#I guess if they get the job done it doesn't matter in the end | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 year

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𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you start to second guess your relationship when eddie doesn't waylay you with his usual abundance of kisses after work. meanwhile, eddie tries to work out what's upsetting you, how to fix it, and most urgently, how to ask you a super important question. fem!reader, 5k

cw: eddie skipping meals at work, suggestive flirting

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

Eddie's borrowed headphones slip down your head as you dance. Nothing dramatic, a shoulder wiggle as you do the dishes. You can't hear the racket you're making, plates crashing into one another on the drying rack, the hot water pounding the basin, the clip of your sock-clad foot against wooden slats as you tap it.

Your hands burn at the high temperature. Your fingertips are pruned, palms chapped as you finish washing Eddie's mountain of dishes. His whole apartment was in similar disarray before you arrived, laundry to the eyes and one of his haphazard book towers collapsed in the bedroom. The dishes had been scraped and rinsed but not washed, the laundry designated to one corner of the bathroom; Eddie's not unclean, necessarily, but unfocused.

You had time. You don't mind coming over to help him out.

Though if he knew you were here doing this he'd blow a gasket. I don't want you wasting your time doing shit I should've done a week ago, he'd say.

It isn't time that matters to you. You'd take a couple of days out if it helped him, if it meant he could enjoy the place he lives to the fullest extent. Plus, you spend time here too. And you get to borrow his Walkman the whole time. Eddie has the best tapes.

You hum along to the finishing line of the song and set the last clean cup upside down on the draining board. Satisfied at a job well done, you wipe the sink basin clean, drain suds from the sponge, and turn off the water. Cool air floats in through the open window, kissing your lightly perspiring skin hello.

You dry your hands on a cloth and push Eddie's headphones carefully down to your neck, more than careful with his things. He works hard for everything he has, days and nights and any shift they want him to take. Most of it goes into his savings account. His spare change gets dropped into a washed out pasta sauce jar on the sill for a forthcoming rainy day. Ridiculous amounts of it get spent on you, and if you asked Eddie he'd say it was perfectly reasonable, sweetheart.

You're not asking him. You don't think new clothes and sweet treats nearly every time you see him counts as reasonable, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't appreciate it.

Hence your unsanctioned use of his spare key. You buy him treats too, but money can't buy the satisfaction of a clean home. (Well, it could. Hiring a day maid might've been quicker and cleaner in the end, but would a day maid have put their heart and soul into dusting his figurines with a makeup brush for fifteen minutes?)

You turn around with Eddie on your mind, feeling grateful and tired at once. Your thoughts stutter at the warm body standing casually in the doorway, his shoulder pressed to the jam, a rucksack and a carabiner of keys hanging from his curled fingers.

"Hey," Eddie says.

You flinch like he's coming at you, startled by his sudden appearance.

His laugh is apologetic, at least. "Woah! I thought you heard me, where's your head?"

You slap a hand to your racing heart and huff out a breath that fans up your face. Eddie straightens from his cool guy slouch, dropping his keys on the counter and sliding his bag beside them.

"It's around here somewhere," you say through a smile, trying and failing to glare at him as he puts his hands on your waist. "You scared me bad."

"It was accidental."

He pulls your hips to his and leans back. A close pressure without being particularly sexual. It's obvious that he's looking you over, like you might've miraculously run into harm in the sixteen hours you've been apart.

"I didn't think you'd be back yet, sorry," you say breathlessly, still recuperating from your scare.

"I'm the sorry one."

He brings a hand to your face. If there's one thing you can count on with your boyfriend, it's that he's going to find an excuse to touch your face at least once a day, whether it be with the back of a ring-heavy finger trailing down your cheek lightly, or a flat, hot palm, calluses scratching ever so slightly as he squeezes it into whatever shape he feels like. Never cruel, but melding.

He's in a mood.

Not salacious. Teasing at most, he pulls a rough line down from the corner of your eye to your lips.

"Why are you doing my dishes?" he asks.

His hands smell like citrus scrub and white vinegar. They must've had him cleaning in the kitchen at work again.

"So you wouldn't have to. I know you don't mean to let them pile up."

"I'll find my laundry in the dryer, I'm guessing."

"Nope. Folded in your dresser, more like."

He pulls your chest to his, the heat of his breath kissing your nose. It smells like the spearmint gum he chews obsessively during his morning shifts. Eddie has a theory that eating in the mornings is breaking a seal —you'll be much hungrier for the rest of the day than you would've been otherwise. Better to wait for lunch.

You hate his theory (three meals a day plus as many snacks as he needs would be perfect, if he could find the time) and his gum for what it represents. It reminds you that he likely hasn't eaten today, and you're quick to start brainstorming ideas for dinner from the ingredients you'd seen while cleaning. He has ground beef, enough eggs to make pasta, and a tupperware of frozen soup from last Wednesday. The world's your oyster.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. You don't have time to answer. "I wish you didn't do all the laundry, babe. Those stairs are a fucking killer."

He leans that last inch. A kiss is coming any second now, your pulse capering between your ears. A hundred kisses shared between you and you wait for the next with the same calibre of excitement as you did for the first.

"I owe you a deep tissue massage, right?" he murmurs.

You beam at him, pushing the heel of your palm against his chest to widen the distance between you into something a little less heart-pounding. "You haven't eaten today, have you?"

"I'm pretty hungry," he says, his voice smooth as angora silk.

He looks, again, like he might kiss you. His eyes dip to your lips, a molten brown shining in the kitchen light. You wait, and you wait, but he doesn't close the gap.

You push your smile to one side, your eyelashes twined in the corners from the force of it. Your smile isn't entirely genuine. It's cool if he doesn't wanna kiss you… sort of. He can do whatever he likes, of course, you'd never force him to kiss you just to keep you happy or for any other reason, but you're a little down at the idea that he doesn't want to. You love how they feel. You're used to them as both hello and goodbye.

Eddie might not want to kiss you, but he isn't putting on a show, his amorous smirking a reality you battle with (read: give in to, enjoy, daydream about) on the regular. Perhaps he isn't eager to ravish you after a full day bussing tables. That's more than okay.

However he might be feeling, you aren't going to let him go hungry a minute longer. "Dinner?" you ask.

"I was thinking sloppy Joes," he says, his hand running down your arm. He turns for the fridge. You follow. "Brioche buns?"

You step in front of him, the fridge door a cacophony of glass rattling as you tug it open. "I'm making them."

Eddie wraps his arms around you, moving you bodily to the side. It's too quick for you to dig your heels in.

"You used to be a gentleman," you complain.

"No, I didn't." He taps your ankle with the rubber toe of his converse.

You make dinner together, to each other's chagrin. Eddie steals spatulas and frying pan handles from your grip. You bump his hip away from the stove grill to toast buns. When you sit down together on the couch, it's at war, elbows digging into soft spots and cups placed out of reach on the coffee table.

"Dick," you say.

Eddie takes a bite, says, "You're the dick, dick," and starts shovelling fries onto your plate. "Giving me more fries is ridiculous. We should eat the same portions, we're the same age."

"But one of us had breakfast and lunch, and one of us didn't," you say, using your fork to give his gifted fries straight back.

And here's where you get the first inkling that something's making him not want to kiss you, emphasis on you.

Eddie loves kissing you when he feels loved. For obvious starters, whenever you tell him you love him he makes sure to kiss your lips. When you make him laugh, when you wash his hair in the shower, when you draw stars into his palms, all those things garner a fond peck to the temple. He kisses the space just under your ear so often you're sure there's a contusion in the shape of his mouth there, permanent and purpling, his go-to whenever he's laying on top of you or hugging you from behind.

You can count on a mildly greasy kiss no matter the meal. Eddie loves eating dinner together. He waits for you to get home, sometimes for hours, to share a plate with you. You've never not indulged him with a kiss. Tonight, he doesn't ask.

It would be here. Name-calling dripping in affection, you elbow glancing off of his as you cut into your sloppy Joe, and the TV failing to cover the sound of a quick kiss before he digs in. You're gutted at the lack and surprised to have noticed it, but you don't go so far as to mourn the loss: Eddie's likely too hungry to think about kissing, that's all. Right?

Despite attempts to convince you otherwise, he's hungry. He finishes his plate in what feels like five big bites, hair tucked behind his ears, an innocent but far off look about him as he wipes his fingers in a piece of kitchen towel and leans back into the couch cushions with a small groan.

"We should stop eating on the couch," he says.

"You told me you wanted to sit here." You're confused.

"It's like, testing fate. I'm a mess. I'll ruin it and have to get a new one I can't afford."

You chew on a fry. "I mean," —you put your hand over your mouth, pleased when he turns to you with a ready-made smile, like the act of just looking at you is one he enjoys— "even if you drop something on it, we can Didi Seven it. Or get one of those fancy water vacuum things."

"It's my couch," he says. "You wouldn't have to clean it."

"You're my boyfriend," you respond, "so I wouldn't mind."

"I'm your boyfriend," he says, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side.

His lips close, his eyes tracking up and along the lines of your features with an unnameable emotion in his gaze. You'd like to say that it's love, but you're starting to think it's something else.

"Don't say it like that. You sound too unsure," you say.

Amusement dances across his face. "Are you finished?" he asks, opening his hand for your tray.

"No," you say, faux-stroppy. You take another fry.

Eddie grabs his tray. He skirts around your legs and stops at your side. In his more dopey moods, he'd take your face into his hand again and hold your head still as he kisses your crown.

He squeezes your shoulder. "I'm not unsure about anything," he says warmly. "I'll get you a drink, yeah? Ice?"

A chuck under the chin with his forefinger and he's gone, leaving you sitting there wondering what's wrong with him. Home an hour now and not one single kiss? Is this the end of the honeymoon phase? How do people survive this shit, you think. It's agonising.

Your chewing turns morose.

You and Eddie go through phases, waxing and waning, as most people do. There's always love there, but sometimes there's so much of it you don't know what to do with yourself besides lavish in it. Only yesterday morning he'd been in your bed, shirtless (as you often wish he'd be), dark ink like bruises in the low light where it climbed the lengths of his arms and his bare chest. You were lax under his touch, his nose and lips pressing to your skin as he kissed you from rib to soft tummy. Slow, kissing you as though he had nowhere else to be but there. As though his next shift wasn't thirty minutes around the corner.

You were mortified when he blew a raspberry. Now you're thinking you might peel out of your shirt and ask him to do it again if it means he'll kiss you in any definition.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks as he returns, his hand sliding along from your shoulder to the other while he steps over your legs.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask.

"Feeling very repetitive today, are we?" he teases, no consideration for your dinner tray as he collapses into the seat beside you.

You're expecting his cheek on your shoulder, his hair tickling your upper arm. It doesn't come. Worried he's discouraged by your tray, you place it on the coffee table and sit back. You really want him to kiss you.

Kissing someone isn't something you thought you'd want to do before you met Eddie. To be kissed, sure. To give a chaste peck, absolutely. But to have someone put their weight on you, to press at the seam of your lips with their own and to wade in like a steady wave, one breath at a time, until you're unsure where the boundary of your mouth begins and his ends, that was all new. Eddie kisses like he loves, loud and brash, rough and eager. Gentle when he needs to be but arduous.

He makes you feel wanted in a thousand ways and the first is his greedy penchant for stealing a kiss or three at every opportunity. It's weird that he hasn't kissed you yet. He's acting weird.

"You're being super weird," you say. You feel like a pressure cooker with steam pouring from the release valve.

Eddie smirks at you. "That so? Any explanation attached to that, or are we name-calling? I have some names for you, if we are."

"Oh, I have to know."

"Figured you would." He throws his leg over your thigh. The firm muscle of it tenses as he wiggles his foot.

"What were you gonna call me?" you prompt impatiently.

"Sweetheart. Angel." He turns his cheek into the back of the couch, bringing his pinky to your face and drawing a line from the smoothest skin under your eye outward. "Pretty. Very pretty."

"Says you," you murmur. If he thinks you're so pretty, why won't he kiss you? "I can't work out your angle today."

"Am I acting differently?" he asks, seemingly unperturbed.

No. He just hasn't kissed you. There might have been a moment when he first came home where you thought he was hesitating to kiss you, but since then he's acted exactly as he usually does (minus kissing, therefore making it unusual).

You sigh, half serious and half wanton sadness. "No." His nose twitches. You startle. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What, do I have bad breath?" you ask, bringing a hurried palm to your mouth to try and test it.

Eddie pulls your hand down, admonishing through a laugh, "You obviously don't. You know I'd tell you, babe."

"Oh."

"I got gum though, if you want it."

You bat his chest. "I bet you do… I don't know what it is, then. I give up."

"What's what?" he asks. He takes a curl of his hair around a painted fingernail. It coils on his finger, where he pinches the end, bringing it up to your chin and drawing a smile under your lips with the tip.

"I… do I have something in my teeth? A zit? What's the issue?" you ask, lost.

"There's no issue!" He laughs, and he curves his hand gently around your neck. "Why do you think there's an issue?" he asks. A thread of his voice wavers. Impossible to notice if you didn't know everything about him, down to the stray hair.

"No, because," —your voice shrinks— "you're being off with me." You won't cry, but it's impossible to stop the doubt that seeps into your voice. "You're not…"

Eddie strokes your neck with his thumb, growing serious. "I'm not what?"

"You haven't kissed me." You avoid his eyes. "Not since you saw me."

"I'm sorry," he says, immediately dipping forward.

You pull back. "Wait–"

Eddie waits. "What?" he asks.

"I don't want you to kiss me just 'cus I asked you to."

Eddie pushes his hand upward, his index finger shaped to your jawline. He rubs a quarter circle from your chin to your jaw tentatively with his thumb, an awful sorry look in his eyes that he gets whenever you're upset. "Well, I always want to kiss you," he confesses. His eyebrows furrow. "You know that, right?"

"But you haven't, today."

Is that pathetic? you panic. Noticing, caring, it feels so, so silly all of a sudden, you can't believe you spilled it that easily. You may as well have written clingy loser across your forehead in glaring pen.

Eddie sees it. He doesn't cringe at you like you fear he will.

"Ah," he says, almost humming, his lips barely parted, "that's just not okay, is it? My girl waiting on a kiss."

He leans in. You shy away, wanting his kiss but wanting the run up more. Eddie follows your lead, keeping space between you, rubbing a diligent and affectionate circle into your cheek. His touch is soft enough to tickle.

"I'm not trying to act desperate, I just figured– I thought there was a reason you hadn't," you say.

Eddie asks you in his softest, most genial tones if he can kiss you.

You don't say yes so much as you lift your chin and close your eyes. Your relief is sharp as he closes the fizzing space between you, as he guides your face to his and holds it there like a treasured pearl cupped in two palms. He makes a sound at the back of his throat that kills any doubts of his affection stone cold dead. Your lips part a millimetre if that, and Eddie slots into the gap, his hands growing less and less careful by the second, the pressure of his touch amping up. He moves back only long enough to turn his head, your noses bumping, another breathy sound slipping past his lips. You smother it gracelessly with a rougher reciprocation.

It's not your longest kiss, but it works. It's the reassurement you needed. Eddie pulls away to suck in a harsh breath, the feeling foreign against your tingling lips. His face dips, his eyes out of view. His hands move in twin down the slope of your neck, languish, feel along the thin layer of your t-shirt as though he's looking for some secret answer.

"I'm not trying to act weird around you, I'm just nervous," he says.

You feel your back aching, stiff as a rod. "Nervous?" you ask quietly.

Eddie rests his forehead on your chin. He whispers a cuss, and then he sits up very tall and looks you in the eye.

It takes him five seconds to tell you what it is that's making him anxious. In that time, you come up with a handful of things. I lost my job. I don't want to be with you anymore. There's someone else. There's no one else, but you did something that pissed me off/made me uncomfortable/disgusted me. I'm sick. None of your guesses are good, and none prepare you for what he asks next.

"Would you wanna move in with me?"

His hand meanders along your thigh. An awkward smile catches his lip like a fish hook, tugging it up on one side.

"I… what?"

"I think it's a good idea. I was trying to ask you yesterday, and now today it didn't feel right. I don't want you thinking I'm asking because you did my laundry." His hand warms your thigh, a pervasive heat. Your face is similarly hot. "We could split rent, and you could keep saving. You wouldn't have to deal with your shitty neighbours. You'd be closer to your job, and– and to me. It's a good idea," he repeats. "There's a ton of reasons it would be good for you, but I'm asking 'cus I missed you so bad last night I couldn't sleep. I wanna be with you whenever we can be."

"You'd really want me to?" you ask.

"You'd never have to wait for a kiss again," he says hopefully. "I know it's a big move. I get it if you're not ready."

"I'm ready," you say. You don't know it's true until you've said it aloud.

Delight sparks and catches like sun-dried tinder. Elation lights his eyes. "Holy shit, yeah? You want to?"

"Yeah," you say, nodding emphatically, trying not to yell. "Yes, I want to. I'd love to! That would be–"

"A dream," he finishes, snatching your waist into his grasp, basically yanking you into his arms.

"Amazing," you say, your arms forced over his shoulders.

You wrap your arms around the back of his head, curls that smell of almond oil and a generous dollop of hair mousse crushed to your face. Your eyes slip closed. You suck in an inconspicuous breath, though your self-indulgent action is interrupted by a groan, Eddie squeezing you hard enough to make the bones in your back click three at a time.

"I can't believe you, sweetheart. I don't kiss you for an hour and you think there's something wrong?" He laughs.

"I'm spoiled," you say sheepishly. To draw his attention, you add, "I can't believe you, afraid to ask me that! Why would I say no? I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, pulling the small of your back tighter still so he can dig his nose into the side of your head.

He kisses you all over the side of your face until you're painted in little warm patches from overexposure. A loved up mess, and dizzy with relief.

Relief and excitement. "How soon do you want me in here?" you ask, sitting back.

"How soon do you want another kiss?" he asks.

"Will we be stealing each other's questions all day?" you ask.

"For the rest of time, if I get my way."

"That's so corny," you whisper, ecstatic.

Eddie pushes you down onto the couch cushions. You know before he so much as pulls up a knee that he's going to climb on top of you. You make room for him, your heart feeling like it could breach through your ribs one bone at a time.

"What are you doing?" you whisper with a smile.

"Making up for lost kisses."

—

Two Weeks Later

Eddie wakes to a kiss.

Your arm thrown over his waist, your hand feeling greedily at the trim curve atop his hip, you've well and truly wrapped yourself around him. Like an octopus. He imagines the popping sound of your suckers if he tried to detach you (not that he'd want to).

You're dotting shy, soft kisses down the column of his throat. "I love you," you say softly between them, a melody that turns him to jelly. "I love you. Love you, love you, love you."

Your kisses are a compromise —after the general holy fucking shit-ism of your conversation a fortnight ago, Eddie put his foot down. He was out of his mind knowing his apartment was about to become yours, but he was also incredibly unhappy about the faces you'd made before he asked. He remembers your voice, your apprehension as you mumbled, "No, because, you're being off with me."

Eddie had been totally off trying to figure out how to ask what was potentially the second most important question he could ever ask you; he was distracted enough by it that he totally forgot about kissing you senseless. And your worrying asked a totally new question he hadn't thought of before. Why does Eddie always kiss you first? And why had the lack of a kiss been seen as a bar, and not an invitation?

Hence Project Kiss Me, Stupid. Or Project Kiss Me Stupid if he's feeling particularly in love (because you aren't stupid at all, but you may have made an unintelligent assumption (Eddie not kissing you for a few hours did not mean even slightly that he isn't gross in love).

The project was more like a proposal. Eddie decided you should be making the first move more often, so you weren't ever left feeling like something was wrong between you for lack of a kiss again. "If you ever think I'm mad at you, plant one on me. I promise I won't be mad much longer," he told you.

You're passing with flying colours, as far as he's concerned. Eddie thinks your moving in was gift enough, but fuck, all these kisses? He's been a walking vestibule of love, and lust, and sickening fondness for two weeks now. Project Kiss Me Stupid is the best thing that's ever happened to him. He's a genius.

"Good morning," you say into his neck, a hint of teeth scratching him with the greeting. Eddie cups the back of your head with a weak, tired groan as your lips close over his pulse.

"Morning," he says. His voice is thick with the grit of sleep.

"This is okay?" you ask, pausing in your kiss.

Eddie tips his head back heavily into plush pillows, your pillows, fresh with new bedding to match the nightstands you'd decided on together. "Please," he says. His arm slides behind your back to belt you in. "I'm gonna think you don't like me anymore if you take any longer."

"Very funny," you murmur.

He knows he's forgiven for teasing when your face dives back into the crook of his neck. His eyes shutter closed, blissed, thinking, God, I could get used to this, when you nip him.

"You didn't like my joke, I take it?"

"It was funny," you say, giving him a scratching kiss.

"That's counter-intuitive," he warns. "I like it rough."

You fall away from him to cover your face with both hands. He knows he's rubbing off on you at the sight, your head shaking a theatrical side to side that fails to hide real embarrassment beneath it. You look especially tortured.

Eddie knows exactly how to fix it.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

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Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Eight - Charles

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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Arthur dragged her back to the apartment building. No matter how much she begged, he knew he had to tell his brother. What Charles did from there was out of his hands.

She'd forgive him, he knew. It would take a while, but she would eventually forgive him. Once she realised just how dangerous Max was, she'd forgive him.

"Arthur, I love him," she said as they took the elevator up to their floor.

"No, you don't," he quickly answered. "Bunny, you don't know him, you don't know the things he's done."

"Then tell me!"

But Arthur wouldn't. As soon as the elevator doors open, he dragged her out and dragged her to Charles's apartment.

Pushing open the door, Arthur dragged her inside. She let out a cry, but it was superficial, his grip not tight enough to injure her in any way. "Charles, I got her," he called as he sat her down on the sofa.

Charles emerged from his bathroom. He stared down at her with so much anger written on his face, it had her shivering. "Where the fuck did you go, Bunny?" He spat, not moving from the doorway of the bathroom.

Arthur went to answer, but Charles held up his hand, stopping him. "I'm not speaking to you," he spat at his brother, and Arthur shut his mouth, eyes on the ground.

Charles turned back to Bunny. "Tell me where the fuck you went or so help me, Bun." He marched towards her and she visibly recoiled.

It had guilt shooting through him, but he ignored it. "Tell me!" He roared.

She swallowed, but she couldn't answer him, couldn't force the words out of her mouth.

A sigh left Charles's lips. He turned towards Arthur and gestured for him to speak. "She was with Mad Max, says she loves him," he answered quickly. "I saw them together."

Charles turned back to Bunny. "Is this true?" He asked, and she nodded. The noise he let out was so damn angry, it had her recoiling.

He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door. "'thur, keep her here and don't let her use that goddamn phone," he said.

Suddenly she was up from the sofa and running towards him. "Cha, where are you going?" She cried as she grabbed him.

He breathed in deep and looked down at her. Pulling her close, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "Doesn't matter, Bun," he mumbled. "I'm gonna fix this." And then he was disappearing out of the apartment.

Before she could follow, Arthur had a hold of her. He locked the door and pocketed the key, trapping her in the apartment with him.

Reluctantly, she sat back on the sofa and pulled her knees up to her chest. "He's going to tell my father, isn't he?" She asked, eyes welling up with tears.

"I think so, Bun." He went to sit next to her, but she turned away from him.

Charles was doing exactly as she had guessed. He climbed into the car and drove out of Monaco, heading to the Dupont estate in France. No soft piano music played from the speaker, knuckles white against the steering wheel.

For all these years trying to protect her, and Charles had let her fall into the clutches of Mad Max Verstappen. Max didn't know how to love. He certainly didn't know how to love a sweet girl like Bunny Dupont.

If Max was gonna do anything, he was going to get her killed.

The drive flew by and, before he knew it, Charles was pulling up outside of the Dupont house. He parked up beside the fountain and climbed out of his car.

Maybe Dupont would kill him. He hadn't done his job, the one thing he had to do. He hadn't kept her protected like he was meant to. If Dupont wanted to kill him, Charles couldn't be mad. He deserved it. He deserved to meet his end at Dupont's hand.

He walked through the house, past staff members he had grown up around. This had the potential to be the last time he ever saw them. His steps faltered as he walked up the stairs to Dupont's office. Fuck, he had never been this scared before.

At the door, he hesitated. All he had to do was knock. All he had to do was raise his fist and tap it against the door a couple of times. It didn't have to be this hard.

The minute he knocked, Dupont was calling him into his office. Charles sucked in a breath, pushed open the door, and strode in.

"Charles, my boy!" Dupont called as he sat back in his chair. He looked around Charles, obviously looking for his daughter. "What can I help you with?"

Charles didn't sit, no until he was told to. "Sir, I have news about Bunny," he said.

Dupont furrowed his brows and leaned forward. "What about my daughter?" He asked. He reached towards his pen pot and pulled out a knife.

His hand shook against the chair he was leaning against. "Sir," he began. "She - she and Max Verstappen..." But he couldn't find it in himself to finish the sentence.

But Dupont relaxed. He sat back in his seat and casually played with the knife in his hands. "My Bunny and Mad Max," he said and let out a cackling laugh. "This comes as no surprise to me, Charles. She and Mad Max weren't very covert about their... operations."

A breath released from Charles's lips. "What should we do about it?"

"Nothing," Dupont answered with a shrug. "Let her fool around with Verstappen's boy. We can play that to our advantage."

"But I can't guarantee her safety when she's with Verstappen."

The blade of Dupont's knife sank into the wood of his desk. "Take her to go and see him. Let him know you mean business. We mean business."

Dupont dismissed him after that. He waved Charles off and returned to what he was doing before Charles arrived.

The drive back to Monaco was still in silence. He felt physically sick and pulled over more than once to dry heave on the side of the road. All his life he was meant to protect Bunny Dupont, and now he was going to be the one to feed her to the wolves.

As he drove, Charles called his brother. He waited as the phone dialled, waited for Arthur to pick up.

It didn't take very long. "How did it go?" Arthur asked the moment he picked up.

Charles simply grunted. "Where is she?"

"Asleep in your room," Arthur answered.

Charles's stomach dropped. "Go and make sure she's still in there," he said quickly.

There was a moment where Arthur rushed around his apartment. He listened as Arthur marched from the kitchen and threw open the bedroom door. There was a pause before the door clicked shut again. "She's still in there," Arthur answered and Charles let out a breath.

Good, Charles thought as he drove through Monaco. He could put off throwing her to the wolves if she was sleeping.

He pulled into the garage beneath the apartment building and killed the engine. His head hit the steering wheel and he sucked in a shuddering breath. He felt so damn sick as he sat there, in the dark of the parking garage.

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princessbunnib · 2 years

Text

Care For You

König |Cod/Mw2|

Summary: König takes care of you after finding out you've had a stressful day at work.

Pairing: König X Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut MDNI, Dom König, Sub Reader, Established Relationship, Communication, Size Difference, König With Size Kink, Overstimulation, Talk About Breeding, Consensual, Praising, Accidental CreamPie, Rough Penetration, Fingering, Begging, Talk About Squirting, Sex In Kitchen, Sex On Table, Squirting Encouragement, Missionary, Oral |F| Receiving, DoggyStyle.

Author's Note: Continuation of 'Another Round?'

I had a different plot and script but decided it wasn't strong enough to be part two. I kindof set the bar very high with part one.🤧

Ah! part one got 1k notes! That's my first post to ever get that much attention. Thank youuu😭💕

Thank you all for 229 followers♡

I don't know how I feel about this one so please let me know in the comments.

PT 1 Here:

____

You unlocked the door to your shared house and was met with the smell of food being cooked followed with König singing a song that has been stuck in his head for the past week. You sat your purse down on the couch and walked into the kitchen. König was making eggs for himself considering that was the only thing he knew how to make on his own without burning down the house.

You watched him for a breif moment as he tried the stove nob off and scraped the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate before making your presence known.

"Hey... Uhm, you know I could have made you something when I came back. I'm off earlier than usual today." You said walking up to him to place a kiss on his cheek. Holding his waist for a second before letting go.

"Yeah but I couldn't wait... how was work?" He asked begining to clean up the mess he made while cooking.

You sat down and sighed heavily, kicking your feet up onto the next chair and kicked your heels off. Rolling your eyes thinking about the events that took place ealier today. "It was fucking awful... that blonde chick I told you about last week really likes to bust my non existent balls... I would pay to see her get fired." You stated with a crisp tone of annoyance.

"What did she do this time?" He asked grabbing your foot and begining to message it while pulling up another chair. He had a delicate hold while pressing his thumbs into the center of your foot, revealing the sore feeling in them that was caused by your shoes.

"The usual... I don't want to talk about it though, just thinking about it pisses me off so I'd rather not say." You scoffed. While watching him give you a massage

"But other than that how did your day go?" You asked. He shrugged not having much to say. He has a job but it's a work from home one since he likes to avoid social interaction at any cost. Other than working, he doesn't do much.

He usually takes care of all of the domestic things around the house to give you a break. He's comfortable with this dynamic you two have created because it makes you happy. Your happiness is the only thing that truly matters to him at the end of the day..."

"I see you cleaned up... it feels better in here, thank you... I would have done it but you know- duty calls..." You said with a nervous laugh.

A/N: (I guess you could say it's- call of duty.)

"You don't have to thank me, I live here too... what boyfriend would I be if I made you do all the house work..."

God he looked so sexy in your apron was. It didn't fit him as well as it should have, but he still wears it because of two things. It smells like you, and he likes to pretend like he's a professional chef with a reality TV show when he's alone.

He was so domestic for someone his size. You found it cripplingly attractive. Just thinking about him washing dishes drives you nuts. You'd always watch him as he scattered around the house cleaning any and everything. His hips would sway while he vacuumed. A strong grip on the handle as his forearm veins flexed while he yanked it back to clean a persistent pile of junk off the carpet.

König pulled your chair close to him since you were staring at him. "Do I have something on my face?" He asked lifting a brow.

"Nope... you have a nice face?" You said not thinking about how weird that response would be. 'You have a nice face..' Who the hell says something like that?

You sighed to yourself and looked away from him. He let go of your left foot and messaged your right foot. "Thank you... I haven't shaved yet and thought I looked like a bear or something..." He shrugged.

Ugh he's so cute. He valued your opinion over anything. He wanted to be perfect for you, he'd change everything about himself if you asked him to. Which you would never do for the record, you already felt that he was perfect.

"Don't worry about that... I don't mind a bit of stubble... besides- it feels good against me when you-"

You stopped yourself from interrupting this wholesome interaction with your lewd nonsense. But it's not your fault, he's the one who keeps staring down at you with his eyes big and clueless. You wanted to top him so badly one day. But knowing how strong he is, there's no way he'd let you.

You then leaned in and kissed him without thinking. His soft lips soothed your attitude making you forget about the things you were even mad at prior.

You melted into his lips and wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned into your mouth and picked you up from the chair pushing objects out of the way for you to have as much space necessary so he could lay you down.

What a dream. Coming home from a stressful day of work and having a boyfriend to manhandle you and toss you anywhere he pleased

"König what're you doing... I just got home, I have papers to fill out..." You said watching him pull your pencil skirt off of your hips. You had on thin black tights to cover as much skin as possible when at work. He turned you over on your stomach and held your ass in his hands.

"Sorry... but you know how much I love your uniform... and now that we've had sex... I can't stop thinking about how sexy it makes you look." He lustfuly said while kissing your neck, his large hands ripping them off of your body. You looked back at him clearly annoyed. "König! I'm going to have to buy new ones..." You said giving him attitude.

"Oops." He shrugged off your words and harshly slapped your ass with both hands. Watching it jiggle with a subtle red mark on your pretty skin.

You wore black lace underwear. He glanced up at you, teasing the waistband as if he was going to take them off. "What's this? Wearing something so scandalous at work... care to explain?" He asked yanking them upwards to hug your clit making you moan in the process.

"Ahh~ I just wanted to feel confident today... that's all, really." You said hoping he'd believe you.

"If you wanted to feel confident... you could have let me creampie you before you left so you'd have to rush out of here with my come still inside you...". He said caressing your face and dragging his thumb on your bottom lip. Imagining how pretty you'd look with his cock prying your lips apart for you to suck on him.

"What's gotten into you today? You usually aren't like this..."

"Dunno... guess I'm just proud of myself for making you come." He said nonchalantly.

König then slowly broke apart the buttons to your blouse revealing your spaghetti strap undershirt and matching lace black bra.

"Wow... not only you wore the panties, you also wore the bra to match... seems like you wanted me to fuck you when you got home hm? Either way I'm still going to fulfil that... only if you'll allow me..."

With your chest now exposed it gave him the perfect space to kiss you all over and pull your shirt off of your body. He threw it somewhere and unclipped your bra. You held your bra onto your body not wanting to expose yourself so quickly.

"K-König~ I swear you're like a dog in heat ever since that night, I haven't been drinking enough water lately... I won't be able to squirt how you've been wanting me to..." You said attempting to push him off of you.

He groaned and pinned your hands to the table. Leaning down to pull your bra off with his teeth and throw it. His tongue then dragging across your breasts daring to touch your nipples.

His dominant behavior was arousing to say the least. You felt like an animal in the woods being attacked by a rabid wolf who was hungry for nothing but meat. The way he dragged his teeth across your skin slightly biting into it but not too much. He was testing the waters even though you deep down wanted him to mark you all over like you belonged to him.

He ignored your body language and yanked your hips closer to his. He grunted taking your apron off and tossing it somewhere in the room. He didn't have a shirt on. Only grey sweatpants that lowly hugged his hips.

He's such a slut for walking around the house like that. Who raised him.

"I guess I am in heat... but it's really not my fault, you're so unbelievably sexy... please I need you so badly... I know you want me as much as I want you- well probably not... I need you more than the will to get out of bed in the morning..."

"Mmm... I haven't been able to stop thinking about you... I feel like you're still inside sometimes when I'm alone." You said placing a hand on your stomach whimpering at the emptiness. "Oh yeah? You want me inside your stomach? That desperate feeling is driving you crazy isn't it... I could put something else in there too so you wouldn't feel lonely for- about... nine months?" He said with a smirk.

"Just seeing you makes me hard... can I please fuck you... I can't stand the tight feeling in my pants..." He softly whimpered trying not to beg. You bit your lip and held his face for him to look at you.

You didn't answer as he began to lightly play with your clothed clit. You let out a gentle moan while covering your chest due to the cold air.

"Awe please... let me see you... let your man see every inch of your body... I wanna suck on those sweet little nipples of yours... can I?"

You nodded biting your lip and giving into your sexual urges. Your hips bucking onto him wanting to feel more than just his hands.

He then took your left nipple in his mouth, kissing it with the tip of his tongue before using the wet pink tissue to flick it back and forth. He swallowed it while and grazed his teeth on it, looking up at you while applying more pressure to your clit.

"Ahmmm~ that feels good..." You whimpered holding your right breasts for him while your other hand held his head.

"Thank you for telling me... I've been thinking about you all day... how bad I want to stuff you full of my come... you're so gorgeous... I love you... I need you..."

He groaned and pulled his sweats halfway down his thighs, spreading your legs apart and pinning them to the table. He then slid your panties to the side and aligned himself with your entrance before sliding himself into you, moaning loudly and throwing his head back.

König thrusted steadily but with force. You tightened around him causing your walls to become more slicker and softer to penetrate. He groaned and put your legs on his shoulders placing his hands on the table and staring at your body as you moved along with his thrusts. His mind was foggy with lust.

Hips moving faster than he could speak. He couldn't muster up any words, he was more focused on fucking you. Making your vaginal muscles tighten and clench on him, obeying each forcful thrust taking him in with wet sounds. You held onto the table with your right hand and covered your mouth with the other. Eyebrows furrowing as his pubic hair brushed against your clit with every time he'd thrust forward.

"Hhnngghhh... more... work was driving me over the edge today-" You screamed as he thrusted into your g-spot before missing the area altogether.

You whimpered wanting him to correct his thrusts but was too flustered to speak.

He slapped your thighs and held your face, giving you another slap but on your cheeks. Then continuing to snatch up your jaw. "Yeah? You've had a stressful day... I know- agh... that's why I'm doing this for you, just relax around me... I'll take excellent care of you." He mocked your whimpers and squeezed your breasts. You put your hand on his stomach to stop him momentarily.

He groaned and stopped thrusting glancing down at you. "What is it? Am I going too fast or hard?" He asked showing concern for your pleasure.

"No... you found my spot but changed it before I could tell you..." You responded softly with lust filled eyes.

"I'm sorry... I'll try and find it again, tell me when it feels good alright? I'm so sorry..." He said before kissing your forehead.

You nodded and wrapped your arms around him. He then placed his hands on the table you laid on and changed his footing. He groaned beginning to steadily thrust upwards into you. You moaned as it did feel good, but that still wasn't it.

"Deeper? Ughh please... it felt so good for literally a second..." You whimpered in frustration.

"Alright... don't get upset... you know I'll find it for you... give me a second okay? You love me?" He asked showering your face with kisses.

"Yes... I do~ I really love you..." You nodded as he sloppily kissed your lips with a light hold on your neck.

You wanted him to squeeze tighter but had to keep composure. One thing at a time.

König then pulled your lower half off of the table. Some of your body weight was resting in his hands. He then began to thrust hard into you, you felt more deeper now that your pelvis felt like you were standing up. "How's that?" He asked hoping he did it right.

"Y-yeahh~ t-th-there... just- a bit... mghhnn~ harder..." You managed to speak instead of choking on your words.

He moaned feeling your juices drip down his shaft and collect on his balls. You definitely gotten wetter due to him penetrating you differently. You whimpered wanting to touch him but was too focused on not falling off the table.

"Yes yes ahhhmmghh König fuck me harder... I don't want to think about anything but being fucked by your fat cock~♡" You lustfuly said while rolling your eyes back.

"Yes... anything for you... you're so wet now... I can feel it all over me... does that feel good?" He asked staring into your eyes.

You nodded used your elbows to keep you up for support. Your arms were tired at this point. But you didn't want to change positions because of it.

"I'm gonna come already... fuck... I can't..." He whimpered rutting his hips into you.

"Ughhhh just remember to- ahhh p-pull out... I haven't gotten back on birth control..."

He rolled his eyes not wanting to listen to you. He wanted to come inside you for the first time but because of your fear for having children. You wouldn't ever allow him to breed you.

Sure the act of a creampie would sound absolutely amazing. Especially if it's from him, but you weren't ready to put your life on hold for a family.

And also due to his above average height. It would be hell on earth to carry such a heavy and most likely tall child.

You could tell König these things but he wouldn't understand. He's not the one who has to carry the baby, and he's also not the one who has to deliver it.

"Ughh I don't want to come yet... shit- I need your pretty clit in my mouth... are you going to allow me to do that?" He groaned pulling out and tapping his tip on your clit. You were given a moment to get yourself together. You could feel your juices dripping down your lips. You nodded quickly to him while bucking your pelvis onto his shaft. Making him moan and drip pre-cum.

He then got on his knees and grabbed your breasts, playing with them while wrapping his tongue around your clit, groaning with every sloppy lick he made with his tongue. Your back arched as you whimpered grinding your lips on his mouth.

He could feel his erection settling which may or may not have been a good thing. Hearing you moan kept it standing for a breif moment but he really just wanted to fuck you. But due to him wanting to enjoy this moment. He chose your orgasm over his. The more be could make you moan while still being able to preform, the better.

König kissed your clit and teased your entrance with his index and middle fingers.

He lightly chuckled hearing you whimper his name while he slid his fingers inside sometimes using his thumb to rub your clit, then sucking it. "Ugh just look at what you did... my fingers are soaked..." He said watching the clear juices drip down his digits. You looked down at him and covered your mouth feeling embarrassed by his interest in the subject.

"König~ sthoopp~ you're embarrassing me..." You whimpered until he stood up and held your face, gently slapping it and curling his fingers while rubbing your clit again.

"I know... you're face is so hot... it's okay... I'm just appreciating everything there is to appreciate... the way you get so wet for me... your pretty moans... your sweet little clit that twitches everytime I kiss it... I love it all..." He said into your ear, watching you squirm under his touch and moan clearly.

"Uhhh~ K-König~ Am I being good for you?" You asked hoping he'd understand what you meant.

"Hm? Oh I get it- you want me to praise you right?" He asked lifting a brow. You nodded suppressing your moans as he curled his fingers in a more consistent pattern, now penetrating his fingers into the spot he reached earlier.

You moaned more looser and held onto his forearm with your right hand. Hips rutting into the air and mouth open forming the 'o' shape. "Right there! Yes! Don't stop- please don't stop~"

"Awe, I'm not going to don't worry... and Y/n of course you're being such a good girl for me... you keep squirming under me to stop yourself from coming aren't you? You don't have to hold yourself back... I want you to come on my fingers..."

"B-but I'll- m-make a mess... you spent all day cleaning up... You whined still trying not to let all of your composure go.

He pulled his fingers out and put them in his mouth, sucking everything off of them and holding your thighs teasing your clit with his tip again to get himself hard as his previous erection wasn't fully gone. "I'll clean it up when we're done... you're so sweet for being considerate... now tell me this, do you want me to stop playing games and give you this huge throbbing cock already?"

You didn't asnwer at first so clearly you needed some encouragement. He then held his inches in his right hand and penetrated you with just the tip. Your moans became louder as your arms fwailed around. You hoped he'd but it all inside but soon was left disappointed when you heard him groaning in pleasure, you looked at him to see that he was using his hand to pleasure himself while barley inside you.

He couldn't be serious. Right? Did he expect you to get off by his tip alone? You whimpered and tried to move your hips to be penetrated by him more, only to receive a slap on the thigh along with a rough squeeze.

"Don't misbehave now or I'll have to get rough with you... I can see that disappointment in your eye... just asnwer my question and then I'll stop joking around and take your precious orgasm seriously."

"Ughh... what was it? I wasn't listening... mmm." You loudly whimpered kicking your legs in frustration.

"Shame on you for not listening... I asked you if you wanted my cock already so you could come... but considering recent events, I don't think you deserve it... I'll just take this out... and try another time." He said lazily pulling out, now mentally annoyed with his actions.

He got on his knees again and scooped your legs up into his arms, you whimpered trying to get out of his hold but couldnt. You knew what he was going to do.

Fuck you couldn't handle being overstimulated again like last time. Your legs were so weak by the time he was finished with you. You knew you wouldn't be able to walk after this, he has such a fascination with making you come by using his tongue.

"Awe you're getting worried aren't you... how cute... you don't want my tongue do you?" He asked. You shook your head and nodded. You couldn't decide on a clear answer, you also didn't want to speak up and say it because the only thing you'd manage to say would be a whimper or moan.

He smirked lightly swishing his tongue side to side. You held the table with your hands throwing your head back slightly whimpering for him to stop.

"You're squirming... tell me what you're thinkin' about... I want to know if I'm satisfying you." He asked before taking your whole clit in his mouth and sucking profusely and tightening his grip on your thighs to keep you still.

"Mhmm mm... such a pretty little clit... mnghmm I can't get enough of it..." He moaned into you humming to send vibrations throughout your spine. You shook your head whimpering and arching your back.

You had no choice but to put your legs onto his shoulders, he held your thighs closely to his head wanting you to squeeze him with your thighs. His eyes never left yours, even if you tried to break eye contact he'd nibble on your clit to get your attention again.

You'd then whimper in pain and try to open your thighs, but he was stronger than you. By like a lot. He held your hands with his making it impossible for you to stop him. His tongue pulled back the small hood and began to thrust in an upward motion. He'd play with your clit like a cat to a mouse by flicking it in all directions, using the slippery underside of his tongue to make it more wet then give a long lick and proceed to suck it making sure to not stop until you moaned.

He looked away briefly to watch your stomach cave into itself. He could tell you were going to come soon. He's only been doing this so much to take notes of how your body reacted to him. When he's too busy staring into your eyes when in missionary, it doesn't give him much room to notice the small details that lead to you coming.

"You taste immaculate... I could stay like this until my jaw falls off... mmmghmm~"

You were going to speak but forgotten how to. You cried out literal nonsense and squeezed his hands, with that simple action his eyes were back on your face. You whimpered feeling the temperature in your body rise. "Mhmm... you're so close aren't you? I won't leave you alone until you come."

"Köniiiigg~ sthoopp... it's too good... you're gonna make me... ahhffmm~"

"Mhm? What was that? Come? Squirt? Cry? Tell me all the details so I know how to take care of you after... I love you so much... no matter what you do I will love you forever..."

"I- I don't know- fu-fuck- I can't even think..." You chocked on your words and bit into your lip, eyes glazing with tears as you watched him.

"You're so come drunk you don't know what to do with yourself... I'm glad that I have such an affect on you Y/n... you feel amazing around my fingers." He praised lightly kissing your clit inbetween statements.

"Hmm~ you make me feel so good when you kiss my clit..."

"Good... can you come on my tongue? I promise I'll fuck you in any way you want me to... weather it be slow, fast, rough, deep... you name it my beautiful girl..."

"I'll try~♡ hooghoddd..."

He held your hip with his left hand and continued to stare at you. You moaned rocking your hips back and forth feeling his fingers deeper inside. He played with your breasts and pinched your nipples to further bring noises out of you. You screamed his name and covered your face.

"I know... I know... you're so worked up... you don't know what to do with yourself... come for me, you can do it. You're such a good girl for me Y/n." He said egging you on before lapping his tongue on your clit still fingering you.

Your eyes rolled back, mouth opening wide without anything coming out of it. You nodded at his encouragement letting him know you were indeed close. He harshly slapped your thighs then squeezed them tightly to sooth the sting. "Mhmm come on my fucking face... good girls come on my face, you're a good girl right?" He said using a cocky tone.

"Yes yes yhesss! I'm a good girl... I'm a good girl... aghhh König I'm close..."

"I know... awe please come on my face, I'm so fucking hard for you... You mean the world to me... you're even better than a good girl... I love you so much I don't fucking deserve a goddess like you... come for me please~♡"

You looked down at him and held his head, pushing it further inbetween your legs to shut him up. You were so god damn close that it annoyed you, you needed to come. You couldn't think about anything else. His tongue felt smooth like silk, he was a master at what he did. With more words of encouragement you ended up locking your legs around his head keeping him in place. He held your hips allowing you to use him like a toy.

Your vaginal muscles clamping on nothing, all the tension focused on your clit. Sucking, blowing, licking, nibbling. You threw your head back as it felt like an explosion of fireworks in your brain had went off. You found yourself rutting your hips on his mouth and moaning at the top of your lungs.

"König! AHHH YEESSSSS FINALLYYYY~♡" The sound of your voice made it seem like you were crying tears of joy. He let go of your clit with an obnoxious slurping sound and blew a gentle breeze of air on it.

Your legs shaking and giving out at the same time. He watched you in awe as you grabbed yourself not knowing how to deal with the amount of dopamine being produced. "Awe wow... look at you so undone for me... that's it, keep moaning... you're almost coming down aren't you?" He said gently rubbing your clit in a side to side motion.

"Stop stop stop stop! It's too fucking much I've had enough... please!" You begged uncontrollably feeling tears gushing out of your eyes.

He stopped touching you and pulled you close to him, tossing your arms around his neck. "Shh shhh... I know... calm down... you're so overwhelmed..." He said holding your face staring into your dazed eyes.

"Mm, you're my pretty girl... I love you so much..."

You let out a whimper feeling yourself let out a heavily watered down stream of liquid from your urethra. You moaned shaking your head to not focus on how embrassed you were by the whole process. "I'm sorry..." You managed to choke out.

"Awe don't be... take a moment to rest for me okay? And would you look at that... you can squirt... I knew I'd be able to make you do it." He said caressing your face and showering your lips with kisses.

You nodded and kissed him back, tasting yourself from earlier. "Thank you so much... thank you... thank you..."

You couldn't think about anything. Your mind was blank and all you could do was thank him. He took your words with pride and laid you back down on the table, you didn't let him go. You were vulnerable and didn't want him to leave your side. You buried your face into his neck locking your legs around him tighter.

"Stay here... I'm ready for more if you are... I want you to fuck me until I cry..."

"Oh? As you wish... you don't need to do anything... I just want to use your body to come..." He said before laying kisses on your chest.

____

The two of you had quickly got naked while still in the kitchen. König towered over you leaning down to kiss your neck with his cock thrusting inbetween your thighs for friction to keep him hard. You were looking up at him holding his face and making out with him, his strong hands caressing your breasts and pinching your nipples.

"You're perfect... are you okay? Do you want to continue or do you need more time? Or we can just stop if you want." He said caressing your face and speaking softly to you.

"I'm okay... thank you for asking, you can do anything to me, I'm ready for you... just feeling your cock inbetween my thighs like this is making me lose my mind..."

"Same here... I know it might feel like I'm saying the same things over and over but I really mean it... there aren't enough words in the dictionary to describe what you are to me."

"Yeah? Well for starters... let's say that I'm yours..." You said softly while allowing him to push you down onto the table, he held onto your hips with a low desperate groan. "Say that again... tell me how much you want me... beg for me so I can feel confident enough to fuck you senseless..."

You looked back at him, pulling him down to you so could sloppily kiss him. He slid inside you with ease, being careful to not get carried away too quickly. You moaned into his mouth and broke the kiss, holding his jaw to keep his eyes on you.

"My body belongs to you, you're the only man I'll let fuck me... you can have me any day at any hour... I'm nothing but a brain dead fuck toy for you..."

"Hmm? Yeah... you're mine... you have no idea how jealous I get when I'm in public with you... you always have to leave the house looking so fucking gorgeous... every man just has to stare at you... I fucking hate it."

You moaned as he began to kiss your neck and bite into your skin. You melted like butter under the sun holding his hand keeping it on your body. His thrusts started slow and deep to focus on speaking to you. Your walls clenched around him, hips moving back and forth to engulf his size.

"So tight... just like that Y/n... look at you trying to take control and use me for a change... I'm afraid I can't let you do that though... last time I checked fucktoys don't have a mind of their own." He growled in your ear and slapped your ass.

"I'm sorry... you're just taking so long... my desire to be fucked is burning... please can you fuck me already König~" You asked with innocent eyes lovingly gazing up at him.

"When you look at me like that how can I say no... you're so amazing... all mine... you're my good fucking girl..."

With those lustful words he proceeded to lift your left leg up and pin it on the table, spreading your legs apart made it easier for him to stuff more of himself inside. With you being pinned down to the table it's not like you could get free from his hold. You reached out and held onto the surface you laid on, whimpering as his thrusts became more consistent laced with desperation.

He cursed under his breath and slapped your ass hard. Disregarding if you may or may not like it. "Fucking bitch... mm... so tight and wet... you're such a broken in slut aren't you, you take me in so deep now..."

"You look so pretty when being fucked from behind... your ass is moving so much..." He grunted slapping it harder than before.

"Ahh~♡ choke me... please..." You asked moaning more comfortably. "How? I don't want you to pass out..."

"Squeeze the sides of my neck rather than onto my throat... I'll still be able to breath but not easily... feeling the pressure build up my head is what really turns me on..." You explained before König pulled you by your hair for you to lean upwards.

He was hesitant in fulfilling your request not sure if he'd do it right. But he wanted to make you happy and decided to trust your words. Alright how did you say to do it again? Hands on both sides of neck... that should be good.

You moaned pulling him inside deeper. Your walls reacting positively and hugging every vein in his shaft, squeezing on him ever so often. Forcing pre-cum out of him.

"Like this? Is that right? You're body seems to think so..." He moaned slightly in disbelief, wow you felt way better than before. You sounded like heaven itself aswel.

"Mhmm... just like that... ughhh your hands~ they make the perfect necklace König~♡" You praised throwing your head back and letting your self control leave your body altogether. Now making you act and sound more slutty.

"Oh my god... you keep clamping down on me... you must really like this... fuck, I'm gonna go faster now... is that okay?" He asked hearing you whimper while nodding as a response.

König began to breathe heavier and thrust harder. His balls slapping against your sensitive clit, making it twitch with every ounce of contact. He threw his head back holding your neck tighter then releasing after making you light headed intentionally.

You put your hands on his wrists, eyes rolling back and whoreish smile plastered on your face. "So deeep~ It's in my stomach~♡"

"Shut the fuck up... fuck toys don't talk." He sternly spoke before pinning you head to the table, using both hands to hold you down and thrusted harder. Heavily breathing and groaning.

A knot built up in your stomach making the pleasure become overwhelming. You whimpered focusing on the feeling of him inside you. Repeatedly clenching and pulling him in deeper. "Fuck I love you... thank you~ I can't control myself when I'm inside you..." He leaned down to you and spoke into your ear. His hand sliding under your hips so he could rub your clit.

Your mouth opened wide, drool collecting on your tongue and dripping onto the table. Your eyes rolled back as you focused on both points of pleasure. His fingers were wet as they rubbed against you.

"Say you love me... ughh f-fuck... I'm close Y/n..."

"Mmm~♡ I love you... you make me feel good... don't stop rubbing my clit, I'm gonna come soon..."

König groaned pulling you off of the table and turning you over onto your back so that the two of you were in missionary again.

You whimpered at the loss of contact around your throat. He then slapped your face gently and held your jaw. "I love you~ nghhh... I love you so much... fuck I'm gonna come~"

you pulled his face into your chest while moaning and allowing him to suck your nipples. His thumb applying pressure to your clit, teeth biting your nipples and tongue licking them.

His hips were thrusting on their own at this moment. Your legs locking around him and body jolting in pleasure. You moaned again and arched your back.

"Please don't stop choking me... I'm so close that it hurts..." You lustfuly said while receiving hard thrusts to your cervix. He groaned letting your nipples go and put your legs on his shoulders and leaning down to you, wrapping his left hand around your throat tightly squeezing. Listening to your thankful whimpers while your nails dug into his skin. He kissed your lips once until you held his face sloppily keeping your lips on his nearly sucking your face off.

"Mmmuahh~ I love how deep you take me... fucking slutty bitch..." He groaned pulling your bottom lip in his teeth.

"I love how good you fuck me... I think I'm going to squirt again-" You managed to speak as his hand momentarily got loose. "Oh fuck... don't be shy... come on I want you to squirt... I can't believe I was able to get you to do that... you were so cute while coming just because of my fingers..."

"Yeah? Tell me how pretty I am... ughhh I want to come all over your fat cock..."

He then yanked your body off of the table, you panicked and held onto him tightly. Arms wrapped around his neck as you melted into him. His hips thrusting upwards reaching your spot from earlier. You whimpered loudly and threw your head back moaning and letting your whole body relax.

"That's it... give me another... squirt on me... you're so sexy when you do." He said holding your ass in his hand and wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you in his arms.

"I love youuu~ K-König!~" You screamed at the top of your lungs. Mind being blinded by your lust and clenching around him.

He groaned burying his face into your neck to cover up his submissive moans. His hand slapping your ass until it had a large red mark into it. "I'M COMING... FUCK I'M COMING... Take every fucking drop you slut!"

He forced you down onto the table again and slammed his hips into you. You moaned arching your back and rolling your eyes back into your skull. Your nipples tingling with pleasure as your walls relaxed for the last time, flooding your urethra with clear watered down liquids. König pulled out of you and rubbed his tip on your lips, gliding it up and down watching you release all over him. Your vagina clamping down on nothing, whimpers slowly getting quieter.

Your hands pressed onto his chest as you watched him moan your name and pump his hand up and down his shaft. "Ughhhh you're so perfect for me... I need you in my life forever..."

The two of you came down from your highs. He then laid on you, allowing you to hug him and kiss his cheek. You sighed heavily in relief. He kissed your lips and lightly held your neck in his hand. Turning your head to the side so he could pepper kisses all over you. You then felt something drip out of you and onto the table. You looked down seeing his erection going down while his tip was dripping with come. "König..." You said trying to gain your composure.

"Yeah? Give me a minute... if you want to go again..." He panted in response.

"Did you come inside me? Fuck... I think you did..." You said.

He then got off of you and spread your legs. He watched his come drip down you, your vagina clenching and releasing, forcing his thick load out of you. "Looks like I did... sorry about that... You felt too good for me to waste it..."

#cod zombies #mask kink #smut #cod mw22 #codmw2022 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #konig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #könig mw2

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arenabreadandbiscuits · 6 months

Text

Vox x Fem! Reader || Caught In Wires 🔪🫂

Word Count: 2,109

Warning: Possessive behavior, abuse of power, Stockholm syndrome signs(?)

Scenario: Stop running for it is foolish. An animal worth keeping alive knows what its purpose in the end is. Requested from my AO3.

(Note for Requests and Commissions. I'm open to taking requests now but only because I'm trying to grow my accounts. Commissions are still needed and preferred but gotta do what you gotta do I guess. If you want to request then you can buy commissions get done quicker and faster. I'll take six commissions and six requests at a time.

Commissions number currently - 1/6

Requests number currently - 0/6)

Vox is a powerful man, one of the most powerful and that meant that in most of not all cases he tended to get exactly what he wanted.

You had been working for him for a while now. Some silly girl who needed a job when you fell down here and if you weren't blessed with anything else you had managed to be blessed with your skills in combat.

You were a damn good fighter, one who seemed to hold so much potential. You could tear through flesh like a knife through butter, could bite through metal with how competent your teeth and fangs were, and you spilled blood like you had a knack for it.

To see the least, you managed to reel in attention, a lot of it but imaging your surprise when you found yourself face to face with the TV overlord himself, Vox.

He had stood before you, a charming smirk on his face as you kneeled in front of him and you had huffed.

At first, you had been pissed. The last thing you needed was for some overlord to come knocking around and claiming you and yet… that's exactly what had happened. You had been swarmed, collected and kidnapped, a bag being tossed over your head and your hands being tied behind your back. You had spent so much time ducking and dodging these sketchy people, these sketchy places… and yet he had still managed to track you, chase you, and find you.

Vox was a determined mother fucker.

You could give him that, the two of you had a bit of history. History that made sense as to why he's spent all this time looking for you and the reason simply had been that you knew him.

And he knew you.

There was a story there that only the two of you seemed to know about and basically it was that you had known each other for a while now.

It started with you working under Valentino, the bastard. You had refused to give your body over in the aspects that were expected of you and so you had been tossed out. Though, prior to said time Vox… had often come to you.

Speaking with you, touching you, caressing you and you'd be a liar to say that his touch hadn't been the only touch to actually make you feel something in this hellhole.

Honestly being tossed out had been both a blessing and a curse, the blessing being that you had finally escaped… even for just a little bit and the curse was that though you hated that place if there was one thing you missed it would have been him.

The TV overlord himself.

It was irritating, annoying how much time you spent thinking of him. His hands as they held you close or his voice that always seemed to make you shiver. When you ran away there had been many times where you yourself had contemplated if leaving… had actually been the right idea. The right thing to do. Outside of the ghostly touches that seemed to linger it always felt like you were being watched and even you knew that with the amount of surveillance he had, it was only a matter of time before he truly got back to you.

So as he stood before you after the guards were ordered to leave, you huffed, turning your gaze down for a moment to try and avoid that smug look that you knew was already on his face. As expected he doesn't quite allow that as he squats and gently or as gently as he could manage as excitement ran through him and he took hold of your chin. His nails just lightly sink into your skin as he tilts your head up and defiantly, you bare your teeth and fangs. It doesn't seem to do anything but make him chuckle as the two of your eyes connected. Yours narrowed while his… sparkled like a child after finding their favorite toy.

You had seen that look on his face many times now and still it raised the hairs on your neck and made you shiver.

You snap your snap aside, growling and the second time he reaches out to take hold of your face he's not so nice.

His hold is firmer this time, his thumb and pointer finger squished your cheeks and made you pucker and as annoying as it was you couldn't stop the way your face felt a bit warmer. When you had been working he had done this many times, holding you like this enough that it stuck in your head as something that only he was allowed to do to you.

As you look up again you can see that predatory look in his eyes and even with his hold you know he's being patient. His patience was definitely why you had ran to him when working with Valentino had finally drove you crazy. Valentino would have hit you by now, putting his hand on that pretty face of yours in a not so pretty way.

It truly was a blessing in a curse.

“Oh, look what the cat dragged in.” Vox chuckles as he gently pets you, your bound hands being tied behind your back as he of course feels no reason to rush what he's doing. With the two of you here alone now he could spend hours admiring this face of yours without getting tired.

“They do say that lost items do tend to find their way home after a while of being lost.” He says in that eerily calm voice of his, that tone that he didn't seem to use often except for in this situation. Not just that but his eyes are lidded and you can't help but want to keep your own eyes on them just to watch him because at times Vox had and could be unpredictable. Just because he was being nice didn't mean he had to be such and you had seen his interactions with others to know such. Even if he himself didn't lay his hands on you Vox always had the power to order it to be done even by someone else.

He tend not to treat you like that though. Yes, sure he had stalked you and kidnapped you but if anyone was to lay their hands on you then he would admit that he preferred that someone being him. If they were to kiss you, hold you, fuck you then yes… he'd prefer it to be him and as unclassy as it would be for him to harm you in such ways Vox was never against a good well earned punishment. He could put you in your place if he really wanted to, could make you beg for forgiveness with your eyes full of tears if that what he really craved and he did crave such but he did prefer it when your tears came from mind numbing ecstacy instead of earth shattering pain.

So no matter how many times you ran thinking you could actually get away and how angry you seemed whenever the two of you were together, Vox would be patient with you.

Well, sorta patient.

Even good dogs need correction from time to time.

He looks at you for a moment before moving that hand to slowly trail down your neck and you can't stop your own breath from hitching at the touch. You weren't sure if you were just crazy or maybe he had finally managed to get under your skin a little but the feeling of his grip reminds you of the many nights he's used it on you before. A surge of electricity runs through you when his hand wraps around your throat and it's not tight but definitely a good hold, firm and strong. The nights that you found yourself covered in his kisses, in his caresses and as much as you wanted to hate it you had come to really, really enjoy it.

He was crazy, fucking insane and you couldn't exactly tell if you were secretly lucky or very misfortuned.

You could make a guess.

“Fuck you Vox..” you snarled and you could have imagined it but you could have sworn the mother fucker bit his fucking lip just from hearing you say that and there's so much tension in the air that you felt like you could feel in on you skin, taste it on your tongue as you practically spat out his name and before you could even understand it he leans in and presses close.

Something wet and slurpy slides against your bottom lip and you gasp, shock and heat shooting up your spine, eyes widening and it's not until you feel a wet slide that you calculated it being his tongue.

You accidentally moan.

It's wet and warm and long and when you gasped he slid it inside, keeping his lidded eyes open just to watch your reaction. You remembered his taste after all this time and as his tongue slides against and over yours in the lewdest of ways you can't seem to fight off the many memories he left you with of that tongue and its taste and before you can bother to get your scattered brain together you seem to melt. Falling into his hold like a damsel in distress and he was your knight, the one who was here to save you from your own damnation.

It almost felt right, felt…normal. To be here with him, tied up as the two of your tongues tangle and as angry as you are made you really did miss him and so… you can't help but give in, kissing, smooching, sucking on each other's tongues.

You find that there's nothing more you want to do be to reach those bond hands up to touch him, to hold him, to cling to him because after all this time maybe Vox really was your salvation and really he was just trying to remind you of that.

Remind you of the sins that led you to hell to begin with, or the way Valentino had treated you when you were under his rule even and you were sure if he had a point or if you were actually losing your mind but maybe Vox had another point stacked against you.

Maybe you were nothing but a silly woman who need guidance and Vox was one thing but you had been in hell long enough to know that even with who he was… being with him and by his side was a lot better, safer, than bwjng around and with many others down here.

And maybe, just maybe you were tired of fight, of running from him because Vox had also stated many times that you would never get away from him and you were starting to see it over, and over, and over again now. And unholy hell were you exhausted.

You slowly but sure give into his kisses, returning them out of both anger and desperation and all you want to do is have your hands be free so you could jump on him, cling to him like he was the only thing there in this hell but to your dismay and his pleasure, your still bound, even when he pulled away and left you panting heavily for breath that you previously didn't know you'd been missing.

“It doesn't matter how many times you run, I will always come and find you.” He says with a hum, a low sing songy voice as he caresses your cheeks again, watching as your chest heavily rises and falls and how red your face has grown just from a kiss all on its own. After all, if a kiss could make you blush so easily, imagining your reactions to biting you until you were covered in his marks or to him pounding you pussy open with his cock while you squeeze him only seemed to drive him wild with mad passion and lust.

To put it lightly, you belonged to him and if you needed to be taught such a lesson then he would teach you, over and over again until it finally stuck forever in that precious little head of yours.

“I own you and I'll make sure you know that, my love.” He says with a low and deep chuckle and you feel weak in his hold, useless, discouraged as well as… loved, admired, and adored… interestingly enough.

How were you supposed to make it out of this one?

Even you don't know the right answer right now.

~ ✨

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smehur · 1 month

Text

Drarry Fic Recs #3

Storm in a Teacup by @faith2wood

For reasons he'd rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter's hair. This cannot end well.

It seems I can't put together a rec list without at least one story by Faith Wood. This one's soft in all the delightful ways I came to expect from the pen of my favorite author, with a sharp little pang of uncertainty that made it all the sweeter, and possibly the best-executed piece of dialog across all my reading. A beautiful fic that I'll be going back to over and over again.

Two Houses by @tackytigerfic

Two households, both alike in... meddling Floo connections, apparently? Draco Malfoy is a highly professional and well-respected Ministry official, with a demanding schedule, a loving son, and—through no fault of his own—a faulty Floo connection that keeps regurgitating the Minister for Magic through his fireplace.

I already gushed about this story on here, but I'm going to do it again. It'd be impossible to overstate how much I loved it. From the world-building surrounding the two magical estates, sprinkled with a wealth of delectable little details, to the delightfully mature and tender romance. Slow burn in 11k? I didn't think it could be done either, but here we are. There was this beautiful scene where Harry said that being around Draco is restful. What a perfect word! It captures everything I enjoyed about this fic: the warmth and the contentment and the unwavering certainty that everything would work out. What a joy to read!

everything you could ever want by @eleadore

Coming back to Hogwarts has given Harry more time to reflect than he really wanted, and he's learned he never quite stopped being the envious little boy in the closet. Wanting and wanting, never to have. If what Harry wants is pain, who better than Draco Malfoy to provide?

Oh, man. Where do I even start? Talking about this fic feels a bit like talking about a a close friend: no matter what I say, I know I won't do justice to just how much it affected me. It charmed me, and tugged on my heartstrings, and it still has a grip on my imagination. Reading it was like falling in love: first, with the reticent, stopped-up Harry bursting with passion he's unable to express or act upon; and then, even harder, with the portrayal of Draco, whose thoughts and feelings we can only guess at till the very end. And even then, he doesn't speak: his answer is in the sweep of his lashes. Ahhh. Such beautiful prose and stunning characterization. Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, I stay.

crawlin' helpless on the floor by @stationintern

It doesn't take much to torment a man when he's three broken contracts away from being out of a job and down a newspaper.

What a lovely little gem of a fic! Astonishing, how much atmosphere and feeling it delivers in less than 2k. A unique idea too (at least in my reading so far), that Harry and Draco as adults (and friends) might start a business together - and that it might not work out. Incredibly vivid, captivating, and rewarding. 10/10 will read again.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Soft and sweet, and sizzling hot. I'm not sure I entirely buy a Harry who gets confused and clumsy to the point of losing his language when confronted with Draco's charms, but it's so much fun to read and this fic pulls it off perfectly. Draco wearing lace underwear is canon for me now.

That Old Black Magic by @bixgirl1

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

I'll be honest - I picked this up to see if a much-recommended author of some of this fandom's classics could sell me a trope I dislike (in this case, arranged marriage). And the answer is a loud, enthusiastic YES. Lol. I was sold on it within the first half of the first chapter. The premise is incredibly contrived, but the story built on it is so strong and compelling that I just didn't care. The pacing is phenomenal and the sex scenes are to die for. This is a whole new level of erotic prose for me; an amazing achievement, to have so little repetition, to infuse every encounter with so much energy and passion, even though it's a long story with many an encounter. It's just ridiculously good. I couldn't put it down and I'm already tempted to pick it right back up again.

I love this fandom. ❤️

#harry/draco #drarry #fic rec #rec list #harry potter #draco malfoy #my post

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dyaz-stories · 11 days

Note

Hey there! Just wanna know, what the heck happened in the JJK manga? Is it already over? Did the characters FINALLY mourn Gojo?! I gave up trying to read the manga after 236, so I just decided to randomly hear from others. But anyways, what happened??

Hey there! BOY AM I HAPPY TO DISCUSS THAT.

(I'm sorry I have so many thoughts and you've given me an excuse to ramble so this is going to be long)

There are two chapters left in the manga, it will end on September 30th. The chapter that just came out, chapter 269, was, however, really bad imo and a terrible use of time considering how little time Gege has left. I get that he had to wrap up quick, but in my personal opinion, it's inexplicable that he'd dedicate a whole chapter to what we just saw.

(More under the cut with spoilers for chapter 269)

Okay, so, the characters spend half the chapter arguing about how they could have done a better job fighting Sukuna, even though at this point, the losses are minimal. Most of the characters who were possibly dead are fine and dandy actually (Yuta, Higuruma, Todo, Kusakabe). Choso is still dead, but he gets a little line about how that's sad (and his death scene was really good and effective, so I'm not that mad about it, even if he's a character I really loved).

It kinda feels like Gege is justifying the way the fight went, which is a bit weird. In story, I think this could make sense if it was fueled by grief and loss and more of a "this person could have been saved! and this person didn't have to die!", but it feels kind of matter of fact tbh, with Maki being pretty much the only one displaying emotions. Even she seems to be arguing about efficiency, not really about saving human lives? Other characters' responses aren't much better. Yuuji in particular looks like he's super numb to everything, which again, yes, that's a trauma response, but it doesn't make for interesting storytelling and it's not going to be explored further, so... what's the point.

Also think that Yuta desecrating Gojo's corpse isn't explored enough. He did something horrifying that turned to not be that useful — going with the manga's message that the end doesn't justify the means — and he seems fine. I guess Maki yelling at him could be explained by the fact that she was strongly against this action, but it's never made explicit, which is a shame. (think it's more implied it's because he endangered himself and she has feelings for him)

The other half of the chapter is spent on a plot point that I don't think had been developed before that, about the new shadow style. This feels like the last arc Gege wanted to have and Sukuna's fight went on for too long so he had to scrap it. The point is essentially that the head of the new shadow style school is trying to become the head of Jujutsu Society as a whole now that the clans have collapsed. There was a binding vow that made it so the head of the school could steal years from people who had learned the style and add it to their lifespan. Anyway, Mei Mei steps in and makes it so the style can become more widely used.

(If you're bored reading that, yeah, so was I)

It's not useless exactly — it definitely goes towards the manga's message of ending the cycle and starting off with a clean slate, so that's a win — but it feels super rushed. It didn't have to be rushed, could have been a decent arc, it just isn't, and again, I don't think that's a great use of pages this late in the story.

Last but not least, Gojo. Gojo gets two mentions in this chapter.

The second one is in passing, when Hakari defends Yuta's usefulness.

And the first one, oooh boy the first one,

is about how this was all Gojo's fault from the get-go anyway 😃

And again, some nuance here. Kusakabe specifically says that the kids have nothing to apologize for — which I agree with. His point is that it was Gojo's responsibility to kill Yuuji. Essentially, the idea is that he was the adult, and in not doing that, he's responsible for the kids having to live with all the consequences of his actions.

Which aaaaah I'm losing it here! Yuuji was a victim of Kenjaku's machinations from the get-go, so would it have been right to kill him? Isn't this just a trolley problem — kill Yuuji and save innocent people's lives? But then, Yuuji, Sukuna and Kenjaku's actions led to the end of jujutsu society as we know it, more or less directly, which could lead to a better future, so was he actually right, in a purely consequentialist approach?

I don't think any of that is particularly interesting to discuss at this point tbh. I feel like that had already been dealt with. I'm just deeply confused as to why we're dealing with this when there were three chapters left before this one instead of focusing on closing the curtain on beloved characters, Gojo in particular.

Anyway! Bad chapter imo. Boring. Bad use of the characters and their relationships with one another. Really questionable use of time. Gojo was not mourned and in fact it's almost like he's never existed or never mattered to anyone. No Shoko here, not a hint of sadness from Yuta either, which I had hoped for.

I'm still looking forward to the last two chapters, and I hope they'll leave more room for the characters to, you know, have feelings.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #long post #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk spoilers #jjk manga spoilers #jjk leaks #jjk critical #actually let me know if this is too critical to be in the main tag #not sure #gojo satoru

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 11 months

Note

Hellooo! Can you please help me find some fics where Derek Bullies Stiles but has a happy ending? I need zhe angstt

For sure.

Mark me by SterekLirryOmega

(1/1 I 3,537 I Teen)

"Mate?" Stiles sounded a bit breathless and when Derek looked up he saw the whiskey coloured eyes big with shock

"It's that ok? You'll be my mate?" And damn he sounded pleading but he didn't care he needed Stiles to say yes to this, to be his forever

The one were Derek is a bully, stiles is oblivious and Jackson still an asshole.

Oh everyone is in High School.

A Serendipitous Occurance by DominikaDecember

(11/11 I 29,529 I Mature)

Derek is living at home with his two annoying siblings, his mother who is killing herself at work and he's stuck in a crappy job with friends who are just as lost as him. Nothing really changes. Especially not when Derek realizes that he has a crush on his little brother's best friend

You Don't Always Get What You Want by deadly_nightshade, Nerdy_fangirl_57

(7/? I 63,150 I Mature)

Stiles doesn't understand what he could have done to deserve this. Not only has the entire student body been out to get him since he first stepped foot into Beacon Hills High, but now he has to endure the constant bullying without his best friend Scott by his side. All in all school is survivable, even with all the harassment. That is until he finds out that Derek Hale, basketball superstar and Stiles' most persistent bully, is apparently his soulmate. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Derek can't believe this. It has to be a joke, it has to, because there is no way in hell that a freak like Stilinski could ever be his soulmate. He despises him more than anyone in the universe. So what if Derek thinks he has a cute nose, no one needs to know. Besides it doesn't matter anyway, he still hates Stilinski with every fiber of his being, his cute nose doesn't change a thing.

He's My Best Friend; Also My Tormentor by TheRoaringWolf

(31/? I 88,526 I Explicit)

Stiles and Derek were best friends. Growing up next door neighbours to each other they did everything together. They watched their first R rated movie together, drank their first stolen beer together, they were always at each others side. Then out of blue Derek turned on Stiles. He shut him out of his life and began to torment him; shoved him against the lockers in the hall, spread humiliating lies about him to the school, Derek made it his mission to make Stiles' life a living Hell.

Why? Stiles would ask himself that question everyday for the last three years. He had done nothing to cause this. He had loved Derek when all of a sudden he was pushed out of his life.

One night, years later, Stiles is sitting by his bedroom window watching Derek's silent house, remembering the days of their friendship, when one mistake will cause everything in Stiles' life to be turned upside down and can only watch helplessly as everything falls apart.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(18/? I 511,316 I Explicit)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #growing up together #bullying

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years

Text

Jungkook: Lacrymaria olor

(Intro)

In which you've survived on this foreign planet for more than two years until you're caught and brought to the King, who will decide your fate.

Tags/Warnings: Alien AU, Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, Blood and Violence, Strangers to I don't know?

Additional Chapter Warnings: Brief mention of vomiting, mentions of homelessness, Jungkook's entire attitude is a warning

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The strong winds on this planet aren't something you're unfamiliar with.

After all, you've been living in the shadows here for more than three years? Maybe more. But it's hard to count the time when first of all, society here doesn't even use the same measurements you're used to for time, and second of all, you don't have a clock or a calendar. You can always only guess, but at the end of the day, time isn't something that concerns you much anyways. Food, shelter, safety; those were things to really worry about.

As a human on this planet, there's not much to do. Most jobs require way more strength than a humans could bring to the table, and even then, it's not very lucrative in the eyes of most employers here, since they won't be able to work long-term anyways. Most humans won't even willingly live here anyways- too stuck in their believe that earth can still be saved, even though with all the nuclear disasters happening years ago, you're sure that it's not looking too great back home.

Home.

It's an odd word, something that has changed meaning for you ever since coming here. You had snuck onto a cargo shit sent from the Temian government to provide at least some help with food and water, an accident mostly, really. You'd tried to help your friend get onto the ship to find her family on a different planet- but she never showed up, and you had had to face the decision of either getting caught, or staying hidden.

Needless to say, you at least never got caught.

Once you really learned to describe 'home' differently for yourself, Temia's wildlife and nature wasn't that unwelcoming any longer. Home at this point was more a feeling than a place, and so, you could feel at home wherever, whenever, really. Just like now- asleep under an odd growing tree's roots, giving you shelter from the harsh winds of Temia. Another year must've passed- or cycle, as they call it here. It's not quite a year, but it brings you comfort to compare certain similarities to earth every now and then.

You know you're sick. Or at least, something must be wrong with your body.

It happens occasionally, considering you sleep and live basically outside exposed to the elements most of the time. And while you've somewhat grown accustomed to it, you're still just human. And you're basically living illegally on this planet, something you're instantly reminded of as soon as you hear the movement around you, clattering of armor making it clear what's going on.

Soldiers, police, whatever you want to call it- they're on the hunt again, and you're sure that this time, you won't be able to escape them.

It had only been a matter of time after all. You know that Temians are way better at reading tracks, and at this point, just burying your leftovers from last night's scraps you had for dinner, probably didn't help at all in covering your existence in the woods. And it's true- because as soon as you see the boots in front of you, you know you're done for.

You're basically carried into the massively huge room, colorful tiles on the floor cold underneath your bare feet as soon as the guards put you down. You know not to look up, you know just to stay quiet. There's no use in arguing, or begging at all with a being such as a Temian. They're well aware of their abilities, and their power over the human race. "We have responded to the worries of the citizens at Myenven, your highness." A guard next to you states, and you swallow.

Of course you'd be brought here.

"She was found in the Woods, where you had ordered us to search for another time." Another guard says, and you can hear someone up front moving, chains clattering melodically against one another, sound of leather creaking distinctively. You can't see if there's someone there, you can only assume. "Just like we said, we took care of the issue, and found the parasite cutting down the trees in the area. She is also suspected to have stolen the produce of local farmers."

Only a hum is heard from whoever they're talking to, before the person chuckles.

"So you're telling me this.. Creature of earth.." he looks down where they made you kneel, eyes dark and calculating as he continues his words, "has survived on it's own, with no assistance of anyone, for more than a cycle? And not even the government noticed?" Jungkook questions, while the guard nods.

"Of course we will send her back to the planet she originates from-" the man says, though everyone's surprised and admittedly startled when the usually stoic man starts to laugh, entire body moving to present itself as more or less welcoming.

"Oh absolutely not!" he says instead of agreeing with the guard, clapping his hands once. "She shall stay. I'll sign any paperwork needed- no need to fly her out to her rotting planet." he says, making you look up at him for the first time as the guard let's go of your neck. "Though under one circumstance.." he tells you, standing up to walk down and kneel on one knee only, fingers lifting your chin with a firm but non-threatening grip.

"You'll stay right where I can see you from now on." he smirks, and you're not sure if you should be even more scared now, or glad that he leaves you alive after all of this. "Hm." He studies you for a moment, deep cherry red eyes scanning your features while his hand moves your face around for him to better inspect. "I have seen a couple of humans in my life. None of them ever looked this.. hm." He leans in, making you even more nervous now- is he sniffing you?! "I always forget how.. fragile you beings are." He leans back again, giving you a bit of space, before he stands up, snapping his fingers while he walks back to what you assume is his throne. "Send a healer that knows something about humans to my chambers. You're dismissed." He says, picking up a burgundy coat of some sorts, before he laughs to himself when he spots you trying to stand up as well. "Not you." He says, before he walks back towards you.

Something that's surprising to you is not the slightly arrogant attitude- most Temians act this way- but the way he doesn't at all seem upset at your illegal stay on his planet. Well, it's not his.. he just rules parts of it, but still. One might argue that back on earth, people would be a lot more upset at you for doing what you did.

You're unprepared for the heavy fabric being thrown over your shoulders, forcing you to almost fall flat face first onto the colorful tiles below, causing the king to laugh at you. "Ah, you're truly adorable, really!" he claps, before he picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder together with the for you heavy fabric. You instantly try to lift yourself up against his back, well aware that you'll throw up the rest of your food in just a few steps if you let yourself dangle down like that. "Hm? Oh, I guess that might not be comfortable.." He says more or less to himself, adjusting your position to hold you properly with both arms in front of him.

He's right. This is a lot more comfortable.

"You seem confused." He wonders, and you nod. "You can talk. I'm not stuck-up like my brothers." He tells you, though you don't even know what his brothers would have to do with this.

"I guess I.. don't know why you're being so okay with me.. basically living in your kingdom illegaly." You say, and he simply laughs to himself, shaking his head.

"If I wanted you gone, I would've hunted you down myself moons ago." He says, and you're not sure if that should worry you, or make you feel at ease.

"So you knew I was out there the whole time?" You ask, and he nods.

"Not the entire time, but I've figured a thief who just steals produce we feed to our livestock might be a human, considering the food you're able to eat differs from my kind's." he explains to you, before he opens a door, and sets you down to your feet. As soon as he stands in front of you he snorts in amusement, looking down at where you look up at him. "Say, how old are you? You smell like a mature human, but I'm always unsure how to guess ages with how short you all are." He chuckles. "I have a friend, his name is Jimin, and he's a human too. Older than me! But he's so short he doesn't even reach my shoulder, can you believe that?" He laughs, taking a blanket from a sofa of some sorts before he places other pillows differently, patting the seat once he finished his task.

"I.. uh.. I'm twenty.. four? I don't have a good feeling of time, so I'm not sure." You say.

"So you're similar in age too! Very interesting." He nods, before you sit down next to him- struggling a bit, since the couch stands pretty high off the ground for you. It's an action that seems to amuse him yet again- until the door opens, his entire demeanor immediately changing into one that reminds you of the more aggressive side of his kind.

His eyes seem to glow for a second, arm reaching over you as a low growling sound escapes his throat- but all just for a small second, before the King rolls his eyes, relaxing again. "My my Jungkook, barely got a pet and already possessive over it." A man says, before walking in. "One might think after all those years you would've become more.. generous." The man says, setting down a box of equipment.

"I'm a very generous ruler Namjoon, you should know this best most of all." He says, crossing his arms. "After all, I let you keep Jimin."

"Jimin decided himself that he wanted to stay with me." The man you now know as Namjoon says, as he shakes his head. "That aside however, I believe you called me here for a reason?" He wonders, looking at you.

Jungkook watches you encouragingly, motioning towards his friend to signal you to talk. "I uh.. I think I might have upset my stomach or something. I'm not sure. I've been feeling sick for a few days now." You explain, and the man nods.

"Let's see what might be the problem then, shall we?" He says. "Don't worry. I have a human companion myself, so I am very much knowledgeable in human health." He reassures, before he continues his task.

It's all fun and dandy until Namjoon starts to examine your breathing, hand on your chest as he visibly concentrates on his job. "Do you have to touch her this much?" Jungkook grumbles next to you, legs and arms crossed, a clearly irritated look on his face as his eyes glow a little. "Or do you just want to piss me off?"

"Maybe a bit of both?" Namjoon chuckles, before he lets go of you. "Don't worry, I'm done now. You might want to look after her for a bit though, as she's not in optimal health currently." He explains, leading to Jungkook's entire demeanor becoming more the one of a confused puppy than an angry king. "Nothing too major, but you might want to make sure she properly hydrates and eats food suitable for her." He advises, before getting up. "Other than that, congrats on catching her, I guess." He smiles, before waving, and leaving the room.

"Don't worry." Jungkook says next to you after the door closes, leaving you alone with him again- and the look he gives you is both friendly and also unnerving, smirk exposing his sharpened canine teeth, gaze that of a clear predator as he watches you with a tilted head. "I'll take good care of you from now on."

#bts fanfic #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines

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palmtreesx3 · 8 months

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Act 4 - Going All the Way

Queening (Steve's Chapter)

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Summary: (10.6k) Steve’s phone call with his dad does not go well, and the aftermath of that call impacts way more than Steve himself. Steve has to realize a few things, only one of which is that he’s got people there to pick him up when he’s down, but the most important is that relationships don’t have to be conditional. As everyone rallies behind Steve, a revelation comes in the form of a stranger on a bench, and that chance meeting starts a few wheels in motion behind Steve’s pretty head. Can he fix what he’s done when he was down and out? Can he patch things up? Is this the end of the road, or can he go all the way? Buckle up, and enjoy this angsty chapter of Get Off.

Warnings: it's a sex shop and generally just NSFW so 18+. Heavier topics are explored, depicted or mentioned including prejudice and anti-gay bias, heavy binge drinking as escapism, depression and a blink of thinking better off dead, controlling parents, overstimulation and some dashes of neurotypical behavior you can catch if you blink slowly enough. There’s also the ongoing sexual innuendos and explicit discussion of body parts, as well as implied p+v intercourse, and the holy grail of pussyeating.

"What the hell is going on, son?" his father's voice bellowed through the phone. "I just heard from a colleague that you're working in some... some pornographic store downtown! In town for business and he could have sworn he saw your lookalike walking into the place, but then you turned around and he knew it was my own flesh and blood. How goddamned embarrassing, Stephen. Do you know how embarrassing that conversation is to have over a business dinner?"

Steve winced at the tone his father took, a visceral response he’s had since childhood. A tone he knows well and somehow still cuts just as deep as it did when he was thirteen. "Dad, it's not like that. It's just a job. It’s…it’s retail, s’all it is" he stammered, attempting to diffuse the tension. To deflect. To play ball.

His father scoffed, "Retail job? Don't play games with me. I've spent years paying for whatever you need, trying to get you scholarships for sports which you squander away with your shitty grades, and this is what you end up doing? Sitting on your ass for a few years and working in some seedy place, peddling who knows what!"

"It's not like that at all. It's just a store, and we sell lots of things, not…not just that stuff, Dad." Steve tries desperately to explain, slipping right back into it - the role of a boy trying to find any excuse to satiate a father that could never be pleased. Like the time he was a shameful teenage boy being told he’s worthless as he stood in the entryway of the house, barely over the threshold, all because he passed the ball and let Sammy Curtis sink the game winning shot instead of taking it himself.

"That stuff” he interrupts with a scoff. “Is this what I raised you for? I expected you to have a respectable career by now. Thought this move to the city was going to give you some fresh choices, not this... this filth!"

Steve was not ready for this. Half his hangover was still hanging on for dear life. Just a moment ago things were…not this complicated. He was eating a raw bagel talking about…you…with his friend. Even when that was the thing that felt complicated it wasn't really, was it? It was simple, and easy and… Now he’s struggling to find the words to defend himself, especially hard long-distance, though he also guesses he should be grateful it was - he wasn’t forced to see the rage and disappointment behind his father’s eyes this particular time."Dad, it's just a job. We needed work, and this opportunity came up. It doesn't define who I am. I just…it shouldn’t matter that much."

“Just a job? Stephen? What do you mean just a job?” At that, Steve can hear his voice slip into a deeper register. He knows the face that goes along with this. He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his father is going to try and ruin his life. It’s not much of one, but it’s his, and he can just tell that he’s about ready to pull the rug out from under him.

“You're 25, for God's sake! When are you going to get a real job, a job that befits the family name? Do you think your mother and I worked so hard for you to end up in some disgraceful position like this? Galavanting around a city and being a part in all this promiscuity. Goddamnit, at this rateI bet you even associate with the gays. Don’t you?"

He feels his body tense and wince as those words spill out of his fathers mouth. His eyes flit to his friend, sitting on the couch, legs tucked up under her and perched there watching one side of this debacle unfold like a deer in headlights. Forcing a smile at him, an awkward smile of encouragement, none the wiser about the hate his father is spewing about people like… about her. Tears welled up in Steve’s eyes thinking about it and Robin sees them - or at least she thinks she does - and her eyebrows furrow in concern. But before she can be sure, he turns around refusing to show his vulnerability right now even to her. He bites his lip to stifle the visceral response he had to his dad’s prejudices about his friend. "Dad, I'm doing my best. I'm trying to make a living and figure things out. It's not as easy as you think."

His father's tone softened with a hint of disappointment unlike the frustration and anger that has been flowing out of him since the minute Steve picked up the phone. In almost a plea, he says "You're embarrassing us, son. This is not the life I envisioned for you. You need to reconsider your choices and start acting like an adult."

After a brief silence, his father's voice returned, this time laced again with frustration - the softness that just fell was all an act. This is the hammer Steve was expecting, and it’s falling. Right now. "Enough of this nonsense. You're coming back home. I've arranged for a position for you in the firm. You'll start immediately. Stability, respect – those are the things you need. Not whatever you're doing in that disgraceful place."

Steve ran his free hand through his hair, shaking his head but not really knowing what to say. Dragging his hand back down his face, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The pressure to conform to his father's expectations had been a constant weight on his shoulders for his entire life and this is not the first time this conversation has been had. This time feels different though. Before he hadn’t had anything to call his own - not as much to lose. This stupid apartment and the life that they’re living, it’s been good. Maybe the best thing that he’s ever had. And it’s been his. Before, his dad just wanted control. This time, he wants to control him and strip him of the actual identity he’s been working so hard to understand and build. "Dad, I... I need some time to figure things out here. I can't just drop everything and come back."

His father's tone grew more insistent. "Time? You've had enough time, and look where it's gotten you – working in a place like that! It's time to put an end to this foolishness. You're coming back, and that's final."

Steve hesitated, torn between his desire for independence and the fear of his dad. He takes a deep breath and finally responds "I appreciate your concern, but I need to make my own choices. I can't just give up on everything I've built here."

"Built? You call this building a life? What have you accomplished, working in that... that den of immorality? Come home, and I'll set you on the right path. It's time you take responsibility for your future."

As his father continued to insist, Steve’s yearning to forge his own path and avoid any that looks remotely like his fathers continues to intensify. He’s tuning out the insults at this point, desperate to find some sort of life raft to hold on to as he drowns in his fathers disappointments. It’s only then, that he finds it. The lifeline. The realization that he's got miles between him and his father now. He’s not coming home later to ground him or impose punishments on him. He isn’t relying on their money to pay bills. His mind is racing a mile a minute, and nothing…not one fucking thing he can land on points to any reason that he has to comply with his father. He isn’t depending on him for anything anymore, so why does he owe his dad anything at all?

"I'll think about it, Dad," And with that, he hangs up, knowing full well that he won’t think about it for another goddamn second.

And that day, Steve called out of work.

Robin couldn’t even argue with him. After the receiver hit the wall, she could tell that it was worse than she expected the minute he turned around and she could see his eyes glistening. She also was confused as fuck, because she swore she also saw him smirking just a little bit, but she was not going to poke the bear. She let him storm off and slam the door to his room. She didn’t bother him even though everything inside of her was screaming to go knock on the door and make him talk about it. Make him listen to her. She wanted to tell him he wasn’t anything that his father probably just said he was, but they’ve had this conversation before and…damnit she was working really hard at knowing boundaries - trying to read the room and figure out when she needs to shut up instead of rambling incessantly at all the wrong times. She thinks that this is one of those times that people need space, so she acquiesced.

She makes a full pot of coffee, sets out some more food and the bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet and leaves it all out on the kitchen counter for Steve for whenever he emerges once she’s gone. Subtle. Not every way to help has to be in your face, she tells herself. I don’t need to meddle. He’ll let me know if he needs anything. Right?

Robin’s walk to work that day was quiet and dreary. The weather outside, overcast and air thick with that feeling that comes before the clouds break open and pour down on you. Seemed fitting.

It took Robin five whole minutes after she got to work and put her stuff away before she meddled anyway. She picked up the phone once, and quickly set it down - thinking better of it. But immediately picked it back up against her better judgment and called you. As your answering machine picks up and your message plays, dripping with sarcasm and coyness asking your caller to leave a message after the beep, the realization hits then that she has no idea what your schedule is and it was a dumb idea to call you. Dumb dumb dumb. Steve’ll be pissed anyway.

As the silence settles on the other end of the line Robin’s eyes widen in panic. She meant to hang up, call back later, pretend this didn’t happen at all and play it off as a wrong number. But she’s pretty fucking sure she just said that out loud instead of in her head. “Dumb dumb dumb. Steve’ll be pissed anyway.”

She hung up faster than the devil can fly, slamming down the phone and rattling the display case. The commotion drew Murry out from the back office, shirt pulled up and scratching at his stomach. “What’s got you all worked up Red? Little lost without your other half? Where is he anyway? Finally ruined his perfect attendance because of a wicked hangover, didn’t he? Make sure you tell ‘em he’s not eligible for the Perfect Attendance award this year, nowwww–ohhh something is off about this... What is it Red?.”

So for the next hour, Robin tries her best to summarize what it’s like to have the Harrington’s as parents and what just happened this morning. At least what she knew, because Steve hadn’t shared anything that his dad had said on the other end of that line. “Red, thank God you talk so fast, otherwise that story would have taken up your whole shift. Shit.”

That coaxes a chuckle out of Robin, which makes Murray smile. “Listen, that guy sounds like a Grade-A Asshole. No wonder Steve’s wound so tight…Makes so much sense actually. But this ain’t your fight. Steve’s gotta deal with this demon on his own and he has a funny way of showing it, but he knows where to find the people to help when he needs them. I’m sure of it. He’s not that fucking stupid.”

“Yeah, see you’re wrong there Murray. He does absolutely think that he has to do everything on his own. Even when he knows we’re here, he won’t… he won’t ask for help. He won’t talk about it. He…thinks he deserves it.”

It ended up being a slow day, not many people wandering the streets with the off and on drizzles happening all day long, so Robin used that time to bring Alex up to speed after she popped in the shop after work.

Alex found the story surprisingly relatable. She grew up in a house with rich, successful parents just outside the city in the suburbs. Her parents hosted lavish dinner parties for business partners and she grew up in a way that seemed an awful lot like the Harrington house, other than the fact that they didn’t disappear on her for weeks on end. Her parents, however, were disappointed in her. Unlike Steve’s story, they were not pissed at her skill or her work ethic, her dreams or aspirations. No, they were pissed and disappointed at who was calling the house late at night and giggling on the other end of the phone. Who was picking her up for a night at the movies, or who she was driving off to meet under the swaying trees in the park. The boys she was dating were not good enough for the family - not a “strong enough merger of families” and then when she brought home a girl…well that was a horse of a different color all together.

Five hours later, Robin and Alex are standing outside of their favorite pizza place in the neighborhood, thinking that a pie and some beers might just draw a sulking Steve out of his cave of self-loathing for the night. They haven’t heard from him all day, and Robin, despite thinking she should maybe let him be for a while, still decided to try and call home to check in on him. When he didn’t answer, Alex offered up a simple explanation, “Rob, he’s probably just sleeping it off, or not in the mood. It’ll be fine.”

Pies and six packs now acquired, they walk side by side the rest of the way back to the apartment, ready for whatever their friend might need.

“Honey, we’re home!” Robin exclaims, as they barrel through the door. But she stops dead in her tracks seeing the counter laid out with all of the supplies, perfectly arranged exactly how she left them that morning. “Steve? Y’okay?”she shouts down the hallway, on her way to tap at his door before she hears Alex call her name from the living room, beckoning her to come.

When she arrives, what she doesn’t expect to see are the crushed cans of High Life strewn all over the coffee table, an ashtray so full that she knew he had to blow through most of the pack he has tucked away from when they drink, and the half emptied bottle of Whiskey sitting at the foot of the couch. He didn’t even bother with a glass, she knew it. He spent the day trying to drink away the awful things that sorry excuse for a father said to him straight from the bottle.

His shoes - the Chucks, the ones he’s been wearing lately - they’re not by the door. Neither is his jacket, so she knows he left and went somewhere.

But then a high pitched beeping sings from the kitchen, and Robin immediately knows that Steve’s Tamagotchi is hungry…he left, but he forgot his keys. That stupid drunk idiot got locked out.

All the strings Robin has been holding together all day come loose. They unravel like a dangling thread on a handknit sweater and Alex is pretty sure she hadn’t taken one breath since she started rambling. “Ohmygoddoyouthinkhe’sokay? Whatifsomethinghappenedtohim? Ican’tlivewithmyself. Howdoweevenfindhim? OhmygodI’mgonnahavetotellthekidshe’smissing. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

“Robin.” Alex calmly speaks.

“Ifhe’sdeadI’mblaminghisdad,Isweartogodhe’sasgoodasadeadmanhimself”

“Robin.”

“Jesus,weshouldcallthehopsital? Ormaybethepolice. Yeahwegottacallsomeone. Ohmygod.”

“ROBIN!” Alex finally screams, two hands on her shoulders now shaking her into some sense of reality. “You’re spiraling. You can’t be spiraling. We have to think.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just….”

“Rob, I know you’re worried. We’ll figure it out. Okay?” Alex slides her hand along Robin’s cheek, around her neck and tugging her in for a deep hug, trying to get her to reset, regroup…focus. “Babe, first thing….why do you think he would leave?”

Pulling back, she assesses the situation. Eyes darting around the apartment, closing her eyes so she could think. Just then they pop open looking at the mess on the coffee table. The beer. That was the last of the beer.

“He was out…” she whispers. “I bet he ran out of beer. That was all we had, and it looks like he polished it off.”

“Okay then. Let’s go for a walk. Check some places where he might get some beers - maybe the corner store you guys go to? See if anyone has seen him, okay? Sound good babe?” Alex’s tone is cool, calm. Her eyes are caring and concerned not just for Steve but also for Robin. She’s being so soft, and even in her panicked haze, Robin notices.

“Al…Thank you. I needed that.”

With a soft kiss on her temple, Alex grabs Robin’s hand and tugs her towards the door. “Now don’t forget your keys, either, you maniac. Let’s go.”

It’s three pit stops and two meltdowns from Robin on the sidewalk curb later that they find him. It’s honestly the first place they should have looked, but at least they were on the right track.

Steve did, in fact, get raging pissed that he was out of beer. The cashier they recognize, but don’t know his name, told them as much - mentioned that their friend came in angry and stumbling, grabbed a pack of beer and left it in the middle of the aisle when he rushed out of the store grumbling to himself. It seems as though dear Stevie also forgot his wallet.

The next place they thought to look was The Hideout. Robin thought that maybe he’d come looking for her, begging for some cash so he could replenish his stash. Pay no mind to the fact that it was past closing for a weeknight and Robin was long gone, at this point they were absolutely certain Steve had no idea what time it even was. Half expecting to see him leaning on the door of the shop, or passed out in a slump on the front stoop, when they came up empty handed again Robin needed to cry.

Head in her hands, leaning on her knees as she sits on the curb, Alex tries to stifle a laugh at how splotchy faced and snotty her beautiful girl is right now. “Baby,” she says, pushing back her hair “Baby…let’s think, kay? is there anywhere else Steve feels safe in this city? Who else does he feel safe with other than you?”

The revelation comes quickly.

Head popping up with a renewed sense of confidence in their search for their missing and probably sloppily drunk friend “I bet he’s at Bennys.”

And after a 10 minute walk that is the most silent Robin Buckley has ever been in her entire life, she lets out a breath that she may or may not have been holding the entire time when the door to Benny’s swings open and she takes in Steve with his forehead on the bar. Hopper is standing behind the bar polishing glasses with an irritated scowl and right in front of Steve stands a Joyce, hand right on top of his with sad, concerned eyes that flit right to the girls who just sounded the bell.

Pitiful. The look Joyce was giving him was pity. And if Steve were coherent enough to realize it, he would be completely ashamed to be receiving it from anyone. Steve was shitfaced drunk out of shame and disappointment and whatever feelings of inadequacy he was shielding away from everyone else in his life, but at least he was safe. Thank Christ he had the decency to come to Benny’s, where at least Joyce would take care of him - make sure he doesn’t do anything else stupid.

“Steve!” Robin yells, rushing over to his side “Steve, we didn’t know where you were. And you left your keys. I was so worried. We thought you were dead, I swear….well I thought you were dead. Alex was much more rational, but…”

A groan falls from Steve’s throat as their attention turns to Joyce. She opens her mouth to speak but Hopper interjects before she could even get a word out.

“Your buddy here is a fucking mess. He’s lucky this is Rick’s third stop on his daily tour of downtown dive bars. Recognized the bastard and drug him over here after he got kicked out of wherever they were before this. I honestly don't know where. Ricky’s always so drunk I probably shouldn't even be serving him by the time he gets here anyway.``

“Steve, honey.” Joyce’s honey soft voice stirs him “Your girls are here. Rob and Alex, they’re here for you, baby. Let them help you, okay? Y’cant stay here like this.” She says as she rubs his hair back and tries to soothe him awake.

“He’s been drinking straight ginger ale for at least an hour. He thinks it's mixed with whiskey but I just couldn't. It was easier than him and Hop arguing ‘bout it.” she says under her breath, just out of his earshot.

After agreeing to let him sweat it out for a bit longer, Joyce passes the girls a drink while they wait and slides another ginger ale in a rocks glass in front of Steve with a wink. With soft voices they talk about what has unfolded today just loud enough to hear each other over the din of the jukebox playing “Hunger Strike” in the background.

Shit.

As she hears the deep roll of his voice on Eddie Vedder’s verse she’s reminded of you, and remembers the cryptic message she most likely left you on your answering machine. Even though the boy is sitting there in the flesh in front of them, his eyes now open enough to see the whites of them, his stare is vacant and he hasn’t looked this way since… well. Ever. Robin has seen him through some pretty serious shit, and he’s never looked quite this detached.

“I’m worried about him, girls.” Joyce coos.

With a nod in agreement, she asks for the only thing she can think to do next. “Joyce, can I use your phone? I gotta call someone who might be able to help.”

Alex’s eyes go wide and she winces, “You sure that’s a good idea, Rob? I mean, I see where you’re going with this, but he’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?’

Seeing the look of confusion on Joyce’s face, Robin grabs the phone and continues “It’s..a girl. He’s fine. It’ll be fine. I don’t care if he’s pissed about it at this point. We need help and… I might have already left her a message earlier in a panic. Oh - Hey!” interrupted in her rambling as you answer the phone on the first ring. “Yeah, yeah I’m so sorry about that weird message earlier. It’s been a… day - a real bad one. We need some help. We’re at Benny’s, and…it’s just - Steve. We need help with Steve, can you come?”

Of course you will. You were there to help as soon as you could. And just like Robin and Alex assumed, Steve was pissed.

“I'm just saying Stevie, you didn't have to be so mean to her. She came because I called. Didya really expect the two of us to be able to drag your sorry ass home without calling in reinforcement? Have you seen my arms? They're basically twigs!”

“I wasn't trying to be mean to her. It was you guys. I was pissed you called her…cause I didn't… It's embarrassing. She didn't need to see me like that. I know you were trying to help. You can barely carry a damn grocery bag, so I get it, its just… I was pathetic.”

“Well. You said it, I didn't.” Robin shrugs, kicking her feet up on the stool next to her by the register. It's been a few days and they're at least able to poke fun a little bit at the whole thing. Steve and Rob had a long talk after he was able to shake off a two day long hangover that he spent in the dark, shades drawn - crackers and some Pedialyte by his bedside.

Steve eventually spilled his guts to Robin on the fire escape while she smoked, his throat still too sore from the pack he inhaled in his drunken rage that day. He wouldn't even look at her when he told her about how his dad was talking about… her. Told her that there's been a lot of terrible, downright rude things that his dad has done and said over the years that he's made an excuse for or ignored, but that…that disregard, that intolerance he showed for someone that Steve cared about. That when it comes down to it, Steve loved. That was the last straw. He couldn't turn a blind eye anymore.

He didn't feel he owed his dad an explanation. If he really thought Steve would show up this weekend with his bags and his Beamer ready to put on a suit and head to the office alongside his dad on Monday, he has another thing coming.

Murray saunters into the storefront then “Before I finalize this schedule, ya sure you're gonna show up on Monday, dude? Last chance to turn in your notice and go shadow daddy dearest, because if you no call no show me on this schedule next week consider this bridge burned.”

“No way in hell, Murray. I'm fully committed to your dick shop. I'll sell anything you dream up over spending one hour in a building full of pricks like my dad. Don't care how much the salary is or how big the guilt trip.”

“Well in that case, Steve, it sounds to me that where your dad works is the real dick shop, huh? We…deal only in one way tickets to pleasure town here.”

“Touche” Steve gives Murray a pow pow with his finger guns before walking through the dangling beads hanging at the entrance to the break room.

Emerging twenty minutes later (and five minutes late from his break) Steve is unsurprised to find Alex spread across the length of the couch. “What are you two assholes doing?”

“Hi Alex, thanks again for saving my life and ensuring I don't die in a ditch or need my stomach pumped from alcohol poisoning and ensuring that my most magnetic and caring roommate and best friend didn't have a stroke while I was missing. It's nice to see you again. I am forever in your debt.” Alex mocks with a deep voice meant to imitate his while Robin cackles, slapping her thighs.

“Smash or pass” she deadpans. “Julia Roberts.”

“Pass” Steve and Robin say in unison.

“Really?” Alex pops up in surprise.

“I guess I just don’t get the appeal with that one. I like her movies, though, just…don’t wanna see her bush. No rolling in the hay with her for me.” Robin says very matter of factly.

“Yeah, for me” Steve quips pointing right at Robin. “Reminds me too much of this asshole right here. Can’t even think about it.”

Madonna. Demi Moore. Sharon Stone. Liv Tyler was a unanimous smash. An hour went by throwing out names and shouting out whether or not they were fuckable before Alex’s bisexual ass snuck in Brad Pitt.

“Bleh, pass. That's a dick.”

“Smash.” Steve's eyes go wide. Did he just…

“Stevie boy, did you just smash Brad Pitt?” Alex is literally on the edge of her seat at this point. Robin's jaw is just about on the floor. He's waving her off “That…that's not.. I mean. If I were I guess…he’s a good looking guy, s’all I’m saying.”

“You would like the golden boy type shit. I'm more of a ruggedly handsome older man kinda bisexual. I bet you'd smash Patrick Swayze too, handsome. UNLESS…are we talking Interview with a Vampire long hair type Pitt because…”

“This is too much for me!” Robin is shouting as she starts pacing.

“Robbie, I’d expect a little more tolerance from you. I’m disappointed.” Steve pokes fun. “Anyway, you do have the late shift today, so I’ll save you from thinking about me boning Brad Pitt and get out of here.”

“Ew. Steve. No. You and Pitt? You’re definitely bottom. He’s batter dipping the corn dog, not you.”

Raising his middle finger in the air, he gestures behind him to the girls as he walks out the door.

After grabbing a coffee, Steve swings into the record store to browse for some new vinyls. The guy at the front desk is starting to get to know Steve, and he likes that the guy is comfortable enough to make recommendations or pulls a vinyl or two to save for next time Steve comes in. It makes him feel memorable. He’s little more than guy at the record store to Steve, but yet guy at the record store cared enough to think about him and what he might like even when he’s not here.

It’s stuff like this, that he hasn’t really experienced until he moved here to the city, that makes Steve feel less than insignificant. Who would have thought that coming to a city filled to the brim with more people than he knows what to do with would make him feel more seen than a small town where everyone knows your name ever did.

He grabs his bag, filled with three new recommendations from guy at the record store, and he’s heading for the door before the cashier yells out “Oh damn, bro. I almost forgot. Someone left this for you. It’s already paid for, so don’t worry about it, but she said you gotta hear this one.” Steve reaches out to grab the bright red sleeve and turns it over twice before slipping it into his bag. “Yeah thanks dude. See ya around.”

He lies to himself when he thinks that the brisk pace he is walking on his way home is because the nights are turning colder in the city and he wants to get home. He lies to himself a second time when he says he wants to keep moving so he takes the stairs two at a time instead of waiting on the elevator. He lies to himself for a third time, pretending that he’s not really in a rush even though he doesn’t take off his shoes and jacket before he makes a beeline right for his record player all while unwrapping that vinyl he knows that you left for him.

The whirring of the player and the zap of the scratching needle connecting with the plastic make his brain start to buzz and he’s done lying to himself when he thinks that he was so fucking stupid when he shouted at you - drunk out of his mind or not, he has been expecting you to never speak to him again, so…you leaving this for him might just mean…

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey

Butane in my veins and I'm out to cut the junkie

With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables

Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose

What the fuck did she leave me? He thinks, as he lets the record spin and listens, patiently. Waiting for the hook. Waiting for the bass drop. Waiting for those deep drum rhythms he likes so much. Waiting for the lyrics that are supposed to hit home.

Oh.

Soy un perdedor

I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?

(Double-barrel buckshot)

“Maybe I should just move home and take a stupid job with my dad like he’s been telling me to do since junior year of high school.”

Murray hears the boy complaining as he walks through the door with three giant boxes stacked on top of one another. “Casanova. Hey!” Setting them down he snaps both his fingers right in Steve’s face “We’ve been over this… focus on my dick shop, not your dads. I got new goods, get your sweet ass over here.”

He waves Steve and Robin over to the front window, and they dutifully follow. Ripping open the boxes with a rusty pocket knife he pulls from his tube sock, Murray rambles about the boxes filled with a new Latex fashion line he was checking out at the expo. He shoos Steve off to grab the mannequins from the back storage room so they can set up the window display. “Make sure to grab the dudes with the biggest packages back there, Stevie-boy!” before looking at Robin curiously, asking her to spill the details and explain the pivot back into full on self-loathing Steve took.

“Ah, the lady friend? She gave him that? Sassy. I think I like her. If he doesn't want her…” wiggling his eyebrows, Murray is quickly cut off as Steve re-enters the floor.

“Doesn’t want who?’ Steve says, male mannequin under each arm.

“Oh, nothing. I gotta go get some lunch. I’ll grab the plastic girls on my way back in and you two can play dress up.”

“Hey Stevie, whaddya think?” Robin’s got one of the black latex outfits held out in front of her as she tries anything but effortlessly shaking her hips to the beat of the song playing overhead on the speakers. The would-be seductive dance is cut off when her face lights up, running off to the break room with the package in hand.

“I don’t like that look Robbie. What are you doing?”

Shaking the beads dangling from the door frame to announce her re-entry, Steve’s eyes glance up before doing a double take. Robin stood there, leaning into the wall looking as casual as she possibly can (which isn’t that casual, honestly), standing in a full head to toe black latex catsuit. If Steve could have, he would have taken a polaroid if not just to gift to Alex as a thank you, or apology. Whatever she needs most from him - he’s not too sure at this point. Robin arches her back like she’s posing for a centerfold and it’s not long before the two of them are deep in a fit of laughter from her antics.

Except something goes wrong. The fit of laughter soon lets up, but Robin still can’t catch her breath. Steve is breathing deep, grinning again and shaking his head at her, and while she’s happy she’s coaxing out a laugh and a smile she hasn’t seen from him in over a week, her chest is getting tighter by the second.

Looking at his friend's pallid face, his eyes dart around thinking while she starts wheezing for air. “Rob…are you...you’re not allergic to latex, are you?”

She shakes her head no adamantly but quickly backtracks, realizing that no, she can’t be sure she’s not allergic to latex. Holding up her hands between the two of them, her wrists are ballooning up around the seam of the catsuit sleeves, body swelling up making the suit stretch over her skin even tighter. She starts to claw at it, trying to get it off, but it’s so slippery and tight, and suctioned to her sweaty skin that it won’t budge and her panicked expression locks on to Steve’s.

“You didn’t know you were allergic to latex? What the fuck Robbie?”

“When was I supposed to find out, huh? Not like I’ve been carrying around condoms since I was 15 like you, you asshole!”

“So what…that’s not… What about a balloon? Haven’t you ever been around a fucking balloon before, Rob?”

“Steve, I'm poor. We didn’t buy balloons for birthday parties. I didn’t get….extra…shit. I…no. I can’t remember …ever having a…. balloon.” She’s sucking in breaths between words as much as she can. “Steve, help. It’s….I can’t…”

Walking down the street, Murray is on his way back from grabbing his sandwich, when he spots the flashing lights on the street ahead. What he doesn’t expect is to see those flashing lights belonging to an ambulance pulled up outside of his store. Dropping his sandwich into the grimey gutter, he’s absolutely dumbfounded at the sight before him - Robin laid out on the stretcher, clearly naked and covered with a white sheet and his new inventory in shreds on the sidewalk after the paramedics had to cut it off of her. “Oh for fucks, sake. I didn’t literally mean you should play dress up, Red.”

It takes the paramedics another 20 minutes to get her settled and breathing from an oxygen tank in the back of the rig and explain the situation to Murray and Steve. Her reaction was bad, so they should expect her to be down and out for at least three days until the swelling goes down and she can recover her breathing enough to function normally. Murray storms off into the store grumbling about Workers Comp paperwork and throwing his hands in the air while Steve stays back, readying himself to climb into the back of the rig and ride with his friend before she stops him.

“Listen, dude. I’m clearly not gonna be home tonight, and you don’t need to worry about me. Don’t you dare think you’re gonna sit and keep watch at my bedside. This is definitely the only time in my life my tits will look this big, so I’m not about to invite you in. Alex gets clear first dibs before the swelling goes down.”

Steve grimaces, scrunching his nose up in disgust “Ew, gross Robbie. Stop talking to me about your tits.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is, maybe take advantage of the empty house? I know she sent you a message loud and clear with that record but I still don’t buy that she won't give you a shot to explain. Call her. Please?”

All he can do is nod as she pats his hand and smiles. He backs away so they can close up the rig and watches as they pull off, lights flashing with his swollen raspberry of a friend in tow.

Murray ends up closing the shop early that night, saying he’s had it up to here with both of them and he just wants to go see Hop and Joyce for an ice cold drink. Before Steve could even respond, Murray’s finger is in his face “NO. You’re not invited this time, buddy. I don’t wanna see your face until tomorrow. And you have the late shift. I don’t wanna close and I think you two owe me.”

“Owe you?! What the heck, I didn’t do anything, man. Robin, she is the one that -”

“No, you listen here. Your moping and loathing is getting irritating. I like you, unfortunately. I’m not sure why, but I like you Steve, and you’ve been fucking annoying since you let your dad get in your head. And whatever is going on with this lady friend, you better fix it.” He pokes Steve right in the chest - hard.

“Is she a girl, or a woman, Steve?” he says, and Steve remembers their chat about Steve’s choices. Why they never seem to work out and how he keeps going for the wrong kind.

“She’s … she’s a woman. Obviously. She doesn’t want to put up with my bullshit.”

“Fix it, Steve. Thank me later.”

He had two beers before he worked up the nerve to pick up the phone. He probably would have had another, but he thought better of it considering the last time he saw you. More like the last time you saw him because he doesn’t fucking remember a lick of it. An apology probably wouldn’t go over very well if he was shitfaced again all because he needed some liquid courage to get the balls to call you up.

It took three, long, agonizing rings for you to pick up, your voice suddenly some sort of beacon in the night for him. He was silent for a beat too long, and just when you went to hang up muttering “whatever asshole, prank call someone else next time” he finally was able to whisper out your name just loud enough that it traveled through the phone line and made it to your ears.

“You got my record?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I deserved that… and it’s actually good.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I know. Can I see you?”

And to his surprise, you agreed. You asked him to meet you outside, so you can walk to the cafe together. Promised in a way that had him believing it would all be fine - that you’ll figure it out from there. So he’s sitting on the bench outside of his building waiting, legs bouncing up and down uncontrollably mind weight down from anticipation, nerves and his least favorite piece of baggage, self-doubt.

“You look like you’re waiting on something, boy. Don't wait too long, or you’ll end up looking like me and still never finding what you’re lookin’ for, ya know?”

Steve chuckles and nods. He thinks he does know. And God, he doesn’t want to spend his life chasing an idea and running away every time he gets close because he’s sure he’s not good enough for it. He doesn’t want to be sitting on a bench when he’s 80 lamenting about how he used to look good, had the good hair before it all fell out and turned gray, would get the girls and throw the parties, could pound back a six pack like it’s no big deal, how he was the former Keg King - King Steve. Like that all means anything at all. None of it did. It was all bullshit.

“I’m Steve” he says, holding his hand out and reaching across the bench. The man reaches out accepting his grasp and introduces himself as Robert.“You live here too?” he nods back at the apartment building.

“Sure do. Me and my little rascal Dart.” and Steve notices the small dog laying quietly at the man’s feet.

“What you said before…I am waiting on something. Someone actually. But…I think I’m mostly waiting on myself.”

“Ah, yes. That’s the age old problem innit? We’re always late to our own party. Been in this city for decades and it’s all the same. Young kids like you are lost until they find what they’re looking for, but some of ‘em, they never find it. No one leads ‘em to it and they forget that it’s even worth lookin’ for along the way.”

Steve nods, a little solemnly, at the wisdom the old man is sharing. Resonating just a bit closer to home than the old man probably knows. But then he sees a flash of you from down the sidewalk, your jacket wrapped tight around your body, a tentative smile on your face when you see Steve waiting for you like he promised.

“Ah,” the man laughs a hearty laugh. “She looks like she’s worth waiting for though, my boy. You should go.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” Steve says with a bright smile, and it’s genuine. Maybe she's worth it? Or Maybe Steve will see the old man again. He's not sure which he meant, actually. Maybe…both.

The walk to the cafe seems to go on for eons. After an interaction teetering on awkward, feet pushing at invisible rocks on the pavement and tentative smiles, you both head in that direction side by side, stealing glances for a block or two before either one breaks the silence.

It seems like both of you have let the dull drone of the city take up enough space in the night and you finally speak up at the same time.

“I am sorry for being such a mess.”

“I'm sorry for being a bitch.”

“No. No.” You cut him off. “Yeah you're right. You were a mess and you were kind of a dick about it. I'm not gonna excuse that. But you were a mess, and Robin and Alex were worried for good reason, obviously. You were a mess because something happened and I can't be mad at that. I can be frustrated with how you handled yourself…how you treated people who were just there to fucking help you, man, but at the end of the day, you were going through some shit and…I held it against you instead of helped. And then I got you that record and…”

“I…yeah I should not have drank my problems like that. I shouldn't have. I was an idiot. I am an idiot. That song is…not that far off. Might be my theme song, actually.” He holds back a small laugh to himself. “I do stupid shit. That's not new. But…I wasn't mad at anyone until -”

“You sure seemed mad, Steve.”

“I was…it's just. I guess I'm realizing now I wasn't actually mad at anyone but myself and my dad until you showed up.”

“Correct. You made that loud and clear.”

“Oh. I -” silence falls over them for a few steps, Steve finally looking over at you in a way that makes you feel like he's looking into you not at you this time. “I think I finally understand. Can…can I try and explain? Once we get there?”

You nod. And you let him.

Like a floodgate, the honesty Steve holds back on a regular basis flows out the minute he starts. Tucked in the back corner of the cafe, a steaming hot chai in front of you, a black coffee with cinnamon and nutmeg there in front of him, he tells you how growing up actually felt for him. Not just the my dad is an asshole version but how it really affected him. He says it out loud and admits the way his dad made him feel. Tells you stories about all the sports and the winning and the popularity that was never what he wanted anyway. Tells you how his dad has spent his whole life grooming him to be a mini-version of Mr Harrington, and that's the absolute last thing in the world he wants to be. He just wants to be Steve - whoever that is.

And he cries. He cries when he tells you about the phone call. You notice it's not at the mean things his dad says to him, the names he's called or the put downs about his life that break him down - it's when he tells you about the disdain in his dads voice when he berates him about being friends with the gays. How he couldn't look at Robin after the way his dad talked and how he felt more shame in that moment than any other. Not ashamed that he’s friends with Robin. Not in a million years, but more from the idea that his dad - no anyone - would be lucky to find a friend half as good as Robin is, so who the fuck cares who she loves, right? Jesus Christ. Shame that someone he loves has to live in a world where people like his dad exist.

You both need a refill before he can get through the hard part, though, the part where he hurt you. Steve motions to your empty cup asking if he can get you more and before you know it, comes back a short time later with two new steaming mugs and plates of assorted pastries and snacks balancing on top. I didn't know what you'd like, so I got it all.

Something tells you that even if you don't actually say it, Steve would know for next time. He'd know that you're a sucker for their blondies and like to snack on their homemade caramel corn because even as he's spilling his guts he's paying attention to you, and from here on out every time you meet Steve Harrington at the cafe, he'd have your drink and a plate with a blondie on it waiting for you every single time.

Then, Steve tells you about that day. About how he remembers chain-smoking inside the house and how he knew Robin would fuck me up for it but I didn’t care. He recalls for you how he sat on the sofa with the whiskey bottle muttering to himself about the things his dad said, trying to figure out why this man thinks he can still push his grown son around. He tells you he remembers leaving to get another 6-pack when he ran out but that was the last of it. He doesn't remember much of anything or how he got to Benny's. Hop had told him, and he makes sure to remind him every time he's seen him since that he was pitiful watching Steve being drug in by the drunkest man on the block. Never thought I'd see the day anyone was more drunk than goddamn Rick, boy. Sure proved me wrong.

And when he gets to the part where his friends show up, when you show up, he looks downright ashamed and worried. With a deep sigh, falling from his lips, he tells you that the next and only other thing he remembers from that night was you walking through the door. With his head lain on the bar, vision completely sideways, what he saw was a fucking angel walking into the bar. Thought he was hallucinating or maybe even finally out of his misery and you were coming to bring him towards the light, until his brain made you right side up and he realized who it was.

He didn’t remember the yelling, but Robin told him later how big of a douchebag he was when all he did was start yelling at you and making one hell of a scene. Hearing Robin tell him about how he shouted and asked in such an accusatory tone What are you doing here? made him wonder if he was no better than his dad in the first place. Sounded an awful lot like him in the moment, at least.

You think he looks like a kicked puppy as he explains the rest. “I - I don't expect you to say anything. Or do anything. I don't expect you to forgive me or…” running his hands through his hair you can tell he's trying to pluck up some semblance of courage.

“The thing is, I was mad when my drunk brain finally registered that you were there, and you were there to help. Because I didn't want that. Help sure…I fucking needed help. You saw me. But you….” His swallow is so loud it's audible.

“I was embarrassed I didn't want you to see me like that. I… “

Reaching across the table you gently touch his forearm and it gives him enough courage to finish what he has to say.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that, because I like you too much…Like, the real kind. And I feel so stupid saying it out loud, because I thought that if I showed you how broken I was, you’d see that I wasn’t worth it. Maybe you don’t think I am in the first place and that’s fine I can be just your friend. S’probably all I deserve, honestly.”

He chances a look at you just then, and when it’s not a scowl or indifference he feels safe rough to continue. “Before I didn’t know why I was being such a jerk and I figured it was just because - I am a Harrington, after all. But, I understand why I did it now. I understand that even though I did it wrong, I was trying to protect you from me, and I was trying to protect myself from… ”

Scooting your chair closer to Steve, you push his wild and windswept hair back so you can see him even when his head is hanging low. His eyes flit up to yours and there’s no pity in your eyes. He was expecting pity at the very least, but it’s not there.

“Steve, who says I need to be protected? Especially from you?”

He doesn’t expect your fingers to find his on the walk away from the cafe. He doesn’t expect your touch to be soft. He doesn’t expect it to stay longer than a second - maybe just the gift of something fleeting. But it is. It does. Your fingers hook into his and they don’t pull away, holding on to him and his limp hand before he can even process what he’s being given. Fingers hooked and coaxing him to just let go and embrace it. Fingers he accepts as he laces his with yours, and they stay that way for the entire walk back to his apartment.

—-

A nod of the head with a huge grin spread across his face, Robert welcomes Steve back to the building, still perched on the same bench he walked away from a few hours ago. Maybe Dart needed to go out again, or maybe Robert never left, but in that moment, Steve thought about everything the old man said to him earlier. He’s done with waiting. Waiting has gotten him nowhere. Hiding his feelings has gotten him nowhere. The only person standing in his way is himself.

Your name falls from his lips softly, but there’s something there that wasn’t there earlier in the shop. It’s more sure of himself, almost confident. The predictable thing to come next was a goodnight kiss on his front stoop, and you’re thinking that maybe after all this time and him finally admitting that he’s into you, you’ll get what you’ve been wanting since that night in the back seat of the cab, or when you felt your tummy flip sitting across from him eating that ice cream. Poised to lift up on your toes to close the distance, instead he surprises you when he tugs your arm and pulls you inside the front door to his building with a grin.

And you got that kiss. Oh God, did you get it.

When the door closed to their apartment, Steve turned around to look at you. There was a heat behind his eyes as he slid your coat off of your shoulders for you, and a yearning hiding there when he looks up at you from below as he crouches down to help you slip off your shoes. Rising back up in front of you he’s close. So close that his lips are just barely apart from yours and the heat of his breath tickles your cheeks. The pair of you are so close that there’s barely any space between your bodies when you suddenly find your back pressed up against the door behind you.

Lips finally touching, slow and just barely you breathe out “Robin…”

“That’s not my name, honey.”

And you laugh. A sweet thing that makes Steve’s insides twist and turn.

“She won’t be home tonight. There was some latex…She’s fine. I’ll explain later.”

The kiss you finally get is sloppy, but in the best way. There’s no time for chaste kisses here, pillowy lips slotted together and moving effortlessly between one another. He adjusts your chin with the tips of his fingers so that he can gently caress the line of your jaw, following it back down and up again as he slides his fingers through the base of your hair. His grip there is tight, but not painful, Possessive but not overwhelming. It’s like he’s got something he wants so desperately and he’s afraid to let it go.

He gently touches your upper lip with the tip of his tongue, coaxing you open further for him, letting his tongue follow the outlines of your teeth before letting his dance together with yours. He lets out a small sigh as you continue to nip at each other's lips and play with how you both respond to one another's kiss. The sigh makes your mouth crack open in a smile, cheeks drawing up with the grin and encouraging his kisses to explore elsewhere. Small pecks start on the corner of your mouth and then your cheeks, right on the apple of them as their pulled taught by your smile.

Moving down towards your jaw, your neck, they get more and more salacious the lower they get. Red and pricking, a bruise is blooming at the spot on your neck just under your ear where he settles in to suck and kiss at your skin while the whimper that falls from your lips as he does it and your fingertips running through his hair and scratching at his scalp keep him grounded - barely capable of holding it together as is.

When you ask him what he wants, the answer he gives you is not one you expected. Sure you expected him to want to dote on you - after all, he’s attentive like that on any given day, so Steve being a giver in the sheets was almost…a given? But when his gasping breaths punctuate each word that comes out of his mouth Can you … I want you to ride my face? was a pleasant surprise.

Now surprising him, you not only agreed, but were confident about it. “Always wanted this. No…no one would let me.” He tells you as he breathes into you, chest heaving, foreheads touching. He barely notices as you pull the top of your dress down and work it over your shoulders, then the swell of your breasts. He only registers your exposed skin as you guide his hands down to your waist so he can hold you steady as you step out of it.

Coaxing him backwards towards the sofa, you tap his shoulder and tell him to sit down on the floor, back against the furniture, as you make a show of removing your bra. He does as you ask, unable to tear his eyes away from your supple skin and perfectly peaked nipples, making a mental note that later he absolutely has to get his mouth on them. As you shimmy down your underwear in front of him, you pause to add a kiss to the top of his head before dropping the garment directly in his lap.

He bunches them up in his hand, sliding them into his front pocket for later as you settle over him, “Y’know…they call this Queening?” perched there on your knees, you’re fully undressed and slotted above his face so casually.

“Mmmm. Makes sense.” He says, against the seam of your pussy and your thighs, making you vibrate with his words and his gentle hum.

“R’mind me to tell you why one day.”

“Mmmmhmm. Sure thing.” In a haze, he reaches around you, fingers digging into your supple ass and pulling you closer. Forward and over, just where he wants you. The perfect position where he can use both his mouth and his nose - just like Robin told him he should. Head moving subtly left to right, he tests it out, tip of his nose gently nudging your clit left to right and right to left and his warm breath teasing your wet, glistening folds. You let out a gasp followed by a small breathy little uhh, that has his ears ringing and he’s happy. Pleased with his position, he slips his tongue out and traces you with it, before returning with a big, firm lick - tongue flattened and wide making sure you touch all of you in one pass. Those big hands wrap further around you, now snaking over the tops of your thighs and this time tugging you down. Down down down and there’s nowhere else to go.

Now you’ve had some fine oral sex before. It’s a non-negotiable for you when it comes to relationships: If a man is worried about tasting your clit, you don’t want him. You’re worth more than that. You’ve even done this a time or two, but Steve nestled between your thighs, under you like this fully clothed and pulling you into his face further despite there not being anywhere else to go is otherworldly.

Other times you’ve found yourself in this position were tactical. A position change, a new angle, just for fun, a lazy guy. But being perched on top of Steve Harrington’s face is making you feel like a true goddess. You were about to give him a history lesson and tell him why this is called Queening and instead he’s proving it to you. Making you feel just like one.

Between smooth glides of his tongue, Steve sucks at your lips, your clit, the seam of your thigh. Once you’ve settled and allow yourself to fully relax over top of him, he releases his bruising grip - perfect tiny crescents left behind in their wake - and uses those free hands wherever he can reach. Sliding up your spine, ghosting over the peach of your ass, along the curve of your backside and between them, too.

You’re not quiet anymore. You couldn’t be if you tried, and if you weren’t muffling the sounds coming from him with your thighs, you’re pretty sure the symphony of both of your moans would be enough to tip you over the edge. Since his are busy elsewhere, your hands find their way to your tits, rolling your nipples between your fingers and throwing your head back in pleasure as you start to absentmindedly grind on his face.

He lets you bask in your pleasure for a while before tugging you out of your daze, hands covering the small of your back, pulling and angling you forward so that your hands fall to the arm of the sofa behind him. Now, leaning over him, soft and subtle grinding returning like muscle memory, he takes the opportunity to slide his fingers in from behind, just alongside his mouth. Thick digits slipping inside, scissoring alongside the wet muscle of his tongue, nose nudging your clit between deep rolls of your hips against him, he notices the twitching of your velvety walls first, followed by the shaking of your thighs.

Freeing his hands, he finds your legs again, if only to hold you down to ride out your climax, combating how badly your sensitive body is trying to pull away, just slightly. The work he’s putting in on your pussy is paying off tenfold when you tremble and shake above him. Unable to move from the vice grip he has on your legs, you have no choice but to cry out and let him lap at you, drink you up until you're overstimulated and begging him to stop.

Limp and satiated, you easily fall into his arms as he moves up between you and the couch, pulling you into his lap. Your head lolls forward has he grabs your cheeks to look at you “Y’feel good baby? Y’feel like a Queen?”

You nod, dazed but eager and happy as he lifts you and stands. Legs wrapping around his hips while he peppers you with kisses that taste like your own pleasure, he carries you down the hallway to his room.

Kicking open the door, he stalks over to his bed and tosses you onto it without a second thought. Looking up at him with big doe eyes, he knows he’s done for. He can’t move fast enough as he loosened his belt and tugs down his pants. Crawling over you on his bed, he nudges that nose against yours again to get your attention. “You wanna? We don’t have to y’know?”

“Steve Harrington, I want to so bad, I’m gonna make you forget your name.”

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