her off alllll about himself. her first few trips in the passenger seat are spent with crossed arms and a pout (and when she was particularly annoyed, she'd do that thing where she turned her entire body away from you and faced the window so you knew just how begrudgingly she'd taken the spot), but nowadays, she's fully embraced her role as passenger princess. she likes being on aux, or reaching over to play with your hair- and oh, she takes the best naps in the car. just sleepily reaches over for your arm, wraps both of her own around it like you're a teddy bear (for all intents and purposes, you are vi's teddy bear) and conks the fuck out. it's safe to say she's come to appreciate what the passenger seat has to offer, and every once in a while, you'll even let her flip off the shitty driver that nearly hit you while they were merging because that's love

──˚₊𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚

୨ৎ 𝐲𝐞𝐬, ambessa is a passenger princess, but she won't let you touch the wheel either. instead, she hires a chauffeur, and the two of you sit in the back of the BMW together. she always has a possessive hand on your thigh and a proud grin on her face, and when you ask her what she's smiling at, she'll just say you look pretty in that dress you picked out on your trip to milan; that those diamonds look so much better around your neck than they did on the display in new york; that luxury suits you well. her secret, though, is that driving makes her a nervous wreck. she'd hired a chauffeur long before she met you, because she truly cannot stand driving. it's completely overwhelming, but again, ambessa would never admit this; would never admit a weakness. not that it concerns you, anyway. the only thing you should be concerning yourself with is sitting in the back of the BMW and looking pretty like you always do.

──˚₊𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

୨ৎ grayson lovesss driving you around, so its safe to say that 𝐧𝐨, she would rather you take on the role of passenger princess in your duo. she loves the way the sun peeks in through the window and catches your eyes during golden hour joyrides, the way that the cabin of her car smells like your perfume as you're on your way to dinner in the city, the way you giggle as you stick your hands out of the sunroof during late-night drives. she loves the mundane, too; opening and closing your door for you every single time you enter or exit the car, dropping you off and picking you up from work, rolling up to a drive-through and resting her hand on the small of your back with a warm smile as you lean over and order your favorite milkshake. you are grayson's princess, through and through, spoiled rotten. essentially, whenever there's a chance for her to keep you from lifting a finger, she's taking it.

now for my TLOU II ladies...

──˚₊𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

୨ৎ hell 𝐧𝐨, she all but gets off on you being in the passenger seat of her truck! and i could leave it at that! but of course i'll elaborate. on a real note, ellie does prefer to drive because she prefers to be one who's focused and in control on the road. if you insist, she'll let you drive, but it has to be in your car. no one drives ellie's truck but ellie. and yes, you tease her about it all of the time, but she lets you, because there's nothing like picking you up from work and smoking you out, watching with an amused smile as you get all loose and giggly in the passenger seat. and if you do the thing where you look up at her through heavy eyes, batting your lashes and asking for another hit in that voice you know makes her melt, she'll just hand the the joint over with a smirk pulling at her lips, knowing damn well her passenger princess is about to find herself laid out in the backseat.

──˚₊𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

୨ৎ so here's the thing: abby is suchhhh a backseat driver. it's one of the only things you fight about, and when you do, it gets ugly, because you know abby and that damn ego. she thinks she's right about everything. but it isn't one of these fights that lands her in the driver's seat for good; instead, it's the third missed turn in a row on a road trip back to your hometown. she asks you to pull into a gas station, and you assume it's so that she can figure out where the fuck you guys are and reroute the GPS, but then she reaches over to place her hand on your cheek and asks you- in that soft voice she only uses when she's speaking to you- to let her take over. and you realize, she was never trying to give you a hard time for your terrible sense of direction. she just wants to take care of her baby. so, you and abby decide that, 𝐧𝐨, she is not a passenger princess. plus, you've gotta, admit; she looks damn good with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

and last, but certainly not least, my favorite womanizer on the list:

──˚₊𝐊𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 (𝐀𝐂: 𝐎𝐝𝐲𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐲)

୨ৎ gonna try not to make this super thirsty or super long but gods help me she makes it hard. anyway. not sure why, but i headcanon modern!kass as being kind of a car girl. not in an obnoxious douchey way, though. she just likes nice cars. she's got a fancy sports car, manual like she's used to driving back home in greece, still spotless inside and out despite her having had it for years. so, needless to say: 𝐧𝐨, kassandra is not a passenger princess. not with a car that sexy. not when it drives that nice. sexy sports car aside, kass is a gentlewoman, so she prefers to drive you around regardless. the one time you convinced her to let you take the wheel was toward the beginning of your relationship; she'd just gotten back from her annual trip to kefalonia, and you offered to drive her home from the airport, expecting that she'd curl up in the passenger seat and get some much-needed rest. instead- despite the near 24 hours of traveling she'd just endured- she couldn't keep her damn heart-eyes off of you. eventually, she couldn't keep her hands off of you, so she booked a room in a nice hotel for the night. just to break up the trip home. no other reason. (okay that's a lie but can u blame her u hadn't seen each other in a month!) you don't get to drive her back home from the airport again, though, because it only took that one month away from you for her to decide she wouldn't be going back to greece without you.

thank you all for being passenger princesses in the ride that was my 2 am thoughts.

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

[bweeeb]

HEART SHOT

BUCKY BARNES × READER

Summary: Bucky needs a strategy and the best strategist he knows he broke up with two months ago.

Warnings: bad writing! English is not my first language. Drama, Bucky and reader, both stubborn. If you close your eyes you can see anguish. Cutest, Bucky is a lot of girl bread and stuff like that.

Part two here💅

I do not allow anyone to use my work. Requests are open.

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With a heavy head, your gut feeling pulled you to look out the window, your eyes narrowing in doubt, as if the window itself was some kind of trick.

You changed your clothes. Meanwhile, across the city, Bucky was driving like a maniac, grumbling about the group's forced discussion.

"Are you an idiot? Or are you just pretending to be one?" Yelena snapped at John, who was stubbornly pushing a stupid idea.

"At least I think," he retorted.

"You think?" Yelena laughed loudly. Bucky rolled his eyes, annoyed. He just wanted them to shut up.

"Shut up before I give up," he said, pulling the truck over on a back street behind a building, then motioned for the group to follow.

"Where exactly are we going?" John asked.

"We need a strategy."

"You didn't answer the question," Ava said, narrowing her eyes for a few seconds.

"Just act like normal people, or she won't let us in," Bucky mumbled as they got into the elevator, watching the numbers on the screen while listening to their grumbling.

"Who is she exactly, Barnes?" Yelena asked.

"You know Y/n," he grumbled, and Yelena smiled, putting her hands on her hips.

"Could you not spread your wings like that? The elevator's small," Ava requested, feeling the space get tighter.

"My little one smiled, so she trusts this Y/n. So do I," Alexei said, and Yelena looked down, shaking her head.

Bucky just thought the elevator had never taken so long to arrive.

When they got out, Bucky approached the door and rang the doorbell, almost giddy with what he was doing.

Your footsteps inside the apartment became silent the moment you heard many voices together coming from the hallway, your spine stiffened and your feet became strategically stealth.

Bucky knew this; he knew you well enough to know you were coming to the camera that was somewhere there.

"Friday. Who the hell is here?" you whispered, and Friday whispered back as if she were a flesh-and-blood friend right in front of you.

"Bucky Barnes, Y/n. He is accompanied by some people: Yelena Belova, John Walker, Alexei Shostakov, and Ava Starr."

When you finally saw the figure of the man who made your chest ache, a sigh escaped your lips, and the door was opened quickly and impatiently, as if you wanted to end the anguish that was breaking you.

"You fucking scared the crap out of me!" you said, one hand on your hip and the other on the door. "What are you doing here, Buck? Are you okay?"

Always worried, Bucky thought, remembering how you would gently touch his face when he came back from screwed-up missions, or even how you would hide your own injuries to tend to his after being thrown from a truck at 150 km/h. Bucky missed that feeling and hated feeling it because he didn't want you to forget for him.

"I'm fine, doll. We just need shelter for a little while."

His eyes scanned the people behind him, and your expression softened when you looked at Yelena. You and Nat were very close, even more so after Hydra captured you and injected you with a test serum that left you stuck in your nineteen-year-old body. Every time Yelena and her father visited, you made sure to force Tony to house them in the Tower. She was your best friend, so you shared Yelena's pain when Nat passed.

"Yelena," your voice remained soft as you hugged her first.

"How have you been?"

You didn't answer because if you said you were fine, it would be a lie. Crying yourself to sleep, hugging a pillow that he once warmed, wasn't "doing well." So you just turned the question around as if it were something healthy.

"How are you?"

"Doing okay, sort of. It's good to see you, though, dear," she murmured, letting you go. You then looked at the big man who resembled the Russian Santa Claus.

"You look like the giant Santa Claus from Russia. Red Guardian."

Alexei smiled, recognizing you, and picked you up in his arms, lifting you off the ground.

"I told you he looks like Santa, man," John said as Yelena and Bucky told Alexei to put you down.

"The multi-millionaire genius daddy's girl is dating the heartless congressman?" Ava asked softly, and your eyes narrowed on her when you were back on the ground. You didn't know her, and she had a cool suit, which meant she was strong and potentially dangerous.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Direct like her father," John pointed out, and your gaze fell on him with disgust.

"You didn't know my father, so don't talk about him." You rolled your eyes, and Bucky looked at you, smiling. He loved that you were as blunt as he sometimes was, because you had always been the kindest person he knew, and you being rude meant you were alert and annoyed by the things that had been irritating him all day.

"I'm sorry to show up like this."

You hadn't seen each other in two months, since you broke up. Things between you hadn't ended well; the decision had been unilateral on Buck's part, who kept repeating that he wasn't good for you and that he would be putting you in danger by his side. He left while you cried in the same apartment you shared. And what hypocrisy, because now he was right there, when he had put himself in danger.

"Come in. You look like shit."

"How sweet she is," someone said, making you roll your eyes and reconsider why you were helping them.

Then you looked at Bucky, who was already staring at you, and with slumped shoulders, you looked at your feet as you stepped away from the door.

"This place is amazing," Yelena said as she entered your apartment, receiving a silent smile from you. That place was yours, but half the things were arranged and decided by you and Bucky. Even though it was full of memories of your father, that place wasn't just yours, but Bucky's too.

"Mi casa es tu casa. As always, Yelena." You smiled without teeth and closed the door, watching the group enter your house uncomfortably.

"Right... you need, I don't know? A shower? Or food?"

Your speech was interrupted by Alpine's meow, who came from upstairs and circled Bucky's legs before the man picked up the cat and stroked its white fur.And there he was, the Winter Soldier, now the grumpy congressman, making a cat purr in his arms. I know, Alpine, I know, I also miss his hands stroking me, you thought to yourself, shaking your head when you heard a disguised cough.

"So..."

"Food would be good," Yelena affirmed, and everyone agreed.

"I'd really like a shower," John said, and your gaze fell on him with disdain.

"Have you learned how not to be a jerk, or do I still have to hate you?"

"I never did anything bad to you." He shrugged, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Oh, please, John. Cut that crap."

"Alright, let's stop wasting her time talking nonsense, okay?" Bucky stood beside you and let go of Alpine, who settled between you like the couple's child, meowing as if scolding John for talking to you.

"I have a lasagna in the fridge that Pepper made me buy, and it's universe-sized, so if you want, I can put it in the oven for you."

Almost immediately, the answers were yes, so you did. You heated the food for them and stayed there, arms restlessly around your body, unsure what to do with those people in your house. Since Tony left, then Nat, Matt also distanced himself from the world, then Bucky from you—you felt... alone most of the time. Your week was silent, except for moments when Morgan would give you her personal daily report around seven in the evening.

"So, what are you guys involved in?" you asked, drawing their attention away from their plates.

"There's this guy named Bob..." Alexei began to speak while drinking your whiskey until Bucky rudely cut him off, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about it," he said, and your expression became offended.

"Are you really doing this?"

"What?" he said, clearing his throat, and all he got from you was a shake of your head and your averted gaze, which meant in a more than explicit way that you were upset.

"Nothing, Bucky." Your voice came out controlled, and from then on, you refused to look at him. He was doing the same thing he did a month before breaking up with you: completely excluding you from important information, from what he was doing, where he was going, with whom he was going. And now he was here, inside your house, once again doing the same bullshit and telling others to shut up about any information.You felt stupid.

"Are you spending the night? Or is this information I'm not supposed to know in my own home?" Your voice this time came out acidic at the end as you glanced at Bucky, who wet his lips, regretful. He didn't want to make you feel bad or excluded, but he didn't want you to get involved because once you did, you would go all the way. Tony was like that, just as you inherited that from him.

"I don't know if we should..." Yelena said, and your gaze returned to him, regretful. You were losing control, and that's what Bucky did to your feelings: he drove you crazy. Love, desire, anger. Because in the end, it was always him who circled your heart.

"No. I'm sorry, I'm being a terrible host. I have four bedrooms upstairs; you can have mine, and I'll make up the other beds. Please, make yourselves at home." You left the kitchen and gasped as if you hadn't breathed in a long time, but then you remembered it was just the damn anxiety.

"Want me to call Pepper?" Friday chimed in above you, and you grumbled a low "no" as you quickly went upstairs.

"You're forgetting to breathe, Y/n," she warned as you entered your room and leaned against the wall. Back against the cold wall, your eyes closed, and your head tilted back.

"Do you need me to start the meditation..." You then rudely cut her off, afraid that some of the people downstairs would hear anything.

"No! Be quiet, please!" you said through clenched teeth, closing your eyes in your own anguish. The room was silent, but your head was racing, screaming a thousand words at once.While you were upstairs, Bucky had gotten up and put his plate in the dishwasher, listening to the group at the table arguing.

"Hey, Bucky. What happened between you two?" Yelena asked, and Bucky remained with his back to them.

"Yeah, you two were inseparable. Like, his protected girlfriend," John said, and Bucky shook his head, still not looking at them.

"It's none of your business."

"Looks like you guys have problems. If you're dating, you'd better go after her," Ava concluded, and Bucky closed his eyes tightly.

"She's not my girlfriend," he said firmly, scoffing and leaving the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Yelena asked.

"After her."

When Bucky left the kitchen, the group let out a light laugh, shaking their heads. Who would have thought that Congressman Bucky Barnes was having relationship problems with someone as lovely as you.

"Y/n, you're holding your breath again. That's not the healthiest way to do this." Friday's voice echoed above you, and you clenched your jaw tighter than you thought possible.Your head was spinning, and you were just trying to find the silence of darkness, but then you felt his warmth on you, and you thought your mind was playing tricks, trying to find a way to comfort you. But when you heard his voice calling your name, your eyes opened, filled with tears that burned your heart.

"Hey," he called you, both hands around your face while you stood there looking ridiculous in front of him. That's what you thought.

"Hey," your voice failed in a whisper, and Bucky caressed your skin as he had the last time he had the right to do so.

"Breathe, doll," he instructed you, and almost immediately you slipped from his hands and turned your back to him. With wide eyes, you blinked hard and wiped away the thick tear that streamed down your cheek.

"Is everything okay downstairs?" You swallowed the knot in your throat and sniffed softly as you picked up fluffy, warm comforters. It was a cold night; your apartment had heating, but even so, you didn't want anyone to be cold, even if they were all heroes and stuff.

"Is everything okay up here?" he asked, and you turned to him without looking him in the eyes, but he knew. He knew you.

"Mhm," you murmured as you left your room, leaving Bucky there staring at the bed he once also slept in, with you beside him.With a pang in his chest, Bucky walked to the other bedroom, and standing in the doorway, he stared at you as if you were the center of the world. And you were, or at least you were his.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, and you stiffened your spine.

"It's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me if you don't want to."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"Then you shouldn't have come here." Silence remained thick between you, and Bucky took a step closer to you, gently grabbing your forearm and making you look at him.

"I shouldn't have," he agreed and watched you swallow hard. "But you're the only thing in this whole world that seems to stick to me like something magnetic."

"Must be the arm," you joked, pointing softly to his arm, making Bucky smile gently at you.

"I can help you guys. Let me help you. One last time," you pleaded, looking him in the face, and Bucky sighed, giving in to you.

"Bob was one of the survivors of Project Sentinel."

"I thought everyone died."

"I guess everyone thought so, doll. They took him, and... I don't know, now I'm helping them save the guy who was taken by O.X.E."

"They probably took him to the O.X.E. building."

"Right, I think so too. But they're on top of us. Going in quietly would be the best move."

"Hey, silly," you called with a half-smile, "I have the building blueprints in my dad's old files. That was Stark Tower. I know every corner of that place. Come here."

"You don't have to get involved, doll."

"Buck, let me," you asked in a soft voice.Opening the holographic table, you pulled up the files and opened the building's blueprint, scanning each floor with your eyes.

"Right here. You can enter through the bottom, through the convenience store across the street," you said, pointing.

"What's that?" Alexei asked, abruptly breaking the silence and drawing the rest of the group over.

"Looks like we found a way in," Bucky stated, and you simply nodded.

"Valentina shouldn't know about this. If she does... you'd better be in shape."

"Y/n?" Friday called you, and Alexei looked at the ceiling suspiciously.

"What the hell is that?"

"Dad," Yelena admonished him, and he continued."Fancy stuff."

"Yeah, maybe." You laughed and replied to Friday, "Yes?"

"Morgan is calling you."

"Morgan?"

"Should I answer?"

"Why is she calling me?"

"I think that's why you answer the phone," John said, receiving a dirty look from you.

"There's a bathroom upstairs in each room; if you want, you can go clean up," you instructed while picking up the phone and answering Morgan on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Moggy. Are you okay?"

"You're not going to believe this! Mommy said she's thinking of letting me have a dog!" she shouted from the other end of the line, and you laughed.

"Wow. Really? I never got to have one. What was your magic?"

"I said I would take care of him like you and Bucky give Alpine love. And that it would make me start to be a more loving person to the world. Do you think I could name him James?"

Your heart almost exploded upon hearing the words in that sentence, and almost immediately your gaze fell on Bucky, who was looking at you worriedly with Alpine in his arms, purring the way she only did when Bucky caressed her."James?" He then looked at you intently as if you were alerting him to something.

"Why James?"

"Because I miss Bucky, and you told me his first name is James. Oh, Alpine is making those different noises again. Is Bucky back from his trip?"

Bucky and Morgan had become very close; he had grown fond of her in a way you didn't want her to, which is why you didn't have the heart to tell her you broke up, even though you knew it was just lying to everyone.

"Yes, dear, he's back, but only for a few hours; he'll have to leave soon." She let out a disappointed "oh" that quickly faded.

"Can I talk to him? Pretty please."

"What are you doing home now?"

"I'm sick. Mommy picked me up early and said I could call you."

"You're sick? I talked to you yesterday."

"My tummy hurts. Can I talk to Bucky, please?" she whined, and you looked at him, swallowing hard, unsure how to ask.

"Okay," you whispered, and she shrieked with happiness on the other end of the line.

"Bucky?" You called him, and he looked at you again.

"Yeah?"

"Morgan wants to talk to you. Could you... just for a few minutes?"

"Of course." He put Alpine down in a second and took the extended phone faster than you expected him to.

"Hi, little spy," he said in the most loving voice possible, and your chest swelled. How was it possible for someone like him to exist?

"How was your trip?" she asked from the other end of the line, and Bucky frowned, looking at you confused. Trip?

"Good... but not very fun."

"Good. It's obvious, sweetie, I wasn't there and neither was Y/n," she joked, and Bucky smiled faintly, still watching you, becoming uncomfortable and turning your back to the living room window.

"Are you okay?"

"I miss you. Which sucks because you're going to travel again and you won't see me."

"I can come back earlier this time."

"REALLY?"

"Yeah."

"Great, because now that I can have a dog and I asked Mommy if I could name him James, she told me I'd need to ask Y/n, but since she didn't answer me and you're there, can I?"

"James?"

"Yeah, like you. But he'll be a dog."

"Of course, you can do that. I'd be honored."

"COOL! It's like having two best friend twins. Alright, bye, Buck."

The call ended, and Bucky's gaze remained fixed on you, who shifted uncomfortably and looked at him, understanding that they had stopped talking.

Best friends, the little one called him best friend and wasn't afraid of him.

"She's happy. Because of the dog," he cleared his throat, and you nodded, taking your phone back.

"She chose your name. That's cute." You smiled softly and nodded, falling back into yourself as you realized you were going to very dark places.

"If you don't want to sleep on the couch, you'd better try to grab a bed," you warned, but he remained standing, staring at you as if you were more important than anything. Which you knew he didn't care about, because Bucky initially slept on the floor, afraid of hurting you.

"And you?"

"Don't worry about it. I had things to do anyway," you mumbled, and Bucky continued to stare at you.

"What?"

"It's late. Do you still have things to do?" You just shrugged, but then Bucky suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground.

"Bucky! What the hell is this?"

"You love your rest time; you're not going to be busting your butt working because you want to be stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," you retorted, and he threw you onto the couch as if you weighed nothing.

"You can't do that."

"You're overwhelmed. You can't do this." He crossed his arms, and a frown appeared on his face."Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Acting like you know me."

"I do know you," Bucky argued, and you stood up again.

"No. You left me crying on the floor of this apartment two months ago, and now I'm a completely different person." Your finger pointed at his chest, and you saw Bucky's shoulders slump.

"Doll."

"Don't call me that! It's fine for you all to stay here, but you can't touch me and act like we're in the middle of something good." Your eyes welled up, and a glimpse of pain crossed Bucky's face.

"Alright. You're right. I'm sorry."

"And I'm going with you tomorrow, whether you want it or not." You said then left him downstairs as you climbed the steps and stopped in front of your bedroom door. Yelena, more than happy, told you to join her.

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mehhh, bad ending but part two already on my profile

[steddie-as-they-come]

Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.

Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.

Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.

The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.

A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.

"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."

The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."

He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.

This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.

They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.

He misses the shitheads.

No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.

Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.

It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.

It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.

Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.

In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.

"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.

"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."

"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."

He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.

She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."

Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"

"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.

Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"

Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.

Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."

"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."

Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."

"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"

Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.

"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"

"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."

The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.

Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”

Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”

“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.

Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”

“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”

“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.

Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”

Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”

He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.

Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.

Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”

Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”

Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”

The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.

It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.

part two!

[karaeilish]

⌗ PACIFY HER ━━ b. eilish ❜◞

꩜ SYNOPSIS :: was she hers if she wanted you so bad?

꩜WARNINGS :: smut(ish) . cheating . both billie & reader r toxic . jealousy . swearing .

꩜ A/N — PLEASE . don’t copy & steal my works AND my layouts . m doing everything by myself and m not giving you any rights 🤍

maybe you shouldn't have shown up on her doorstep while she was with her precious little girlfriend, hugging so sweetly and exchanging false promises. well, you just had to ruin their idyll.

"what the fuck? what is she talking about, billie?!" her loud, annoying voice cuts through the tense air between the three of you, leaving new deep cuts under your skin. the sunset lights up your faces, adding a spark of beauty to this ugly situation.

billie looked stunned, depressed, and defeated. her eyes darted between you and her girlfriend, stopping on her when she tugged her arm once again.

"anna, i don't know—!" she screams, eyes widening as she tries to think of what she's going to say next, but your thoughts are already ahead of hers.

you smirk, arrogant, bitter, crossing your arms over your chest as another string of scathing words forms on the tip of your tongue. “oh, her name is anna now? i’m used to you calling her a clingy bitch!”

the second you say it, billie’s hand drops to your throat, fingertips digging into your skin, but before she can squeeze it, she registers the action, yanks her hand back and takes a step back, running her hands through her hair. you smile. you know you’re driving her crazy.

“you slept with her?!” anna interrupts, almost pouncing on you, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. it hurts, it really hurts, you know, but she’s not the only one billie’s been lying for months. it hurts you too, you just let it out in a different way. you fight. dirty, but you fight. "i didn't sleep with her, honey, i fucked her.. although you know, she was more proactive in fucking—"

billie's eyes flash at you with anger and that fucking fire in her eyes, as she wants to finish you off right now. your words excite her, like the second you tell her girlfriend about how she fucked you behind her back, she only wants you more.

"she's my girlfriend! you have to stay away from her!" anna almost growls through clenched teeth, filled with desperation, causing a glimmer of possessiveness to appear in her eyes. you almost find it funny.

"oh yeah?" your bottom lip disappears under your teeth, your face coming closer to hers. your voice is quiet, dangerous. "was she yours if she wanted me so bad?"

sighs, insulted, her face flushing with anger, and the moment her hand rises to hit you, billie intercepts it. instant reaction. you don't even flinch. you knew for a fact that billie wouldn't let her touch you.

her face is still unreadable, her teeth still gritting. their eyes meet, and in that second you see pure awareness in anna's eyes. her mouth opens a few times before she uses her other hand, leaving a painful slap on billie's face that she doesn't flinch from. she takes it, knowing she deserved it.

"i hate you! i hate you both!" anna screams, stomping out of the house so fast you don't even have time to notice. well, you don't have time to notice because your back is now pressed against the brick wall, and this time she doesn't stop her hand from squeezing your throat tightly, but that doesn't stop you from smiling, looking into her eyes.

you knew perfectly well that once anna left this room, you’d be the only one left in billie's head. without any regrets.

"you're such a fucking bitch" she growls, her intense gaze burning into your skin. you smirk.

"well, i'm sorry i don't like sharing" your eyes fall to her lips, then move higher to meet her eyes.

"i'll kill you. i'll fucking destroy you, make you scream. scream so loud you won't be able to speak anymore!"

"mm. you're mine, o’connell"

♱ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworld, @peytonneilish, @clairrehwart, @emi-inspace, @ilomilobabyy, @aka-persephone, @hanoxoxo

[lush-escape]

The Vigilante's Guide to Grief

pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader wc: 1.4k summary: Jason's therapist recommends journaling to help him through his grieving process after your death prev: first entry next: denial

Stage one: Shock

Hey,

Ok that's a little easier than writing dear. It's June 11th. Sorry it's been a little while. This just feels stupid still. But I told Christy (dumb stupid therapist who told me to do this) that I would give it another try. So here I am. Trying. Unfortunately she's not that bad. That's a lie. I actually really like her. Dick came by to check on me today. Him and Kori brought over some weird tameranian dessert. I dont know. I stuck it in the fridge it looks like it might grow legs and try to bite me.

Jason rubs at his eyes, “I still have no idea what I'm supposed to write.” He mumbles a curse under his breath while running his hand through his messy hair.

I bet you would have tried it. You always liked the weirdest shit. Like the time Steph and Cass tried to make a cake for you for your birthday. Who the fuck even makes matcha and strawberry cake?

“Um, why does it look like that?” Jason eyes the questionable looking cake in front of him.

“Don't worry about how it looks!” Steph waves him off with a nervous smile.

“Do not judge a book by its cover.” Cass crosses her arms as if she's actually offended by Jason's question.

“It's good! She loves matcha and strawberries, it'll be great.”

“Okay, but like… what kind of cake flavor is it?” Jason asks.

“Coffee.” Cass replies.

Jason groans and rubs his hands down his face, “I should have just ignored both of you and gone to the bakery. This is my first time celebrating her birthday with her as her boyfriend, I can't believe I let you two talk me into this. She's going to hate me. She's going to break up with me-”

“Oh no,” Steph shoots Cass a worried glance, “He's spiraling.”

Cass narrows her eyes and smacks Jason on the back of the head earning her an annoyed “ow! What was that for?!”

“Relax. Trust us.” She says calmly.

That night when you went to Wayne Manor at Jason's invite for a special birthday dinner, he said. And when it was time for cake you were just as surprised as Jason, just on the other end of the spectrum. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“It's, listen okay-” Jason stammers, hand on the back of his neck. “I know it looks a little off and I told Steph and Cass that this was going to be a bad idea-” he rambles.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm and immediately he melts. He sighs and deflates, his thoughts stop spiraling, and suddenly everything is right in the world.

“I hate how you do that….” He whispers.

“What?” You ask with a smile.

“Just.. calm me down like that. All you have to do is touch me and it's like- like everything stops and I can think clearly.”

You smile up at him, warm and bright and like he's created the entire universe just for you.

“Come on, let's try this cake.” You tell him softly.

And despite his better judgement he does try the cake. It's different, not what he imagined, and it's good. Jason grumbles as Cass and Steph tease him for being right.

“Alright, enough of everyone's pestering. We're getting outta here.” Jason waves off the family as he takes your hand in his. You look at him and silently ask where he's taking you and he gives you a soft smile in return. He can hear Tim and Dick snickering at the loving gesture. But he ignores them as he drags you out of the manor.

“It’s a surprise.” Jason tells you quietly.

That night Jason takes you for a drive to the harbor near Brown Bridge. It's quiet and cool, the lights from the city accentuating the bridge in front of you. Water slowly laps at the shore, you can hear frogs and crickets as Jason helps you climb onto the hood of his car before taking a spot next to you.

“What'd you bring me all the way out here for?” You ask him playfully with a smile, leaning your cheek against his shoulder.

Jason wraps an arm around you, “..just wanted you for m’self.” He answers questions as his heart thuds in his chest.

“An’... I got you something. Didn't want the brats to see it.” He finally admits after a few peaceful moments of silence. You knew it was coming.

Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box.

“It's not anything crazy, just…” He hands it over to you and he's thanking the stars that it's dark out so you can't see the way his face flushes in embarrassment.

Inside is a small, simple, heart shaped locket. Inside holds a picture of the two of you, one of your photo booth pictures - the one of you kissing Jason's cheek as he smiles. The opposite side is engraved with the day he officially asked you to be his.

“Jason…” you breathe out, touched. Heartfelt tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

Wordlessly Jason takes the locket from you and begins to fasten it around your neck.

“It's beautiful, baby.” Your fingers trace the edging of the locket, memorizing it. Jason blushes even more.

“S’not that big of a deal, calm down.” He plays it off with a smile. But even he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees it on you.

“Yes it is, you big softy.” You smile up at him and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like “‘m not soft”.

“Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled affectionately before pulling you back into his side.

Jason drops his pen and puts his head in his hands with a shaky sigh. The memory of your first birthday together as an official couple haunts him. He lets himself breathe for a few minutes before he picks his pen back up.

I need you here so bad right now. Not in that stupid fucking urn. I'm spiraling. Again. Sometimes I wish I could feel the same way I did right after you died. Empty. Numb. So I wouldn't have to sit with my thoughts. I was on autopilot. Freaked everyone out though. B said he’d never seen someone so emotionless while planning a funeral before. He said I was in shock. Yeah no shit.

“She doesn't want to be buried.” Jason’s flat tone made everyone on edge.

“We'll have her cremated.” Bruce’s hand is on Jason's shoulder as he looks through a catalogue of coffins and urns.

“Hm…” Jason hums. “Something nice.” His eyes are on the page but he's not really looking. He can't believe this is happening. It all feels fake to him. There's no way your body is going to fit into an urn. You're <I>you</I>, you're not supposed to be in an urn. You're supposed to be sitting on the couch, in his lap, making him watch Love Island or whatever the fuck.

“Something pretty and ornate.” Jason's eyes skim the page. “This one.” He points to a black urn engraved beautifully with stars.

Bruce nods once. He's aware of the shock Jason is in, but it still unnerves him to see his son like this.

“Of course.” He says.

“And for the service I think we should do a, uh, dessert pot luck. She loves desserts.”

Bruce notices the way Jason is still talking about you in present tense but doesn't say anything.

Jason's writing is rushed now as he's trying to get out all of his thoughts while memories of you swirl around in his head.

Christy says that's one of the worst states of grief but I miss it. God I miss you. This isn't fucking fair. None of it is. It wasn't supposed to be you you know. It was supposed to be me. It was always supposed to be me. I already died once what's one more time? I would die a hundred times over if it meant you got to stay here even if it was just for 2 fucking minutes

Jason sighs and closes his notebook. His head is a clouded mess, feels thick with cotton and heavy like lead.

“God damnit…” He pushes away from the desk and without a second thought goes to the kitchen to try that dessert from Kori and Dick. It's what you would've done, after all.

taglist: @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king @theendofthematerialgworl @tinasdcstuff @4rachn3

[gyusrose]

➵ you’re so vain -> l.hs

⚠︎ smut (mdni)

✎ jock!heeseung x reader, enemies to ?????, heeseung is rlly annoying, hate sex ;), hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, degradation, backshots lmao. i think that’s it?

summary: attending a new school was supposed to be a fresh start for you, trying to be nice to everyone and have new friends, yet coming across lee heeseung threw all of that out the window.

(heeseung x fem.reader)

wc: 3.2k

your sweaty hands could not be gripping the steering wheel any harder. you wouldn’t call yourself “super shy” but when it comes to a whole new community of people, teenagers, hell yeah you are.

you had to move exactly at the middle of the year due to your mom’s work. they offered her double the salary at the other side of the city, who was she to say no to that? although you were going to miss your friends and the overall environment of your old home, you couldn’t just tell your mom ‘no’, either way her decisions are final.

you just got here two days ago, and to be honest, it wasn’t that bad. the worst thing so far is the fact that the nearest shopping center was 30 minutes away but you’ll live.

you didn’t except your first day of school to be so nerve-wracking. surely you’ll make some friends but who knows what people are like here. eventually, you saw the big navy blue sign with your school’s name on it. it was an averagely big school, bigger than your old one, which also meant more people.

the parking space alone was scary. it was huge yet already full even though it was still fairly early. you went around in circles around the parking lot, trying to find a vacant spot. fortunately you did at the second-to-last line.

as you tried to park, the limited space you had made it difficult to, having to back up and drive in constantly. as you reversed your car, you must have completely forgotten that you aren’t the only one there, feeling a small crash at the bumper of your car.

your eyes widened in panic. you looked back to see what you hit, and with your luck, it revealed at very nice black car, to which you’ve just hit. you tried to quickly get into your parking spot, hoping it was nothing serious, but then someone came walking up to you.

‘shit, that must be the owner’ you saw his red, rather handsome, fuming face.

you got out of your car to confront the first person interaction.

“hey look im so-“

“CANT YOU FUCKING DRIVE RIGHT? YOU HIT MY VERY EXPENSIVE CAR WITH YOUR THING, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

oh he was an asshole. you almost scoffed in his face. who does he think he is.

“it was accident that’s all, it was barely a scratch calm down man.”

“IT WAS DEFINITELY A SCRATCH LOOK AT IT! JUST BECAUSE YOU KEEP YOUR CAR LOOKING ALL MISERABLE DOESNT MEAN I WILL, DO YOU EVEN HAVE A LICENSE?”

lord take me back. you were so close to just leaving him there arguing with himself. but you didn’t want to make him even angrier.

“look im sorry! i can pay for the fix up if that’s what you want, i dont know what else to do?”

the boy scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement.

“you think i don’t have the money for it? please, it shows you’re a newbie around here.”

“i didn’t mean it like that-“

“yo heeseung!! come on bro!” another blonde boy called from afar, hopefully ending the argument y’all were having.

“ watch your back new girl.” with one last glare, he left to join his group of friends.

you rolled your eyes. shiver my fucking timbers, you thought.

you took a deep breath before grabbing your backpack and making your way into school , hoping to never see his face ever again.

>>

you thought that was going to be the end of it all. but oh boy were you wrong. soon you found out that heeseung is the captain of the football team, and pretty much the most popular boy in school. as cliche as it sounds, every girl would drop their panties if he asked them to.

people know he’s not the nicest person ( an asshole) yet they still look up to him. that’s angered you. how are all these people so dumb? just because he’s kinda good-looking? seriously?

over the course of a few weeks, you’ve managed to make some friends, your closest taehyun and Isa. although you tried to block the negativity, heeseung made it really hard. always giving you snarky comments when he saw you around, ridiculing you in front of other people. somehow always finding a way to run into you despite not having any classes together. except gym.

“ bro open your eyes, catch the damn ball!” he yelled from across from you.

you hated sports. even less could you play one, but you gotta do it for the grade.

“the ball was too high up dummy!” you retorted, rolling your eyes for maybe the 100th time in the class period.

if you hated gym before, you definitely hated it more now.

as the period ended, you decided to take a quick shower in the locker rooms since you couldn’t handle being all sweaty and gross throughout the day.

heeseung finished changing and was outside the locker room with his friends, chatting, waiting for the bell to ring. that’s when he may have accidentally eavesdropped the conversation between your two friends, he could barely the names of.

“where’s _____?” taehyun asked isa, noticing how you weren’t with her.

“she’s taking a shower right now, she told us to not wait for her.” Isa shrugged before taehyun nodded.

a beautiful idea popped in heeseung’s brain. it was too good.

he excused himself and sneakily waited by the girl’s locker room, waiting for everyone to come out. once he only heard the shower you were using running, he quietly entered the room. the bell had rang about a minute ago, so the gym was empty, only you and him. the gym teacher god knows where.

he saw his target and rapidly grabbed the pile of clothes sitting on the bench, a smirk evident in his face.

suddenly the shower stopped running, making heeseung hurry and exit the locker room.

the shower felt too good, you think you spent more time that you anticipated to. as you exited the shower tiles, you looked around for your clothes, which you remember clearly leaving them in the bench closest to the shower. you looked around the whole locker room, hoping you were wrong and placed them elsewhere. unfortunately, you couldn’t even find your damn socks.

your biggest fear has come true. you’re now naked, nothing but a towel covering you, this was more than just humiliating. you felt sad, mad, angry, embarrassed all at once. they’ve been stolen for sure, and you were more than sure on who did it.

grabbing your phone you called Isa, to see if she could help you somehow. and she indeed did. bringing you some spare clothes she had. thankfully, you always bring extra underwear since situations like these could happen. you just had to wait for isa for the clothes, yet the five minutes she took felt like five hours. unfortunately, passing period is over, meaning some students are coming in the locker room to change.

many of them just straight up stared at you. giving you weird looks as to why you were pretty much naked in the middle of the locker room, but none had the guts to ask you.

you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. lee heeseung won’t hear the end of it.

“LEE HEESEUNG!” you yelled across the field. he and his friends were siting down eating lunch outside when you spotted him after trying to find him after the stunt he just pulled.

heeseung knew it was coming, giggling with his friends as they heard you yell his name once again. “ oh she’s about to scold me now .” heeseung scoffed but still got up and went over to you.

“yes ma’am?” he said with a smile, you wish you could slap off but you’re better than that.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID DO YOU KNOW HOW EMBARRASSING THAT WAS?”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about..” heeseung tried acting innocent but failed as he just burst out laughing. you groaned, how on earth is that funny?

“cute panties by the way” he continued to laugh, not sparing a glance at your mad expression on your face.

“you’re such an ass, i hate your guts.” you said leaving him alone, laughing to himself.

“yo bro i think she actually got mad this time.” his friend, jake came over.

heeseung shrugged. “she’s so sensitive, it wasn’t even that bad.”

“i can’t believe he did that…” taehyun said as you told them both what had happened. Isa knew a little bit but not who did it.

“that’s fucked up, what’s he got against you so much?”

you shrugged. “i guess because i gave his car a little scratch, but i guess he took it to heart since he hasn’t stopped bothering me since. he’s a jerk.”

“finally someone who thinks the same as me!” taehyun said making you chuckle.

“then get back at him! you know the one thing that makes him who he is is that damn football.” Isa said.

you tried to be the bigger person this whole time, not paying much mind to his little remarks or pranks he pulls, biting back a little wouldn’t hurt right?

“you know what, you’re right.”

“lee heeseung, mrs. park wants to speak to you.” mr.jung said calling heeseung.

heeseung who was barely paying attention heard his name. his frowned at this. what on earth could she want to talk about with him? either way, he went to her classroom.

he entered the empty classroom to find his coach and mrs.park, waiting for him. what the fuck? heeseung was more confused now. maybe they were going to congratulate him for the good work this semester? his coach’s face said otherwise though.

“there you are, you may be wondering why you’re here..” mrs.park started. heeseung nodded, feeling uneasy.

“a student came forward, showing how you copied word for word her whole assignment, the one i assigned a week ago. i didn’t notice it at first but it’s very clear now, you may know how cheating is unacceptable in my class, i’ve decided to fail you in this assignment, plus you’ll be serving detention this whole week..” she turned to the coach.

heeseung’s heart started beating at a rapid pace, he’s never been caught cheating, and being failed on the assignment that was a big part of his grade, it means he’s most likely failing the class now. the rules for football stated that all players should be passing all of their classes if not, they’ll be dropped….

no no no, the lee heeseung can’t be dropped. he’s the captain! the star player!

“since you’re failing this class heeseung, i think you know what’s about to happe-“

“please coach! don’t kick me out, i’m the captain! what would the team do without me? i’ll get my grade up as soon as possible im-“

“calm down calm down, i’m not going to kick you out, it’s the middle of the season, but unfortunately you won’t be playing the next three games. if your grade is not up by then, then i will drop you. understood?” his coach stated earning a sharp nod by heeseung.

he’s glad he’s still on the team but what’s the point if he can’t play? he’s going to become a joke. the captain that’s a bench warmer. how stupid.

he left the classroom enraged. he knows exactly who did this.

“bro what? what do you mean you ain’t gonna play ?” riki said in disbelief at what his captain just said.

“some snitch told mrs.park that i cheated on the last assignment and coach suspended me for the next three games, and i got detention all week!” sunghoon unknowingly chuckled. heeseung looked at him with a glare.

“what? she got you good, what did you expect hee?” sunghoon kept laughing, making some of the others also laugh silently.

heeseung had nothing to say back, he just rolled his eyes. “tch, whatever.”

nevertheless, you were overjoyed seeing heeseung slouching on the bench. you couldn’t miss this once in a lifetime scenario. obviously you were the cause for it. heeseung asks Isa almost all the time for her notes or to straight up copy her. she willingly let you rat him out after what he did to you.

he can sense how all eyes were on him, but he just tried to block everyone out a focus on the game. he had a poker face on, but deep inside he was irritated . he saw how you were smirking and laughing with your two little friends. you knew what you were doing.

>>

“ahh look who it is, the benchwarmer! “ you said chuckling as you made your way to heeseung.

after the team (barely) won, jake threw an ‘after party’ at his house. even though you don’t normally go to these parties, especially from those boys, you felt like a party would do good with your marvellous mood. something about seeing heeseung’s frowny face made feel over the moon.

“seems like cat got your tongue now huh? dont have anything to say-“

in a blink of an eye you were pulled into a room, heeseung’s fingers wrapped around your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

“what the fuck? heeseung-“

“shut the fuck up.” his hoarse voice caught you off guard. he was actually really mad.

“you think what you did it’s fucking funny? huh? almost getting me kicked out ? “ you’ve never seen him this enraged before. making you almost scared, yet….kinda turned on? no, you hate him, snap out of it! you told yourself yet the wetness in between your legs became hard to ignore.

you didn’t respond. “fuck, you’re so annoying, i can’t fucking stand you. i hate you.” he saw lowly. fuck that was hot.

you spoke before thinking. “then show me.”

not needing to tell him twice, heeseung pulled you completely in. your lips met in a kiss that was anything but gentle, a fierce and consuming clash that spoke longing and raw need.

The kiss deepened, fueled by an unspoken urgency, their mouths exploring each other with a fervor that left y’all breathless. his grip on your neck becoming tighter.

“shit im gonna show you to fucking behave.” he said before pushing you into the bed forcefully. you may have discovered a new kink of yours. watching as he undressed himself and yourself rapidly. feeling his anger through every touch he gave you.

he rubbed through your folds before inserting two fingers aggressively. your body jolted at the sudden move.

“holy shit go softer dumbass.”

“aw you think i give a fuck? suck it up and take it since you think you’re all that.” his fingers pumped faster and faster making it hard for you to answer back to his stupid remarks.

“oh my god..” you tried to pull his hand away before you cum. not wanting to see you orgasm so easily yet.

“just fuck me already heeseung, or is your dick as tiny as your brain?”

heeseung looked darkly at you. that stupid mouth of yours can’t shut up will it?

he retracted his fingers put of you and took his boxers off. wanting nothing more than to prove you wrong.

shit. your eyes went wide at what stood in front of you. saying he was big was an understatement. it was like a zipper for your mouth. how was that thing going to fit inside of you?

“can’t say anything now, can you slut?” he pulled your legs down the mattress to have you at the perfect angle to ram into you.

heeseung ran his til over your folds, teasing his way in. making you aggrevated.

“just put it in for fucks sake!”

“tell me how bad you want it.” you shook your head, no way were you going to beg. no way.

“alright then, i guess im gonna go.” he said letting go of your waist, acting as if he was going to leave.

“okay okay! please fuck me, i want it so bad, i want your big cock so bad heeseung.” heeseung moaned at your words. he didn’t wait any longer and thrusted all of him in you.

you both moaned yet it was more painful for you. you’ve never had something so big inside you before.

“fuck yeah..” he said then grabbing your neck, slightly choking you. your hands went to his biceps, trying to find something to hold on to as the speed he was thrusting in became more hostile.

“fuck me harder, like the asshole you are.” you said in between breaths. heeseung took the challenge and thrusted violently. the skin slapping and wetness of your core could probably be heard in the party outside.

“of course a whore like you would like to be fucked like this.”

before you could respond he pulled out of you earning a desperate groan from you, but then your were flipped, now on all fours and before you knew it he was back in you again. gripping your hip with one hand while he pulled your hair on the other.

“such a tight pussy, you probably fantasized about this am i right?” he said in your ear. you shook your head through your moan.

“in your dreams lee, in your fucking dreams. fuck you.”

“i’m quite literally doing that.” chuckling, he let go of your hair and instead gripped your other hip, going in deeper, nudging your cervix literally driving you to an edge.

“fuck i’m cumming.” you cried out. never has an orgasm felt like this. heeseung was on edge as well, feeling you clench around his dick did it for him.

your climax rose over you, making you fall into the pillow while heeseung kept thrusting until his own organs came over him, pulling out and releasing his white ropes all over your back.

tiredly, he laid besides you in the strangers bed, not knowing what to say now.

you turned to him, smirking. “i think i may hate you even more now.”

[bbywhitefox123]

Can we get one where Cath is just so overwhelmed with all the kids, and she’s just annoyed about ready to cry and Rafe has a rough day at work and takes it out on her maybe? Like a small comment leads to a big argument? Please 🙏

Summary: catherine’s got paint on the floor, juice on her dress, and four chaotic kids tearing the house apart. rafe gets home from work and all it takes is one sharp comment before they’re arguing, fucking, and arguing again. the aftermath? sticky thighs and traumatized kids.

Warnings: NSFW (smut), rough sex, domestic angst, emotionally exhausted parents, explicit language, publick-ish sex, kitchen sex, light hair pulling, light chocking,

MASTERLIST

Catherine was on her knees in the kitchen, scrubbing dried tempera paint off the tile with one gloved hand while gripping a rag in the other. Her sundress, once white with little yellow lemons, now clung damp to her hips—Mason had knocked over his cup of red juice in the morning, and she hadn’t had the time to change. Or breathe. The TV blared from the living room—Maisie’s stupid cartoon songs were at full volume—and upstairs, the boys were at it again, Mason yelling something about “you always touch my LEGOs,” while Bradley launched into a shrill defense of molecules or magnets or some other scientific thing that didn’t matter right now.

“Mom!” Lara’s voice rang out from the laundry room, laced with that spoiled, bratty tone she had perfected. “Where are my sparkly tights? I need the gold ones! I’m not wearing the silver ones! You said I could wear the gold ones!”

Cath closed her eyes for a second, rubber glove still gripping the rag, and felt the sting build behind her eyes. Her back ached. Her temples throbbed. She had spent three hours that morning driving around to five different stores hunting for a specific goddamn tutu because Lara had refused to go to ballet without it. Then at school pickup, the principal had taken her aside to inform her that Mason had gotten detention again, and Bradley had been talking about wormholes or rocket fuel or something with such relentless enthusiasm it made the other kids cry.

And now the house was wrecked. Her body hurt. Her mind was fried. And Maisie had used her watercolor set like war paint on her marble floor.

The door clicked open behind her.

Rafe stepped in, shoulders slumped, tie hanging loose around his neck like a noose, dress shirt wrinkled, jaw clenched. His hair was a mess, the way it always got when he was stressed at work—he probably spent the whole day in meetings with people he hated, fake-smiling until his mouth went numb. He tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and started pulling off his jacket.

“Babe, can you check on Lara?” Catherine asked without looking up. No kiss. No welcome. Just the edge of desperation in her voice, the kind of exhaustion that’s half whisper, half scream.

Rafe paused, blinking. “Can I at least get through the door first?”

She looked back at him then, her glove slapping against the floor. Her sundress was bunched high on her thighs, and her ass was round and full in that way he never stopped thinking about—even now, angry, she was beautiful. But her eyes were sharp.

“I’ve been here, Rafe,” she snapped. “All day. You just got through the door, but I never left. I’ve been in the door, on the floor, under the laundry, in the goddamn trenches since seven a.m!”

Rafe exhaled. “Jesus, Cath, I’m not saying you haven’t. I just walked in—”

“And you get to walk in,” she bit out, standing now, glove hanging off one hand, cheeks flushed. “You get to walk in and take your jacket off and sigh and be so tired. I haven’t even peed alone today. You want to switch? Want to find sparkly tights and clean up floor art and explain black holes to a kid who thinks he’s smarter than Stephen Hawking?”

He stepped closer, that thing in him beginning to rise—something hot and sharp and male.

“Don’t come at me like that,” he said low. “Don’t turn this into some pissing contest. I’ve been killing myself out there for all of us.”

“Right,” she laughed bitterly. “You’ve been killing yourself with catered lunch and AC. Meanwhile, I’m knee-deep in kid piss and glitter.”

“You’re unbelievable right now.”

“And you’re—”

He grabbed her wrist, yanked the glove off with a wet pop, and pinned her hand against the counter. Her mouth parted in protest, but he was already on her, kissing her like punishment, like apology, like he couldn’t fucking stand her and also couldn’t breathe without her.

“Rafe—”

“No,” he muttered, sliding her dress up over her hips, not even bothering with ceremony. “This is what you want, isn’t it? You want to pick a fight, scream at me, get me riled up so I’ll fuck you until you remember who you’re talking to.”

“Fuck you,” she hissed, squirming against him.

“Then let me fuck you.”

His fingers found the curve of her ass, the soaked-through cotton of her ruined underwear, and he groaned. “You didn’t even change after the juice?”

“Didn’t get the chance,” she breathed, clinging to him now.

He turned her around, bent her over the counter without another word. The boys were still yelling upstairs, Maisie’s TV still played, and Lara could be heard kicking over a laundry basket with a shriek. But here—here, Rafe held her down like he needed her to stay grounded, to remember who she was beneath all the screaming and wiping and cleaning.

His belt came undone fast. He didn’t even pull her panties down all the way, just shoved them aside, and pushed into her with one deep thrust that made her whimper and bite her glove just to keep from yelling.

“Always talkin’ back,” he growled in her ear. “Always think you don’t need me. Then you melt like this the second I give it to you.”

Catherine gasped, nails digging into the counter. She hated how true it felt. How good it felt to be taken, claimed, seen.

“Don’t stop,” she panted. “Please don’t stop.”

Rafe didn’t. His grip on her hips was bruising now, fingers dug into the soft flesh as he fucked her hard, rough, unforgiving—the kind of rhythm that was less about pleasure and more about power. About control. About the two of them being so goddamn overwhelmed by everything they couldn’t say, they had to speak it through skin.

“You say that now,” he gritted out, voice low and mean, “but you’re gonna be crying in a minute. Always run your mouth ‘til you can’t take it.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, hair sticking to her sweat-slicked cheek. “I take more than you ever give me.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped, slamming into her harder, making her gasp. “You take everything from me—my time, my sleep, my fucking sanity.”

“And you think you don’t?” she barked back, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. “I gave you four kids, Rafe. I gave you my life.”

“And I gave you mine,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair, forcing her to arch back into him. “Don’t stand there and act like I’ve had it easy. I’m out there breaking my back just to keep us from falling apart.”

“We’re already falling apart,” she spat, breath hitching as he drove into her again. “You just can’t see it because you’re never fucking home.”

He yanked her up, chest to her back now, hand around her throat—not choking, just holding, like he was trying to keep her from vanishing. His mouth was against her ear, his voice a rasp. “You think this is easy for me? You think I want to miss everything?”

“You’re missing me,” she whispered, and that was the first thing that landed like a gut punch. It cracked something open in both of them.

But he didn’t stop. His hand slid between her legs, fingers rough and fast as he worked her while fucking her, breathing hard in her ear.

“I’m right here, Catherine,” he muttered. “So don’t tell me I’m missing you. You just forgot how to see me.”

“I see you, baby” she gasped, shuddering now, her legs starting to give. “I see you.”

And God, she hated how good he felt inside her—how every snap of his hips burned like fire under her skin, how she could hate him and need him at the same time. He was the only one who could tear her apart like this and then kiss her like she was holy.

He slammed into her again, her body jerking with it, the slap of skin loud and filthy in the chaos of the house.

“You want me to stop now?” he asked, cruel and breathless.

“No,” she whimpered, sobbing a little now. “Don’t you dare.”

He let go of her throat and pushed her back down against the counter, pounding into her mercilessly, his hand slapping the side of her ass—hard, sharp, the kind of hit that stung.

“You drive me fucking crazy, Cath.”

“You are crazy,” she spat back, even as her voice broke. “You’ve always been crazy.”

“Yeah?” His voice was ragged now. “Then you must be insane for staying.”

“Maybe I am.”

“You like this, don’t you?” He was grunting now, on the edge. “You like it when I fuck the attitude out of you.”

She couldn’t answer. Her jaw was slack, her eyes rolling back, the coil in her belly wound tight enough to snap.

He reached down and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up. “Say it.”

“I—” Her voice hitched. “I like it. I like it when you fuck me when you’re mad at me.”

He groaned, low and deep, losing himself in it. “You make me so fucking mad, Cath.”

“Good,” she snapped. “Then do something about it.”

He did.

He held her down and fucked her through it—through the mess, through the noise, through the rage. And when she came, it was with a cry she couldn’t swallow, shaking like she was going to fall apart. He came a second later, buried deep, growling her name like a threat and a prayer.

They stayed like that for a moment—panting, ruined, pressed together in the middle of the chaos.

Upstairs, something crashed.

Maisie’s cartoon looped again.

In the laundry room, Lara screamed, “I said gold, not silver!”

Catherine finally let out a breathless laugh. It was half hysterical.

Rafe leaned his forehead against the back of her neck and muttered, “We’re fucked.”

She nodded. “Completely.”

But when she turned around, his eyes were on her again—not angry now, just exhausted and raw.

“Still love you,” he said quietly.

“Still hate you sometimes,” she replied, just as soft.

They kissed like they meant both.

Rafe’s hands cupped her face, thumbs sweeping along her jaw as if he could memorize her through touch. He didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to come back to the real world yet.

Her hands were working between them, quick and practiced—tugging his pants back up over his hips even as he tried to keep her mouth on his. She reached for his belt, threading it back through with one hand while the other pressed to his chest, half pushing, half grounding him.

“Baby,” he whispered against her lips. “Just—one more second.”

But her breath was already gone. Her lips pulled away. “Nope. They’re coming.”

He groaned, holding her face like he might pull her right back in, but she was already smoothing down her dress, wiping her inner thigh with a paper towel like a war medic patching herself up between battles.

The door to the kitchen banged open just as Rafe got his belt buckled.

Mason stormed in first, fists balled, cheeks red, eyes wild.

“I want my own room!” he shouted. “I’m done with his molecule bullshit! He doesn’t shut up!”

Bradley followed behind, looking smug in his science T-shirt, a juice box in hand. “It wasn’t even about molecules, it was about dark matter, and he doesn’t understand because he refuses to learn basic principles of physics!”

“Because it’s stupid!” Mason yelled. “You’re stupid! And I hate sharing a room with you!”

“Hey, no cursing under my roof,” Rafe barked, stepping forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Try it again and see what happens.”

Mason folded his arms but looked at the floor, already sulking.

Catherine stood behind Rafe, hands on her hips, expression blank—beyond tired, beyond annoyed. She was seconds from giving up and letting the house implode. And then—

Bradley tilted his head, squinting at her legs.

“Um,” he said slowly. “Did Maisie throw up on your leg?”

Rafe blinked.

Catherine blinked.

Rafe turned to glance at her, and sure enough—despite the paper towel and the panic-clean-up, a glistening trail still ran down the inside of her thigh, just barely catching the light.

Catherine closed her eyes.

Rafe turned back to Bradley.

“Go to your room.” His voice was flat. Final. He didn’t even yell.

“But—”

“Go. Now.”

Bradley opened his mouth again, then thought better of it and turned on his heel, dragging Mason with him by the shirt collar.

Mason yelled, “You’re not smarter than me, just ‘cause you have books in your bed!”

Their footsteps thundered upstairs. A door slammed. Then another. Then silence—blessed, fragile, temporary silence.

Rafe exhaled and dragged his hand down his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Catherine grabbed a new paper towel, this time not even bothering to hide it. She lifted the hem of her dress again, wiped herself, tossed the towel in the trash like she was filing for divorce.

“I’m burning this house down,” she said flatly.

Rafe looked at her, chest rising and falling, still dazed from what just happened.

“Let me get the gas can,” he said. “You want me to start upstairs or in the laundry room?”

She stared at him.

And then, as if they weren’t both standing there reeking of sex and barely-hinged rage, she cracked—laughing, sharp and bitter and breathless.

Rafe smiled. Just a little.

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her back against his chest.

“No,” she said, eyes still shut as she leaned into him. “We don’t have time.”

He kissed the side of her head anyway.

In the living room, Maisie yelled, “I took off all my clothes because they were itchy!”

And somewhere in the laundry room, a small avalanche of tights and socks hit the floor.

Rafe sighed. “I’ll deal with it.”

“You’re a good man,” Catherine muttered.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “Even if I just filled you up a little too good and traumatized our sons.”

She groaned into his chest. “Don’t remind me.”

Too late.

Rafe leaned down and kissed Catherine again—soft this time, lingering, nothing like before. Just a quiet promise between the chaos. Her hand brushed his jaw as he pulled away, and for one fragile moment, she forgot the floor, the screaming, the stains on her thighs.

“I’ll check on the girls,” he murmured, already heading out of the kitchen.

He always had a soft spot for them. It was in the way his voice changed when Lara was crying or when Maisie babbled nonsense from her play mat. He spoiled them without hesitation—extra marshmallows in their cereal, a thousand sparkly hair clips, saying yes even when Cath gave him the look. The boys made him strict, sharp, but the girls made him soft.

Catherine bit her lip as she watched him go, the ache between her legs not yet gone, her heart tugging in opposite directions. She loved him. God, she loved him—but love didn’t clean the goddamn floor.

Her smile faded as she turned and looked down.

The paint was still there—Maisie’s whole Jackson Pollock moment smeared across the tile in blues and greens. The rag she’d dropped earlier was stuck to the floor, half-dried. She sighed, bent down again, and pulled her pink glove back on with a snap, cursing under her breath as she scrubbed.

Upstairs, the boys were less settled than she hoped.

Mason was back on business, bouncing on Bradley’s bed like it was a trampoline. Bradley had his science book open, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to ignore the vertical chaos across from him.

“Brad,” Mason said, suddenly dropping to sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “What was that… that thing on Mom’s leg?”

Bradley didn’t look up. “What thing?”

“The shiny stuff. Like slime or wax or whatever. It was all drippy. I don’t think Maisie threw up like—like… it didn’t smell funky.”

Bradley blinked, slowly looking up from his book.

“I don’t think that was throw up either.”

“Well, what was it?” Mason leaned in, serious now. “Do women do that? Like, melt? Like candles or something? ‘Cause of periods?”

Bradley stared at him, mouth slightly open.

“I know a few things about periods,” Mason added with a shrug, like he was an expert on the female reproductive system by virtue of having six serious girlfriends by the age of twelve.

“Ew,” Bradley muttered.

“Shut up and just tell me,” Mason whispered automatically, eyes wide.

Bradley sighed and snapped his book shut. “First of all, that’s not how periods work.”

Mason tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. It wasn’t… that.” Bradley swallowed. “I think… that was probably… Dad.”

Mason went quiet for a second.

“Like… Dad’s… science?”

Bradley nodded, face dead serious. “Dad’s science.”

Mason made a noise of horror and rolled onto his back, hands over his face.

“Ughhhhhh. That’s so gross. I touched the floor in the kitchen!”

“Don’t ever say anything. Ever.” Bradley pointed at him like he was sealing a pact. “If you say a word, we’re dead.”

Then they both fell silent, staring at the ceiling, the weight of horrifying adult discovery heavy between them.

[cyberm4n]

You've now filled my head with nothing but Alastor and Lucifer brainrot. Any other sharing thoughts you have for them? (I cannot stop thinking about them, I quite literally thought about them sharing me during my entire 8hr retail shift yesterday)

alastor and lucifer sharing you pt 3!

pt1, pt2

this was highly requested, thank you all for the love <3 im tagging anyone who asked/was fine with it last time but now you can fill out this taglist form to ensure you're tagged for future posts!

tags: @lu-ferri12 @my-anime-garden @princessdreamss @polytheatrix @reaper-of-light-12 @ambi-squirrelly @hazelfoureyes @meggletoomanyfandoms @afernandez21

cw: angst ig?? idk reader is upset cause they keep fighting, general relationship issues for a moment, smut, reader gets eaten out, there's some light praise and condescension i think, alastor has a master kink, alastor discovers he LOVES eating pussy, there's like a weird sexual tension between alastor and lucifer for the majority of this if you squint, the ending is VERY suggestive

other: not 100% happy with formatting on this but i wrote majority of it on a 6 hour flight so like. you win some you lose some. not proofread that well, i kind of ramble at times too but it's fine. 2.1k word count and half of it is formatted in a headcanon cuase, again, lazy 6 hour writing. i also don't use the bolding and coloring that much cause it'd be a lot of work.

left the ending a little open, will probably do a poll tomorrow on if people want me to take this that direction.

■ okay so sex aside i would think outwardly everyone knows you're in a relationship with lucifer at the very least

■ but it's kept lowkey with the other part of the relationship

■ which both are fine with btw

■ lucifer loves pda so he's happy, alastor isn't a fan so it's whatever

■ the public part works out because alastor would genuinely be worried about someone trying to use you to get to him

■ it's bad enough that it's known the king of hell has a new partner, but nobody knowing that if they fuck with you they're fucking with the king of hell AND the radio demon is a silent advantage

■ if anyone knows, it's charlie. but only to the extent of like the fact it's a hinge relationship, everything else she doesn't know and honestly doesn't need to know

■ she's just happy her dad seems happy and is getting along better with alastor

■ i think alastor is the kind to really start caring during the relationship vs. lucifer caring about you deeply before

■ so occasionally alastor will pull you aside, or if no one is watching will just press a quick kiss on your forehead.

■ meanwhile lucifer is always making it known he's in love with you

■ arm around your shoulder, holding your hand, everything

■ again, alastor doesn't really mind unless lucifer decides to be an ass abt it

■ look they still compete with each other sometimes they can't help it

■ then it becomes a game of how much the other can get away with before you either get upset or it's too telling

■ that's the other thing is like, the competing gets really fucking annoying to you

■ we saw them in hells greatest dad it wasn't a want to be a better dad it's just wanting to out do the other

■ and when it transfers to your relationship it gets agitating fast

moving on

■ relationship side alastor isn't as involved with that

■ but if either of them did something that upset you or like there was a lovers quarrel between you and either side it's a big deal to them

■ especially if you're only upset with one half of the hinge

■ cause like, sure, they could compete with each other and purposefully drive you apart

■ but tbh.. both of them lowkey like this arrangement much more than they thought they would

■ so they end up talking to each other about it and figuring out what to do

■ same if you're upset with both

■ not that you're upset often it's just that when you are it's usually cause they crossed a line in their little competition

■ and they hate making their girl feel like a prize to be won :(

■ whatever their solution is, they do it together.

■ show you they can get along, that they both care about you enough

■ you're in your room, a bit of a blow up happened earlier after they got into one of their arguments

■ it's not that you genuinely think theyre using you to get to the other but sometimes with the way they act it's easy to doubt

■ anyways, they both come in, it's late

■ i cry when im frustrated/upset and i think it's a pretty normal reaction, so let's just say you're crying a little

■ they're both immediately at your side, apologizing profusely

■ you've never cried like this before

■ it scares them. alot.

■ for once there's absolutely no competition, the only worry is making you feel better.

■ both sitting next to you on the couch, lucifer murmuring how much he loves you, and how he knows how much alastor cares for you

■ i hate the whole "alastor doesn't understand emotions" thing because he does. he has to, he knows how to read people well.

■ it's just he hasn't ever comforted someone

■ he doesn't know what to do when someone he cares about is upset

■ so he's glad lucifer is here, as alastor just sits at your side nodding along and gently rubbing your back

■ alastor only tunes back in when lucifer offers to give some space for the night, and a little murmur from you agrees but asks they both come to bed that night

■ given its usually only lucifer who actually sleeps in the same bed as you alastor is surprised

■ but lucifer is beckoning him out for some space.

"cmon, we'll be back in an hour yeah?" he chimes from the door, and with a squeeze of your shoulder alastor is out of the door, but he opts to walk along with lucifer. "we gotta do better" lucifer sighs as he walks, not looking over at alastor. he's not accusing alastor, he seems equally disappointed in both of them.

"for her?" alastor adds, and lucifer gives a hum of agreement. "this while ordeal has been quite... stressful as of late, no?" alastor adds, "to our own faults, yes" lucifer murmurs, giving a sigh. alastor nods, and the two men walk in silence for some time, ending up in the parlor, husk far since gone to bed. "want anything?" lucifer pulls alastor back to reality once again, he's standing behind the bar while alastor had been staring off, his mind running with thoughtd of god knows what.

"whiskey, my friend?" alastor suggests, and giving it a considerate thought lucifer pours two glasses. the silence falls over them again, just the sound of the clink of their glasses on the counter.

"so tell me, how do you do it when you pleasure her?" alastor breaks the silence, lucifers eyes dart up to him. thinking for a moment before replying "i don't really think tonight is the time for that—" lucifer says, but in a gentle tone.

"no no, in the morning." alastor says, staring down at his glass. "you two indulge often in the morning, correct?" alastor says, now his eyes uncomfortably on lucifer. Watching as the other man almost pales a little, swallowing thickly.

lucifer immediately falters, giving a sigh. "look it's not— i�� that's not her fault–" lucifer immediately starts, assuming this is a confrontation. his eyebrows raise as alastor shakes his head. "oh please, if i had problem with it i would have done something" he says, a static crackle echoing through the room. "no, i want to know how you do it when you... when it's just about her. how can i do the same?" alastor asks, and this is even more surprising to lucifer than this whole fucking idea in the first place.

■ so lucifer of course explains some stuff to him, of course it's hard because unless he's done it before it's hard to articulate some of his "moves"

■ i mean lucifer can hardly resist going down on you everytime, he's definitely experienced but it's hard to transfer that knowledge at times

■ but he's impressed alastor even asked

■ so when they return to your room, they're a lot more calmer with each other than before.

■ that night changed a lot between them tbh

■ it's slightly awkward for both of them when everyone gets settled in the bed

■ you're on your back, lucifer on your right side and alastor on the left.

■ they're both holding you to the best of their abilities

■ lucifer gives alastors hand a squeeze before shuffling it to have a better grasp on your waist

■ you all peacefully sleep through the night, not shifting much but it's pretty comfortable

■ is the morning you're mostly cuddled into alastor, which is entirely lucifers doing

■ when you're all awake though alastor gets arguably nervous

■ but you being you, you slump over onto alastors chest, murmuring some affection to him

■ lucifer gives a nod, it's time.

■ he'd honestly probably move to get out of bed, assuming some privacy is wanted

■ but he feels a shadow wrap around his forearm, it's a light pressure

■ alastor shakes his head, mouthing a small "please"

after lucifer processes for a moment what exactly is about to go down, he's okay with that. he settles back in, his eyes on the two of you as alastor tilts your chin up, pressing a kiss to your lips. "my dear, would you mind if i tried something a little different with you?" alastor chimes, and you blink your eyes open again, still a bit sleepy as you give a nod.

he gently maneuvers you on the bed so you're laying on your back, his hands pawing at your sleep shorts and pulling them to your ankles. lucifer watches, honestly a little mezmerized by the whole ordeal. he feels proud in an odd sort of way. “I think our little doe deserves a treat, would you like that?” alastor murmurs as he spreads your thighs open. You take a shaky breath before murmuring some form of agreement, maybe even a little plea.

without further prodigy, alastors finally leans down his tongue swiping down your folds, hands grasping your hips to pull you to his face. your hands go to hold lucifers, but he shakes his head tutting at you. “ah ah, that’s not very polite princess” he chides softly, guiding your hands to alastors hair.

and alastor makes good use of the tips and information lucifer gave him, his tongue plunging into your sweet little hole as his nose bumps your clit. his eyes wander up, making eye contact with you as he eats you out so wonderfully. you tug at his hair and he practically growls in pleasure, opting to change tactics and focus his mouth on your clit while his fingers slide inside you, gently curling into your sweet spot.

and lucifer watches it all, absolutely mesmerized. he doesnt know what it is about watching this but theres something about knowing alastor is doing exactly as told to in this scenario that makes lucifer feel warm. he lets alastor steal the show, doing only minimal work. maybe hes softly cooing praises or gently reminding you to show your appreciation to the one making you feel this good.

as you get close, evident by the murmur that falls past your lips, alastors eyes snap to lucifers for a moment, and he takes a moment to think before understanding. usually when youre close alastor is all over you, telling you to be such a good girl and cum, just slight praises and coaxing. given the fact hes face deep in your sweetness he cant really do that, so that job is up to lucifer now.

“isn’t alastor doing such a good job duckling? you want to make sure he knows how good hes treating you, dont you?” lucifer coos, scooting in behind you on the bed so you stop trying to writhe away. “I think he’d be so disappointed if you didnt cum for him, you think you can do that, hm? you wanna cum all over your masters tongue?” lucifer says directly in your ear, and alastor feels a bit of a warmth in his stomach by being referred to as “master”

when you give a weak moan in response lucifer sighs, shaking his head. “be a good girl now, you can do it little doe” he says which is what sends you toppling over the edge, your hips rutting up into alastors mouth, whiny moans coming from you as alastor desperately licks up your sweet release. this whole thing was quite enjoyable for alstor, but hearing lucifer call you “little doe” his petname for you made him smugly satisfied.

after some aftercare which mostly just involved more cuddling, alastor feels satiated enough to shift to leave, before getting a look from lucifer. he reluctantly stays, feeling as you come to lay at his side once more. lucifer seems to take note of something, giving alastor a nod down, he glances down, seeing the obvious tent in his pants. alastor looks back up, slightly annoyed. a like “yeah, no shit dumbass” kind of look is exchanged.

alastor looks back down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sigh happily. but alastor tenses as he feels a hand on his knee, shooting a glare to lucifer as he traces his hand up a little. the two meet as and alastor takes a shaky breath as lucifer leans in just a little, breathing out the next few words with a calmness alastor admires:

“just keep cuddling her”

[skywalkoverme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 (𝐑𝐚𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞)

a/n: Request is here! This was so fun to write and I think you can tell from the word count! Enjoy!! EDIT: (Only watched Life as a House bc of my moot, @hellokittyyloverrrr thank you love. Mwah.)

𐙚 James x Fem! x Sam 𐙚 || THREESOME || 18+ MDNI

Summary: The Kelly's spend the Fourth of July at your farm.

Warnings/contains: James Kelly is Sam Monroe's father, southern AU, cheating, threesome, public sex, raw sex, smut, p in v, oral sex (f +m rec), sexually experienced y/n, established relationship, Sam Monroe is 19, Y/n is 25-30, James is 40-45, LOTS of alcohol consumption, smoking etc, sexual situations, edging, dirty talk, humiliation kink, slight breeding kink, cucking and more.

Note: proof read but-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 6.1k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

You held your hips as you spoke to your husband, seemingly an argument from where James stood. He leaned forward on the hood of his truck across the road. A cigarette between his lips as his knuckles rest in the tuck of his opposite hand. You looked annoyed as you raised something in his face. “…son of a fuckin’ bitch!” You yelled. Your husband pulled whatever it was from your hand and tucked it into his pocket. “I hate you!”

“Ya don’t hate me, woman! Get your ass in the house and stop makin’ a scene!”

“Fuck. You.” You said loud enough for the nosey neighbors to hear before raising a single middle finger.

James exhaled smoke as you climbed into your white truck and slammed the door shut. Your husband chased you down the lawn as you left the driveway with a screech of the tires. James waved towards you. “’Mornin’.” He called towards your husband who looked stressed as usual.

The man sighed, “G’mornin’, Kelly.” You sped off with the wind in your hair before pushing a CD into the player.

“How’s the Missus?” He asked with a smirk while lighting another cigarette.

The two met in the middle of the paved road, “Paranoid per usual.” Your husband sighed and watched the truck swerve around the corner and disappear from sight.

“Is that so?” James took a deep inhale before chuckling, “’Bout time God laid this problem to rest, ain’t it?” Your husband jokingly tapped his watch. “How ‘bout I talk to ‘er?” James smirked, a prideful look on his face while your husband scratched his dark hair.

“I dunno. She’s a bit wild, you know that.” James thought of your sun kissed complexion and untamed hair; those fierce, large brown eyes that seemed to capture the little details of any man; that slick mouth that could gather a girl in seconds.

“One of ‘em rawhide girls, sure is.” James nodded and looked at the house across the street, “M’guessin’ she’s at the mart.” An eyebrow raised as he tilted his head.

“Mhm, talkin’ up her lil’ friends.” James took the keys from his pocket and unlocked his truck door, “Hey,” James stopped in his tracks and turned, “Thank you, Kelly.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He gave a thoughtful look before driving towards town where you likely were. He took his time cruising as he thought of your attitude. Your husband couldn’t handle it most days, but James could. You were quick at the mouth, your words dangerous and rude at times but he loved every part of you. James liked to say you were ‘A whole lotta woman’: body, mind and words alike.

He parked outside of the mart and waited by the ice cooler. When you left the mart, your attention was drawn to the man who smelled of Marlboro reds and engine oil. “James.” You acknowledged him before slowly approaching. “What’d’ya want?” Your accent iced your fast words.

“Y’know why I’m here.” He smiled to your dismay and offered you a cigarette. You weren’t one to turn down free Marlboro reds. You placed the cigarette between your full, red lips and bent down some for him to light the end, “Yer givin’ that old man silver hair.”

You always found it entertaining when James made fun of the age difference between you and your husband. “He’s only 50-somethin''. He can take it.” You shrugged.

“Clearly…” He sarcastically remarked as his eyes flickered down to your breasts as they strained in that white cropped shirt.

“If ya’ came here to calm me down, yer’ late.”

“Really?” You nodded as you exhaled, “I don’t believe you.” He said softly while you looked past him.

“Think I give a shit?” Your attitude that you tried your best to contain, rose once more.

The man groaned as he hugged your waist with one arm as he guided you away from the doors of the mart, “What happened back there?” He lingered for a few moments, his hand on your back as his chest found comfort on your pillowy breasts.

“He came home at nine-fifty last night when his shift ended at eight!” James pulled away and drew from his burning cigarette when you raised your voice. “I know that fucker is cheatin’ on me again! I ain’t no fool, Kelly. I been sayin’ he’s got me bent!” You pointed an accusing finger as if directing your anger at James.

“You really think that?” His voice was happier than it should’ve been upon hearing such incredible news! Well, incredible for him.

“Fuck, yes.” You spat bitterly with a toss of your dark hair.

“Well, he’s insane for cheating.” James muttered as his eyes fell your curves. Even at eight in the morning, you looked stunning. Eyeliner, that he could swear you slept in, stained around your large, brown eyes. One of your husband’s ball caps rests on your head as you lit another one of his cigarettes. A pair of daisy dukes around your hips, the waist band folded over and unbuttoned to make space for your hips. “You should leave him.” You turned your attention back to James.

“Leave him?” A pause. You broke into laughter, holding your own hip. “I can’t leave him, James.”

“Why not? He’s cheatin’.”

“I love ‘em too much to leave. I’ll jus’ get my lick somehow.” You smirked; raspberry red lips stained by your favorite lipstick. James rubbed the back of his neck as you climbed back into your truck. He rests his arms on the open window.

You’d known James for only a few years. Him and his son, Sam, live across the way from you and have grown accustomed to your company. His son was what you’d call ‘a disrespectful, son of Lucifer’ or when you were feeling kind, ‘Lil’ perv.’  Sam kept to himself aside from when his father would rent him out to you for hours at a time. Whether it was working on your farm with the animals or house chores, he’d groan but complete each task given to him.

This weekend would be the fourth of July, and with you being the best baker in town alongside having the largest property, you’d been given many requests to host the celebration. Naturally, James became one of those many people, “So…can I come?”

“Come to what?”

“C’mon, woman, don’t make me look a fool.” You laughed in his face, holding your steering wheel.

“Alright, you can come. Bring that lil’ perv too.” James wore a large grin on his handsome face. Not only would he be given the chance to ogle your figure for a whole night, but he’d get to witness any drama that’s likely unfold between you and your husband and get the chance--- “Yer’ on beer duty. Bring a few cases and not that Busch light shit. This is a Stella Artois household.” He did a fake salute before you took his pack of cigarettes from his hand, “Thanks, baby.”

The man watched as you peeled off towards your house, likely to have some make-up sex with your husband or preoccupy yourself before the next argument. He ran a hand through his dark hair before his attention as caught by a familiar laugh. James tucked his hands into his pockets and walked around the side of the mart. There, Sam sat on the curb with an unfamiliar person, trading back and forth a joint. “Samuel.”

The boy looked up, squinting through furrowed eyebrows. James was close to grabbing him by the collar but held back. Sam stood and wiped his hands on his shirt. “Wanna keep it?” His friend offered the joint to Sam.

“Fuck off.” He murmured before climbing into his Father’s truck. James wiped sweat off his brow and stared down his son, “Grounded. I know, I know, ok?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?! I'm nineteen!” He groaned as his father started the car and drove back home. “That’s fucked.”

“Stop swearin’! Y’know what’s fucked? You bein’ a lowlife behind the damn corner store!”

The young man watched the fields beyond the window, homes and livestock littered the lot. “There’s nothin’ to do in this fuckin’ town!”

“You watch your damn words, boy. I don’t want to hear you switchin’ at the mouth again.” He took a breath and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “We’re goin’ to the L/n’s for the fourth of July.”

“I don’t want to.” He grunted, “…yer’ gonna make me anyway so whatever.” He slammed the car door shut and made his way up the porch steps.

“Damn right I will.” Sam found his housekeys and his father paused to feel the atmosphere for a moment. “Sam?”

“Yes?” He looked over his shoulder, the screen door between the two.

“No more bullshittin’.”

It took everything within the young man not to roll his eyes, “Sure.”

James held two cases of beer and Sam carried a small box of something be refused to show his father. The two approached your house through the open front door, the scent of smoked barbeque, cigarettes, and grass filled the air. Warm toned lights lit up the inside as well as the outside of the home. The sound of a few kids playing by the far stable, their laughs and giggles were drowned out by music, adults laughing and rushing wind. The Texas sun sat low in the sky, ready to take a dip below the sky within the hour.

James placed the beers on the back porch and began greeting a few neighbors. It didn’t take long before he found you, leaning on the white fence near the grill as your husband flipped ribs. A bottle in your left hand and a lipstick-stained cigarette between your fingers.

*For your attire, reference the header photo.*

Your arms went over your husbands’ shoulders as you smirked, “Welcome, Studs.” Your eyes switched between the father in a faded, black ‘Don’t mess with Texas’ shirt and black cowboy boots and his son in something identical.

As your husband spoke to the two, exchanging pleasantries and catching up, the two were clearly distracted by your body in the form-fitting short overalls. A catholic cross rest between your breasts from a gold necklace. “…yeah.” James loosely followed what your husband was saying as his eyes switched to you every few seconds.

Dark hair cascaded over your shoulders and left eye as you spoke, “I’m gonna get another beer.” James watched as you left; The way your overalls hung open by a zipper, putting your ample cleavage on full display, made his cock twitch in his pants. The shorts hugged your wide hips and the curve of your ass, showing off your shapely legs.

You watched as a few of the older kids placed the beer he brought into the coolers and took one from the very bottom. James couldn't keep his eyes from drifting down to your exposed chest, his gaze lingering on the swell of your breasts. He imagined leaning down and burying his face in your cleavage, motorboating your tits until he couldn't breathe.

“U-uhm,” Sam stuttered as your hips switched with every strut; your ass round and distracting.

James placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Samuel.” For a moment, the two froze as you smiled their way. The corners of your red lips lifted as the breeze blew through the dark strands of hair. “Sam, go keep yourself busy. Don't cause trouble, ya heard?"

Sam rolled his eyes, a habit that was becoming all too common. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trudging off with the box as his boots pressed in the soft grass. James watched Sam disappear into the crowded backyard, blending into the sea of people. He knew the sullen teenager would likely find a dark corner to hide in, probably with his headphones on, tuning out the festivities. 

James stepped inside the house after he grabbed a cold beer from the cooler; he popped the cap off on the edge of the counter and took a long swig, relishing the cool liquid as it slid down his throat. James felt a stirring in his jeans as he watched you move through the crowd, greeting guests with a warm smile and a friendly word; a few unique swears left your mouth as you gossiped with a few friends.

He looked down to adjust his appearance some and in his view, a pair of dusty red cowgirl boots rest on either side of his. James turned his head up, the sweet scent of your perfume mingled with the smoky barbeque and cigarettes. “Need anythin’, Kelly?” He took another swig of his beer, his tongue darting out to lick the stray droplets from his lips.

“’M good for now, Darlin’.” He drawled; his voice low as you spoke closely. “I’ll be sure to come to you if I do.”

“Don’t hesitate. Yer’ ma’ guest after all.” He could feel his pulse quicken, sure that his erection could touch your leg if you moved any closer. You looked like a vision tonight, and he felt the urge to lap your legs up on the counter and spread you like a full course meal.

But he restrained himself. You’re in a house full of people from towns over and it’d be beyond inappropriate. He reached up and tucked a strand of dark hair behind your ear. “This hair all yours?” He wasn’t a stranger to you country girls and your love for extensions: Bigger, the better. But when it came to you, he could never tell.

“Belongs to me if I paid for it.”

“Ain’t wrong.” You smiled. “I got a request. Anything stronger than beer I could drink? I know you got a cellar.” His hand came up to rest on the counter beside your hip, caging you in slightly. The heat of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of your shorts, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. “Now, don’t lie, pretty girl.” You tapped your chin before slipping your hand into the tuck of his waistband. “Careful.” He said softly as you brought him closer to you in the room full of unassuming neighbors.

He was close enough now that you could see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes, could count the dark lashes that framed them. Close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his hair curled slightly at his hairline. He was a rugged, masculine sight, and you felt a sudden flush of heat between your thighs. “What kinda drink are you lookin’ to sip?”

“Whisky, neat.”

“Brown liquor?” He nods once. “Aged for how long?” He only smiled before he finished off the rest of his beer in one long swig before setting the empty bottle down on the counter with a clunk.

James reached out and took your hand, his calloused fingers intertwining with your softer ones. He gave a gentle tug, pulling you towards the side door. "Go on, sweetheart. I’m right behind.”

As you both stepped out into the warm summer evening, the sounds of cicadas and laughter weren’t far behind. James followed close behind you; his eyes glued to the gentle sway of your hips as you walked. The denim of your cutoffs hugged those beautiful curves like a second skin, and he could see the way the muscles of your ass flexed with each step. He felt a twitch in his jeans, his cock starting to stir to life stiffly.

As you descended the creaky wooden steps into the cool, dark cellar, James reached out and placed two hands on your hips, his fingers splaying across the soft denim details. He pulled you back against his chest, fitting your curves to the ridges of his body.

"Careful now," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Wouldn't want ya to trip in the dark."

“What a gentleman.” You could feel the heat radiating off him, could smell the musky scent of his skin, tinged with cigarette smoke and beer. It was intoxicating to say the least. You managed to pull yourself from him and raise a large switch. The large cellar was soon lit by rows of warm, industrial brightness. “My husband’s ‘retirement fund.”

“Well, I wanna taste of what’s his.” He said as your hands wrapped around a bottle of Sir Davis bourbon. Red nails dragged along the top of the cap as you stared up at him with Whisky colored eyes.

“James…”

From behind a shelf aisle, Sam tussled his dark hair with a joint between his fingertips. He adjusted the denim jacket over his shoulders and froze upon seeing you and his father. His face went pale, cheeks slightly pinked. “…am I in trouble?”

“What’re’ya doing in here, boy?” James asked and stepped out from behind your curves.

Sam stuttered for a moment as he slipped the joint into his pocket. “Hell, I was-” He shrugged, “Organizing.”

“Organizing? Lil’ perv, I haven’t had you organize my cellar since December.” Sam sucked his teeth after you spoke. He wasn’t sure how he ended up in here after a few hits from the joint, but he could feel the clear tension in the air. He couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or not---

“I- I didn’t know anyone else was down here.” The young man bit his lip as he tried his hardest to pull his eyes from the model of a woman that stood with a bottle of whisky in her hands. “Just needed a minute alone.”

James snapped his fingers, “Ya had ya minute---”

“Wanna see somethin’ cool?” You asked Sam with a smile. His eyes switched between his father’s annoyed expression to your alluring one. He nodded at you.

James's brows furrowed as he turned his glare onto you, his grip on your hips tightening possessively. "[Y/n]." he warned, his tone low. "Don't go gettin' any ideas about my kid. He doesn't need to be learnin' any of your tricks."

“My tricks?” You laughed and held a hand over your bosom. “Lighten up, Jameson.” You purred and turned back to Sam with a warm smile. He drew closer to the island in the middle of the cellar. “See this here, boy?” You held up the bottle for him to see. Due to the aging, the bottle’s label was worn, some parts unreadable.

“Yes, Ma’am, I do.” Sam swallowed hard, his eyes flicking between you and his Father. He could see the way James was looking at you, could feel the tension crackling in the air between you both. 

You opened a drawer behind you and took a drink smoker, aged orange peels and a few pieces of wood. “[Y/n].” James growled, “Ain’t sure this is a good idea.”

“What?” You shrugged and looked at Sam, “You’ve drank before. You let ‘em drink beer.”

“That’s different.” James snapped. He could care less about his son tasting the whisky. James wanted you to himself in this cellar! How did he even get down here?

Sam watched as you smoked wood chips and the orange peel into the drink to enhance the flavors. “I’m gonna drink it, Dad.” He said sure of himself as you poured three glasses. The two watched as you raised your glass and let the amber liquor slosh around in the glass.

The scent of the alcohol was strong in their noses as they both took a glass. The strong scent burned the inside of Sam’s nose as he inhaled the orange, and cherry wood undertones. “Cheers.” You said sweetly as you held up your glass for a toast.

The three glasses came together for a crystal ‘clink’. In the light of the cellar, Sam hesitated before taking a few sips. Each one sweeter than the last. James threw back the bit of alcohol and placed the glass down. “Fuck.” He hissed and glared at you. James, thought og ushering his boy upstairs and leaving you be like a good neighbor and father, and letting things be…but you made it impossible with that smile, those chestnut-colored eyes…

An hour later, you leaned on the wooden island, maybe on your fourth glass. James slumped against the wall beside you; his eyes bleary as he tried to focus on your blurry form beside him. You were laughing, a high, tinkling sound that echoed off the stone walls and mingled with the pounding of his ears. Sam was still there to James’s dismay, his pale face flushed, and his eyes glazed over, a stupid grin plastered on his face as he listened to your chatter.

James's tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth as he tried to form words, to tell you to slow down, to be careful with his boy. But nothing came out right, his words slurring together into incoherent mumblings. He could feel a growing sense of uncertainty, a prickling at the back of his neck that told him this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake.

He’d heard about you around the neighborhood. Before you got married, a Jezebel, a hussy, a minx, a slut--- the whole nine. He hadn’t cared too much until it came to his boy. James huffed. Well, Sam isn’t a little boy anymore. Sure, he’s nineteen but he still lives under his father’s roof. My roof. He ain’t goin’ to college anytime soon. Dammit, I’d miss him too much.

You beckoned Sam closer, the rattle of his spurs were heavy as he made his way over. You leaned close to Sam’s ear, your lips against the tanned skin while you giggled, whispering something. James tried his best to make it out but found it difficult with how loud his thoughts were. “[Y/n].” Your eyes flickered to James as your hand rest high on Sam’s thigh. Sam stared down at you with a mix of awe and fear, eyes wide.

“Yes, sir?”

“What’re’ya doin’?” He stepped closer to you; a hard rattle of his own spurs rang as he pushed you both apart.

“Showin’ him somethin’. Ain’t that right, Sam?” False innocence rang off your tongue.

Sam swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, “Y- yes, Ma’am.”  There was a tremor in his voice, barely noticeable as he held your hip.

“None of that.” James grumbled and pushed you both apart. You sighed and pulled off your husband’s trucker hat before tossing it onto the island countertop.

“He’s an adult.”

“You think I dunno that?” Your head tilted dramatically as you stared deeply at the man. “Don’t say nothin’ else.” He warned, pointing a finger at your chest. Your eyes lowered down the digit before you gently kissed the tip. Perhaps you really were a whole lotta woman, too much to handle at times. “Yer’ a slut.” You smiled, taking his finger into your mouth. You left your lipstick stains along his finger, hands on your knees.

Sam’s hand tightened on your hip once more as he watched your relaxed lips along his father’s forefinger. You pulled away and took the son’s belt buckle into your hand as you pulled him towards the back of the cellar. “…Dad.” Sam said breathlessly.

“Mhh, call for yer’ daddy.”

James cleared his throat. He couldn’t deny that you referring to him as ‘daddy’ made his cock jump in his pants. But this, this is indecent. He wanted you like no other. To take you to the floor and bury himself inside of your cunt until dawn but he couldn’t do this with his son right there! He stuttered your name before he managed out, “Y/n. C’mon, now. Yer’ husband’s lookin’ for ya. I’m sure of it.” He rubbed his neck.

You didn’t move from your place as Sam rest his lips on the soft skin of your neck; Instead, you reach for his father’s shirt and pulled him closer. “Kiss me.” Sweet as Louisiana bourbon, your voice rang in his head.

He placed two hands around your head, fingers sunk into the silky strands as he kissed your red lips. He melted onto your body as his whiskey breath mingled with yours. Your back pressed against a few rows of wine as the men pushed up on you. Sam fumbled with his buckle and with a sudden touch, your hand made its way into his jeans.

James’s tongue hungrily lapped at yours, his teeth took small bites of your bottom lip, messily consuming every kiss given. His fingertips pulled at the zipper to your overalls until your breasts left the confines of the denim.

His son's whimpers and moans filled the air as your hand worked feverishly over his cock, stroking and squeezing the hard flesh until Sam was bucking wildly into your touch. “You’re adorable.” You said though gasps as his father pulled you against his body, kissing your nipples.

Sam whined as he followed your expression. His whine dissolved into a low, drawn-out moan as your thumb swiped over the sensitive head of his cock, smearing the bead of precum that had leaked from the tip.

You placed a gentle hand on the back of James’s head, fingers sinking into his dark hair. James could feel his own cock throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his jeans, the denim straining against his aching erection. You pulled your hand from Sam’s cock for a moment and instead guided his head down to your left breast. “Oh wow…” You moaned as the two suckled and flicked their tongues on your nipples. Two is better than one.

"Fuck, your tits taste so fuckin’ good," Sam moaned around a mouthful of soft, pillowy flesh. He sucked harder, his teeth sinking into the tender skin as he bucked his hips in time with the strokes of your hand on his aching cock.

James dragged his tongue over the sensitive nipple before drawing it into his mouth, suckling greedily as his hand continued to knead and squeeze the plump flesh. The sensations of their hot mouths on your tits was enough to make you pant, your focus on their identical, cerulean eyes as they stared up at your dazed expression. Your body writhed between the two as they feasted, “Fuckin’ hell~” You whined dryly as your head hit the shelf.

“Got a lighter?” Your husband asked the man beside him as he crouched in the far pasture with the crowd of people. He offered the man his lighter and watched as the tail of the fuse spark. The few people pushed back as the firework shot towards the navy-blue sky. The sound was loud as it popped red, white and blue colors in the sky. “Alright, easy enough.”

“I’ve got more in the truck.” Your husband began to follow the man to the truck bed.

“Auntie, it sounds like guns!” A kid giggled, making play guns with his small fingers.

“It does, honey.” She nodded, pulling him along.

Your husband paused in the grass, hands on his hips, “Guns. Where’s that woman?” He pushed dark hair from his eyeline and squinted as he searched the crowd for your face.

You bent over an aging barrel, your hands on Sam’s hips as you sucked and slobbered on his cock. James could hear your muffled moans vibrating around Sam's thick cock as he buried his face between your shapely ass cheeks, his tongue delving deep into your dripping cunt. The taste of your sweetness flooded his senses, the slightly salty flavor of your sweat coated his tongue as he lapped and suckled at your slick folds.

Sam groaned, his fingers tangling in your dark hair as he fucked your face with short, sharp thrusts. "Fuck me…your throat is like velvet..."

James could only growl in response, the sound muffled against your fat ass as he feasted on your pussy like a man starved. He could feel your hips rocking back against his mouth, could hear your whimpers and cries growing louder and more desperate as he brought you closer to the edge. He slapped your ass firmly and watched as it reddened under his touch. “You like that, don’t ya’, rawhide?”

You groaned; saliva pooled on the top of the barrel and down your large breasts as you gagged on Sam’s shaft. “M- mhm~”

“Got a mouthful of dick now, don’t’cha, Rawhide?” James laughed as he unbuckled his jeans, boots apart in a firm pose. His throbbing erection had created a large stain of precum in his boxers. “Good girl.” He cooed as your pussy clenched with anticipation for his thick cock.

You whined as Sam filled your throat and kept your head against his crotch. You took deep inhales as your eyes watered. “It feels so good when you choke.” His eyes fell back in his head as you turned your head to the side. “Perfect…”

James held a handful of your ass and spreads your pussy some. He admired the sopping muscle as if it were calling his name. There was no doubt that your body had every curve he desired, he didn’t have time to doubt himself: if he could last in this juicy pussy or not. “You on the pill, rawhide?” You couldn’t get a ‘yes’ out as Sam smirked, bucking into your throat like a machine. James held himself in his own fist, guiding his cockhead along the folds of your hot pussy. He gripped your hips firmly and pushed one of your legs up to keep them spread.

Fireworks popped beyond the open cellar doors. Cheers and yells found their way inside the lower storage as you lay over the barrel.

With a heated thrust, James found his way inside of your pussy. Only half of his length rest inside of you as you whimpered, clinging to the wooden barrel. James started at a gentle pace; his eyes twitched from the feel of your perfect walls around his cock. Never had you been stretched like this, his cock like a punishment and a reward as he bucked his hips into your ass. James leaned over your back, his chest pressing against your sweat-slicked skin as he growled filthy words into your ear. "This fucking pussy belongs to me now, Rawhide.” 

He punctuated his dark promise with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass as he buried himself as deep as physically possible. Your fingernails dug into the wood, creating sharp cuts along the mahogany. His shaft rubbed your g-spot as his cockhead roughly bucked against your cervix. “Don’t run from this dick, baby.” Your eyelids twitched as he spoke in your ear.

He could feel your velvet walls clenching and fluttering around his pistoning shaft, gripping him so kindly as he slammed into you again and again. James knew he was getting close, could feel the telltale tightening in his heavy balls, the way they drew up close to his body as his orgasm approached.

But he couldn’t cum. He wouldn’t because he refused to let you do the same.

 He slowed his brutal thrusts, his hips rolling in a deep, grinding circle against your ass as he leaned down to growl in your ear. "No, rawhide.” You whimpered, your hard nipples brushing on the cold barrel. “Ya’ don't get to cum yet, ya’ filthy mare," James sneered, his voice a low, menacing rasp. "Not until I say you can." He reached around to roughly palm your breast, pinching and twisting your nipple hard enough to make you pull from Sam’s cock and cry out. “There you go, let me hear you.” He pulled your head back with a fistful of hair, his lips on your ear.

“M- mh! James~”

“It’s what ya’ wanted, right?” Your back arched with his thrusts; your pussy clenched in a futile attempt to slow his strokes. “Relax that pussy before I spank it.” You stuttered as you nodded. Dust and old bottles rattled and clattered from the force of his fucking, the nearby shelves creaking ominously. "Look at her, son," James growled, his voice ragged, "Look at this dirty slut, getting fucked like the whore she is." He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your ass and forcing a sharp cry from your lips. "Getting’ used like a goddamn fuck toy, just like she was made for."

Sam stroked himself quickly as he watched your breasts bounce, your knees buckled, and your eyes fell back into your head. “Tell ‘em what you are, rawhide.”

“I- I’mma whore.” He could see your eyes rolling back, your tongue lolling out as you took the relentless pounding. The sight of you in such a state of desperate, cock-drunk bliss only turned the two on more.

“That’s right, baby.” James could feel his own release building, his balls drawing up tight as he fucked into your dripping cunt with short, sharp jabs. He was getting close, so fucking close, but he held back, determined to deny you the orgasm you were so desperately begging for. “Stop bein’ a pervert and finish this whore off.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam stumbled forward eagerly, gripping your hair and yanking your mouth onto his throbbing cock before you even had a chance to catch your breath. He hilted himself in your throat once more, his heavy balls slapping obscenely against your chin as he started to fuck your face with brutal thrusts. “I…I’m gonna cum.” Sam gasped out, his fingers tangling almost painfully in your hair as he forced you to take him to his dark bush.

You could only gargle as James took your wrists in his hands while you bent over. “Pretty little rawhide. You wanna cum, baby?”

A few whistles were followed by an arrangement of fireworks as they exploded beautiful colors into the sky. At the front of the house, a striped flag waved in the rough wind. Your husband sat on the side porch with a cigar as he listened to the sounds of your needy whimpers and moans.

James could see the desperate, almost feral look in your eyes as you nodded frantically, your throat working around Sam's pistoning cock. He could tell you were right on the edge, teetering on the brink of the most intense orgasm of your life. The way your velvet walls clenched around his deepening shaft told him everything he needed to know - this dirty girl was fucking gagging for it, absolutely aching to be allowed to cum.

"You keep fuckin’ that whore's throat, son. Don't you dare let her catch her breath." Sam groaned in response, gripping your head tighter as he tried to best to hold out his orgasm.

In an instant, James snarled in dark triumph as he felt your pussy clench and spasm around his pistoning cock, your release overtaking you despite his orders. You squirted sprays of your sweetness onto the floor of the cellar, your knees faltered under you, leaning on the men for  support. “Like a fuckin’ bunny in heat...couldn’t keep from cummin’.”

“Why do you call her ‘rawhide’?” Sam asked before taking a swig or his beer.

They sat on the porch rocking chairs as the midnight breeze came in, “She’s a hard worker.”

a/n: will be my last threesome fic for a while. They are starting to enter my dreams...anyways, I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading.

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