#and I said ‘well I’m leaving in a week’ and he fuckin laughed and high fived me

[moteldogs]

oh so when I’m mouthy it’s all fun and games but when my woman coworkers backtalk they get in trouble. ok

[crappymixtape]

hold your breath

you take steve to see eddie and corroded coffin at a little hole in the wall venue, just the two of you, and you find yourselves getting lost in the music…and each other • *18+ | (  2.2k, smut, fingering in public, tiny bits of fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

H O L D Y O U R B R E A T H 🎶  hot blooded, new constellations

“Here?” your breath hitched as you felt your back meet the rough brick behind you, Steve’s arm bracketing you in, a hand holding tight to your hip.

*“Mmm, main act’s on now–” he pressed kisses to your jaw, “–no one’s coming out here–” kisses along your neck, “–got at least a couple songs–” one heated, lingering kiss dragged against the hollow behind your ear, “–plenty of time.”

Your hands pressed into his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, and you grinned as he caught your lips between his. “Okay, hot shot. You’re on the clock,” letting go with one hand you carded it through his hair, tugging just a little at the end and Steve loosed a low groan.

“So impatient,” he teased, tone rougher than before. Brushing his nose against your neck he silently asked for more access and you granted it, hair catching on on the wall behind you as you tilted your head back.

You don’t remember how exactly you’d wound up round back of the Tin Bucket. Eddie had told you both earlier in the week that Corroded Coffin landed a gig there on Friday night and that he had a few extra tickets. It was obviously an emphatic yes from the two of you to the tickets and an immediate scowl from Robin when Steve asked her to cover his shift.

“Oh, just shut up already, Harrington.”

“But I didn’t even say anything!”

“You don’t have to. Your stupid, big, brown eyes say enough.”

“What are you–”

“I’ll cover your dumb shift. So you can ‘go out’ or whatever,” Robin looped her fingers around ‘go out’ and rolled her eyes so hard she swore they’d fall out the back of her head, but then Steve was grinning at her. One of those, thank you I love you I owe you, grins and she’d caved.

“Seriously, whatever you want. Wash your car, take the kids to the arcade, write Vickie a sweet little love lett–”

“Don’t push it,” she leveled him with a look and he put up his hands in surrender, but the grin was still plastered on his lips. Robin couldn’t help a small smile and let out an exasperated sigh, “You’re a menace, Harrington.”

“Thank you, you’re the best!” his voice edged on sing-songy as he shoved out into the hot summer air, leaving Robin behind in the air conditioning.

“He’s the fuckin’ worst. I dunno how you convinced me, Buckley. The worst,” Keith breathed, mouth open. “You better have those returns put away by the time I’m done with this,” he waved a sub sandwich at her on the way to the break room and Robin made a mental note that Steve owed her at least times-three for this one.

Corroded Coffin wasn’t the headliner, but damn if Eddie and the boys didn’t pack that room full. There were tons of kids from Hawkins high, a mixture of groups, and you were surprised to see that even Chrissy and some of her cheerleader friends had shown up. The bartenders were carding people, but so many people were ordering beer for friends that it didn’t even matter.

The closing song came to an end and the crowd exploded, you could barely hear Eddie over the sound, “You’ve all been incredible! Thank you so much, we’re Corroded Coffin, we love you!” He threw a fist in the air to more screaming and cheers before exiting stage left and you grinned up at Steve.

“Shit, that was really good,” he said, looking down at you, his brows lifted in bewilderment.

“Well, yeah. It’s Eddie, of course it was good,” you shot back, poking your fingers into his ribs as he laughed and swatted your hand away.

“Alright, alright,” he chided, then grabbed your hand. “It’s hotter than hell in here. Wanna get some air?” thumbing over his shoulder you couldn’t say no as the lights from the stage caught his eyes. All burnt caramel and warm honey, pupils blown from the beer and your shared pre-show joint. When you nodded yes he threaded you both through the thick crowd of people and out a side door that said ‘Exit Only’ above it in flickering fluorescent red.

When the door shut behind you it cut the sound in half, but you could hear the beginnings of the headliners warming up, all electric riffs and clangy high-hat slams. The Indiana sky was painted all deep purples and inky blues, sun still clinging onto the edge of the horizon, and the air was warm and thick and smelled like summer.

Steve let out a sigh and stretched his arms over his head, shirt lifting to expose just a silver of his back and you felt your stomach flip over. Dating for almost a year and the sight of him still made you feel electric. Like everything was new and yours and when he turned back around you felt the air between you crackle.

“What?” he asked, watching you stare at him, lips tugging up into a lopsided grin.

“Nothing."

You were a bad liar and he caught it, grin growing, the look on his face making you pull your lower lip in between your teeth.

“Enjoying the fresh air?” slowly walking toward you he tried for a casual, unassuming tone, but you could hear the smugness underneath it all. Fixing him with a look, you returned his grin.

“Well you’re certainly full of it,” you shot back teasingly as one of his hands reached for purchase on your hip, tugging you close to him. His other hand combed through your hair, easing a few stray locks behind your ear, and you felt your skin warm under his thumb as it brushed over your cheek.

“Yeah? I think you like it,” he half-whispered, knowing just how to wind you up, how to tease out that look in your eye, and you hooked your fingers into his belt loops to pull him into you all rough.

“You’re impossible,” lifting a hand you ran your thumb over his bottom lip, soft and pink, before leaning up to catch it between yours.

He tasted like beer and spearmint gum and you could feel him grinning against you. His voice was notched lower and full of heat, “What’re you lookin’ for, princess?”

“What’re you offering?” you felt your heart fluttering in your chest at the idea of two of you doing anything out here in the dark.

“Could think of a few things,” and with that he backed you up, attached to you at the mouth, pulling soft, sweet sounds from your lips.

“Here?” your breath hitched as you felt your back meet the rough brick behind you, Steve’s arm bracketing you in, a hand holding tight to your hip.

“Mmm, main act’s on now–” he pressed kisses to your jaw, “–no one’s coming out here–” kisses along your neck, “–got at least a couple songs–” one heated, lingering kiss dragged against the hollow behind your ear, “–plenty of time.”

Your hands pressed into his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, and you grinned as he caught your lips between his. “Okay, hot shot. You’re on the clock,” letting go with one hand you carded it through his hair, tugging just a little at the end and Steve loosed a low groan.

“So impatient,” he teased, tone rougher than before. Brushing his nose against your neck he silently asked for more access and you granted it, hair catching on on the wall behind you as you tilted your head back.

The stone of the building was hot under your exposed skin, still warm from the sun, and as Steve pressed himself against you, you thought you might melt away. He was kissing every bit of you that he could, hands wandering over the curves and dips of your body, fingers playing at the hem of your dress and god you wanted more.

“We can stop if you want, just tell me,” he cut his words with kisses as he pulled a little moan from your lips, pausing just long enough to catch your eyes, wanting to make sure you were okay.

“No, don’t,” your tone held just enough weight that he didn’t need to be told again and the look in your eyes, dark and needy, drove him to dip down and drag his lips along your collarbone and bare shoulders.

You and Steve had done this plenty of times before at parties, on the loungers next to his pool, both of your bedrooms had certainly seen enough, but this was different. The thought of getting caught flickered in your chest, but it pushed you to keep going, a thrill you were both chasing.

He slipped a hand up over your dress, fingertips tracing over the thin fabric, and you took his hand in yours to push it over the top of your breast. “Steve,” you murmured, head still leaning against the wall, lashes heavy on your cheeks and he brought his mouth back to yours.

“Tell me, babe, what d’you want?"

“You. Want you,” you took a handful of your dress, rucking it up your legs, and then dragged his hand down your body, letting go when you reached your thighs.

“Christ,” Steve loosed a groan. He ran his thumb across the lace of your panties, against the soft cotton of the fabric and down the dip between your legs to feel just how wet you were. Another, softer groan fell from his lips, his brows knitting together, and when he pressed his lips to your ear he sounded wrecked, “Baby.”

At the press of his fingers you moaned, louder this time, and he huffed a laugh.

“Sweetheart, you have to be quiet, we can just go to the car–”

“No, no. I’ll be quiet,” you promised, hips tilting into him, keening for him. He hummed at your reply, a soft okay, and gently pulled the soft lilac cotton of your panties to the side to slip a finger into you.

You promised you’d be quiet, but god he made it hard. Biting down on the inside of your cheek you sucked in a breath, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. Be quiet. Be quiet.

“You okay?” his hand slipped easy in your slick, in and out in and out, his voice rough and low as the feeling of him crept through you like a slow burning fire.

“Steve,” you whined and he took the hint, adding another finger and fanning the small ember in your chest into flames. Your hand took hold of his jaw and tugged his lips rough against yours, swallowing anything else he’d wanted to say.

It was hot and dirty, and he sped up his rhythm, dropping his thumb down to drag heavy circles over your clit. You moaned into him, tongue licking along his bottom lip and he opened to you, deepening the kiss. The coil in your stomach tightened as he helped you to chase your high, fingers curled in against you just how you liked it.

“So good, you’re so good,” Steve’s mouth was still pressed into yours as he said your name, reverent like a prayer, praises falling from his lips into yours over and over.

“Oh, oh shit, Steve, s–so close,” you both were breathing heavy, lungs gasping in the heat of summer and firecrackers and all the galaxies in the sky above you, and Steve wanted nothing else in the entire world but you.

“C’mon, sweetheart, come for me. So pretty, so damn beautiful.”

His words wrapped around you, sweet and saccharine, golden like honey and something inside you snapped. Your hips bucked into his hand, squeezing around him, leaping over the edge as wave after wave after wave of climax washed over your body like the sea and Steve was your anchor, your lifeline, your way back down.

As he slowed you felt your legs wobble under you and you gasped as he pulled his hand away to wrap both arms around your waist. “Whoa, I got you, y’okay?” he half laughed as he steadied you both, your forehead dipping forward to rest on his chest as you felt a laugh of your own come out in a huff.

“’Okay’, the worst review ever of what just happened,” looping your arms around his neck for a better hold, you looked up into his eyes. “Every time, you get me every time,” you said shaking your head and he gave you the absolute most smug grin of all time and ran his tongue along his lips.

“Oh yeah? Every time, huh? Didn't get caught either. How am I doin’ on the clock?” he wiggled his brows at you and you tugged a hand down to flick at his arm.

The music had just started inside, shifting quickly from warm ups to set list, and you both realized at the same time that he more than satisfied the ask. He shot you an I told you so look and you groaned.

“It was dumb luck we didn't get caught," you quipped, but a smile was playing on your lips. "And fine. Great. Fabulous on the clock,” you relented with a half-hearted eye roll as he pressed a kiss to your temple, grinning against you. But then his hands were moving to gently pull your dress back down and his face was dangerously close to yours again and your breath caught in your throat, all teasing swept away with the breeze.

“...Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we please get outta here?”

“Yep. Yes. Absolutely.”

And you’re not sure who made it to the car first, but Steve probably should’ve gotten a ticket for speeding home.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[siancore]

After the Smoke Settles | Attoye | E | 2.4k words | AO3 Link

For Attoye Week 2023 @attoye-week

Day 2: Alternate Universe - Biker!Attuma and Party Girl Okoye

Summary: Attuma is the Sergeant-at-Arms for the Talokanil War Gods M.C. There is a tentative alliance between his M.C. and local Wakandan crime boss M'Kathu AKA The Chief. Both organizations are celebrating a year of successful partnership with one another. Attuma, new to the local chapter, sees Okoye at a party at his M.C's clubhouse. He wants to get to know her, but she is The Chief's daughter. Namor warns him not to go near Okoye because her father is overprotective and it would surely sour their alliance, but Attuma won't say no if the Wakandan beauty is interested in him -- even if it is just for one night.

Content: Unprotected sex; oral sex; hooking up; recreational drug use; drinking; drunk sex; dirty talk; language; minor violence.

The sounds of laughter and clinking drinks filled the space of the club room. Attuma stood next to his friend and new President, Namor. Ever since Attuma had come over and joined that chapter of the Talokanil War Gods Motorcycle Club as their Sergeant-at-Arms almost two months prior, he had been fitting in well. Namor ran a tight ship. They were working on forming alliances with other outfits in order to continue their operations. Having grown up together, Attuma and Namor knew and trusted one another. It was the reason why Attuma came to work with him.

They glanced around the club room, watching their brothers enjoy the party. Namor did not often throw parties, but they were celebrating a year of an alliance with the Wakandans. A year of prosperous partnerships for both outfits.

Both parties were having fun. The mood was light. Drinks were flowing, the music was good, and a few people were dancing. Attuma’s eyes fell on a group of young women at the edge of the makeshift dancefloor. A couple were Sweet Butts, and the rest were Wakandan. He watched them dance and laugh, enjoying themselves, until another young woman from the Wakandan group ambled over – scratch that – glided over.

Attuma was certain his jaw dropped at the sight of her. Big doe eyes; long braids; dark skin; and a blinding smile. She was breathtaking. She danced her way into the center of the circle of girls, twirling as she went. The yellow form-fitting dress drawing attention to her slender body and round ass. Attuma was practically salivating.

“Sakun winik,” said Attuma to Namor. “Who’s that?”

“Who?” Namor replied.

“That goddess in the yellow dress.”

Namor looked over at the dancefloor and then back to Attuma.

“Don’t go there, itz’in winik.”

“Why not? Is she someone’s Ol’ Lady? I’ve never seen her before. What’s her name?”

“Okoye.”

“Okoye,” Attuma repeated, enjoying the way her name felt on his lips.

“And she’s off limits. That’s the Chief’s daughter. He’d probably bury anyone who even looks at her.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious. You know Long John Silver over at the shop?”

“Yeah, that white boy with the eyepatch? Wait, you tellin’ me the Chief knocked that kid’s eye out for lookin’ at his daughter?”

“Nah, he got into a hunting accident or some shit and lost it. But, the Chief cut off his trigger finger ‘cause he was in the club and tried to touch Okoye’s hair without her permission.”

“Fuck,” said Attuma before laughing. “Silly prick deserved that.”

“Right,” Namor replied. “No more hunting for his ass.”

Attuma laughed once more and then said, “If he even looks at my future wife, I’ll take his other fuckin’ eye.”

“Attuma,” Namor warned. “Leave her alone. We’re celebrating a year of peace with the Wakandans. Don’t fuck it up over a pretty girl.”

“Christ, brother. I’m not gonna fuck anything up. It’s cool. I won’t go near her.”

…

The party was in full swing and Attuma needed some time on his own away from the revellers. He stood out in the high-walled yard and lit a joint. A bike’s engine revved outside the gate before it opened and let someone in. A girl shrieked and then laughed off in the distance. A beer bottle smashed nearby.

Attuma took a long pull at his joint and then leaned his head against the wall of the clubhouse. The door nearest to him flung open and two people stepped out. The sound of footfalls on gravel caused him to look over in their direction.

“You need to stop!” said a young man.

“Fuck you,” the woman replied.

Attuma straightened up and narrowed his gaze. It was the Chief’s daughter, Okoye. She was being followed by some guy, who then reached out and gabbed her by the arm.

“Don’t touch me, W’Kabi!”

“We’re leaving, now,” said W’Kabi firmly as he tried to drag Okoye away.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Stop being such a brat and move your ass!”

Attuma eyes narrowed even more, he flicked his joint to the ground, and then walked towards the pair.

“Hey, Okoye, right?” he asked when he got close. “Are you okay? This asshole giving you trouble?”

She turned her head, then looked up at Attuma’s face. Before she could answer, W’Kabi spoke up.

“Fuck off and mind your business,” he spat, tugging on Okoye’s arm once more.

Attuma stared him down and then looked back at Okoye.

“You wanna take your hand off o’ the young lady?” said Attuma, inching closer.

W’Kabi let go of Okoye’s arm and poked Attuma in the chest.

“I told you to fuck off –”

Before he could finish his sentence, Attuma grabbed W’Kabi’s wrist and twisted it, causing him to groan loudly in pain.

W’Kabi bent over as Attuma leaned down and said, “Nah, I think you need to fuck off before I break your arm and your face, lil’ bitch.”

Attuma then pushed W’Kabi away, causing him to stumble, before he righted himself, threw Attuma an unimpressed look, and walked away. Attuma watched him leave, before turning to Okoye.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than before.

“Yeah. I mean, yeah. Thank you.”

“I don’t usually step in when couples are arguing –”

“I’m not with him,” she replied quickly. “He’s just some asshole who works for my father.”

“Why was he putting his hands on you?”

“Because he thinks he has the right to as my bodyguard.”

“That bitch made motherfucker is your bodyguard?” asked an incredulous Attuma.

“Not anymore,” Okoye replied as she grabbed her phone and started to dial a number. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Attuma.”

“Hi, Attuma. Sorry, excuse me a sec. Hello?” she said into the phone. “Baba? Yes. Everything’s fine. I don’t want W’Kabi on my security detail anymore. He put his hands on me. Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”

She looked down at the small patch on Attuma’s vest and then said, “The Sergeant-at-Arms of the TWG stepped in and helped me. New guy. Attuma. Yes. Baba, I’m okay, really. Attuma’s going to look after me. Sure.”

Okoye removed the phone from her ear and then looked at Attuma.

“My father would like to speak with you,” she said handing the phone over.

Attuma knit his brow but answered.

“Hello, sir? Yes. Well, the guy was yelling at your daughter and tried to forcibly drag her away. Yes. Yes, sir. I stepped in, roughed him up a little, and made him leave. No need to thank me, anyone would help like that. Yes. I appreciate you saying so. That’s fine. Happy to help. Thank you, sir. Goodnight.”

Attuma handed the phone back to Okoye. She bid her father goodnight after reassuring him she was safe and well.  She looked at Attuma who stared back at her. He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a small smile, which she returned.

“My father asked if you would wait with me until his driver picks me up. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” said Attuma.

He gestured for her to follow him to one of the picnic tables that stood over near the high wall. Okoye walked beside Attuma, and they both took a seat beside one another.

“So, how did you know my name?” she asked while positioning her body so that she was facing him.

Attuma placed both of his legs astride the bench seating. He licked his lips absently and said, “A lady like you steps in the room and a man like me finds out your name pretty quickly.”

“Alright then,” Okoye replied with a nod and a smile. “Thanks again for what you did.”

“It was nothin’. I hope these guys who work for your father all don’t think they can treat you like that.”

“They don’t,” she proffered sincerely. “Just W’Kabi. He thinks because we grew up together that things are different between us. They’re not. He’s still one of my father’s shit kickers.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” said Attuma, as he reached in his pocket to get another joint and his lighter. “I’m done talkin’ about that asshole.”

He lit his joint and took a deep drag before holding out to offer Okoye some. She gave him a crooked, devilish sort of smile and leaned forward. Okoye placed both hands to Attuma’s thick thighs and shifted closer. Their faces were close, and heat was radiating from both of their bodies. When Okoye’s lips neared Attuma’s, she licked them and said, “Shotgun me.”

Attuma placed his hand to Okoye’s slim waist to hold her in place. He then released the smoke from his mouth and blew it between Okoye’s lips. She closed her eyes and drew the smoke in. The effects of the drug and the headiness of being in such proximity to Okoye made Attuma’s head spin. He didn’t know how long he had been staring at her, but suddenly realized the young woman had climbed into his lap, with her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms draped over his shoulders.

“You’re pretty,” said Okoye as she ran her fingers through his long tresses.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Attuma replied, staring into the darkness of her obsidian eyes.

“We don’t have much time.”

“For what?” he asked, tightening his grip on her hips.

Okoye leaned forward and pressed her lips to Attuma’s. He deepened the kiss immediately. She pulled away slightly, and he followed her, craving more.

“For me to show you how grateful I am for you stepping in to help me.”

Attuma brought his hand up to cup Okoye’s face before he said, “You don’t have to do anything to thank me, Sweetness.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, a conspirative expression crossing her beautiful face.

“Hmm,” Attuma nodded.

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” she whispered close to Attuma’s ear. “And I really wanna do you.”

…..

As far as bad ideas went, the one that had found Attuma and Okoye in the small office felt way too fucking good. After shoving most of the papers from the desktop, Attuma laid Okoye down and sunk to his knees. She hiked her dress up and placed her legs over his shoulders.

Attuma ran his hand over the lace panties Okoye was wearing and she shivered. He stuck his fingers under the garment and then tore them from Okoye. She let out a little welp.

“I’m keepin’ these,” he said as he shoved the torn panties into the back pocket of his jeans.

Before Okoye could reply with a smart answer, Attuma had began to suck kisses to her inner thigh as he toyed with her clit. He hummed against her skin as he peppered biting kisses there. Okoye let out a moan when his lips made their way to her glistening pussy. Attuma ran his tongue over her slit and up to her sensitive nub. He sucked her clit into his mouth and hummed once more. A wave of pleasure washed over Okoye. She laced her fingers through Attuma’s hair as he ate her out. She came moments later with a shudder and his name on her lips.

…..

“Fuck – Ma, this pussy so tight,” said Attuma as he sheathed his impressive length inside of Okoye.

He had her bent over the desk with his raw dick deep between her swollen folds.

“You gonna do something about it or just stand there looking pretty?”

“You got a smart mouth on you, Sweetness,” he said sharply, as his hips snapped forward. “Won’t be so smart with this dick in it.”

He thrust forward again with more fervor, causing Okoye to whimper and curse.

“Shit – shit.”

“Fuck.”

“Wish we had time for that,” said Okoye as she threw her ass back, drawing a loud moan from Attuma’s lips. “Really wanna choke on it.”

“Fuck,” said Attuma as he grabbed at Okoye’s throat and pulled her head back while he rammed his cock into her again and again. He lifted her leg so that it was rested on the desktop as he wrapped a hand around her chest to draw her back to him. Attuma kissed Okoye’s neck and then bit down onto her shoulder, all the while he kept driving himself into her.

His orgasm was drawing nearer, and he could feel that Okoye’s was, too. She was almost crying out in pleasure as her walls clenched around his dick. Soon, she was creaming over his length and coming hard. Her well-fucked cunt drew Attuma’s aching cock deeper inside and he finally came. He didn’t pull out, but both of them were too fuck-drunk to care.

After a moment, Attuma withdrew himself and found something to clean them both up with. Okoye was still bent over the desk as Attuma fixed her clothing, and then his.

“Damn,” she said, all breathless and beautiful. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.”

Attuma let out a little laugh and then wrapped his arms around Okoye. He turned her so that she was standing and facing him. He captured her lips in a slow, sensuous kiss before running his hand up and down her back.

“That was fun,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair again.

“You were amazing,” Attuma replied.

“We should do this again some time,” said Okoye as she rested her hands on his firm chest.

“Definitely,” Attuma offered as he dipped down to kiss Okoye again. “Let me know when and where, and I’ll be there.”

…..

The meeting was almost at its conclusion when Namor poured himself another drink and said, “One last order of business.”

The brothers around the table gave him their attention even though some were watching the clock.

“The Chief wanted to give his formal thanks to our brother Attuma for lookin’ out for his daughter last weekend at the party.”

Some of the men patted Attuma’s shoulders.

“You did a good thing, Attuma,” said Namor. “His girl is his pride and joy. You did both of them a solid by takin’ care of her when she was on our property.”

“Any of us would’ve done the same thing,” Attuma said, leaving out the part where he had fucked Okoye within an inch of her life. “Just glad we’re in their good books.”

“You definitely are,” Namor replied. “The Chief wants to hire you as his daughter’s bodyguard. Interim bodyguard, actually.”

“What?” asked Attuma, genuinely shocked.

“Apparently you made a real impression on her,” Namor explained. “She asked her father for you specifically to look out for her until they hire someone else. You up for it?”

Attuma thought about the offer for less than a beat before her said, quite enthusiastically, “Yeah. Fuck yeah. I’m up for it. Sign me up.”

[madnessformunson]

Double Daddy Part 7

Note: sorry this took so long, I couldn’t decide which way I wanted to go with! I hope you enjoy

Warnings: mean girls, fighting, cussing, pregnancy

He couldn’t even open the door of his van all the way before Chrissy ran up to it, “where the hell were you? I’ve been waiting for over 30 minutes I thought we were going to a party tonight”

“Yeah sorry babe I just had something I had to handle first, let’s go.” And Chrissy got into the van. He knew he needed to bring up the pregnancy again and see if she was telling the truth but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He officially lost you today and while he wasn’t in love with Chrissy, he did have feelings for her.

The week went by slowly for you. You had to stay in bed for most of the day, the doctor said you could get up and do a small walk once a day but if any cramps or bleeding happened you needed to get back in bed. Robin brought your homework to you every day after school and gave you the gossip of Hawkins High.

She came in awkwardly on Thursday, dodging your questions on the latest news.

“What’s up with you Robin? Did something bad happen?” You questioned her.

“Uh no well..”

“Spit it our Robin I’m a big girl I can handle it”

“Well Chrissy she’s like..showing? Not a lot but she definitely looks pregnant” Robin said looking away from you.

Your heart started racing. Was she really pregnant? There is no way Eddie could handle one kid let alone two at the same time.

“Maybe that’s why he hasn’t called me” you thought out loud.

“Did he tell you he would?”

“No I guess not I just figured the whole scare and ultrasound thing changed his perspective a little. I thought he might try to be around a little more.” You shrug off.

“Well it didn’t sound like Steve had very nice things to say to Eddie so maybe that’s why” Robin said without thinking.

“What are you talking about”

“Uh nothing ..”

“Seriously Robin?”

“Oh hey look at the time I gotta-yeah I have somewhere to be, bye!” She said as she took off out your door. You just sat back on your headboard of the bed crossing your arms.

You decided to call Steve to come over. He rushed to your house as soon as the call ended.

He walked into your room with a big smile on his face for it to only disappear seconds later. He could feel that you were pissed at someone or something, he just prayed it wasn’t him.

“Hey doll, what’s going on?” He said as sweetly as he could, coming to sit at the end of your bed.

“What did you say to Eddie” you said with no expression.

“Uh when? I’m not sure what we are talking about right now” he tried to let out a small laugh

“At the hospital. What did you say to him?”

“Umm I told him to leave you alone, that he hurt you enough” he said while he looked down at his shoes.

“What the actual fuck Steve that isn’t your place at all!” You stood up.

“Hasn’t he hurt you enough y/n? Why would you even want him around” Steve started to raise his voice back at you but you didn’t back down.

“That’s his decision to make, not mine, not yours. HIS. you don’t get to go and put ideas in his head to make him not want to be around! God Steve, you need to know your place!”

“I need to know my place? Maybe he needs to know his! I’ve been there y/n, me not Eddie. I’ve been the one to hold your hair back when you puke or take you to the diner at 2 am for milkshakes. I’ve been the one supporting you, not him!”

“Well nobody asked you to be there Steve!” You yelled.

Just as he was getting ready to fire back, the bedroom door opened. Your dad stood there with a look of concern.

“Uh I don’t know what all this is about but why don’t we take it down a notch yeah?” Hopper said mostly looking at you since you were doing most of the yelling.

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes as Steve signed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Look y/n/n just-“ Steve started but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“Leave Steve” you said trying to not let the tears escape your eyes.

“No no I’m sorry let me fix-“

“You can’t fucking fix it Steve. You ruined it” you said as you wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt.

Your dad just stood there completely clueless as to what was even going on. You and Steve never fought, everything seemed to be great between the two of you. He did feel like he needed to step in though.

“Yeah I think it’s best you go Steve, maybe you two can talk when things cool down” Hopper started.

“Or never again. That’s good with me” you said under your breath as you sat down on your mattress.

“Oh come on y/n!” Steve threw his hands up.

“Come on, let's go” Hopper said, leading Steve out of the room.

You were pissed. Fuming actually, what gives him the right to try to decide who is worthy enough to be around you?

The weekend passed by and you didn’t call Steve at all. He called twice and even stopped by to see you but your dad turned him away. Monday morning Jonathan took you to school instead of Steve. You walked to your locker struggling to carry all your belongings since you had extra assignments to turn in after your week off. Your notebook fell and all the papers came flying out. You mumbled under your breath, “just great” as you bent down to gather them.

“Need some help?” A voice said. As you look up you see the frizzy hair guy you used to call your best friend.

“No it’s ok I got it. I’m sure you need to go find Chrissy so you can shove your head back up her ass” you said looking back down to gather the papers.

“Ha ha very funny y/n” he said with a fake laugh and rolling his eyes.

“No seriously Chrissy might actually have a mental breakdown if she sees you helping me” you fire back.

“Well maybe she’s just going to have to learn how to share,” he said, continuing to help.

That comment made your heart flutter. No you still hate him, right? You have to. After everything he has done you can’t let him come back into your life so easily.

“Thanks” you mumbled as you stood up grabbing your papers from him.

“So how have you been?” Eddie said to you with a small smile on his face.

“Fine I guess but I swear the baby’s using my bladder as a stress toy”

“You and the baby are all good now?”

“Yeah I guess the doctor gave me the clear, just have to go in for an ultrasound at the end of the week”

“Oh nice. Is Harrington taking you to that?” Eddie questions.

“Uh I don’t think my personal life is any of your business but no we aren’t exactly speaking currently..”

“Well uh maybe-maybe I could take you?” Eddie said with a small smile.

You really could use the ride. Your dad tried to get off in time to take you but if he couldn’t you’d be stuck walking.

“Is Chrissy gonna freak out if you do that?” You question him looking directly in his eyes now.

“Um well it doesn’t really matter, she’s gonna have to learn that this isn’t all about her. We are all going to need to get along at some point”

That comment made you scoff. You knew you weren’t going to be friends with her like ever. Hell would have to freeze over first. But you also didn’t want to make Eddie feel like he didn’t have a place in the baby’s life. Especially since Joyce’s sister will be adopting them, he deserved to be involved as much as he wanted.

You nod as you say, “ok a ride to the doctor sounds nice I would appreciate that very much”

Eddie smiled ear to ear at your answer. “Ok I will pick you up after the pep rally Friday and we will go together”

Just as you were about to part ways, you hear Chrissy coming towards you. You knew you needed to play nice but that was extremely hard. She was easily the biggest bitch you ever met and she definitely made the situation between you and Eddie worse.

“What are you doing here?” Chrissy said with disgust.

“Me and the baby are all good now thanks for your concern” you said back with the fakest smile.

Chrissy just rolled her eyes as she grabbed onto Eddie’s arm.

“Come on Eds, let’s go I have practice for the pep rally Friday”

“They are still letting you cheer? Even though you are pregnant?” You didn’t mean for it to come out but it did.

“Yeah babe I’m not sure that’s the best idea anymore” Eddie said which made you want to gag.

“Oh it’s fine I’m not doing any of the stunts, I’m just helping out” she said as she pulled him to the gym.

When the end of the day finally came around you were ready to go home. Mentally kicking yourself for not asking Jonathan to pick you up, you put your headphones on and start to exit the school to walk home. Much to your surprise you notice Steve’s car parked right out front, you were staring at the car trying to make out if Steve was in it or not, you weren’t watching where you were going and tripped. Thankfully you caught yourself with your hands and knees, nothing came even close to touching your bump.

“Y/N!” You heard, but it came from two separate directions. As you pulled yourself up to rest on your knees you noticed Steve coming towards you from the parking lot. But then you feel someone squat down next to you breathlessly saying “are you ok?”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine” you say as Eddie helps pull you up.

Steve came running up and grabbed your shoulders looking you over to make sure you were alright. His frantic state makes you giggle.

“I’m glad you find giving me frequent agita is funny” Steve said with a weak smile.

Steve looked up from you to notice Eddie standing there, glaring at him.

“What’s he doing here y/n? I thought you said you guys didn’t talk anymore” Eddie spit out as his hands tightened into fists.

You stood between them, a hand placed on each of their chests to ensure distance was kept.

“Whoa whoa, that’s not what I said Eddie and you know it. Look, you are asking me to get along with Chrissy right? Then you need to learn how to get along with Steve. He is in my life whether you like it or not. Everyone needs to just learn to play nice, we have babies involved.”

“I agree with y/n/n, we need to get along, for the baby.” Steve said, reaching his hand out to shake Eddie’s.

Eddie Mimicked Steve “I agree with y/n/n” in a whiny voice while rolling his eyes. But when you hit his chest with your hand and glared at him he cleared his throat, “ok fine whatever” and he reached out to return the hand shake.

It was finally Friday. Eddie was still taking you to your doctor's appointment when Steve was little said he was missing out, but he knew it was important for Eddie to be involved. Eddie met you by your locker once classes were over so you could walk to the pep rally together, going to the appointment right after.

“Ready to go?” You said as you packed your belongings into your backpack.

“I am but uh I really have a favor to ask you” Eddie said as he kicked his feet.

“You aren’t canceling right?”

“No no! Not at all, just Chrissy forgot her water bottle in my van and she’s going to need it for practice. She’s already in the girls locker room, do you think you could bring it to her for me please?” Eddie gave you his brown puppy dog eyes that were so hard to say no to.

“Fine, give it here” you said as you took the water bottle and headed into the girls locker rooms.

You walk through the rows of lockers looking for Chrissy, although it did seem like the cheerleaders were using the showers. You walk up to her locker, it was hard to miss with her name spelled out on the front with stickers and many pictures of her with her friends stuck to the front. It was unlocked so you open it to place the water bottle in and you see something that appears to be a fake baby bump. You pull it out to take a closer look, you were correct. Chrissy had a fake baby bump resembling the ones they use in the malls at the maternity stores. As you realize she really has been faking it this whole time you hear, “what the hell are you doing in my locker!” You turn around and face a very pissed off Chrissy.

[mickmilks]

fic requests you say? where's bongo cat.

anyway i'm throwing my hat in the ring and ask for trans!mickey after too surgery (and ian taking care of him, because mickey is being a little stupid and tries to do everything himself).

not sure that's what you're asking for but it's what came to mind.

(also, can you imagine trans!mickey realising he has an excuse to wear his hawaiian shirts now and also when he realises he can just leave them open now because his chest his flat. i am experiencing emotions.)

this got longer than needed, anyway, love ya, bud, hope YOUR recovery goes well!

nosho!!!! when i say i am in love with this prompt...

this also ended up being a little longer than planned so uh. oops? or you're welcome.

----------

“C’mon, let me-”

“I got it, Ian!” Mickey huffs.

It’s been two weeks since Mickey’s top surgery, and much to Ian’s dismay, is trying to do everything himself. Stubborn-ass, Ian calls him. Currently, Mickey is trying to reach for a coffee mug in their cabinet.

“Mickey, you could tear your incisions. Please, just let me do this one thing for you. I’ll let you make the coffee, but the doc said no reaching for a few weeks. Please.”

Begrudgingly, Mickey relents. 

“Fuckin’- fine. I hate this.” Mickey says with a sigh.

“I know,” Ian says softly, grabbing Mickey’s favorite mug from the shelf and setting it on the counter, “but if you want to heal properly, you’ve gotta listen to the doctor.”

“Feel so… useless and shit. Can’t even get a stupid coffee cup. Feels like I can’t do anything, man. Just wanna be done with this shit.”

“It’s only a few more weeks, you’ll make it, I promise. You’ve made it this far, you did such a big thing, and the payoff will be so fucking worth it.” Ian tells him, reaching to rub Mickey’s back gently. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right. Just tired of bein’ in bed all the time and cooped up like this.”

Mickey leans into Ian’s touch for a moment, then grabs a coffee pod to put in their new Keurig coffee maker. He pops it into the top of the machine and sets the mug underneath the brewer before pressing the brew button. Soon, the comforting scent of coffee fills the air. 

“Can I grab the milk for you, your highness?” Ian asks with a small smirk. 

“Fuck off, man. Fine.” Mickey retorts, a small smile in return to assure Ian he’s not actually mad.

“Hey, don’t forget, you get those annoying bandages off later today. I think you’ll feel a lot better,” Ian tells him, pouring the milk into Mickey’s coffee.

Mickey glances down at his chest, smoothing one hand down it and smiling a bit to himself. 

“Can’t believe I finally did it,” he says in a whisper. “Felt impossible, y’know?”

Ian softens at that. 

“You made it, Mickey. And I am so fucking proud of you. I love you.”

“Love you too, sap,” Mickey says, leaning over to give Ian a peck on the lips.

*******

Mickey can’t believe it. He stands in front of the mirror at the doctor’s office, seeing his unbandaged chest for the first time. The scars are still red and pronounced, but the doctor assures him that over time and with proper scar care, they’ll heal up nicely, and may even fade. A permanent reminder of how far he’s come, and the feeling of freedom is overwhelming. Tears start to form, but he rubs at his eyes to keep them from falling. 

“Holy fuck,” he says on an exhale. “It’s… that’s fuckin’ me.”

The doctor smiles, and gives Mickey and Ian a rundown of scar care, and leaves the room to give the two of them a moment together.

“You did it, Mick. I am so proud of you for doing this.”

“I - fuck.”

Before he can get too overwhelmed, Mickey reaches for his shirt and carefully pulls it on, turning to Ian. He leans into him, wrapping his arms gently around Ian’s waist, burying his face into Ian’s shoulder. Ian hugs him back, rubbing up and down his back.

“C’mon, let’s go. Let’s go get you something to celebrate. I’m thinkin’ milkshakes. What do you say?”

Mickey huffs a laugh, and nods against Ian’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

*****

Six months later finds Ian and Mickey at the shores of Lake Michigan, the two of them lounging in beach chairs. Ian shirtless, Mickey with an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt (that he definitely did not steal from the laundry room in their apartment complex). Content smiles on both their faces, hands clasped together between the two chairs. Years ago this seemed unfathomable to Mickey, laying side by side with someone who’s loved him unconditionally throughout everything, who’s been by his side through thick and thin. Let alone, laying (mostly) shirtless on a beach with that same man, watching as the sun reflects on matching silver bands on their fingers. 

“Didja ever think we’d make it here?” Mickey whispers.

“Always.” Ian says with a squeeze to Mickey’s hand.

[electricratlady]

My Walmart Gripes List

i worked at Walmart stocking shelves starting in 2020 as an 18 y/o and am about to quit as a 22 y/o, as soon as i have another job lined up.

i have endured endless bullshit and… interesting situations from customers and employees/management across the 4 stores i’ve worked at, and i want to catalogue as much as possible to emphasize how working retail (at least Walmart) is NOT WORTH IT.

(worth mentioning that as much as i’ve had bad experiences i’ve also met a lot of nice people and don’t hold anything against them or their reasons for continuing to work at Walmart.)

this is not going to be chronological, since i’m just jotting down these examples as they come to me, but i’m gonna specify which location i’m talking about with Store 1, 2, 3, and 4. also way too many to write at once so i’ll add as i have time/energy to.

let’s jump in!

1. Store 1– i applied and started my job in January 2020 less than a week before the infamous Toilet Paper Rush from Covid. people were so desperate we stopped stocking it on the shelves for a while and just left the pallets they shipped on out on the floor for people to take, and they’d be cleared within an hour or two.

2. Store 1– fuckin 5’3” ginger guy with tons of freckles and glasses came into work several times with a Sons of the Confederacy shirt, and a couple weeks later during a team meeting where we were asked to raise our hands if XYZ he full on did a nazi salute, then smiled and looked around to see if anyone noticed (i was the only one who noticed but managed to pretend i didn’t).

3. Store 1– this was before i was out as bisexual and well before i figured out i was trans. a coworker two years younger than me came up to me, kinda pointed at me, and randomly said “f*ggot?” and i couldn’t tell if i misheard him so i kinda awkwardly laughed and said “what?” and he said it again and i had absolutely no idea what to say, and he said “see, i knew it! i knew you liked men!” and walked away. never reported it cuz i was a dumb kid who was more just scared that someone possibly knew despite me being closeted. turns out! he didn’t know, he was just beefing with my brother on the high school football team and randomly decided to bring me into it.

4. Store 1– same kid as #3 hated doing his job and would often leave the aisle he’s stocking to wander to different aisles to chat with people, somehow never being disciplined for it despite everyone knowing. he even would walk and chat with the guy from our Subway as he took the Subway trash all the way to the trash compactor at the back of the store and back. Dude only got fired after he was adamant that Walmart was giving employees free Kleenex for Covid and walked out with a 4-pack after his shift without paying. dumb bitch.

5. Store 1– one coworker i thought was cool was in his late 20s and, despite very bad anger management issues, was very openly pro-LGBTQ+ and pro-worker’s-rights and would chat about it a lot. then one day we were both monitoring the front entrance to sanitize carts and count people going in/out (Covid protocols), and he told a story about his grandfather being robbed and him shooting the robber as they fled, and at the very end very casually dropped the n-word while laughing, then said “i’m sorry, but if you’re gonna do that shit, you deserve to be called it.” in retrospect i wish i said something to him or management but i didn’t want to risk being the target of his anger problems so i kinda just stopped talking to him.

6. Store 1– during one surge the people monitoring the front entrances had to tell people coming in that our town was a high-risk/concentration Covid area and tell people that we don’t mandate masks but still suggest them (even had some free paper ones up front for those who wanted them). i tried to be as polite and non-confrontational as possible when explaining each time but one bigger guy walking in genuinely just went “you wanna know what i think? FUCK YOU.” and laughed as he walked past me. made me feel shit for the rest of the day.

7. Store 1– this is a recurring theme at Walmart but certain employees love slacking off and don’t really get reprimanded for it as long as the jobs get finished by other people. still remember when we had a rough truck unload and i looked over as we were about to finish and saw two of the guys supposed to be helping (people who are PAID the same amount as ME who was BUSTING MY ASS) just sitting down for 5 minutes, with a look on their faces like “why aren’t you all done with this dumb bullshit yet?” one of those guys was also in my computer science class and was openly passive-aggressively homophobic there, so add that to the tally i guess.

[youre-amazing-say-it]

Let’s Have Fun

Summary: You and Peter break into Tony’s Liquor Cabinet and have fun!

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Underage Drinking (don’t do it), Swearing, Vomit, High School Musical

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, looking at the brown-haired boy next to me. 

“It’s too late to go back now, we’re in too deep,” he said, taking a breath.

“Okay, let’s do it.” I reached out my fist and he fist-bumped me back before turning our attention to the locked cabinet in front of us. 

You put the screwdriver into the screws surrounding the locks on Tony’s liquor cabinet. You and Peter were alone in the compound for the weekend, the avengers were gone on what they called “an adult mission” which means there was a possibility there was unsafe material or some extreme stuff. And they were just having your “best interest in mind”.

You had your own best interest in mind as well as the lock dropped from the cabinet. You two were the only minors and didn’t have anyone else to lean on except each other when it came to saving the world and doing chemistry. You often talked about how you felt you were missing out on a lot of things in high school due to your Stark Internship.

One day, Peter and you were sitting on the roof of the compound, talking about life, when Peter brought up the best stupid idea ever.

“Have you ever had alcohol or like gone to a party?” He said, turning his head towards you.

“A couple of times, they weren’t really my thing cause I don’t have too many friends at my school. But I felt if I didn’t go, I would regret it” you said, looking at the sky in the distance.

“Did you? Regret it?” He asked. “I regret not getting drunk enough to forget the night” you responded with a laugh. It was quiet for a bit before the spider boy spoke up.

“Have you ever been drunk before?” he asked while looking at the sky.

“No, you?” You asked, looking at him. “Couple of times with friends, like MJ and Ned at someone’s party. It’s fun. Makes me feel normal and kinda free.” he said, hearing a bit of relief coming off his chest as he said that. 

“Like you are just a teenager who makes mistakes, and not a superhero who people look up to,” you responded.

“Exactly,” he said as you heard your phone beep. A message saying ‘adult trip this weekend. You and Pete are on watch duty. Don’t be stupid.’

“For fuck sake.” you groaned, getting up into a seated position. 

“What? Another ‘adult’ mission?” the boy asked.

“You got that right. We are on watch duty, again.” you put the phone on the ground as you let out a groan. “God I just want to fuckin life. But I can’t do anything because of Iron Dad controlling my life” referring to the nickname you have Tony. Peter looked at you as an idea popped into his head.  “Who said you have to leave to have fun?” you looked at your friend with a confused face. 

“Peter Parker, what is going on in your head?” you asked. You and Peter usually did crazy stuff together and always caused trouble. but with the conversation you two just had, You were nervous about what he had in mind. 

“Well, you and I are alone at the compound this weekend. So why don’t we get into Tony’s cabinet and have some fun?” he asked.

“ARE YOU INSANE? we can’t do that.” You stood up from your spot as you said that.

“Why not? The two of us are smarter and more technologically advanced than the majority of the Avengers,” he said as he slowly stood up as well. You thought this over in your head. You had the 

“Okay, let’s say we do it. How? What’s the plan?”

“Well, you are better with tools and I’m better at technology. So I’ll hack into F.R.I.D.A.Y, have her say that we are doing well, and play the video of us watching that movie from a couple of weeks ago. And you figure out a way to get the lock off of the Liquor cabinet.” You looked at your friend in amazement. 

“That’s not too bad Spidey boy, I think we might be able to pull it off.” 

“So, you wanna do it?” he asked. There was no doubt in your mind. 

“Hell yeah. You only live once, so let's have some fun!” 

That conversation led to where you are now. You and Peter stand in front of the liquor cabinet and look at the holy grail collection of liquid gold. “Now what?” you asked the spider boy.

“Well,” he said as he took the Vodka and Tequila out of the cabinet. “We usually start with a stupid drinking game. Do you know any? And grab some lemons and lime from the fridge and cut them up” he asked as he moved towards the island in the kitchen. He sat down the bottles and went to get some cups and shot glasses. 

“Promise not to judge?” you asked as you started cutting the fruit. “Y/n, we are way past the judging point.” you saw him grab the salt from the cabinet as well. 

“I found this High school musical drinking game and I always wanted to play it.” you blurted out. He looked at you and you couldn't tell if it was excitement or a ‘wtf were you thinking’ face. 

“THERE'S A HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL DRINKING GAME? AND YOU ARE TELLING ME NOW?!?!!” 

“We haven’t even discussed drinking until a couple days ago!” you argued back at him. You finished the fruit and grabbed a bowl for each to put them in. 

“That honestly might be the best invention that anyone came up with” He started to pour some of the tequila into some of the shot glasses. You grabbed some pop out of the fridge as chasers for the two of you as well. 

“So you in?” you asked, looking at your friend.

“Let's get our heads in the game!” Peter said with the goofiest grin on his face. You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, let me pull up the rules,” you said as you grabbed your phone out of your back pocket. 

Okay, you do that, but first,” he places down a shot in front of you and hands you a lime, “SHOT SHOT SHOT SHOT!” he said as he jumped up and down. You looked at the glass in front of you then back to your friend. 

“Oh god, we’re really doing this aren't we?” 

“Hell yeah,” he raised his shot glass “to making mistakes,” he exclaimed. “And living our lives”. You clicked, tapped the glass to the counter, and downed it. You put the lime in your mouth immediately after. “So, how did you like it?”

“Not too bad, better than I thought. The lime helped a lot” you said as you felt the burn in your throat. “Happy to hear. Want a Dirty Shirley for the movie? Then I’ll grab the shot glasses and tequila.” he asked as he got some grenadine out from the cabinet. 

“Sounds good” You went ahead into the common room to set up the movie, and get ready for the night. ‘This won’t be too bad, it will be fun’ you thought in your head.

TIME JUMP

You were right. This was the best decision you ever made.

You and Peter were about Halfway through High School Musical 2 at this point. You of course are doing all the dance numbers. But you gave up on the drinking game halfway through the First movie as you two got pretty drunk really early on.

“Hey y/nnn” you heard Peter call from his couch, “the best song is about to start!” He said pointing to the TV. He wasn’t wrong. Troy and Gabriella's big breakup song ‘Gotta Go my Own Way’ was about to start.

“OMG OMG! Ok, I’ll be gabby you Troy?” You said voice slurred from the alcohol.

“Oh course bestie,” Peter said as you both got up from your respective places on the couch “But one final Shot before we go in,” he said, losing his balance a bit.

“In honor of Troy and Gabriella, the best relationship to ever live.” You said as you cheered your glasses together. You each had a glass of Soda/pop as your chaser that you downed before you went to your respective places in the room.

About halfway through singing this breakup song you started to cry.

“Hey,” Peter said, making his way towards you when he noticed you didn’t sing your part. “Why are you crying? Are you not having fun?”

“TROY AND GABRIELLA BROKE UP!” You screamed and cried at the top of your lung. The screaming sobered Peter up a bit as he sat down next to you and rubbed your back.

“Y/n, you have seen this movie hundreds of times. You know they get back together.” Peter said

“I know but it’s still so sad and they loved each other, she even had a necklace to show her love for him. AND SHE GAVE BACK THE NECKLACE.” You said and you started to hiccup a bit. You ran to the nearest trash can and threw up in there. Peter came over and held your hair as you left everything out of your system. “It’s okay Y/n. Let it out” he said as he rubbed your back.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” You heard a voice behind you say. You turn your head slightly to see the team, which consisted of Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, and Nat. Tony and Steve looked and saw the empty liquor bottles and were furious. Bucky and Sam slowly started to put things together but slowly. Nat and Wanda's protective instincts came through and rushed over to console you.

“Troy and Gabriella Broke up” you sobbed to them. They all turned their heads to Peter who was clearly drunk, but not as bad as you.

“Okay so we wanted to have fun and get drunk while you were gone cause we felt we didn’t have any fun and only did work and school and so we played high school musical drinking games and now Y/N is sad drunk and crying over Troy and Gabriella,” Peter said as fast as he could. Tony walked over to approach him. He pressed the button that removed his mask. He looked at Peter and you before standing up.

“Not it for dealing with the Drunk Teenagers!” he said as he left the room. Steve looked at the team around him. “Okay, divide and conquer. Nat and Sam, you make sure Peter goes to bed. Bucky and I got Y/n. Wanda, can you do something to make Y/n stop crying please?” He said as he pointed to each team member. Wanda came over to you and kneeled beside you. “Hey sweetie,” she said as she wiped some of the tears that were on your cheek, “I heard you are upset over the breakup.” You leaned back against the marble backing as you nodded next to the garbage can. 

“They were perfect together but Troy was an asshole and put his future in basketball over Gabriella. WHO DOES THAT TO HER? SHE SO PRETTY.” you said. The boys looked at you and tried so hard not to laugh. But Wanda sent them a very scary glare that shut them up. 

“I know honey, I know.” She said as she ran her fingers through my hair. “How about we head to bed and then watch the rest in the morning okay?” you nodded your head as you felt your eyes get heavy. You felt two arms, one of them kinda cold, lift you up and hauled you over their shoulder. “Troy, is that you?” you asked the muscular men next to you.

“No munchkin, just Steve and bucky.” he said as you got into the elevator. “oh,” you said, kinda disappointed. “Are we going to lava springs? I need to speak to troy.”

“No doll, you are drunk and heading to bed,” Bucky said as the elevator went up. “I don’t wanna.” You wined towards the super Soldiers. “I wanna go to the springs so I can see Troy.” You were tired and about to fall asleep but you had a mission to fulfill. 

You reached your floor and you all made your way into your room. Steve pulled back the covers and Bucky laid you down on your bed. You were already in your PJs earlier so there was no need for you to get changed.

“Buckyyyyy,” you said with your eyes closed. “What do you need doll?” He said as he kneeled down beside you. He pushed some hair out of your face.

“Can you come with me to beat up Troy tomorrow? I think that metal arm might help him realize how bad he fucked up.” He laughed before looking back at you. “Sure doll but I need you to do something for me before you fall asleep.” You didn’t even notice Steve go back downstairs to get you water and ibuprofen. He gives it to Bucky, and Bucky nodded thanks before Turing to you. “Can you sit up for me?” You sat up on the bed as Bucky gave you the water and put the pills in your hand.

“Just drink this and take these pills for me, please. It will help you in the morning.” You were too tired to argue so you did it as fast as your drunk body could. “There we go, good job,” Bucky said before you laid back down on the bed.

“I’m tired.” You said as your eyes closed. “Okay sweetie, get some sleep.” You heard Steve say. “Mmm kay. Night St…ucky” you slurred as you let the sleep consume you. The boys looked at you and then at each other.

“Did she just combine our names?” Bucky asked Steve. “I think she did, but she is tired so maybe she didn't even notice it,” Steve said as they exited your room. “But it does have a nice ring to it, stucky.” He said as they made their way to their respective rooms. “Okay, so we both taking care of her tomorrow?” Steve asked before opening the door to his bedroom. 

“Oh, I'm not. But you can. Goodnight Steve.” Bucky said quickly before shutting the door in his room. Steve looked at the closed door ahead of him. “Damn you Bucky,” Steve said as he closed his door. He knew he was in for a long day tomorrow.

[wri0thesley]

i know we all love toji being nasty, but i'd love to see a (slightly) sweeter side of him and the reader as mamaguro, if possible?? maybe featuring the reader in his lap, the first time toji's ever really wanted to really do right by his partner... the ability of a man like him to have a softer side has plagued me ever since akutami said he mellowed out with his wife 😭

saying the important things - toji x fem!reader (2.1k)

toji’s not the kind of man who wears his heart on his sleeve. but he’ll try, for you. 

warnings: none! reader is mamaguro and uses fem pronouns, pregnancy is briefly talked about. this is just soft honestly

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Megumi is sleeping.

He lays in his crib, his chubby cheeks squished against the soft mattress, his hair dark and messy. At times like this, you can see so much of Toji in him, and it makes your heart ache. You can’t believe that you helped create something so perfect – from his tiny face, the tilt of his nose, the perfectly formed fingers and toes . . . You find it hard to believe that Megumi could really be yours.

“You’re starin’ at the kid again.”

Toji’s voice comes from behind you and startles you – you jump, guiltily turning to see your husband. His voice is dark and rough, but as you see him you realise that his face is anything but. Oh, sure – he has a scar bisecting the corner of his lip, muscles rippling out of a tight black shirt. But the look on his face is peaceful, and as he meets your eyes it just seems to fade into something even more so.

“You come stare at him,” you say, “you’ll understand why.”

He makes a little huff of amusement – but Toji Fushiguro is under your thumb, so he humours you by moving forward. Big arms wrap around your waist, making you feel safe and held in his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder, sharp green eyes on the messy-haired bundle of wonder sleeping in the crib that you’d watched Toji build with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth.

(“How hard can it be?” He’d asked you. “S’flat pack, right? Guys who aren’t half as smart as me do it--”. In the end, it had taken six and a half hours and Toji had had to physically pick you up and sit you down on a chair because you couldn’t stop bending down to help. He’d placed his hands on his hips and pointed an accusing finger at you. “You’re gonna get yourself stressed, sweetheart, and it isn’t gonna do any good for the kid.” You hadn’t expected Toji Fushiguro to be the over-protective kind . . . but you’d be lying if you said that his pout and furrowed eyebrows weren’t adorable).

Megumi’s eyes had turned the same shade of green as Toji’s around the five month mark, for the record.

“We did a good job, huh?” There’s a hint of pride in Toji’s voice that he does his best to dampen down – he’s trying to be cool, even now. Your hands come to rest over his own, where they’re clasped onto your hips.

“I think we did a great job,” you tell him, and snorts out a little laugh against your neck that tickles, making you bend back into sub-consciously. “No, really. I think he’ll fetch a high price on the black market. Look at all of that hair.”

“Takes after me,” Toji tells you. “I think I’d fetch a high price too.”

“You know you’d fetch a high price,” you say, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck. You find yourself on your tip-toes just so you can feel a little closer to equal to him. “You’re a wanted man, Mr Fushiguro--”

“You’re a wanted woman, Mrs Fushiguro,” He says, bending his head – and his lips brush across yours, and you feel your entire body fill with the heady knowledge that he wants you. You know it – he makes it clear in the gentler way he holds you against him, his attempts to do chores around the house, the way his fingers entangle with yours when you’re out doing grocery shopping as a little family. But there’s something that you can’t quite express that feels all the more special about the embrace and the words when you two are on your own.

It hadn’t always been like this.

When you’d first met Toji, he’d been all dark flashing eyes and dangerous smile and tugging hands, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flirted and charmed his way into your life. His voice had been dark and deep, he’d winked at you and made insinuations and insisted, occasionally, that this wasn’t a relationship so much as a mutually beneficial arrangement--

Until someone else had flirted with you in a club and Toji had grabbed your hand and pulled you into him, arm wrapping around your waist. Perhaps you’d been trying to make him jealous – you’d long ago accepted that your crush on Toji and desire to make him yours officially were going to come to a sticky end, seeing as he seemed to value his freedom so highly – but you hadn’t expected it to work.

He’d murmured into your neck that night that you were his, forever, and he never wanted to see someone else’s hands on you again--

“Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend, finally, then?” You’d asked, a hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the scar on his lip. Toji had grinned at you, dark and deep and dangerous but warmer than you’d ever seen it. He’d held you that night like he’d just realised how precious you were.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said to you in response. “Hell. Y’can call me your husband if you want.”

You had laughed and thought he was joking.

“Maybe I’ll try that after a proper proposal,” you’d said, tapping his nose. You’d expected him to grab your hand before you could make contact and pin you underneath him, tell you off for being so cheeky – but instead, the pad of your finger had made contact with it and you swore you’d seen a dark flush dust his high cheekbones.

You’d figured that was the end of it, until two weeks later he’d pulled out an expensive-looking ring whilst the two of you watched a movie.

“Well?” He’d asked you, looking almost uncomfortable – almost afraid that you might say ‘no’. “Whaddya say, angel? Gonna try callin’ me husband now?”

And you had.

He’d confessed everything to you before he’d asked about taking your name. His exact line of work, why he wanted to leave his old surname behind – and though you know you shouldn’t have, you’d simply taken it in stride. If this was what it took to have him, you would accept it; it had been too long, and you loved him too much, to simply walk away. You’d found out you were expecting Megumi six weeks before the small wedding and had told Toji immediately.

He’d seemed scared, but he’d seemed excited to – whirling you around like you weighed nothing before he anxiously put you back down and stepped back.

“That’s fine, right?” He’d asked. “I dunno much about kids. I haven’t hurt ‘em or anything, have I?”

He’d made a real effort around the house whilst you were incapacitated by your pregnancy, too – sometimes too much of one, as he batted away your attempts at cooking or cleaning with an insistent ‘I can do it, sweetheart!”. You’d let him make mistakes – honestly, a couple of disasters notwithstanding he’d made a decent effort.

You’re not afraid to leave Megumi alone with him, though Toji still hasn’t quite mastered the life skill of ‘talking to my baby as if he is my child and not simply a friend who I want to slightly intimidate’.

Sometimes you see Toji sat in an armchair with Megumi in his arms, a tiny hand wrapped around Toji’s massive thumb, and you think you could die from how much you love them both.

“C’mon,” Toji murmurs, breaking the kiss. “He’s fast asleep.”

You let yourself be dragged over to said armchair in the corner of the room, next to the little case of children’s books you and Toji had chosen for him

Megumi likes dogs; he claps his pudgy little hands together whenever one is introduced in the bright colours and flat pages. At nine and a half months, he had furrowed his little face and pronounced; “Gog. Goggy.”. Toji had grabbed the cheap camcorder that he’d been recording as many milestones as possible on and tried to bully Megumi into saying it again, but all of the footage he’d actually gotten was you laughing in the background as Megumi attempted to cross his chubby little arms and look at his father in disapproval. He had not said ‘goggy’ again until you had thoughtlessly picked up a little pair of black and white stuffed dogs whilst in a toy-shop with him to show him. Toji had had to go back to the shop ten minutes before closing to purchase them, and even now Megumi tucks them under his arms when you take him out in his pushchair.

You let yourself, too, be pulled into Toji’s lap as your husband gets comfortable, readjusting your body so he can wrap his arms around you and you can bury your face into his neck.

He smells like cigarettes and your laundry powder, familiar and comforting.

He takes a deep, pleased breath that makes the muscles in his throat ripple – you bring up a hand and trace them, fingertip lodging in the hollow of his throat for a moment before your hand moves down to rest over his clavicle, and then where his heart is beating steadily under his clothes and skin.

“You feelin’ me up, baby?” He asks with a smirk. “Y’can just ask, you know--”

“I’m feeling your heartbeat,” you say to him, listening to his pulse in his neck. “I think it might have stopped. We should look into it.” “Is this because I made that joke about the black market? Babe, you’d never let me fuckin’ sell our kid--” “Don’t swear around Megumi,” you say, automatically, your eyes swivelling to Megumi’s crib without moving your head from its comfortable position. “You’ll give him a dirty mouth.”

“You love my dirty mouth,” Toji purrs, the arm around your waist pulling you in tighter and closer. Heat rushes to your face and you give him a headbutt in the neck that’s half affectionate and half warning.

“Not now,” you say, sighing comfortably. Toji is warm and solid and always there for you. “I’m too comfy.”

“Ah, far be it for me to interrupt your nap-time,” he teases, but he pushes a kiss onto your forehead anyway. “Hell, I could go to sleep here myself. Nobody said havin’ a kid would be this much effort.”

“Everyone said it,” you say, stifling a yawn. “You just didn’t believe them.”

He snorts again.

“Y’got me there,” he says. “Wouldn’t change him for the world, though.”

“You’re just saying that because he takes after you,” you smile against his skin. “If he looked like me and acted like me, if he was sweet and demure--”

This gets another laugh from Toji, who knows exactly just how not sweet and not demure you can be.

“I’d love him even more, probably,” he says. “We’re gonna have some fuckin’ blow-ups in the future, sweetheart. Good job you’ll be around to sort out your men, right?”

The arm not about your waist moves so he can cup your face now, tip your chin up towards him. His eyes are still very sharp, but they’re softened with love as he looks down at you. Toji gives you these moments in the quiet of night – when he’s not formerly-of-the-Zenin-family, when he’s not the ‘Sorcerer Killer’, when he’s not an assassin-for-hire – when he’s just Toji Fushiguro, your husband and father of your child. You treasure every single one of them and hold them close to you like a precious pearl, stringing them onto a necklace of memories you’ll cling to forever.

“I’ll be around forever,” you tell him. “If I die, I’ll come back to haunt you and tell you what a shitty job you’re doing on the PTA.”

He snorts.

“Don’t even joke,” he tells you with a flickering smirk – but that smirk quickly drops away to be replaced with a look of intense solemnity. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Are you getting soft on me?” You ask, but the hand tipping your chin up does a little jerk.

“Please,” Toji says, a little softer now. “Let me tell you I love you and mean it.”

Sparks fly all through your stomach, your heart twisting in your ribcage. You rarely see this kind of gravitas on his face – he rarely takes this tone, almost needy as he implores you to listen.

“I love you too,” you breathe. “You know that.”

He pulls you into a kiss that knocks the breath out of you, that makes you feel like you and Toji and Megumi are the only real people on Earth and everyone else is an imitation.

“Yeah,” he says, gruff. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearin’ you say it, though.”

[smp-live]

The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.

The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.

Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.

People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.

Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.

So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”

The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”

‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.

“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”

Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”

“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”

“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.

Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”

“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.

“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.

“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.

They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.

Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.

(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)

Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.

(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)

They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.

Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.

“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.

He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.

Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.

The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.

And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.

Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.

Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.

He doesn’t come back up.

Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.

After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.

The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.

Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.

Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-

But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.

“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”

Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.

“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.

“What?”

“My name is Wilbur.”

Oh.

“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.

Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”

“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.

Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.

To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.

Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.

Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.

(They both fail.)

About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.

Inhabited land. Civilization.

They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-

A Dome.

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

[erodasfishtacos]

Not So Easy

prompt: Harry and Y/N have both had a rough week. Ivy is in the prime of her terrible twos. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

word count: 6.2k

warnings: swearing, smut, a little angst

AN: Fulfilling this request ***. This is part of the CEO!Harry verse. If you enjoy please like, reblog, and come chat with me about it x 

*** <--- click for visuals

-----

It was a gorgeous, cool Saturday evening and Y/N had been cooped up in the house all week due to nasty rainstorms that lasted the whole week. All of Y/N’s friends had canceled plans for one reason or another. Anne came down with flu and couldn’t visit like she was suppose to.

Harry had an extra awful week at work - which was saying something - and hadn’t been able to let it go. The frustration and irritation he usually was good at leaving at the office at the end of the workday hadn’t been happening.

Ivy was in the midst of her terrible twos and quite frankly it was disaster for all of them.

They decided on one of their favorite restaurants about an hour outside of London near the beautiful, green countryside. ***

It was a family-owned Italian establishment with outside seating on the patio. The tables were filled but Harry always managed to squeeze himself into a non-existent reservation with his charm (and wallet).

When they’re escorted onto the deck, Ivy had Harry hitched up on his hip and wriggles her into her wooden high-chair with little difficulty - she had just woken up from a nap and was in a seemingly okay mood.

Y/N notices a few pairs of eyes watching them from the table close to theirs but decided that she was just being paranoid. And if she brought it up to Harry she knows he’d immediately tell them to fuck off and mind their business. 

They get Ivy settled with her favorite little sensory book and her plush baby doll ***, as they look at the menu, “I’m so hungry,” Y/N grumbles, unable to decide what she wants to eat, Ivy literally running her around all day with no time for refueling.

“Me too, y’didn’t let me finish my meal earlier,” Harry murmurs cheekily, looking at his wife over his menu with a raised eyebrow, “Guess I’ll just have to wait for dessert.”

“Baba’s asleep, she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow,” Harry tells his wife, trotting in their bedroom. He’s already stripping the shirt off his head and wriggling his running shorts down his narrow hips.

Y/N’s laying on the bed, too distracted by her romance novel to notice Harry’s actions - well until he yanks at her ankles until her bum skids towards the end of the bed, she lets out a surprise yelp at her husband’s strength.

He plucks the book from her hands and tosses it to the floor with a thump. His hands are hurriedly reaching to pull down her shorts and panties with impatience at having his wife bare before him.

“Someone’s a bit horny,” Y/N teases, raising her hips to let him slide them down before they join the book on the floor. He ducks down to bite at the soft skin of her hip bone, suckling a dark mark there in ownership.

“Have y’seen yourself, pet?” Harry replies lowly, unable to help himself as he dips down and swipes a long, languid lip up her center with no warning. It has her moaning and pushing herself into his mouth.

“We don’t have long, H. Need you in me,” His wife whines, pulling him up by his hair until he’s slipping his tongue right into her mouth, wasting no time to hike her hips up around his waist and pushing in with one strong, directive thrust.

Y/N blushes and darts her eyes back down to the menu, “If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you.”

Harry laughs, eyes wrinkling around the corners, “Y’know even when I’m not good, y’let me.”

It was very very true.

“Oops!” Ivy squeals when her doll falls to the ground. It was one of the new words she’s finally understood in context and it’s unbelievably cute to hear her high, little squeaky voice.

“S’alright, here you go bab,” Harry titters, reaching down to toss it back onto the table for his daughter. She looked so fucking adorable tonight in what Y/N had dressed her in a little Gucci jean jacket with matching jeans. ***

Ivy manages to keep herself pretty occupied until she needs a diaper change. The meals had just arrived, steaming hot and smelling like heaven, but Y/N slings their diaper bag over her shoulder and totes the baby off to the bathroom.

Harry watches them, like the protector he is until they make it to the bathroom safely. He can sense eyes on him (the same group Y/N thought was watching) but unlike his wife, Harry makes eye contact with the table who were staring directly at his wife and then him.

“Can I fuckin’ help you?” Harry asks bluntly, not hesitating to stare down every single person at the table. He didn't want anyone staring at them, staring at Y/N, staring at Ivy. He wanted to enjoy his dinner in peace with his family. He assumed they probably worked for him.

They avert their gaze from the intense man, acting nonchalantly and sipping at their glasses filled with wine as if they weren’t just staring at them. It makes Harry scoff loudly enough so that they can hear it.

When Y/N appears back with Ivy and attempts to plop her back into her seat, her limbs go wiggly and her eyebrow knits with refusal, letting out little kicks, “No mummy, no!”

“Baby, we’ve got to eat now. How ‘bout after we’re done?” Y/N hums in her daughter’s ear, attempting to steady the toddler’s legs to slide into the slots of the chair. 

Y/N knew it was going to be a struggle since Y/N told Ivy she couldn’t have the big stuffed animal that was in the gift shop on the way to the bathroom.

“Mummy! Don’t wanna!” Ivy protests loudly, her face pinched with her terrible twos anger as she squirms and twists in her mother’s grip.

“S’okay, give her to me,” Harry tells his wife, taking Ivy in his lap. She smiles with deep dimples up at her father before going to reach her little fingers into his pasta. “No, Ivy. S’hot, it’s goin’ to burn you.”

Ivy pulls her brows together, decidedly not liking what her dad had to say, because she’s reaching out once again. “Ivy, daddy said ‘no’. Be a good girl and listen.”

“Mine.” Oh god, her favorite word at the moment.

“Ivy Elizabeth, s’not yours. S’daddy’s. Mummy ordered you chicken, which she very nicely cut up for you. You need to eat that, lovie,” Harry uses a bit of a firmer voice with the little girl, pulling her plate of cubed of food over.

“Here, bub,” Y/N takes a small piece, bringing it up to her daughter’s full lips. Only to be met with a hand batting it away until it’s being flung limply to the wood floor with a screech.

“No, want that,” Ivy huffs, once again reaching for her father’s steaming plate. She’s nearly close to getting her finger into the burning sauce so Harry has to scoot his chair out a bit so she can’t reach it anymore.

The parents give each other a knowing look because of what is surely about to come. The baby was struggling with being told ‘no’ as of late, as well as claiming nearly everything as ‘mine’. Tantrums were in their prime right now and they thought the pre-dinner nap would have helped.

Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.

When Ivy realizes she’s no longer able to reach the food, she furrows her brow and pulls back her little fist, hitting at her father’s shoulder. It wasn’t often she tried to hit, likely because most times it landed her on the step for two minutes, but it’s like she knew they couldn’t do that here.

“Ivy,” Harry takes her small hands between his, “We do not hit, do you understand Daddy? S’not nice. If you can’t behave, you’re not getting ice cream before we go home.”

At that point, the little girl would normally calm down a bit and readjust because she really loved ice cream but it didn’t do anything to quell her anger tonight. She shakes her head, curly hair bouncing, before the tears start rolling.

“Should we just get this to go?” Y/N asks, knowing that the whole restaurant doesn’t want to hear the sobbing baby throwing a fit over not being able to dig her hands into her father’s dinner plate. 

“Probably best,” Harry grunts when Ivy wriggles and twists in her father’s grip with a frustrated whine, “She’s not goin’ to settle.”

“Down, let me down!” Ivy demands against her father’s grip, like she’s the one running the show. 

“Here, give her to me,” Y/N mutters, wrangling the toddler into a tight hold while Harry gets the waiter’s attention to get take away boxes and the check. He’s pulling out his wallet to slide out his black amex and put it on the table.

“Ivy, I’m going to put you down so I can get the diaper bag and your toys. Are you going to stay right next to mummy?” Y/N asks her daughter firmly, making sure her daughter’s little green eyes are meeting hers. 

Ivy nods but as soon as her feet hit the solid ground, she lets out a giggle and dashes from beside her mother. She doesn’t get very far because she’s running straight into the legs of another patron and tumbling on her bum.

She’s not at all hurt but takes it as an advantage to throw herself onto the floor, screaming and tears - the whole dramatic show because she’s not getting her way and well....she’s a two year old - that’s all the reason she needs, right?

Harry’s in full dad mode now, “I’ll get her to the car. Y’got this, love?”

Y/N nods, sighing at the loss of their nice dinner as her daughter has all eyes directed on their family - the last thing she wanted to happen. But she just focuses on shoveling the still hot foot into the plastic containers to take home.

“S’enough of that, Ivy. This isn’t how we act, hmm?” Harry hums, pulling his daughter off the floor and into his arms  - “What’s gotten into you, bug?”

Ivy sniffles, knuckling at her wet eyes,  “Home, daddy.”

“We’re taking you home, don’t you worry,” Harry chuckles, smiling softly when she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, thumb finding her lips. His large palm came to rub at her back and bounce her lightly.

When Y/N finally gets everything together, one of the waitresses - an older woman, stops by the table, “How old is your daughter?”

Y/N smiles, “Just turned two a month ago.”

The grey lady has a kind, knowing grin on her face, “What an age, huh? She looks like a little replica of your husband.”

The girl laughs, they can’t go anywhere without hearing that from someone, “Oh, believe me. They have the same attitude too,” She jokes, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“I wish you two luck. Two is a very hard age, I have five kids of my own. Just appreciate it, even though the tantrums are a pain in the arse,” She says, patting Y/N on the shoulder before heading back to a table who was waiting on her.

---

Both the parents were frustrated, more so than they usually are with Ivy’s tantrums. They thought she’d simmer down once they’d gotten home but it had just revved up again when she realized she really wasn’t getting any ice cream.

“Shouldn’t have even promised her ice cream in the first place,” Y/N mutters with frustration as they stand near the staircase. Ivy sat on the step for two minutes in timeout, kicking her little feet against the marble.

“Right, because I knew she’d decide to have tantrums all night,” Harry shoots back, matching his wife’s tone. The screaming was echoing through the house, high-pitched and it just made you want to cover your ears from it.

Y/N rolls his eyes at him, motioning towards their daughter, “Well, this is your doing because you reminded her that she wasn’t getting it. You deal with it, I’m going to shower.”

“You’re not doing much to help anyways,” Harry hisses, their voices both low so that their daughter doesn’t hear - not like she would over the screaming match she’s having with herself. 

They rarely fought to be honest. This wasn’t even a fight - really. It was hard raising a two year old and they were learning as they went along. The couple was good at communication and working through their problems most of the time.

“I’m not doing much to help?” Y/N asks in disbelief, “Then if I’m no help at all, why don’t you put her down for bed? You don’t need me, obviously.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, his hand gripping the railing with a hard grip, “Don’t go twistin’ my words, that’s not what I said. Now you’re just lookin’ for a fight.”

“Yeah, because on top of a fussy two year old - I want to deal with a childish husband. I’m surprised you're not on the stairs, cryin’ about ice cream too with how you’re acting,” Y/N laughs - the sound crawling under Harry’s skin with irritation at her fake carefree attitude when she’s just as annoyed as him.

“You’re being an even bigger brat than our daughter right now,” Harry tells her, trying to keep his voice at a low volume but it comes out louder than intended. He felt himself straighten up and kept direct eye contact with his wife.

Y/N’s lips form into a tight line before gritting out, “Do not raise your voice at me. We agreed that no matter how frustrated we got we wouldn’t do that in front of our daughter.”

“Then don’t act so immature, ever think of tha’?” Harry bites, hating the he hears his work voice being directed at his wife when he never wants that. 

“How am I being immature? You promised her something that she didn’t get, then reminded her that she’s not getting it. I’m allowed to be frustrated with you!” Y/N whisper-shouts, Ivy is now distracted by taking her little shoes off and watching them tumble down the stairs.

“I have so many better things I could be doing right now than stand here and fight with you over our daughter having a stupid tantrum. I’ll be in my office,” Harry replies, because when he doesn’t know what to do and refuses to admit he’s wrong - he falls back to his best excuse, work.

And he automatically regrets it when he sees a flash of hurt cross his wife’s face. Harry wants to swallow back those words and wrap his wife up into a hug. Never wanting to make her feel like his work is worth more of his time.

Deep down, they both know she knows that it’s not the truth but in the midst of the fight it doesn’t sting any less. He opens his mouth to apologize, to tell her that he’d rather put their daughter to bed together any night than be in his office.

But he can tell she’s already past the point of being pissed when she replies calmly, “I’ll put our baby to bed. Go work on whatever is more important than us, Mr. Styles.”

Harry wants to reach out and grab at her arm, tug her into his chest, and murmur in her hair how much he loves her more than anything. He said that because he knows it’s hurtful and it’s his only way to win an argument with her.

However, she’s moving up the stairs, scooping the somewhat calmed down baby into her arms and trudging up  without another look at her still brooding husband.

Harry hears Ivy shout back down the stairs, “Daddy, come on!” 

He hears his wife tell his daughter, “Daddy’s too busy with work, Ivy. S’just mummy.”

But that has Harry absolutely fuming, storming up the stairs after then, “Do not make it seem like I’m ever too busy for my daughter. That’s completely uncalled for, Y/N.”

Y/N doesn’t turn back to face him, instead keeps walking, and says with a monotone voice, “Oh, but you just said you had better things to be doing than dealing with your family. So go take care of your work, hot shot. I’ll take care of our daughter.”

“Why are you making it seem like I put my work before Ivy? I’ve literally never let that happen and you know that. You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion because Ivy’s been having tantrums and you can’t put on your big girl pants and deal with them.”

That’s when Y/N spins around on her heel, letting Ivy down and encouraging her to go play in her room for a little before bedtime. Her face is turning red - which rarely happens unless they’re really about to get in an argument. 

“Big girl pants? Really, I’m at home dealing with her tantrums twenty-four seven. You get to come home from work and only deal with it half on the time. Do not act like you know how stressful it is to stay at home with a toddler in their terrible twos all day.”

“Do not act like it’s harder than running a multi-billion pound business,” Harry scoffs, his voice becoming lower with frustration with an argument that was going nowhere. He had a cocky lift to his voice that made her want to scream.

“Oh, because it’s so difficult half the time?  Last week, you got to go on your private jet to Paris for three days for business aka dinner and golfing while I sat at home alone!” Y/N raises her voice, angry tears forming over her lids.

“Sat in our 35 million pound house with a pool, playground, plenty of shops in town, unlimited money doesn’t sound like a hardship, love,” Harry replies, jaw clenching but his fingers itching to brush the tears away.

“You know what? It’s Sunday tomorrow. I’m going out. You watch her for the whole fucking day and see how easy it is. For now, enjoy the guest room,” Y/N spits out, storming down the hall to Ivy’s room to get her ready for bed.

“With pleasure,” He tells her, retreating back into his office and slamming the door. He wasn’t a fucking inadequate father. 

He never put work before his family. He knew it wasn’t easy being at home and as soon as he sat his arse in his leather chair - he realized what a douchebag he was being to his stressed out wife. 

Harry didn’t want to sleep in the guest room, he wanted to be spooned up next to his wife, whispering apologies for letting the stress of the week get to him. Remind her what an amazing partner and mum she is to him. How lucky he is.

The issue was - Harry had pride issues. He wasn’t one to admit defeat even when he should. He thrived on challenges so he was eager to show his wife that he’d have no problem taking on his terrible twos daughter.

He sneaks into his daughter’s room after she’s fast asleep in her crib, checking on her to make sure she’s okay before hesitantly entering their bedroom where his wife is fast asleep but a pile of clean clothes for him on the floor tells him she was serious about him sleeping in the guest room.

It was torture, not being able to be in the same bed as his wife. The love of his life. He thought about it multiple times - going in and groveling but his stubborn brain wouldn’t allow it. After such a long week, he was looking forward to sleeping in and his head hit the pillow in no time.

--

“Rise and shine,” His wife's voice wakes him up, it wasn’t with her normally cheery tone but with the same irritation as the night before. She definitely hadn’t magically forgiven him yet - dammit. Her voice is nearly drowned out by a fussy curly-haired baby.

“Wha’s wrong?” Harry grunts, sitting up to see Ivy still in her pajamas with sheet wrinkles across her face. Skin pink and warm from her nice, peaceful sleep. 

However, she decided to wake up today with a massive chip on her shoulder.

“Ivy’s upset because she can’t find her ballerina doll,” Y/N replies.

 Harry notices she is already fully dressed *** and made up for the day. “Might want to get up and help her find it. I’m heading out  like we agreed on.”

“Fine,” Harry replies with a tight lip, rubbing his eyes as he’s still half asleep. “Y’look pretty.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, leaning over to kiss Ivy on the forehead, “I’ll see you later bug, I love you.”

Ivy looks at her mother in betrayal as she leaves Harry to manage their little ball of fury. He tries to tug her in for a big, warm hug but she shrieks and screams at her father, “Ballerina!”

“Ssh, okay. We’ll go look for y’ballerina, dove. No need to yell, s’too early,” Harry grumbles, sitting up and automatically being pulled by the hand off the bed to search for this doll that could be anywhere in this thousands upon thousands of square foot home.

After extensive searches, Harry realizes that he’d left it on the roof of the car when he was tucking her into her carseat last night. The cute little plush doll is now mostly likely roadkill on the country stretch.

“Ivy, y’literally got a whole room dedicated to stuffed animals and dolls. Let’s go pick somethin’ from there, yes?” Harry tries, his daughter’s arms crossed and glaring at Harry like he had just killed her hopes and dreams.

“No! No!” The toddler absolutely wails, plopping her little diaper-clad bum on the ground before kicking her feet against the marble. She had herself worked up until her cheeks were cherry red and tears were staining her shirt.

Harry couldn’t lie - he’d only been watching her for about two hours and he was starting to feel anxiety creep up in his throat over what to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t parent her, but it was a lot of crying and he hated seeing her upset.

“Why don’t we go eat some breakfast? Does that sound good, lovie?” Harry offers hopefully, having to contain a laugh at how much she looks like him when he’s angry. The little crease between her eyes, the green in her eyes sparkling a little darker than usual.

Her eyes peek up at her father, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry sighs in relief, scrubbing at hand down his face, taking her into the kitchen, strapping her in the highchair before whipping up some cheesy eggs for her.

When he puts down the plate in front of her, he has to say she’s surprised when she slaps it off the tray and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. “No, want mummy’s breakfast.”

Her father looks at her with a comically bewildered expression before turning on his dad voice, “We do not throw things on the ground. Do you understand me, Ivy Elizabeth?”

Her full little lips are drawn into a tight pout as she tosses her baby fork on the ground to join the still warm eggs in a heap.  

“Mummy’s breakfast.”

The scolding goes in one ear and out the other, she doesn’t acknowledge her father but continues on her demands.

He caves after trying to no avail to decipher what ‘mummy’s breakfast’ means.

Ivy threw her eggs on the ground. She’s demanding mummy’s breakfast.

She’s hated eggs for the past two weeks now. Vanilla yogurt with diced strawberries and blueberries in her red baby bowl.

He does as she says, arranges a nice little bowl of yogurt with the fruit. He couldn’t find the red bowl so he substituted for a blue one. 

It results in the yogurt also being smacked to the ground. 

She threw that on the ground too.

Did you put it in a red bowl?

I couldn’t find it, just put it in a blue bowl

She only wants to eat breakfast out of red bowls right now

Harry groans, he didn’t know his daughter was this difficult about breakfast time. He was usually gone by the time she’d woken up for the day. Y/N usually let him sleep in a bit on the weekends until ten or so.

After digging for the specific red bowl, doing up her breakfast again - Ivy happily begins eating until it drips down her sleep clothes, rubbed all over her cheeks, and it even manages up in her tangled locks.

“S’that just so yummy, Vee?” Harry hums after she’s finished. “Looks like it’s bath time.”

He really should have guessed at this point when she shakes her head and squeaks, “No!”

“Yes, s’bathtime,” Harry says sternly, traipsing upstairs with the wriggling toddler who is doing everything in her power to fight against her father’s hold. 

“No, no, no. Ballerina,” Ivy brings it up again, making it a near impossible task for Harry to wrangle her out of her clothes and diaper. 

While he’s running the bath, she darts from the bathroom and through the hallways, right towards the grand staircase where the baby gate isn’t closed. Harry really really didn’t want to yell at his daughter but she could seriously get hurt.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, if you don’t get your little bum over to Daddy right now, you’re going on the step and y’not having playtime at all,” Harry orders loudly, but breathing a sigh of relief when his daughter skids in her tracks to a halt.

The little girl turns on her heels, eyes wide in fright at her dad’s raised voice - which rarely ever happened unless she really wasn’t listening. She begins to cry but not in her now typical anger-induced haze but in a legitimate sad wail.

His heart aches as his daughter toddles obediently back over to him with her little head hung low in regret, “Daddy, hold me?”

Harry can’t deny her so he scoops her up into the crook of his arm, “M’sorry for yellin’, bug. But y’need to be good for Daddy? You could have gotten really hurt and that would have made Daddy sad, okay?”

Her eyes are watery as she looks up at him, her hand curling around his neck before burying her still yogurt-sticky face into his skin, hiccuping with sad whines, “Sad Daddy.”

“Mhm, now are you going to be nice and get a bath f’me? Y’dirty, bubby,” Harry smiles down at her to brighten back up her mood and it works because her dimples pop out of her cheeks and she flashes her small blocky baby teeth.

Ivy surprisingly does well in the bathtub, allowing her father to get her all cleaned up until she accidentally opens her eyes and gets baby soap in them, it’s another round of tears that cannot be controlled.

Harry totes the sobbing toddler into a cute little Moschino onesie and brings her into their bedroom. He’s so fucking exhausted and it was barely noon. His stress level was near a hundred as he couldn’t keep her from being pissed off for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Luckily, it seems like the screaming and crying for the last how many hours had taken a toll on her because as soon as she sprawled on her stomach on Harry’s chest, she’s out like a light. The cutest small snores coming from her as she smacks her lips together while she dreams.

He gives her a few minutes to fall into a deeper sleep before tiptoeing her into her nursery and laying her very carefully into her crib. She doesn’t wake, just whimpers softly and turns on her side, away from her father.

When he’s sure she’ll be okay, he goes back into their bedroom, and well...he just breathes. He didn’t realize how high his anxiety had been up to this point and his whole morning had been nothing but trying to get his daughter calm. He didn’t even have one moment to think about himself.

It really wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Y/N being a stay at home mum - of course, he did. He already knew how bloody amazing and strong she was as a person, he didn’t need this to prove what he already knew. It was his stubbornness to not decline a challenge and they both knew that was the case.

Y/N really didn’t think that Harry doubted her abilities. He nearly spent most of his days telling her how proud he was of her and her abilities as a partner and mum. It doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when he brought up his job compared to hers.

Harry’s in his own world of thoughts that he doesn’t notice a figure leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, “You got everything under control, H?”

His eyes darted up to meet his wife’s, “Not really. She’s a little terror,” He jokes (kind of).

“It’s easy compared to your job, right?” Y/N asks but it’s obviously rhetorical. She drops a few shopping bags on the floor before leaning down to unstrap her high heels, kicking them off along with throwing off the blazer to the floor.

“I never said your job was easy. Y’puttin’ words in my mouth,” Harry argues, sitting up straight and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re right. It’s just not as hard as your job,” Y/N huffs, unbuttoning the tight jeans and shucking them off her thighs. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing to him right now, his mouth nearly watering when her thighs jiggle a bit.

“You’re right, it’s not as hard as my job,” Harry replies, studying his wife’s face when she looks up in surprise - that he was really going to take the fight that far.

“Wow, you re-”

“It’s not as hard as my job, it’s harder,” Harry murmurs, reaching out to pull his wife to stand between his legs, her looking down at him with her hands on his shoulders. “

What I’m doin’ is nothin’ compared to your job. Y’raising our little baby, shaping her into a good person, spending every moment of y’day with her, giving up a lot of who you are for her. That’s more difficult than what I do any day.”

“Har-”

“M’sorry, lovie. Y’know I think you’re the most amazing mum and wife. You do everything for the baba and I. I shouldn’t have taken my anger from my week out on you yesterday and then said the things that I did,” Harry apologizes, his face sincere and open as he leans forward to nuzzle at his wife’s stomach.

When her hands come to run through his unruly locks, he knows he’s forgiven, “I appreciate how hard you work too. I really do, H. You’re the best husband and daddy to Ivy we could ask for. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you as well.”

“Do you ever feel like I put work before you or Ivy?” Harry asks softly against her thin tank top, his hands come to massage at her full hips. There was a hint of insecurity in his tone that made Y/N’s heart sink a bit.

“No, I really don’t. I was just...I was just upset and I knew that would upset you. I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N murmurs softly, leaning down to kiss at the top of his head.

“Y’going to let me show you how sorry I am, how good of a wife and mum you are?” Harry drawls, his hands going to tug up the fabric of her top and humming appreciatively when she lifts her arms to let him do so.

“Yeah, remind why I married your crabby ass,” Y/N teases playfully, reaching behind herself to let her bra fall down to the crooks of her elbows before tossing it to the floor with everything else. As she’s doing that, Harry takes it upon himself to shimmy off her panties.

“Y’sayin’ you just married me ‘cause I fuck you good?” Harry grunts, standing up suddenly and pulling her up into his arms until her legs are wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Mmm, mostly. Also for your bank account was pretty good-looking too,” She lies blatantly but he still rewards her with a bruising kiss to her lips as he backs her against the wall so he can use one hand to tug down his running shorts.

“I’d still have married you, best decision I’ve ever made,” Harry says, sobering up from their playfulness. He slows down to be careful as he slides up into her warm heat, her head falling back with a thud against the wall.

“Harry,” She moans approvingly, heels of her feet digging into his backside to goad him into moving faster, “Right there.”

“So bloody in love with you. Please tell me y’know that baby, c’mon, tell me,” Harry begs, leaning down to smear kisses against her collarbone.

“I know, H. You’re so good to me, I love you,” Y/N whines and Harry knows that whine like the back of his hand, she needs more. He reaches down to rub tight, rough circles against her swollen bud until she’s tensing and coming.

“You feel so good, every single time. Don’t know how you do it, s’like you were made just for me,” Harry chokes out, stuttering and coming with his lips suckling a deep spot onto her breast as he rides it out.

After they redress and are cuddled on the bed, murmuring sweet little apologizes and affirmations of love, they interrupted by an angry squeak from the baby monitor - signaling their daughter’s woken up.

“Ballerina!”

hope you enjoyed. please inbox me what you think, like, reblog.

[slashertrash]

Slashers x s/o who bites ice cream.

Didn’t know which slashers you wanted, so I just wrote for 3 of my favs! (hope you don’t mind ;v;)

Bubba Sawyer, Brahms Heelshire and Stu Matcher reacting to an s/o who bites their ice cream/popsicles. S/o is gender neutral! Enjoy! <3

Bubba

Bubba exited the kitchen, rushing towards you with a popsicle. A jumble of excited squeals leaving his lips, frozen treat almost melting in his hands from the hot Texas heat. You’ve been helping Bubba out on the farm and around the house all day, and he thought that you deserved something for your hard work! Once he got to you, he sat next to you on the porch and handed you the sweet treat, so you could cool down.

You then immediately took the biggest chunk out of your popsicle, leaving poor Bubba sitting there like 🧍🏻”???” You kept on eating your ice cream, but Bubba kept eyeing you and your treat in hand randomly, thinking you wouldn’t notice. You of course, noticed this, and decided to offer him a bite. “Want some Bubby? Here, you can have some!”

Bubba then tried copying your same actions, and took a big chunk of your ice cream. Immediately, he let out a high pitched squeal from the cold treat coming in contact with his teeth. He clasped his mouth and whined for a bit. “You ok Bubby? Was it too cold for you?”, you chuckled a little at his reaction. He grumbled a bit from your teasing tone, and handed you back the popsicle while huffing. He still held his mouth, teeth still sensitive.

After your laughter died down and you finished your treat, you decided to cuddle Bubba for the rest of the day in your shared bedroom. Giving him kisses, hugs and apologized for teasing him, while still chuckling a bit. He thought you were making fun of him, but don’t worry he wasn’t mad or annoyed at you, just a bit embarrassed by his own reaction! You both cuddled in bed for the rest of the night.

((He’s a sensitive boy and he wanted to have the same fun as you with the popsicle, don’t laugh at him Y/N!!))

Brahms

The delivery boy had just dropped off some of the groceries at the mansion. In them there were some ice creams that had caught your eye as you stored them in the freezer, “ Guess I know what I’m eating later.”, you thought as you made boring small talk with the grocery boy. You bid farewell to him at the door and went back to into the kitchen quickly, to treat yourself to some sweet delicious ice cream. You definitely deserved to indulge yourself today, you’ve had to deal with Brahms and his many tantrums throughout the entire week.

Reaching into the chilly freezer you pulled out the goods, a box full of ice cream bars/popsicles, “Finally some good fuckin’ food!”, you pulled out your favorite flavored one. (My fav ice cream is plain ol’ vanilla with some caramel, I’m p simple orz, man I want some ice cream now!) Taking the wrapper off, you decided to munch down quickly, before a needy Brahms barges in and decides that he wants to coddle you and demand your undivided attention all day.

Guess Lady Luck wasn’t on your side, since that’s exactly what happened. Brahms strode over to you, with an aura of jealousy. “What did that bloody buffoon tell you? Was he flirting with you?? I saw that stupid look in his eyes, he wanted to-” *CRUNCH*..... “Y/N, d-did you just bite your ice cream?”, Brahms looked at you with wide eyes, completely baffled.

*Munch* “Yeah, what of it? *munch* I do it all the time, it’s completely normal isn’t it? Most people do it. *crunch* “Man! This ice cream/popsicle tastes good!” You said with your mouth full. “W-well, I haven’t seen or heard anyone ever do that, so I-HEY wait a second, you’re eating sweets without me!? That’s completely unfair! Where’s my ice cream, Y/N!?” Asked Brahms in disbelief. “No Brahms! You’ve been misbehaving all week and causing a ruckus. There will be no sweets, dessert or kisses for you, Mister!” You said in a stern and annoyed tone. 

“I want ice cream, Y/N! I’ve been a good boy, I deserve some sweets and kisses now!!” Whined Brahms, reaching for the ice cream in your hand. “No! I said you can’t have any sweets! You’ve been misbehaving all week!!” You yelled while running from the kitchen, then up the stairs with your ice cream still in hand. “Come back here!!” Yelled Brahms, running after you.

In the end, you and Brahms had a wild goose chase around the mansion...and you ended up dropping your ice cream. Let’s just say Brahms got scolded and denied of cuddles and kisses. 😤 who am I kidding we couldn’t stay mad at him 

Stu

It was a Saturday morning, Stu and you where at a nearby park, since he decided to take you on a surprise date. Both of you walked through the park just enjoying yourselves, when you heard the distant sound of an ice cream truck. Suddenly getting very giddy, you took ahold of Stu’s arm and making puppy dog eyes at him. “What’s the matter babe, want something?”, said Stu with a look of amusement on his face. “Baaaaaabe! can we get some ice cream? I really want some right now!”, you begged Stu with a pout.

“Aw sure thing, anything for my Boo, let’s go!”, said Stu as he pulled you along to the ice cream truck. “All righty babe! Here we are!! What flavor do you want, I’m gonna get rocky road with some extra chocolate syrup, oh! and some sprinkles on top too!” said Stu looking as excited as a kid on Christmas day.

“What about you, N/n?”, he asked, turning to you. “Hmmm, I’d like some f/f !”, you said. “Nice choice, babes! Hey dude, you got all that?”, said Stu to the tired looking ice cream seller. “Sure, whatever man.”, the man replied with a sigh.

He then handed you both your ice creams, and Stu paid for your them, with you objecting about wanting to pay for the them instead. Stu chuckled and gave you a kiss on the cheek in return. “No worries, I like paying for your things babe!”

You both decided to sit down on a nearby bench to eat. That’s when Stu saw you take a huge bite out of your ice cream, he then burst out laughing. “Pffft- hhahah holy crap babe! Did you just take a huge chunk out of your ice cream??”, he said while snickering a bit. “Yeah, I bite my ice cream!.. you don’t??”, you asked with a questioning look on your face. 

“Yeah I do, but my teeth end up really sensitive afterwards.”, said Stu while trying to slurp the melting ice cream that had run down his hand. “Aww, well I guess you don’t want to try some of my delicious f/f ice cream then, huuuuh?” you asked in a teasing tone.

“Hmmm naahh, I think I’d prefer to try it like this!” Stu then grabbed you by the back of the head and kissed you for a couple of seconds, then pulled back just as quick. “Huh! You’re right Boo, it does taste delicious~”

[cryonme]

𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐈𝐕

PART FOUR- “I Can’t Stop Thinking About The Way You Held Me That Night After The Boneyard And I Think I Need You To Do It Again.”

part one here

part two here

part three here

short series-- jj maybank x kook!reader

word count- 4.2k

tw- scratching, panic, description of bruises and cuts, big ol mental breakdown, swearing, self deprecation, fluff if you fuckin squint harder than you ever have in your life, mentions of blood, hints at sexual assault, mentions of wanting to throw up probably more please tell me if I missed something :( typos guaranteed

a/n- thank you for being so patient for this part! it was a busy couple days for Roxie!! again, the reader talks a lot of self deprecation, and I want to make it clear, I do not agree with her views on herself. please remember that I don't think of victims that way, I just wanted to write accurately. love you all so much!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were basically a shell of a human being for the next week.

Your dad and Christine had told Shoupe that it was no surprise to them that Tyler had done this, and explained that they had kicked him out of the house and why. Tyler was apparently “nowhere to be found”, very convenient, considering the police were looking for him.

All you wanted was to go see your friends, you wanted to tell them everything. You wanted to apologize for the way you treated them and thank them for saving you.

But your dad and Christine had you practically locked up in your room.

You were afraid to even ask to leave, knowing they would get upset again. You avoided bringing up the situation at all, not wanting to see the sad looks on their faces.

So, you waited. You waited a week to see your friends just so you wouldn’t have to go through the awkward sadness.

“Dad?” You asked softly as you walked into his office, hands shoved in the back pockets of your blue jean shorts. He was writing at his desk, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He started working from home when he got the call from Christine about what had happened. You hadn’t told either of them what you know yet, you needed to know more before telling someone as powerful as your father.

“Hey, honey.” He turned in his chair and smiled, taking his glasses off, giving you a warm smile.

You and your dad had a good relationship. You weren’t best friends, you didn’t tell him everything, you didn’t hang out often. But, he loved you with everything he had, and would do, and has done, just about anything for you.

“Hey,” You started, fidgeting with your hands and the rings on your fingers. “I uh- I was wondering if- Everyone’s going to John B’s today and I really miss my friends and Pope and JJ and John B will all be there so they can protect me if anything happens and-”

“(Y/n),” Your dad started but you kept rambling.

“And I just think it’s really important for me to get out of the house especially-”

“You can go.”

“Because of what happened here and I just- wait, I can?”

Your dad nodded, standing up and placing his hand on your shoulders, looking straight into your eyes with his (y/c/e) eyes, sullen and misty.

“I agree, I think you should go.”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around your dad, squeezing extra tight. He let out a watery laugh and kissed your head.

“I’m really sorry kiddo. I can’t believe I wasn’t-” He stopped for a moment and let out a deep sigh, “I just can’t believe I let it go on for so long.” You frowned and just hugged your dad tighter. “You didn’t let anything go on, it’s my fault.”

Your dad's lip quivered and he rested his chin on your head, “It’s no one’s fault but his, let’s say that.

You nodded in agreement, “Let’s.”

After a couple more apologies and just a few more tears, you and your dad pulled away and you made your way back to your room, after stopping by Christine’s room to tell her you were leaving and promising 50 times to be so safe, and sent a text to Sarah.

*Can I hitch a ride to JB’s?*

It took about 15 seconds for her to reply.

OH THANK GOD

YES WTF

You smiled at your phone and shook your head, almost giddy with excitement to see your best friends. You knew Sarah was probably gonna pick you up in less than a couple minutes, so you stuck with the outfit you had on already, opting against a swimsuit. Your cuts and bruises had healed and faded immensely, but they were still there, and you’d rather skip the pity glances and sad looks. Your hands were still wrapped in compression wrap from the force of Tyler’s kick, along with your left knee and rib cage, your neck covered in red, ugly scratches from your panic attacks, and you had to be very careful with your movements so you wouldn’t worsen your concussion. You were already in a lot of pain, and having to deal with your emotional pain today would just be too much. You knew they came from a good place, and they were just concerned, but that’s not what you were there for today, you had a lot more problems in your future than just a couple injuries.

Once Sarah had texted you that she was waiting outside, you made your way downstairs, bidding your parents one last goodbye before walking out the front door and giving your best friend a wave as you made your way to her passenger seat.

“I’m not gonna hug you because I’m afraid I’ll squeeze you too tight and I know you’re injured.”

You giggled and leaned over the center console, giving her a quick kiss on top of her head and a big smile. “I would offer you my hand to squeeze but unfortunately my hands did not make it out unscathed.”

Sarah just nodded, taking in your appearance for a moment before clearing her throat and starting her car, blinking hard a couple times as she made her way out of your neighborhood.

“I didn’t tell anyone you’re coming, they’ll be so excited.” She forced a smile to her face and you returned it.

You knew she was having a really hard time having you in her car, forced to look at you and remember the day they found you nearly unconscious with Tyler’s hand around your throat.

You probably looked disgusting.

You pulled down the mirror to examine your face, your eye was still swollen and discolored, your lip as well. You had a yellowing bruise on your right cheekbone and a healing cut on your eyebrow right above it.

A sight to see.

“(Y/n/n)...”

“Please don’t, S.” You said softly, flipping the mirror back up in its place and turning to your blonde haired friend, giving her a weak smile. “Just making sure they’re healing okay. Forgot to check before we left.”

Sarah just nodded, not looking convinced by your untrue words.

+

The sound of Sarah’s tires rolling over the dirt road made your stomach flip, you weren’t ready yet. You didn’t want to see John B’s sad eyes, or Kiara’s quivering lip, or Pope’s lingering eyes on your bandages.

You didn’t wanna see JJ’s face, you’d turn to putty if you saw even an ounce of hurt in those pretty blue eyes.

You took a deep breath when Sarah finally rolled up to the Chateau, trying to calm your shaking hands, using one to steady the other, but it was no use since they were both unsteady. You mustered up all of your courage and confidence and opened the car door, immediately spotting your friends on John B’s wrap around porch, drinking beers and laughing.

They don’t miss you. You had told yourself, stopping in your tracks and raking your hands through your hair, suddenly wanting to cry. Look how much fun they’re having without you.

What you hadn’t seen was the pogues sitting in silence only moments before, sullen looks on their faces as they forced light conversation and jokes, before one finally made them laugh, bringing peace to the friends for just a moment.

“Hey,” Sarah stood in front of you, hands on your cheeks. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. Her eyes looking into yours with nothing but love and compassion was enough. “Come on.” She nodded encouragingly and grabbed your hand, pulling you behind her as she approached the screen door.

You wanted to throw up.

The door cracked open, it’s rusty hinges making a high pitched squeaking noise.

And there it was.

John B’s sad eyes.

Kiara’s quivering lip.

Pope’s eyes glued to your bandages.

You didn’t look at JJ.

“Fuck.” Kiara breathed out as she quickly stood up from her spot to hug you, but quickly stopped herself as she got closer and could see the damage more clearly. She stared at you a moment with teary eyes, not sure what to do.

“Just hug me, weirdo.” You said, grabbing her arm and pulling her in for a light hug.

“God, I just wanna squeeze you.” She muttered, her mouth pressed against your shoulder.

“Please don’t.” You said, only half joking.

You both giggled and pulled away, you gave her a small smile before squeezing her shoulders.

“Love you, Kie.”

“I love you way more, how are you doing?”

You just shook your head, “I’d rather not get into that, if that’s okay.”

Kie just nodded. She should’ve known better with you, of course you weren’t gonna answer that question.

“At least you’re not lying.” John B said, pulling you into a light hug much like the one you had with Kie moments before, his arms around your shoulders while your cheek rested on his chest, his chin on top of your head.

“Love you, bub. Glad you’re okay.” He said into your hair before leaving a slight kiss, pulling away to put his hand in Sarah’s, his gaze lingering on your broken down figure.

Pope just kept looking at you, obviously freaked out.

“Hey, Heyward.” You put your hand under his chin, bringing his eyes up to yours. You smiled at the boy and nodded, “I’m okay.”

Pope reached one hand up to grab yours, hot holding it too tight, but just enough to tell you how much he loves you. “I’m happy you’re here.”

JJ watched as you had a heartfelt moment with each of your friends, but wouldn’t spare a single glance in his direction. She had whispered his name in pain just a week ago, wanting him by her side, and now she won’t look at him.

She realized what a piece of shit you are.

The pogues sensed the tension, all of them standing up and heading inside the house to give you two a moment alone. You wanted to beg them to stay, or follow them inside even. Grab a bag of chips and flop yourself onto the couch with your head in Pope’s lap, giggling at John B and Sarah’s lovers quarrel in the kitchen.

But you had to face this head on, you had to face JJ head on. It was time.

“Why won’t you look at me?” JJ asked, trying to mask his anger, it wasn’t working.

“I-”

“After all this, I thought we were past the hatred, (Y/n).” He was trying to keep his cool, but he couldn’t. Keeping his cool was never one of his strong suits.

“JJ-”

“I’m not doing this anymore with you. You can-”

You cut him off. If he said one more angry word at you you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“JJ, I know you hate me and I know I’m a bitch and I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. But, god, I can’t stop thinking about the way you held me that night after the boneyard and I think I need you to do it again.” Your voice shook as you finally whipped your head to look at him, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through your head from the sudden movement.

There was that hurt in his eyes, plain as day. His hair was disheveled and his eyes looked heavy and sad, dark circles hanging underneath them. He looked so beautiful.

JJ was wordless as he strode towards you, his arms out as he finally held you lightly in his arms.

“I need you to hold me tighter, Jayje, please.” “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“*Please.”

The blond responded by just holding you tighter against him, one hand around your waist and the other supporting the back of your head. You let out a choked sob at the feeling of him around you, this is all you ever wanted, all you ever needed. It was like air was finally rushing through your lungs.

“I’m sorry I was angry, I’m so sorry.”

You just shook your head, unable to speak words as you continued to cry, wordlessly telling him not to apologize, just pulling him impossibly closer.

JJ stumbled a little as you pulled him, “Okay, okay. Let’s sit down.” He said softly, leading you to the outside couch, careful not to loosen his grip on your frame. JJ sat down in the corner and pulled you with him, situating your body between his legs, your arms wrapped around his neck as your head fell to rest in the crook of his neck. JJ’s hand that wasn’t on your waist came to rest on your cheek, his thumb slowly stroking your cheekbone back and forth.

“I’m so scared.” Your voice squeaked through your sobs and hiccups and JJ’s heart shattered, scattering broken pieces at his feet.

“M’not gonna leave you. Promise.”

You didn’t respond as you held up your pinky, signalling for him to hook his around yours, and he did, leaving a sweet kiss on your fingers, then returning his hand to it’s spot on your cheek, holding onto you for dear life. He wanted to find Tyler and kill him himself, even if only for the way you were shaking in his arms, it scared him. He had never seen you this broken before, he didn’t think anybody had, not including Sarah or Kie, but even then the amount was few.

He didn’t want to shush you or tell you everything was okay, because it wasn’t, really. Your abusive step brother was nowhere to be found and he had nearly killed you. It wasn’t okay. So, he let you cry and he held you, letting out an involuntary whine every time your body would tremor and whispering sweet things in your ear, until eventually you fell asleep in his arms, your breathing finally normal.

John B came out the front door when he heard your crying stop, Pope trailing close behind him, and the two leaned on the railing across from JJ.

“I wanna kill him.” JJ said, not looking up from his gaze on you. “Look at her.”

JJ was holding back his own tears now, forcing out a couple coughs to try and cover up his cracking voice. “The way she just broke down, I- I’ve never seen her like this before, guys. She usually has something funny to say, a joke to pull even in the toughest situations but she’s so scared and sad. Fuck, I never want to see her like this again.”

John B and Pope were silent as JJ talked, just listening to their distraught friend.

“I’m not leaving her. Not ‘til that son of a bitch is dead or behind bars for the rest of his life.”

Pope nodded, “I think that’s smart, actually.”

The boys were interrupted when Sarah brought out your bag, holding it out to JJ.

“She needs to change her bandages, they look a mess.”

JJ grabbed the bag and placed it on the ground next him, then turned to you and gently shook you awake, stroking your hair and whispering softly.

“Hey, pretty girl, Gotta get up and change your bandages, okay? They’re all twisted.”

You nodded and stood up, immediately whimpering from losing the extra compression around your ribs and the pain in your head. JJ shot up, fawning over you, offering to carry you to the bathroom. You just shook your head and made your way inside, keeping your eyes on your feet so you wouldn’t make eye contact with Pope or John B.

You made it to the bathroom before JJ did, so you sat on the counter and waited, he must’ve been talking to the boys outside.

“You should’ve said something sooner, Sarah. This could’ve been avoided.” You heard Kie’s voice through the door.

“What? Do you know how mad she would be if I did? She’d never talk to me again.” “At least she’d be safe.” Kie spat.

“Look, I- I didn’t know that was gonna happen, okay-”

“Obviously.” Kie muttered.

“You don’t think I’ve been beating myself up about it all week?”

“You should be beating your-”

“Kie, lay off.” John B’s voice interrupted, followed by the slamming of a bedroom door, and silence.

You frowned at the conversation. This was no one’s fault, no one but Tyler. He’s the scum who did this to you, there was no one else to blame. Kie was angry and looking for someone to pin it on who wasn’t conveniently missing, but it wasn’t fair to Sarah.

JJ entered the room not a moment later, holding your bag with fresh compression wraps and bandages, a nervous smile plastered on his face.

“Let me see.” He said, setting down the bag on the counter next to you.

You had a hesitant look on your face, you knew he meant for you to take off your shirt, and you didn’t want to. After everything-

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” He whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear him. “I just wanna help you, okay? I need to see them so I can help you, baby.”

You nodded and he mirrored the action, slowly bringing his arms forward to pull your shirt over your head, leaving you in just a bra and shorts. JJ didn’t bat an eye at your chest, solely focused on your injuries. He stayed silent while he carefully unwrapped the compression from your ribcage, which was now twisted from your sleeping position. He sucked in through his teeth while he looked at your ribcage, horribly discolored and red from the wrap, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your tiny heart tattoo, almost invisible from the bruising.

“Broken?” He asked.

You shrugged. You don’t pay attention when doctors talk, that was Christine’s job.

JJ didn’t acknowledge your answer, just continued his work. He pressed a kiss to each spot he unwrapped, telling you something about how it always made them heal faster.

“Kisses from a handsome man like myself make everything better.” He had said with a playful glint in his eye.

You wanted to smile and the sweetness and pureness of it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

JJ finished and crumpled up the old wraps and bandages before tossing them in the garbage and looking back at you. He looked at you for a moment before reaching his hand out and softly running his fingers over your red scratches. You couldn’t read his expression. You still didn’t know JJ well, having hated him the entire time you’ve known him up until just over a week ago, you were seeing him in a new light, and you couldn’t tell what he was making of all of this.

You told yourself he was probably over this, annoyed that he was having to deal with the beaten down girl in front of him instead of sticking himself into the gorgeous blonde he had wrapped around him at the Boneyard.

He thinks you're ugly and pathetic. Who the fuck scratches themselves?

“These look like they hurt, baby. You gotta stop doing this to yourself.” He said, bringing his blue eyes up to meet yours. “Not that easy.” You rasped back.

JJ sighed and nodded, he of all people knew how not easy it was to quit a coping mechanism. He always hated when Pope or Kiara would try to tell him to just “Stop drinking” or “Stop getting in fights”. It isn't easy when you feel like that’s the one thing that will help you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said seriously, his eyes full of intensity as he looked at you, the girl he felt so strongly for that he mistook the feeling for hatred.

You scoffed.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

JJ sighed and looked down before settling himself between your legs, his eyebrows knit together and eyes sharp on yours. “You know.”

“What kinda girl lets this happen to herself, JJ? It’s ugly, I look ugly.” Tears started to build up again and JJ didn’t know what to say.

“Baby, you didn’t let anything happen. This is not on you.”

You shook your head as more tears fell, “You don’t get it, I’m weak.”

JJ just shook his head, “No.”

“Stop disagreeing with me!” You yelled, trying to punch his chest but crying out from the pain in your hands. “I’m weak, I’m pathetic, I’m gross, I’m ugly! He did this to me! He made me this way and now he gets away with it! He gets away-”

You were inconsolable, your words were barely coherent as snot and tears ran down your face. You wanted JJ to agree, tell you you were weak and ugly, you needed to be right. It was comfortable to be right. “I’m right, JJ! Don’t fucking tell me I’m wrong! Why are you lying to me?!”

“Baby-”

“He did this to me! I’ll never feel clean again!”

If JJ’s heart wasn’t fully broken before, it was now. He felt utterly helpless for the first time in his life, completely not knowing what to do. He always had a next move. Even when his dad was beating the shit out of him, even when a kook had him pinned down, face in the sand and barely able to breathe. But now, looking at you, body broken and bruised and lips and eyes red and puffy from crying, choking on your own sobs, JJ felt fucking useless.

“(Y/n), please, breathe, angel.”

You stopped for a second and pushed your hair out of your face, looking at him confused.

“You can let it out, just remember to breathe, okay? You’re gonna panic and scratch yourself again.” His voice was so gentle as his hand lightly squeezed the back of your neck, his other hand softly caressing your thigh.

You just nodded slowly, expecting him to yell at you for your outburst or tell you you’re being childish, but you received the opposite. You began to take deep breaths for JJ, beginning to realize you’d do just about anything to get rid of the heart broken expression on his face.

He took deep breaths with you, placing your hands on his chest and covering them with his own so you could feel the rise and fall and the patter of his heart beat. He gave you a small smile when your breathing settled, and he let you fall into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Proud of you, pretty girl. Did so good.”

You whined and pulled away from him, you wanted to see his face, to see the way he was looking at you. JJ’s hands rested on your hips and he gave them a gentle squeeze as you stared at his ocean eyes.

“I wanna kiss you.” You whispered, your hands coming up to cradle the sides of his neck.

JJ shook his head, “Soon, I promise. Okay? But not now.” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He couldn’t kiss you while you were torn apart and terrified, he wanted to see the sparkle in your eyes, that striking grin on your cherry painted lips.

He doesn’t want to kiss you.

“Not like this. Not when you feel this way, okay?”

Oh.

You could’ve sworn your heart burst and melted all the way down to your toes. This was a new JJ. Even when he hated you he probably would’ve jumped at the opportunity to do anything with you, shutting up your loud mouth with his own. But now, it’s almost like he’s afraid to break you.

You nodded but stayed silent, finally letting your body rest against his. “I need to talk to the group.”

JJ nodded, helping you off of the counter. His heart squeezed when you intertwined your fingers with his, gently holding on so you wouldn’t hurt your hand further. His heart skipped a beat when you brought your free hand up to hold onto his forearm. You were gonna give him butterflies forever.

The two of you walked outside the bathroom and you saw your friends sitting and waiting for you, and you began to feel nauseous.

Once JJ got you out of the bathroom and onto the couch comfortably, you let go of his hand and he suddenly felt empty. You ran your hands up and down your thighs with anxiety before letting out a small whimper, feeling your body begin to surge with panic as you thought about what you had to tell your friends.

“You’re safe.” JJ whispered, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure what you wanted from him. You looped your arm through his and he brought his hand over to gently rest on your knee, giving you a soft kiss on your temple.

“I wanted to tell you guys this as soon as I knew, but I had to tell you in person and when I got here the emotions were just too much and-”

JJ pulled your hand down from your neck, softly shushing you to stop you from rambling. You hadn’t even realized you were scratching. You took a deep breath and looked at JJ again, waiting for his quick nod before you took the deepest breath of your life and said the words you had been dreading to say all week.

“Tyler killed my mom and sister.”

+

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[soulwillower]

housesitting •  richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: no

had this in my drafts and figured i’d finish it and post it, sorry for being away, but idk if i’ll keep writing! hope you enjoy, i’ll prob still come back and update/post fics on this account on occasion. love u guys lots and i hope you’re all doing okay <3333

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), light deepthroating/face fucking, praise kink, degradation, use of the words slut, whore, etc, suuuper unedited

(losers + reader are 21+.)

4.7k words

♡

the moment you stepped back into your flat, dropping your bag heavily on the ground with a sigh, you finally felt like you could breathe. 

today and yesterday had been a nightmare - you and your roommate bill had gone home, planning to stay for a week with family and friends back home. 

you'd spent the first night out with old friends at the bar enjoying yourselves and  you'd even gone home with a handsome boy you'd had a crush on in high school. but just as he was about to go down on you, after you'd gone down on him despite how terrible his b.o. was, he said he wouldn’t because it was 'gross.' 

you hate to admit but you were slightly tipsy and horny, so you still stayed for ten minutes of awful, boring missionary before he fell asleep. then when you'd left in the uber, a voice message from your boss threatened to fire you if you didn't come in and finish a project - so you had to scramble for a flight home, leaving bill back with your friends in maine for a few days, and now you're just ready for a shower, a nicely packed bowl, and a large dinner. 

because good god, that was an awful trip. 

"hello?" you call, rubbing your eyes as you walk towards your kitchen, wondering if your roommate's best friend was still here - he was supposed to stay and take care of the apartment while you were away. 

but instead, your eyes landed on a complete mess in the kitchen; solo cups everywhere, trash, empty chip bags, furniture moved and counters sticky from spilt beer. 

"what the fuck?" you project, eyes landing on the figure who walks into the kitchen, towel hanging low on his hips as water drips from wet, shaggy curls of hair. you meet the bright eyes of richie tozier, your roommate’s best friend. 

he looks like a deer in headlights, his glasses slightly fogged as he blinks his eyes owlishly and you swear his eye lashes tangle together as he blinks. "oh, hey y/n, why are you here?" 

and honestly, richie has always made your fingers tingle and your abdomen clench when he so much as looks at you, despite bill’s groaning and glaring when you refer to him as ‘hot friend number one.’ (he had a lot of hot friends). 

but you’re wound up, stressed, frustrated, and exhausted so all you can do is look from the boy to the mess and then back, stunned, "this is my apartment." 

he chuckles, wiping a drip of water off of his chest. you have to fight to look away, feeling burning from irritation and also something else as your chest heaves. you're just so tired, and this boy who you don't know very well has trashed your place and maybe even had a party and you just want to smoke and go to bed and- 

"say, what are you doing back so soon, toots? thought i had the place to myself for the next five days." he says too casually, grinning like he's catching up with an old friend. his hand runs through his wet hair, droplets rolling down his bare skin and causing you to fight the urge to keep your eyes on his face.

you shake your head. "richie, why does my kitchen look like a scene from dexter?" you say, trying to keep yourself calm. 

he tilts his head in an irksome, handsome way that makes you want to scream, "pretty sure dexter was....murdering murderers, not slamming smirnoff at three am."  "clean it up! what gives you the nerve to have a party in someone else's fucking apartment? while they're gone?!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. richie shrugs uncomfortably and you're briefly in shock at how much faith richie is putting in the small tuck he's made with the towel, barely keeping up on in his waist. he laughs somewhat nervously, "sheesh, doll, it would've been cleaned by sunday, you just surprised me and almost gave me a heart attack while i was in the shower. bill told me we could throw at your place as long as we were responsible." he sounds pretty genuine, but you're just so tightly wound and frustrated.

"well this," you gesture to your place, "is not responsible." you glare, "i'm going to shower. i've had a long fucking day, and when i get out the place better be fucking spotless and you better be gone. i'm not asking." you snap. 

he grins as you push past him, turning to watch you storm towards the bathroom with an apologetic grimace on his face. 

- 

you took as long as you could in the shower, savoring every warm drop until you stepped out of your bathroom, expecting to see an empty apartment. 

"what are you staring at?" the boy with the curls mutters as he fixes the wine glass he'd placed on the counter. you're pretty speechless as you look around, wondering how richie had managed to get your place more clean and inviting than how you'd left it. dishes are all clean, put away, the counters spotless; the oven is set with a timer for two hours, and the smell of lasagna invites your nose with a rumble of your stomach. two glasses of wine are poured, sitting at the counter as richie chews on his lip anxiously, hair glinting in the dark mood lighting from the lamp near the window. 

"i felt bad. you seem like you had a long day and i didn't mean to make it worse." he admits. 

you step forward, suddenly feeling hot as you watch him, his jaw clenched slightly and sharper than you remember it. he's actually really fucking beautiful, you realize. 

"you didn't have to do all this." you say, biting your lip as you take the wine glass from his hand. 

"i know." he says with a cocky smirk. your face feels hot as you watch him slide out the stools by your breakfast bar, sitting down and sipping on his own wine. 

with a smile, you sit next to him. he was always the friend of bills that made you the most flustered - he's a tall, loud, garish bartender who spends most his time doing stand up at the clubs on the weekends even though he studied applied mathematics in school. he's the kind of boy that everybody has a crush on, because he's got that dorky yet beautiful sculpt; dark, curly locks, pale skin with a splattering of bright freckles. his eyes pierce yours whenever you're in the same room and his grin makes your stomach flip on it's head. 

"so, why'd you come back early?" richie asks as he takes a sip, eyes staring at you brightly from behind the rim of the glass. you huff a small bitter laugh, "my boss told me i had to come back because we're understaffed. told me the extra hours are 'building charater' or something. but i was having a shitty trip anyways, so i may as well just volunteer my time." 

he laughs, muttering, "good girl. doin' the lords work." you almost laugh but his words have heat sent straight between your legs and you can't tind words, suddenly in a state of shock. oh, god, this wine is getting to you.

richie's always been so hot, you're not surprised that one casual phrase had you so frantic like this. you blink, richie muttering, "y/n?" gently. 

you shake your head, snapping to look at him, "y-yeah? sorry, i just- what did you say?" you're embarrassed. you're embarrassed because richie didn't even mean it like that and you didn't expect to like being called that by him and you're embarrassed because he knows now, god look at his smirk, you're done for. 

"i asked why your trip was shit." he says simply, smirk on his face causing your face to heat up even more. you sigh, eyeing him, "i tried to enjoy myself and then i have the worst hookup experience of my life. then i came back to a messy apartment." you admit, shaking your head as richie pours you both another glass of wine, "the worst? that's a shame. what'd he do, throw up on you?" 

you laugh, "no, nothing like that. he was a minute man, and he refused to..." you shake your head, wondering why you're admitting this to a guy you barely know. you've never hung out one-on-one before with him.  "-he made me do all the work. and then he fell asleep. the worst part is, i've liked him since high school." you admit, dropping your face into your hands as richie lets out a chuckle. 

richie's shaking his head, "see, those types are the ones who just shouldn't be allowed in the gene pool. lazy. missin' out on all the fun, especially with a gal like you." he says with a wink. you laugh, face feeling hot. "i'm no fun." you say bashfully. 

richie raises his brows with a grin, his smile making you melt, heat pooling in between your legs from the way he runs his fingers across the rim of his glass. "i highly doubt that, doll." 

his eyes dip down in a not-so-subtle way as he takes in your body, biting his lip and making you clear your throat with a heated face. "sorry you had to put up with a guy who couldn't fuck you the right way. and that your boss also fucked you. and that i ruined your night." 

you shake your head, "i just had so much pent up stress from the last few days." he's eyeing you, and you wonder if he wants to fuck you as bad as you want to be fucked right now. would bill kill you? yeah, he would, but richie is so damn fine and you were left so high and dry last night that you’re just about ready to jump onto his lap. 

as if reading your mind, richie hums, "bill's still in maine, yeah?" he asks casually, eyes fluttering to the timer on the oven that ready an hour. 

you nod, "yeah, he's actually hanging out with the guy i hooked up with tonight." you say with a light huff. richie groans a laugh, "no fuckin' way. i promise, not all of bill's friends are bad at sex." richie says with a grin, and you laugh. "you sure about that?" 

he hums, eyeing you but not responding. 

“guess i’ll just have to find out.” you say boldly, butterflies fluttering in your chest when richie shoots you a deep look, slicking his lips through a smile. he hums, "so i don't get it, what was so bad about it?" 

you sigh, "he wouldn't go down on me. said he was 'too tired' and ‘too much work’ then he wanted to lay down so i rode him for, like, five minutes and then he fell asleep." 

richie's laughing, and you swat his arm as your face burns, "it's not funny! it's humiliating, richie." 

he snorts, standing up to place your empty glasses in the sink, recycling the empty bottle. "sorry, doll. that's just shit. he should've at least had the decency to make you cum." 

you almost choke on your spit at his bluntness, face blossoming and thighs tingling. "y-yeah." 

"anyways, i can get going, if you'd like. guess i’m done being the house sitter. the lasagna will be done in an hour or so." he says with a nod, eyes staring at yours fiercely. you hum, standing up as richie walks closer. "or you could stay." you say, looking up at him from where he stands in front of you. 

"you lonely or somethin', doll?" he rumbles lowly, lifting a brow. biting your lip, you swallow, "something like that." you say, lifting a challenging brow. 

“so if it was stan here, or mike...” he starts, walking towards you until he’s close enough that you’re afraid he can hear your heart thump, “you’d want them to stay?” 

you swallow dryly, “if bill lived with someone else, would you want to stay?” his smirk makes you clench your thighs. his long fingers raise and curl around your jaw, tilting your head back before tucking hair behind your ear. you swallow roughly, his hands are so big. his rings that he wears are thick and ice cold and feel so good against your warm face. 

your heart pounds as he smirks, eyes challenging you. the waiting is killing you.

"you've got a pretty mouth." he whispers, sending shocks all around your body. "y-you've got a pretty everything." you stutter out, feeling extremely flustered and suddenly shy. "thanks, honey." he says with a laugh, making you feel even more bashful.  

"y'know..." he drawls, hand settled on your neck, caressing your jaw, "i've wanted you since i first saw you." 

you can't help the whimper as it falls from your lips. it's a small, shy noise of need and it makes richie beam a beautiful, sexy grin that has your knees weak. "please..." you whimper, eyes staring at his, the suspense making you anxious with need. 

"please what?" he asks quietly, clearly loving the tense air. you almost roll your eyes, "kiss me." you say, rushed. 

he pulls away slightly, giving you a stern look. “please.” he says, smirk creeping onto his face. you burn in slight humiliation because he knows what he’s doing. 

“please kiss me, richie.” you finally say, swallowing.

"good girl." he says with a smirk and you feel like you're burning up under his gaze. but then he’s leaning in and his lips are on yours and wow, richie is a good kisser. he’s pulling you towards him tightly, hungrily; his teeth bite gently at your lower lip as his tongue swipes your own, pulling you into him. he was needy in the way he kissed you, a dominance in him that you're not surprised to find. you craved it, you craved him; and then he's pushing you back, up onto the stool as he moves between your legs. 

his mouth is then marking your neck, claiming you, and you love it, the feeling of his teeth against your warm skin, the sweetness of his smile against you.

his hands brush up your thighs and past the hem of your shorts, legs spread so he’s pressed flush against you, his bulge so close to where you want him. "richie," you let out a mangled whimper, hair knotting in his soft curls. he laughs, lips finding your ear, "always wondered how you'd sound when i had you like this," he says quietly, "can't wait to hear what pretty noises you make when i'm inside you." 

his fingers find the damp seat of your panties, dancing across it and making your legs shake with anticipation and neediness. you’re already a soaked, mewling mess as you grasp for him, hungry and needy and you want him closer, closer. 

he pulls you off the stool, then, and you both stare at each other for a moment. he almost dies at the state of you; already fucked-out, hair mussed up and still wet, your eyes lidded and your lips kiss-swollen. 

you can’t believe your eyes, richie’s curly hair fluffy from being freshly washed, the taste of wine on his lips, the freckles, the collarbone peeking from his collar, the smirk that could melt black ice. he looks like he could tear you apart. you hope he will. 

“you’re hot.” you blurt. 

he rushes at you again, melding your lips together with a searing hot kiss as he shoves you backwards towards the bedrooms. 

"bill told me to stay away from you," richie says as he walks you down the hall, your feet nearly stumbling and shaky as you walk backwards, lips seeking his every moment, "he said i'd ruin you." he adds. 

you lift a brow, too flustered to say anything as you stare up at richie, inhaling sharply as his hand trails down to cup your ass lightly, still walking backwards. "he knows how pretty i think you are. how hot, how... perfect." he whispers into the skin of your neck, raising goosebumps. "but i want to fuck you so well you forget your name. i don't care about what bill wants." 

you look at him, desperate and needy. "i don't give a fuck what bill says. i want you, please." you say, pawing richie and kissing him needily. richie’s leaving dark love bites on the column of your neck and you know it's wrong, and you shouldn't, but you let him kick open the door into bill's room, guiding you to bill’s bed instead of yours. “please, wan’ you so bad,” you pant, the needy throbbing getting unbearable, desperate for some release. 

“how bad, pretty girl?” he asks, smoothing down your hair. biting your lip, you sit on the bed, eyes level with the zipper of his pants. the sight of you staring up at him from below his hard, clothed cock makes his pants feel even tighter and he hums, "you sure?" 

you nod enthusiastically, "wanna make you feel good, please." he lets out a soft noise as your hands go to pull down his fly, “filthy girl." he says lowly, making heat drip from your core. you shift, trying to relieve some pressure. you feel hot when you realize you want him to degrade you, that you love it. “god, say that again.” you moan, mouthing around his bulge. his hands come to caress your face, watching you, 

"you like being my little whore, huh? so good just for me. bet you’ve thought of my cock in your mouth before, haven’t you?" 

you nod, biting your lip. he grins and you’re moving to pull him out of his pants, trying to conceal your shocked face as you take in his size. your cheeks heat up, hand grazing his length and meeting his own hand as he pumps himself a few times, lining his tip up to your lips. 

“open.” he says simply and you comply willingly, laying your tongue out. he’s teasing his cock on your tongue and you’re whining, desperate to feel him in your mouth, to make him feel good. 

“just wait until i say so, baby.” he says, slapping your tongue lightly with his cock and making you shift on your legs, dripping wet.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays on your tongue. “suck my cock pretty girl.” he mutters, caressing your cheek. so you close your lips, slowly sucking on his tip before taking a bit more, moving your head slowly. 

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much in as you can. he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag and he hums, hands pulling your hair from your eyes - you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. his hands fall to your head and he gently, slowly thrusts his hips slightly. you gag, mouth wet as he pulls out of your mouth and wipes the trails of spit from your lips. “do it again, please.” you gasp, and he grins. “such a  slut.” 

he guides your face back to him, “tap me three times if it’s too much.” you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s thrusting into your mouth. he groans, both hands on your head, his chest rising and falling shakily.

"god, that’s so perfect. my good little toy.” he rumbles and your chest flutters. you feel him twitch and you sense he may be close, so you start to bob your head again.

he stops you, "no, pretty girl. i'm going to cum inside of you, okay?" you swallow, mouth dry, "okay." please. 

he sinks to his knees, gently pushing you so you're laying down on the bed again, pulling your legs so they hang off the side of the mattress. he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear following as he spreads your legs wider, kissing your thighs. “look at that pretty pussy. soaked, all for me.”

you're breathing shakily as one finger rises to gently rub your slit, making you moan softly. his touch is feathery-light, teasing you and making you whine, moving your hips. "shhh." he says softly, bringing his tongue to lick up your slit. you moan out, relieved to have some sort of satisfaction. richie's hand moves up to push up your top, thumbing your nipples as he starts to suck your clit. he pins your hips down, "be a good slut and stay still for me." he says, burying his face as your toes start to curl in pleasure, the burning sensation of pleasure increasing. 

he rubs circles into your hips with one hand as he slides two fingers into your heat, making you whimper, his fingers start to pick up pace as he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. his long fingers curl up inside of you, still pushing into you fast and rough, hitting your g-spot. you moan, “richie, harder, please.”

he hums, lifting his head as you gasp for breath, "since you asked so nicely, doin' everything i say." his fingers are moving again, faster than before. his tongue runs over your clit, practically moaning into your heat, fingers moving faster. you moan unabashedly, feeling yourself clench and knowing you're about to cum. your legs wrap around his shoulders as your hips move slightly, 

“cum on my tongue like a good little slut, okay baby?” he says gently. you moan, eyes shutting as you see stars. you're hitting your high and then richie's watching you, praising you as you fall apart, letting out soft whimpers. 

then you're sitting up as he rises from his knees, licking his lips. pulling him into a searing kiss, he crawls on top of you, rutting into you a few times before pulling back. 

he's pulling himself out of his pants and you swallow around your words, resisting the shocked face that threatens to creep on to you when you see how big he is. you moan as you watch him pump himself, pulling off his shirt as you pull off your own. 

he grins as he looks at you, "so good for me, my little slut. you want me to fuck you now?" he asks and you eagerly pull yourself up to your elbows, "yes, please, rich, fuck me." 

he hums, pushing his cock against your slit, the tip rubbing your sensitive clit and making you moan sharply. he continues to tease you, one hand on his cock and the other holding your waist. "use me, please." you whisper in his ear, hand holding him to you from the back of his neck. 

he lets out a sharp breath, hand snaking to your neck and pushing you back onto the mattress. "you want me to use you?" he asks, thrusting against you slowly, teasing your slit. "like my little plaything?" 

"yes, god, richie, please-" but then he's sliding into you all at once, his large cock stretching you as he moves his hips, sheathing into you. you feel so full that all you can do is gasp, richie kissing your forehead as his hand rests on your throat. "gonna fuck you on bill's bed, okay? and you're gonna be good for me, right? my good little cockslut." 

you nod yes, "so good for you." you say, and he smiles. he starts to pull out, easing back in and starting a shallow rhythm, getting you used to his size. you're euphoric as he starts to languidly pump into you, one hand on your neck and the other on your chest, palming your tit. 

he starts thrusting into you, picking up speed - rough and fast. his hips buck up against you, pulling back fully before filling you up. his thumb gently grazes your sensitive clit and you grip his bare back, raking your nails down in pleasure. "do you walk around thinking of how it'd feel to get fucked by me, baby?" he whispers in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. you moan, "yes, r-rich, i've wanted you for s-so long," you trail off into a moan. "feels so good." you mutter, panting, words babbling from your mouth incoherently. 

you barely have a warning before you cum a second time, clenching so hard that richie's hips sstutter, his moan ringing with your own. he looks down at you, thumb trailing into your open mouth, you eagerly sucking on it like a lollipop. "god, you're so tight, doll. such a good little whore for me. i bet you'd let me do anything to you, anywhere." 

your legs are shaking as he keeps thrusting you through your orgasm, feeling sensitive and euphoric. he smirks, "yeah? bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, just my little fuck toy. so perfect for me." 

you nod, kissing him needily, tears from oversensitivity pricking your eyes. "want you filling me up richie, feels so good." 

"anywhere?" he asks, eyebrows knit in pleasure as he fucks into you. he's so possesive, it makes your face warm. you nod, "anywhere." 

he's smirking, and you know he's thinking about how shocked bill would be if he found out. it makes it that much hotter as you turn and see the picture of bill and richie on the wall near the door. 

then richie pulls out of you and you're being flipped onto your knees, richie's large hand pushing your face towards the soft sheets. you can't help the moans that escape you as he spits onto your dripping cunt, fingers playing with your used pussy as you moan, sensitive and still desperate. "pretty baby, all fucked out. can you take one more?" he asks, hands roaming your ass. you nod, yelping gently when a hand smacks down on your ass. 

"can you take one more?" he asks. "yes!" you moan into the mattress with need. he mutters, "good girl." as he pushes into you, the new angle making you moan loudly. with every thrust, he pushes you down on the mattress, making you grip against the edge of it with pleasure. one of his hands drops down to rub your clit, and you buck needily against his touch. after only a few minutes, the combination of the snap of his hips, the few slaps on your ass, and his hands on your clit push you over the edge, clenching around his cock as you whimper. your legs barely stay up after you cum, and his arm wraps around you to hold you as he pounds into you, chasing his own high. 

"yes, my pretty girl, so good." he praises again, hips speeding up. you think he's close because his breathing is faster, hands gripping your hips hard as he kisses down your spine, "take it." he whispers onto your back as he finally cums, pulling out and finishing on your ass and lower back, moaning lightly. 

you can't believe what just happened as richie disappears, returning at the speed of light with a damp washcloth to clean you off. you blush at how sweet the gesture is before he falls next to you on the bed, sighing. "i'll be honest, i didn't expect that." 

you laugh, "neither did i. i thought i was coming home to an empty apartment and some microwave ramen." 

he's staring at you, a smirk on his face, “i'd apologize again but holy fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” you don't know what to say, feeling hot as you roll your eyes with a grin. he laughs and kisses you, “you’re cute, you know.” 

"says you." you mutter against his lips. you thank god bill won't be back soon as you watch his best friend rise, naked, from beside you and grab a spare hoodie and gym shorts from bill's closet, throwing them on before handing you his own shirt to wear.

"so, lasagna?" he asks, glasses askew slightly. you laugh as you stand on shaky legs, "it's the least you could do." you joke. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters  @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

[arrowflier]

Can you write Mickey be the whipped married guy in his friend group who always leaves early because he misses his husband 😂🥰

“Read ‘em and weep, boys,” Mickey said, smirking as he laid his cards on the table with a flourish.

The other three men groaned, tossing their own cards to the middle without even bothering to show them.

“That’s the third one in a row, Milkovich,” one of them complained. “You tryin’ to hussle us?”

“Ey! Shut up, Danny,” another hissed, whacking his arm with the back of one hand. “Kid’ll probably gut ya for sayin’ that shit.”

“Nah,” Danny said. “He wouldn’t dare, he’d get sent back to the can without his hubby.”

All three men broke out into raucous laughter, Danny making kissy noises until Mickey grabbed up a handful of cards from the table and smacked them right into his pursed lips.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” Mickey said. “Just remember that Joe knows what he’s talkin’ about—learned a lot of ways to kill a guy in prison.”

“Not much else to do there,” Joe agreed with a nod as the other two men started to wind down.

“Unless you got a man!” the third man, Timmy, chimed in, and they were off again.

“Sure, sure,” Mickey said, letting them laugh. “But there’s only so much an ass can take, fellas, and once that’s done…”

He mimed slitting his own throat.

“Ugh, Mickey,” Danny groaned. “We don’t need to know that shit, man.”

“You’re the maintenance guy, Dan,” Timmy said. “Don’t tell me you never walked in on the two of ‘em?”

“Fuck no!” Danny exclaimed. “If their stupid little ambulance is in the lot, I come back later!”

“Lucky,” Joe sighed. “I was up there cleaning the windows once before they got curtains, and—”

“Whoa!” Mickey interrupted, holding out a hand over the table. “Let’s keep that shit to ourselves, fuck you very much.”

Joe grinned.

“Why should I?” he asked. “Not like you cared at the time.”

Mickey rolled his eyes.

“At the time, I had a more important issue to deal with.”

His phone went off in his pocket, the shrill tone cutting through the room loud enough to halt the conversation.

“Speak of the fuckin’ devil,” Mickey muttered, digging it out. “Ian just texted, he’s heading back up. Sorry guys, guess that’s it for today.”

A chorus of groans met his statement, a chair creaking as Danny leaned back too far.

“You always abandon us, man,” he complained. “As soon as he’s done, you nope outa here, even in the middle of a hand.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows.

“We in the middle of a hand now, genius?” he asked. “No? Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go meet up with my husband.”

“Fine, fine,” Danny said with a sad wave. “But someday you gotta at least bring him down here to meet us when we play, so you can’t go runnin’ off before you lose.”

Mickey snorted.

“I don’t lose,” he said dryly. “And you’ve already met him.” He looked around the table, meeting every pair of eyes. “All of you fuckers have.”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I have. And you know what?” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, let it go. “I don’t fuckin’ get it, man, I really don’t.”

“I’m with Dan,” Timmy said, sitting straight. “Guy’s an over-sized puppy dog, and you’re a badass, Mick. How’s he got you so wrapped around his little finger?”

Mickey waited a beat, then looked to Joe.

“Anything you want to add?” he asked the cleaner, but Joe just shook his head.

“Nah man,” he said with a snort. “I’ve seen exactly how he’s got you wrapped up.”

Mickey flushed.

“You shut the fuck up,” he demanded, pointing at the older man. “Or next time, I’ll open the window and shove you off your platform.”

“The windows don’t open!” Danny called toward Mickey’s back as he turned to walk away.

Mickey threw him a middle finger over his shoulder.

“And I’m not sure you’d get to them anyway if he trusses you up like that every time!” Joe added, and got the other finger added for his efforts.

The door to the basement slammed as Mickey left, and the three men were left alone in the pleasantly chilly employees-only room.

“Think he’ll ever bring him by?” Timmy wondered.

“Nah,” Joe answered him. “Only time he comes down here’s when Big Red is busy.”

They all nodded in agreement as Joe gathered up the cards again.

“Another hand fellas?”

—

Exactly a week later, Joe, Danny, and Timmy were down in the basement again, clustered around their little card table between the lockers that held their personal things.

“Too hot to be mowing, man,” Timmy complained, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “When I took this job, I thought it’d be cushy, but that Melanie bitch is demanding as fuck.”

“Your own fault for pickin’ such a stupid job, mate,” Danny told him with a heavy pat on the back. “It is hot as balls out, though,” he agreed a second later as he took a seat. "That weird lady on the third floor doesn't run the AC, and I was up there all mornin' fixin' her shower."

“Anybody know if Mickey’s joinin’ today?” Joe asked, shuffling the same deck of cards they used every week.

“Nah,” Timmy answered. “He only comes when his man’s at the gym, yeah?” Danny and Joe both nodded. “Well, Big Red was headin’ up to his place when I finished up; he must’ve decided it was too hot too.”

But before Joe could start dealing, the door above them creaked open, and they could hear heavy footfalls on the steps. From the sound of it, more than one person.

Mickey appeared first, a wide smirk on his face, followed immediately by Big Red himself.

“Hey losers,” Mickey greeted, making straight for the table. But instead of sitting, he just pulled out the chair, and motioned for his husband to take it.

“Uh, hi guys,” Ian Gallagher said as he obediently sat down. “I hope you don’t mind me joining.”

The three men just stared, then stared harder as Mickey, instead of finding a seat of his own, chose to plop right down on Gallagher’s lap.

“Figured you guys had bugged me enough,” he told them. “Might as well give you what you asked for.”

“Uh, yeah.” Joe was the first one to recover, offering a cautious smile to the newcomer. “Hey man, good to see ya. You know how to play?”

“Probably,” Ian said with a shrug, one arm wrapping around Mickey’s waist to keep him in place. “What are we playing? Five card draw? Texas hold’em? Seven card stud? High Chicago? Low Chicago? Follow the Queen?”

He looked around the table, and stopped when all he saw were stunned faces.

“Uh…or something else?” he added hesitantly.

“No, no, just…regular poker,” Joe answered, eyes wide. “None of that weird shit.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ian said with a little laugh. “My dad made sure we knew all the games, made it easier to help him cheat. I remember one time he tried to sneak me into a casino just to grab wallets while he played, but I ended up winning big at a high-rollers table until they found out I was only seventeen and chased us out.”

He sighed wistfully.

“Still wish I had managed to cash out first, would have set us up for a year.”

All the men, Mickey excluded, just blinked at him.

“Your puppy tellin’ the truth, Mick?” Timmy finally squeaked, but all he got from Mickey was a shark-like grin.

“Deal him in,” Mickey ordered with a nod to Joe. “And remember, you fuckers asked for this.”

[shorkbrian]

A Midsommar Night’s Dream

Prelude - I watched midsommar so have this.

Pairing - Izuku X reader X Todoroki males

Warnings - NSFW, dead dove, do not eat. Implied incest, cult-like behaviors. Dubcon.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/7clyJIrLkEbXUDwj1tC9zz?si=EK3gCdOHQ3WQeK-ed9eucg 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Izuku’s been officially dating you for three weeks.

Three weeks.

He’s known you for far longer - the two of you solid friends since you first met. The man doesn’t know when friendship had evolved into something more, but he’s sure glad it did.

You were sweet, and kind, and far too caring for your own good. You didn’t mind waiting up for Izuku when his nights ran late, studying for his masters or taking on extra shifts.

You would rub his shoulders when he got stressed, offer to make him tea or run him a bath or anything else he needed, anything to help out. You loved him, and he loved you.

Tonight was a night that many partners might fear - meeting the family.

But Izuku was hardly worried. He was best friends with your brother Shouto, a level-headed student with good work ethics and a dry sense of humor. The rest of the family couldn’t be that bad.

A simple dinner, you had told him, dress casual and no gifts required. Still, Izuku felt obligated to bring the finest bottle of bourbon his paycheck could afford him (he’d asked Shouto what your father’s favorite was, just to be safe).

The Todoroki household was impressive; massive and imposing in the countryside, surrounded by tall stone walls and looking straight out of a victorian romance novel. Izuku knows what those look like, because he’s seen them on the covers of the romance novels you like to read. He’s always doing his best to pay attention to your likes and dislikes.

“Izuku!” came your excited little voice as the door opened after his loud knock, and the green-haired man couldn’t stop himself from breaking out in a smile.

You were almost bouncing in excitement behind your older brother Shouto as he held the door open, taking the offered bottle of bourbon from Izuku with a nod before leaving you alone together in the foyer.

“Hey, missed you-” Izuku grunted as you attacked him in a hug, and a laugh bubbled out of you both when the solid man had to take a step backwards from  the push of your body.

“Missed you too! I’m so excited for tonight, it’s so good that Dad and the rest of the family are accepting you.” A quick kiss to his cheek distracted Izuku.

You were fairly comfortable with physical touch, resting your head on his shoulder, never afraid to snuggle up to his side on movie nights, or hold his hand out in public (especially now that the two of you were dating). But Izuku had honestly expected more.... sensuality once the two of you started seeing each other as lovers more than just friends.

He had asked to kiss you one night, after you’d made him dinner and rubbed his shoulders and listened to him talk about the latest subject he was studying. Izuku had felt his heart warm, like cold wax cradled over a flame, and his love for you was bursting out of his chest. He wanted to kiss you and hold you close, tell you how much he loved you.

You had just smiled shyly and shook your head, saying you wanted to wait a bit. Which Izuku understood! This was all new, going from friends-to-dating, and he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable in any way. He was willing to wait.

So the kiss to his cheek surprised him, made him stutter and blush and hug you a bit tighter.

Then you were taking his hand, leading him through the maze of a house. He couldn’t help but notice the old-timey decorations mixed in with the more modern features, but done in an elegant, timeless fashion. A good blend of old mixed with new.

Stepping into the large dining room hand-in-hand with you, Izuku was met with the sight of the entire Todoroki family.

“Everybody-” You started, catching their attention until every set of eyes was on you and the tall man by your side. “This is Izuku!”

Shouto stepped forward, closest to the pair of you, and set his hand on Izuku’s shoulder with a smile. “Glad to have you joining the family.” 

Izuku smiled back, pulling his friend into a hug and giving him a hearty pat on the back.

“This is Fuyumi-” A tap to Izuku’s shoulder had him turning around, stepping away from Shouto to shake your sister’s hand. 

“Hi Izuku, I’ve heard such good things about you.” Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like your own. Izuku could see the family resemblance between the two of you. 

“And this is Natsuo, he’s studying for his masters just like you.” A white-haired man approached him, friendly and open, ready to shake Izuku’s hand but ultimately pulling him into a hug. 

“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” Natsuo laughed, and Izuku shrugged, completely unbothered.

“Here’s Touya.” You introduced a redhead next, a man sitting almost sullenly at the table. He didn’t rise to his feet, didn’t even take Izuku’s offered handshake. 

“This is the guy you’ve been babbling about? He looks bori-”

“Touya.”  The room, already hushed, grew even more silent, almost heavy with the weight of the voice from the man at the head of the table.

The gangly redhead shut his mouth, looking ready to roll his eyes. You pulled Izuku past him towards the imposing man who was looking at the man at your side, appraising him.

“And this is my dad. Dad, this is Izuku.”

“A pleasure to meet you sir.” Izuku shook the mans large hand, and the man nodded solemnly.

“Sit down, we’re ready to eat.”

-----

Dinner wasn’t a quiet affair. Comfortable conversation flowed easily between everyone; questions about Izuku’s degree, about his goals, his dreams, his job. He knew it was just everyone getting to know him, assurance that he was suitable for their daughter. Izuku wanted to be perfect for you, anything and everything you needed.

Enji (Izuku was not about to call your father dad) asked only a few questions, otherwise decidedly quiet at his spot at the table, chewing his food while watching Izuku respond to the rest of his family. 

It was mainly Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto keeping the conversation flowing, Izuku easily keeping up with whatever they decided to talk about, asking engaging questions of his own about the family members he’d just met, laughing easily whenever you made a pun or Shouto’s dry humor jumped out.

Everything seemed to be going well. 

Fuyumi asked to be excused, saying she needed to go prepare, and Enji waved her off easily, telling you to go with her. You rose from your chair easily, but not before catching Izuku’s hand and giving it a squeeze, eyes shining as you leaned close to whisper “See you in a bit.”.

“You really love her?” Touya asked as soon as the two women left the room to go prepare dessert, leaving Izuku alone with the male Todoroki’s. Izuku assumed this would be when he gets the shake-down, the usual “Hurt her and we’ll kill you” talk.

“So much. Sometimes I feel like I love her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” Izuku confessed.

“She talks about you a lot. I think she feels the same way that you do.” Natsuo supplied from across the table, and Izuku felt his cheeks flush, his heart flutter. It was one thing to know you loved someone - to feel the warmth and peace it brought to your soul. It was another to know that they loved you back; it made him feel whole.

“I've seen how you treat her, I think the two of you are a good match.” Shouto said, and Izuku smiled at his friend. Shouto had been his buddy since high school, truthfully was the reason that Izuku and you had met. You’d come along with Shouto one day when he’d come to hang out with Izuku, and the two of you had become fast friends.

Natsuo was rising from the table, walking back to the little shelf along one wall where various drinks sat (and Izuku’s bourbon gift). Izuku watched the man begin to pour out a red liquid, before his attention was caught by Shouto leaving the table as well, taking his plate and exiting the room.

Then Natsuo was placing a glass of the red liquid down in front of Izuku. “Don’t worry, this is nothing more than homemade punch.” He said as Izuku eyed it.

“It’s tradition.”  Touya growled and Izuku found himself taken aback at the heat in the other man’s voice. Was the redhead angry at him for some reason? 

“Touya, calm down.” The eldest Todoroki said, and Izuku almost wanted to cower himself at the sheer dominance exuding from the powerful man. “Izuku is becoming family. You will be happy for your sister, not jealous.”

Touya huffed, grumbling under his breath before shoving his seat away from the table. “Just don’t fuckin’ hurt her, got it? She’s my baby sister.” 

“I would never-” But Touya is already storming out of the room, uncaring of Izuku’s assurances.

Natsuo sighs. “Don’t mind him, he just.... doesn’t like change.”

“What is this again?” Picking up the red drink, Izuku swirled it around the glass, trying to change the subject and hopefully smooth over the tension. Most of the tension had dissipated when Touya left, but it never hurt to be proactive. 

“It’s a tea we brew and sweeten ourselves. We grow the plants in the backyard, you’ll see them soon.” Natsuo explained.

“It’s tradition?” Izuku parroted Touya’s earlier words, before taking a quick sip. It was delicious tea.

“Yes, we like to welcome those who are approved to join the family.” Natsuo laughed a little. “Fuyumi’s husband thought we were trying to drug him. It’s really just tea.”

Izuku snorted. It tasted like tea, why would someone think the Todoroki’s were trying to drug them? Sure, the family might be a little odd, but they weren’t malicious... right?

Before he knew it, his cup was empty and Natsuo had slipped out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with the head of the household, Enji.

Where were you? And why had everyone else left the room?

“I’m very particular about who I allow in my house, boy.” Enji started, and Izuku suddenly felt.... uneasy.

“Not everyone thinks the same way as the Todoroki’s. But you seem to be a bright young man. Educated. You aren’t going to be any trouble, are you?”

The last question wasn’t posed as such. It was a statement. 

Still, Izuku shook his head. “No sir, I have no intentions of causing trouble.” Why did this casual dinner feel so serious? there was so much emphasis on being accepted into the family, on being welcomed. Izuku recognized how big of a deal that was but still... it’s not like you were about to marry him. He was planning on that a few years down the road.

“Come with me.” Enji instructed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before his impressive bulk hefted itself out of his chair. Izuku felt tiny next to the patriarch, following the man through the dark, empty house.

He wanted to ask where Enji was taking him. Where you had disappeared to, where the rest of the family had gone. But that would be rude, so Izuku kept his mouth shut.

Outside it was dark, moon shining dimly through the sky, the residual warmth of the summer day still held in the air. Izuku followed Enji through the back door, down along a path, into the plentiful, green backyard.

To a grove of trees, torches flickering from within the grove, small bushes and beautiful flowering plants dotted among the trees. A garden, Izuku realized. Those must be the plants and bushes that produce the tea Natsuo had given him.

Then there you were, in a little clearing among the trees.

Sitting on a dark blanket, knees drawn to your chest and ankles crossed in front of you as you hid your body.

Izuku started - you were naked.

Touya was kneeling beside you, a hand on your shoulder as he talked to you gently, barely sparing Izuku and his father a glance as they strode into the torch-lit clearing, Touya’s attention truly focused on you.

Shouto and Natsuo stood in the light, watching you, watching Izuku.

“What is this?” Izuku sputtered, and upon hearing his voice you looked away from Touya, a smile lighting up your face as you saw your Izuku.

“This is tradition boy.” Enji laid a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Now strip down, my little girl’s been waiting.”

Izuku’s head swirled.

Touya stood up, shooting the green-haired man a lazy glare before moving to stand by his brothers, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Izuku...” Your sweet little voice called for him, and green eyes snapped to your form on the ground, watched as, with a nod from Enji, you slowly unfurled your body to expose yourself to your lover.

A stab of arousal hit Izuku in his gut, watching your soft-looking skin be revealed. 

Pert breasts, a squishy tummy, glistening folds ready and twitching between your legs. 

You were drenched.

There was so much shiny slick, all over your thighs and dripped onto the blanket, Izuku couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think straight. It was impossible for you to be that wet on your own, you must have used lube or something to prepa-

It hit him; You and Fuyumi hadn’t gone to prepare dessert.

“You just gonna stand there all night like an idiot? Take your clothes off and fuck her you dwee-”

“Touya.” Enji growled, silencing his son immediately. Then the man turned to  Izuku, easily pushing him forwards towards you. “You’ve been accepted into the family; that’s an invitation you don’t want to refuse.”

With a sigh, you easily laid down onto your back, legs still spread for Izuku to look at you, hands coming up to rest shyly over your breasts.

“Don’t do that, let him see.” Shouto murmured, and immediately your hands dropped in obedience. Shouto hummed in approval, before bi-colored eyes swept up to look at Izuku, urging his friend forward with a tilt of his head down to your form.

With trembling hands, Izuku fumbled with his pants, unzipping them with a bit of difficulty, undoing his belt, working on the buttons of his nice shirt the he had worn to make a good impression when he met your family for the first time.

It took him a moment to undress, a red blush creeping up over his cheeks and down to his chest as he bared his body to the Todoroki’s.

He didn’t think he was small, but he wasn’t big either; average. Izuku was confident in his size, didn’t really know or are how he stacked up against other guys, and the girls he’d been with before hadn’t complained.

Still, he felt embarrassed to be naked in front of other people, to be on display. But there wasn’t another option, was there? (Izuku didn’t know if that was such a bad thing)

Two short strides before dropping to his knees in front of you on the blanket, his throat dry and his palms sweaty. 

“Are you-” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?” 

Your head nodded yes, a pleased, yet shy grin on your face. “Of course. I want you.”

The softness of your voice, of your body, Izuku felt dizzy as he shuffled forward, close enough to touch. Still hesitant, worried about the male Todoroki members watching from the sidelines, brain racing to work through the strangeness of the situation, the utter oddity of this... ritual that was currently taking place.

But then you were sitting up, hands circling around his neck, pressing your lips to his with crushing finality.

He was a part of the family now.

It felt good to kiss you, soft lips pressed together, little huffs of breath from your nose as you kept going. Izuku took the freedom of circling his hands around your waist, almost gasping at the plushness of your flesh, melting against you with a groan as your lips kept pressing to his.

“I’m all ready, just-just put it in.” Your breathless little confession tumbled out as soon as you pulled away from your first real kiss with Izuku, a blush high on your cheeks.

But it was Izuku’s turn to blush, sitting between your legs like a fumbling virgin. “I’m not hard yet, but I can, uhm, finger you. Or we can kiss for a little bit mo-”

“You aren’t even hard? Touya’s sneering voice cut through Izuku’s babbling. “Look at my sister. She’s fucking soaking the ground. That’s not hot to you?”

Izuku stuttered, eyes flickering down to where your legs were opened, pretty little cunt twitching. It’s like you were begging to be touched, and Izuku was a sucker for begging.

“No, that’s so hot, oh my god.” He breathed, fingers instinctively reaching to swipe through your wetness, relishing the way you gasped and shuddered as his hand made contact with your body.

“She’s so soft too, got tits like little pillows. You should lick ‘em, she likes that.” Touya continues, and Izuku wants to point out that the reason he’s not completely hard yet isn’t because he’s not insanely turned on by the beautiful creature in front of him, but because he’s feeling weirded out by all her brothers and her dad watching intently from the sidelines.

Yet he does what Touya suggests, leaning forward to put his mouth on your chest, tongue darting out to drag against your skin. 

The eldest Todoroki was right about you being soft.

Izuku can’t stop his other hand from rubbing at your cunt more firmly, feeling your little hips twitch towards him, pressing your chest more firmly into his mouth.

“She’s so pretty.” Natsuo comments, but Izuku is hardly listening when he’s flicking at your clit, nursing at your tits. “She’s gonna feel real good around you Izuku, like a new fleshlight.”

“You better breed her good, boy.” Enji booms, and suddenly you’re scrabbling at Izuku’s arms, pulling his hair, whining “Please, Izuku please.”.

“Okay, shit, let me-”

“He must be really worked up, Izuku hardly ever curses.” Shouto announces, and fuck, he’s right -  but how could he not be worked up?

Izuku is hard, blood rushing so quickly to his cock that he feels lightheaded, taking himself in hand and giving his length a few dry pumps. He’s envisioning how sopping wet you’ll feel against him, staring, drooling over your cunt.

And then he’s lining himself up, kissing you hard, and pushing inside.

“Big, ‘s too big!” You panic, tears popping to your eyes but Izuku is quick to wipe them away, cooing at you and stilling his hips.

“Oh, don’t cry! Shh, I’ll go slow, ‘m sorry, I thought you were ready-”

“Natsu-” You cried, hand scrabbling into the ground above your head, reaching, searching for your brother.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” The man was immediately on his knees by your face, clasping your hand fervently, leaning down to put a sweet kiss on your nose. “Breathe honey, in and out. It’s okay.”

“Noo I-I.... ‘M scared, he’s-he’s-ah!” A stuttered cry broke from your chest as Izuku shifted slightly, inadvertently pushing deeper.

“No, it's gonna be okay. It's just like when we do it, yeah? He's gonna be nice.” And Natsuo is looking at Izuku, fixing him with such a pointed gaze and Izuku gets the message. He’s going to be nice.

It’s not like he wasn’t planning on it - the green haired man loves you.

But then the breath is sucked out of his chest as he comprehends what Natsuo had just comforted you with, that-that.

That you’ve fucked your brother.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Izuku chants, unable to stop his hips from inching back and forth, humnping into you in infinitesimal movements as arousal punches through his gut. “Sorry, I can’t stop-’h my god that’s-”

He can hear Touya cackle. “Damn, something really got him going.”

You were squeezing your eyes shut, clenching Natsuo’s hand so tight that the skin was whitening. Your brother didn’t seem to mind, more occupied with stroking your hair, eyes fixated on the soft jiggle of your breasts as Izuku humped you like a senseless virgin.

His breathing turned into wheezing, hitching when a presence was felt at his back.

“You can do better than that.” Enji’s hands were pressing against Izuku’s naked rear, making the green haired man flinch forward and away from the touch. But Enji merely pushed, propelling Izuku’s thrusts so that he would really fuck the warm, willing body beneath him.

“Izuk-Izu-Izuku-” You moaned, rocking your body to further spear yourself onto his cock, apparently finding the fast glide pleasurable as opposed to your hesitance earlier.

He leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning into the kiss, hands wandering as you pushed to meet each other, Izuku’s stomach clenching tighter and tighter as he neared his release.

“She’s never had someone fuck her raw before...” Shouto mused, eyes glued to the scene in front of him, watching his best friend fuck his sister with the help of his family. “I wonder if it feels different.”

But his words were lost in the quick slap of skin meeting skin, Izuku’s grunts, your sweet little noises as you writhed and clutched at Natsuo’s hand, your other hand holding onto Izuku.

And then Izuku was gone, balls clenching and cock twitching inside you, pulsing as he shot his seed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, pulling your hand away from Natsuo to place it against your tummy, pressing right over where Izuku was still grinding against you. “Feels... feels so warm.”

Izuku was panting, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead, desire slowly swirling out of his body as he came. 

What the fuck had he just done?

Enji clapped him once on the back, before rising to his feet. “Welcome to the family, son.”