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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader PART TWO [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

PART ONE

Tell me that it's not my fault

“Steve!” You yelled the boy's name on instinct when you saw him the morning after the cabin incident. “Hey, Steve!”

He looked startled to hear you, to hear his name on your lips when it wasn’t snarled or yelled. But he stopped anyway, blinking at you in the sunlight as you jogged over to him, hair still damp from the lake, leaving your shorts unbuttoned over your swimsuit.

“Hey,” you said, softer now you were closer. “I heard about Billy.”

Steve made a face that you tried not to smile at, his expression somewhat regretful, like he was expecting you to tell him off, something you would’ve normally done. Instead, you turned your attention to the cut on his cheek, the small scratch that still looked too fresh not to hurt. There was a bruise forming around it, blotchy blue and purple, high on his cheekbone.

[THIS MUST BE THE PLACE (COVER) BY THE LUMINEERS]

You ached to reach out, to take Steve’s chin between your finger and thumb so you could pull him down to you, so you could kiss the mark better. “Are you okay?” You asked instead.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, eyes darting around the forest floor, at the trees and the sun, before they settled on you. He swallowed hard and tried not to watch the drop of water that was running from the nape of your neck down your chest. “Yeah, m’fine. No big deal.”

You huffed, a familiar sound that made the corners of Steve’s mouth pick up, because you still sounded soft, huffy in a way that made him want to fix it.

“That’s not what Eddie said,'' you told him, finally giving in and moving a little closer, toes of your sneakers pushed into the moss so you could peer at his injuries with concerned eyes. “He said you really went for Billy. That he’d never seen you like that before.”

Steve froze as you inspected his cheek, closer than you’d been in weeks. You still smelled the same, he noted, under your sunscreen and the lake water. Your perfume still clung to your skin and Steve watched with parted lips as you reached up to push some of his hair back in order to get a better look at his cheek.

You kept your gaze lowered as you did so, careful not to move too fast, wary about making eye contact. But Steve didn’t move away.

“S’nothing, honest. Just got out of hand.” Steve swallowed again, mouth too dry and Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand accidentally grazed your hip as he shifted. “Um, what else did Eddie say?”

You frowned, letting your hand drop from Steve’s face, albeit grudgingly. The boy was pleased to note that you didn’t move away. “Not much, apart from that. Why?”

Steve shrugged, feeling clumsy, feeling lovesick, like a teenager with a first crush, like a stupid boy who didn’t know how to function with a pretty girl so close. A month ago, he’d had taken this opportunity to pull you behind the kayak stack, nimble and sure fingers slipping down the straps of your swimsuit as he kissed you until you whispered his name the way he liked to hear.

Instead, he gave you a small smile. “No reason. Hey, do I, uh, still have sand or somethin’ in the cut? Feels itchy.”

Steve knew that the slice on his cheek was more than clean, he’d spent long enough cornered by Joyce as she squeezed cotton balls soaked in antiseptic over the injury, again and again until he batted her away with pleading eyes. But he was desperate for you to touch him again, to be this close to you without arguing. And if he couldn’t kiss you, well, maybe your soft hands on his cheek would just have to do.

You took the bait, whether you’d seen through his plan or not, Steve didn’t care. You leaned in, fingers careful on his jaw as you tilted his face this way and that, close enough that your nose almost skimmed his cheek. Steve thought you were warmer than the sun then, a heat against him that he missed even more than he’d realised. He held his breath, clenched his hands at his sides and tried not to touch you.

“Maybe there’s a little something,” you lied, “just there. Hold still.”

Steve did as you asked, frozen as you swept a gentle finger over the tender skin. You wanted to kiss the bruise, the mottled shape on his cheek that had darkened over night. But you kept your eyes lowered, movements careful, pretending to swipe away something that was never there.

“Think it’s some sand or something,” you whispered.

Steve licked his lips, hummed in agreement and let his gaze land on your face. You were just as pretty, he noted, even when you looked so sad.

“What do you think of Shelbyville?” The boy asked it so suddenly that you stopped what you were doing, your hand paused against Steve’s cheek, your fingers splayed over his jaw.

You wrinkled your nose, confused as you considered his question. “Shelbyville? Why?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just smiled a little weakly and made a half shrug with his shoulders, waiting for your answer.

“It’s nice, I guess,” you finally replied, still confused but answering honestly. “S’pretty. My aunt lives there, out by Blue River. I like it.”

Something in Steve’s chest grew, an elated feeling that felt a little like hope, like a new possibility. “Yeah?” He smiled a little more confidently, brows raised.

You still weren’t sure why he was asking, or why he suddenly seemed so happy but you couldn’t help but smile back. You nodded, squinting up at him through the rays of sun that had appeared through the tree canopy, turning you both golden.

“Yeah,” you agreed. Grudgingly, you dropped your hand from his face, fingertips trailing down his jaw until you had no choice to step back, finding no reason to be so close. Not now. “There we go, all clean.”

Steve nodded, smile dropping slightly as you moved away, and his hand reached up to his own cheek, to the same spot you’d held. Like he was chasing your touch. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, just as soft.

It hurt to walk away, it physically hurt. So you backed up slowly, like keeping your eyes on Steve for as long as you could would somehow help and the boy stayed where you’d left him, his hand on his sore cheek, staring at you as you made your way back to the dock.

Robin was there, a stack of lifejackets in her arms, the ones you’d dropped at the sight of Steve. You took them back from her, cheeks warm, gaze lowered. You watched as Steve finally left, almost walking into a camp sign, face burning pink as he frowned at it.

“What was that?” Robin asked, brows raised under her cap. It was on backwards and had been adorned with another patch, a purple Care Bear that had its middle finger lifted.

You stared at her, wide eyed, as if that would help feign ignorance a little better. “What was what?”

“Bitch,” Robin scoffed, amused. “Don’t even try it.” She dumped more life jackets into your arms, laughing when you protested. “You’re not slick, you know.”

You kept your head down, a small shred of hope blooming in between your ribs like new flowers. If you smiled, Robin pretended that she didn’t see it.

—————

“Capture the flag,” Hopper announced, standing to face the crowd of campers and staff alike. “Need I explain?”

The kids murmured excitedly and shook their heads, eagerly awaiting their weaponry as Murray weaved in and out of the groups with tiny balloons filled with coloured paint and an old, fraying piece of ribbon that was meant to be tied around an arm. “Red or blue?” he’d ask each kid, before grinning and giving them the opposite of what they asked for.

“Aren’t these supposed to go in paint guns, or something?” Lucas called out, squinting pitifully at the small balloon he held aloft. “These ain’t gonna do shi--”

“Language, Mr. Sinclair,” Hopper called back cheerfully. “And I’m so sorry, you seem to have mistaken our budget with Camp America. Take the damn balloons and pray you got a good arm, kid.”

The campers snickered and Lucas frowned, shoving a shoulder into Dustin who jostled Will and Mike, a red paint filled balloon popping prematurely and bursting over the smallest boy’s sneakers. Will sighed, a long suffering thing that was too weary for a preteen, and held out a hand for Murray to deposit another one into it.

“Maybe we can do some fundraising for next year,” Murray added, making his way back to the front of the group. “I’m sure Mr. Harrington can help arrange something, right Steven?”

Every pair of eyes shot to Steve as he stood slack jawed and wide eyed, gaze finding yours in the confusion. You were looking at him with furrowed brows, wondering what on earth Murray could have meant. Next year? Mr. Harrington?

“Uh…” was all Steve had to say.

Eddie snorted. Steve backhanded him in the stomach. You were still frowning.

“Team captains,” Murray announced, holding two more armbands aloft. These ones had a crown on each, penned on with black marker that had faded over the years. “Choose your leaders, people.”

It took approximately half a second for Eddie to shove Steve forward, sending him through a crowd of kids that squealed at the jostling. Unsure if it was planned or not, you swore when Robin did the same to you, nipping at your side so you squeaked. You glared at Murray when he approached, grinning wide.

“This should be fun,” he drawled, teasing. His eyes flashed too much mischief for a man pushing fifty and you grunted your annoyance even when you grabbed the armband from him.

You didn’t look to see if Steve did the same, but you heard his hissed argument with Eddie as you made Robin tie the material around your bicep, red cotton against your mustard yellow lifeguard shirt.

“Harrington,” Murray announced. “Look sharp and uh, let’s keep it clean, huh, kiddies?”

When you finally spared a glance, Murray was looking between you and Steve, still grinning and the boy was knotting the blue band around his arm, his features pulled together in frustration.

Hopper was pinching at his eyes, looking pained. “For the love of god, any destruction of property, will be coming out of your fu— out of your paychecks.” The man sighed, already tired and he huffed. “Take the damned flags and don’t trash my camp.”

And then the game began.

The camp was alive with noise and colour, the sounds of kids laughing and screeching as they launched tiny paint balls at each other, all strategy and planning out the window after Eddie and Jonathan launched a sneak attack on Robin, dousing her in blue paint that they dropped from a tree. Subtlety was gone after that and the kids ran amok, abandoning their positions until you were the only one left defending the flag, an old ratty, red thing that was shoved up high and behind the stacked gym mats inside the hall.

You were bored hearing the screams from outside, pacing the gym as you waited for either a teammate to return (Max and Will had left ten minutes ago for more supplies, but you heard the sorrowful sounds of Will being pelted with balloons mere seconds after leaving the gym. Max had snorted and left him behind), or for an opponent to try their luck at capturing your flag. You weren’t sure which option appealed less, as the semi silence you were left in gave you too much time to think.

Why did Steve ask about Shelbyville of all places? Why did Murray talk like Steve was going to be here next year?

Outside, you heard someone yell, someone shriek and then a casualty was declared as Dustin yelped about having paint in his eye and how Max was playing too mean. You considered leaving, going to check everyone had it all covered but you heard Joyce fuss, kids giggling and soon enough, the game kicked back off.

The late afternoon was turning to evening when the doors finally jolted open, a squeak and a whine of the hinges that let in the last of the golden coloured light, the sky turning pinky peach through the old, cracked windows.

You turned to face your opponent with a balloon in your fist, already raised and aimed at the doorway.

Steve.

You sighed, trying your best to seem unaffected even though you could feel your own heartbeat in your ears. You pushed the toe of a sneaker into the gym floor, making it squeak. “This seems clichéd,” you joked.

The boy snorted, a light huff of air that eased the pounding of your chest. “Right?” He agreed. “But Eddie got disqualified for unfair use of weaponry and fuck knows where Billy led Mike and Lucas.”

You frowned, genuine concern evident in your voice. “And no one thought to check on them?”

Steve shrugged, grinning. “S’fine. Mike’s been taking karate classes. Apparently.”

It was easy to joke like this. Just like it had been easy to forget about how Steve walked away from the cabin trap set by the kids, how you’d run to him the minute you found out he was hurt, how it was easier still to put your hands on his jaw, his cheek, play pretend and fake act nurse.

But suddenly the last few weeks, the last few months, caught up to you and you were more aware than ever that August was soon approaching. You wondered if Steve’s room back in Hawkins was already packed up, if his carpet was covered in cardboard boxes, if his mom and dad would travel to Arizona with him, if he already had his class schedule, if he still really wanted to go.

“What’s in Shelbyville?”

“What—?”

“Do you know someone there? And why did you hit Billy? Was it something to do with me?”

The boy was reeling from your onslaught of sudden questioning and the attention made him burn. “What? No,” Steve scoffed, trying and failing miserably to appear cool and collected. “Why? What did Eddie tell you?”

“What’s going on, Steve? Why’s Murray calling you Mr. Harrington, why are you—”

“It’s nothing!” The boy interrupted. “Nothin’s going on.”

“Stop lying to me!”

Steve swallowed and let out a sigh that hurt his chest, a stuttering, wrenching thing because your eyes were turning glassy and he saw the way you caught yourself as your bottom lip started to tremble.

“I’m no— I, fuck, I’m not trying to lie to you, it’s just…” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Princess, listen—”

A paint balloon landed on Steve’s hip, a barely there thump but the ball exploded with red paint, splattering across Steve’s clothes, his shirt, his forearm. He blinked up at you, lips parting in surprise.

“Don’t call me that,” your words were thick with emotion, your lips in a tight line as you tried your hardest not to break. “And stop lying to me. All you’ve done is lie to me.”

Steve was speechless, holding his arms out before letting them drop back to his side in defeat. “I haven't lied to you,” he said mournfully. “At least I haven’t meant to, shit, it’s been— hard, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know it’s been hard Steve, but god, tell me the truth! At least admit it to yourself.”

“What truth?” Steve yelled, grimacing when you flinched. He immediately felt awful, but the frustration in his chest was simmering over, clawing its way up his throat. “What do you want me to say, huh? That you were right? That I’m some kind of fucking loser that’s doing as daddy says? That I’m so stupid that only the way I can get into college is if I let my dad pay my way in?”

He threw a paintball at the floor, only feeling slightly bad when some of the colour reached the toes of your shoes, your bare shins. Bright blue streaked across your skin and you frowned, at the mess and Steve’s words.

“You’re not a loser,” you growled, annoyance colouring your tone. No one was allowed to talk shit about Steve Harrington. Not even himself. Not to you, at least. “And you’re not stupid, Steve. Stop it.”

Another paint balloon was thrown, this time by you, a careful aim that caught Steve’s chest. He swore, staring at the bloom of red over his staff shirt before he glared at you. “Hey, the fuck was that for?”

“You’re not a loser and you’re not stupid and your dad is a fucking bully who can’t be happy for his son’s own choices.” You launched another, huffing when Steve managed to avoid it, paint exploding over the gym floor instead.

“Stop!” Steve retaliated with his own weapons, chucking a blue balloon at your thigh, feeling a tiny flush of satisfaction when it burst all over your tennis skirt.

“Are you still going to Arizona?” You were near breathless, adrenaline high as you held another balloon in your hand, ready to take aim.

“No!” Steve burst. He swore, dropping the last balloon and groaning when the paint hit his feet. He scrubbed his hands over his face, streaks of blue over his cheeks and into his hair as he tugged on the ends. “I don’t know. Fuck, I— no. I don’t want to. I never fucking wanted to.”

You dropped your balloon too, red on the floor, on your shoes, your ankles. You stared at the boy, shocked as his admittance, despite how you’d known it all along. You weren’t sure what to do now, what to say. But tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and heavy.

You sniffed, tears gathering at your lash line, making the boy before you blurry. You took a deep breath before your next question, wondering if this is the one that would hurt the most, but before you could, Steve spoke first.

“You said I didn’t call you back,” he sounded as wrecked as you felt, his words thick and clumsy, his eyes holding too much emotion to try and decipher. “That night, after the party, you said I didn't call you back. When? When did you call me?”

You were stunned. One, that you’d admitted that, and two, that Steve had remembered. The vodka you’d had that night made the memories blurry, but you could recall your head buried in Steve’s chest, his sweatshirt on your frame, his cologne and leftover campfire smoke amongst cotton sheets. A mumbled confession, sad words and sleep.

You shrugged, helpless. “Fuck, I— I called you the night after. The night after you told me about college. I rang and your dad answered.” You swallowed harshly, looking anywhere but at Steve. “He said you were busy. Said he’d tell you I called.”

If Steve had felt an annoyance, a disdain, for his father before, nothing really compared to the anger that burst in his chest like a bomb. “What?”

You shrugged at him again.

“Ba—” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair until it stood on end. He said your name, agonised. “I didn’t know you called. I— fuck, I would’ve called you back. I spent fucking weeks standing at the phone wishing you would, tryin’ to work up the balls to call you myself.”

Steve stepped forward, once, twice. “He didn’t tell me. My dad didn’t tell me you tried to get in touch.” Steve’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and take your own. “I would’ve called you back. Fuck, I would’ve driven straight over to you and—”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence before you’d launched yourself at him. You didn’t know what any of it meant, not yet, not really. You didn’t know if Steve really was going to stay, what that meant for you both, what would happen next. Nothing could be fixed right now, not right away, not in the middle of the forest during a game of capture the flag, but you decided then and there - covered in paint - that eight weeks was too long to go without kissing Steve Harrington.

He caught you, arms around your waist as you crushed yourself to his chest, your hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck so you could tug him down to meet your lips. Steve went willingly, your toes barely skimming the floor, your T-shirt tangled between the boy’s fingers as he gripped you like he’d never dream of letting you go.

Not again.

Not ever.

It was a messy thing, that kiss. It felt new, like a reset, a restart, like the first time all over again. Your noses bumped and you breathed in the air that Steve blew out, a sigh, a swear, lips pushed together until either of you could handle it anymore.

“I thought you hated me,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, eyes closed tight and his arms still around you. “Fuck, I thought—”

“No,” you told him, hands covering his jaw, thumb soothing over the apples of his cheeks, the cut that was still there. “No, no, could never. Could never hate you.”

Your feet were back on the ground now, the toes of your sneakers pushed to the gym floor, stepping in paint as you both swayed slightly at the desperation of each other's grip. That’s all Steve seemed to need to hear, because the boy dipped his head back down to yours and kissed you soundly, with more confidence than the first time, like he suddenly remembered that he knew how to do this. His hands were up your shirt, fingertips skimming along your spine, palm flat to your skin to hold you to him so he could kiss you deeper, slower, longer.

And when you parted your lips for him, you weren’t sure who made the first noise. But you whined and Steve groaned, tongues licking over each other’s, four hands getting greedy, pulling and shoving at camp shirts to feel more.

“I don’t wanna go to Arizona,” Steve whispered, and you pulled back enough to soothe a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes. He looked at you so seriously that you felt it in your chest, a sharp pang of hurt and relief for the boy. “I don’t wanna study finance.”

“I know.” You nodded, bringing him back to you, kissing over whatever part of him you could reach. His jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his closed eyelids, his chin. “I know, it’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy, you know that right?”

Steve nodded too, nose bumping yours as he stumbled backwards, clumsy footing taking you both away from the middle of the gym. “I know, baby,” he sucked in a breath. “M’sorry.”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He had you up against a wall before you realised, head tilted down to you as he nuzzled at your throat, your head tipping back so you could let Steve do as he pleased. He nipped at the skin there, kissing along your neck until you cried out his name and god, the hands he had on your waist just squeezed tighter in response.

“Shit, Steve,” you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed. “I should be the one apologising, I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did, I should’ve—”

“Nonono,” Steve shook his head, catching your lips for another kiss again, swallowing your noises as you whined for him, fingers twisting and tugging meanly at his hair, the collar of his shirt. “Don’t wanna talk anymore,” he groaned. “Not right now, please…”

[MEDICINE BY HARRY STYLES]

“Storeroom,” you told him, nodding towards the double doors that led into the large cupboard, away from any prying eyes that would eventually come into the gym. “Now.”

Steve was apparently as desperate as you were, because he didn’t take his lips off of you, even as you both stumbled towards your chosen hiding spot. Feet tripped over each other as you made it across the gym, hands still in his air and tugging him down to you. Steve didn’t seem to mind, groaning loud when you sighed and tipped your head back for him, letting him lick and suck at your neck. There was paint smeared everywhere, splatters of red and blue mixing to make a lavender colour, streaking your skin and Steve’s.

And then the door to the storeroom was wrenched open and Steve was guiding you in with a tug of his hand. It was funny how your stomach flipped, a nervous excitement, an anticipation hooking in your stomach like this was your first time with the boy all over again. Except you knew what he liked and you knew how to make him fall apart so easily, which is why you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at him, Steve’s back against the wall this time as your hands cradled his jaw and you pulled him down to meet your kiss.

Shoulders bumped old shelves, metal ball cages that were only half full now that the summer was coming to an end and there were stacks of old oars leaning against three kayaks, each plastered with patches of new paint that didn’t match the original colour. A quick fix it job that Steve had been tasked with last summer after he flat out refused to hand over the three hundred dollars Hopper demanded for a new boat.

You thought of that stupid jar on your managers desk and wondered if it would be worth it.

But once you’d pulled back, just a touch to look up at Steve, your mind was made up. The boy looked wrecked, tanned skin messy with paint, streaks of it running across strong forearms, dots of it somehow mixing with freckles across his cheeks and nose. You’d gotten red paint in his hair when you’d grabbed at it, making it messier than ever. But Steve didn’t seem to care, nor if the way he was looking at you was any indication. Heavy, hooded eyes on you, roaming unashamedly over your face, your frame, the way you’d pushed your thighs together for some relief. He was already hard, thick and strained against the zipper of his jeans at the very first touch of your lips against his.

Yeah, it would be worth it.

“Missed you,” he whispered, reverent, ruined. His hands reached out for you again, fingers twisting in the sides of your shirt to pull you back to him. “Thought that was it, thought I’d never get to have you like this again.”

You made a noise of protest at the thought, a hiccuping thing that Steve swallowed with a kiss, his breath coming out heavy against your cheek. You were impatient now, too worked up, desperate for him. Your hands snuck under his shirt, slipping up and over his stomach, smiling when the muscles there clenched and twitched under your fingertips. You raked your nails back down him, anchoring yourself to his belt loops, wondering if he’d let you do what you wanted him with, if he’d be patient enough.

Steve was working his mouth over your neck when you asked, his own thumb pulling at your shirt collar to try and stretch it out for himself, uncovering more skin to kiss.

“Steve,” you were breathless and he hummed, never stopping the way he sucked and bit down at the crook of your neck. “Wanna suck you off.”

The noise that left the boy’s lips was unholy, a needy, wrecked sounding thing that had you more desperate to get on your knees than ever. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it with a finesse that made Steve’s eyes flutter.

“Please,” you added for extra effect, like you didn’t already know Steve would give you whatever you wanted.

“Fuck, honey,” Steve pulled back, just slightly, his head falling backwards until it thumped dully against the wall. His pupils were blown wide, his hold on your waist tightening, hands sneaking under cotton to steal a touch of your skin. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

You nodded immediately, lips parting at the thought, head going fuzzy at the idea of having Steve inside you again after what felt like a fucking lifetime. Two years of regular sex had spoiled you, and not even your own fingers in a private Sunday morning shower had gotten you past frustrated. “God, yeah, yeah I do.”

Steve nodded like he knew, like he understood your frustration and well, he probably did. He reached up to trace a thumb over your bottom lip, hand cracking your jaw as he pulled it from place, watching awestruck as it popped prettily back into place when he let it go. You whined, moving closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands around his wrist, anchoring him to you.

Steve let out a quiet curse, breath uneven and watching you from under his lashes, bringing his thumb back to your mouth. He teased you just a little, rubbing the pad of it over the seam of your lips, taking it away every time you tried to part them. But when he saw you getting glossy eyed and restless, he gave in, sinking the tip of his thumb past your lips and resting on the soft of your tongue.

Steve groaned when you whined, pulling you closer by one hip and wedging a thigh between your legs for you to push yourself against. His gaze was locked on your mouth as he dragged his thumb out past your lips, just a little, just enough to see the slick skin and the way your tongue chased it, curling around the digit. His cock twitched with jealousy in his jeans.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered to your doe eyed stare, your wet lips. “Can’t let you get your mouth on me, princess, m’sorry. Wouldn’t last a fucking second.”

You bit down on his thumb as some kind of argument, frowning when Steve slipped it from your mouth. But before you could protest, he was back on you, hands carding into your hair and pulling you flush to him, tongue on yours in seconds. You moaned into the kiss, a heavy, dirty thing that made you lick into him deeper, grinding yourself down on the thigh he’d so kindly given you.

It didn’t take long for Steve to lose some patience - or maybe it was control - but he was effortless in the way he spun you both, trading places so he could pin you against the wall instead. You thought about resisting, thought about playing hard to get and keep up the pretence of still being mad but Steve’s mouth was on your throat and his hand was sneaking up the inside of your shirt.

“Baby,” you squirmed, lashes fluttering, body boneless against him. You clung to him for dear life, fingers clutching his shoulders, his shirt, his hair. “Please.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, but it made Steve moan, a rumbling noise that vibrated through his chest to yours and he pulled back just to peck at your lips, your cheek, your jaw. “Say that again,” he murmured, voice thick with an endless affection. His lips were swollen, pouty and pink, his eyes glazed over for you. “Call me that again.”

Your body buzzed, your brain foggy and it took a few seconds for everything to catch up. Steve was still looking at you, pleading, his hands kneading at your hips, your thighs, like he didn’t dare stop touching you.

“Baby,” you repeated again and you see the relief in Steve’s gaze at the word. Affection, fondness, love, affirmation. He needed it too. So you pulled him back down to you, hands curled in the front of his T-shirt collar, kissing along his jaw and chin until he groaned and caught your lips with his. “Babybabybaby,” you mumbled against his mouth, sighing prettily between kisses, pulling him closer than necessary, scared he’d disappear.

It was a needy kiss that turned dirty, the ache between your legs making you nip at Steve’s lips, pull at his hair a little meaner, rake your nails down the back of his neck and pant into his open mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whined, your declaration messy and garbled as Steve kissed you between words. “Missed you so much.”

Steve nodded his agreement, eyes half lidded and heavy as he let you yank at his shirt, pulling it off and launching it over his shoulder. It hung from some racks, old metal shelves filled with broken gym equipment and a box camp hats that no one was made to wear anymore.

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “Jesus Christ, c’mere.” Steve pulled you back to him, your own shirt joining his, your plain white bra the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He tugged at the straps until they slid down your shoulders, baring more skin for him to kiss. “Missed you too, you’ve no idea.”

Something about the admission seemed to kick everything into high gear and Steve was mouthing across your chest as he slipped a hand up and under your skirt, teasing at the elastic edge, fingers gripping and pulling until it snapped against your thigh.

“Kept dreamin’ about you,” he confessed, whispering the words against your throat like something unholy. “Kept wakin’ up with a mess in my fucking boxers like a damn teenager ‘cause I’d fall asleep and dream about how you tasted.”

His fingers slipped past the cotton barrier, swiping achingly slow through your folds, parting them and feeling the slick there. You both moaned at the feel, one foot coming up to rest on the edge of a kayak, keeping yourself spread open for Steve. He swore and you felt his grin, a pleased and proud smile that settled against your chest.

“Good girl, that’s it, keep your leg up for me, honey.” Steve didn’t bother taking your underwear off as he sank to his knees, he just hooked your thigh over his shoulder and his fingers into pink cotton, tugging them to the side. “Fuck,” Steve hissed, eyes flickering from yours down to the shiny wetness between your legs. “Look at her, honey, still just as fuckin’ pretty, she missed me too, yeah?”

Fire nipped at your stomach, a fast roll of electricity under your skin at the boy’s words and suddenly nothing bad had ever happened, you’d never broken up and Steve had you pinned against his shower wall, cold tiles on your back and sticky, dirty words pressed onto your skin. You whined, a loud cry that Steve grinned at and you nodded, quickly realising that you’d agree to anything Steve asked.

“Yeah, she did,” Steve cooed, moving closer to kiss along your thighs, nosing at the crease where your leg met your cunt. “She’s drippin’ for me, shit, just begging for a kiss, huh?”

“Steve,” you hissed his name, half desperate, half a warning, canting your hips forward until his lips brushed against your folds. He pulled back a little, smiling wide, like he was having the time of his life. “We’re hardly in the privacy of a hotel room, fuck, c’mon, please.”

“S’where I’ll take you after camp,” the boy promised, voice low and sticky soft. He ran his mouth over your folds, a barely there kiss that made rise up onto one set of toes to chase his lips. “Gonna take you somewhere real nice, princess, gonna make up for this summer, gonna fix it, I promise.”

He was babbling, eyes closed as he kissed up and across the soft of your lower stomach, nose dragging through the soft curls below until he could lick a line over you, not parting you just yet, just teasing, tasting.

You were breathless, body bowing over Steve’s head as you grabbed at his hair and held on. If you wanted to meaner about it, if it was two months ago and he was teasing you in your bedroom, laughter on his lips, you would’ve pulled his hair and rode his face, giving in and making him moan.

But Steve was whispering promises into your skin like apologies and even in your pent up haze, you still had questions. “What about - fucking hell, Steve - what about Arizona?”

“Later, I’ll explain later,” was all he said, before he parted you with two thumbs and licked a slow, wide stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Steve knew how you liked it, had two whole years to learn what you loved, where to touch, where to kiss, when to slow down, when to speed up. He kept his eyes on you as he swiped over your clit, a soft, little kitten lick and that made you squeak and buck your hips down onto his face. The kayak you had one foot rested on groaned in protest.

You heard him whisper praise into you, filthy, pretty words that you barely heard over your own heaving breaths and your head fell back against the wall when his tongue worked its way around your entrance, licking over you, nose nudging at your clit as he did.

“Fuck, princess, she’s just crying for me, isn’t she?”

You could only whine, a soft, high pitched thing that made Steve palm at his cock through his jeans, pulling you onto his face with his free hand. He kept up those slow, lazy licks through your cunt, only speeding up when you started to roll yourself over his mouth. He groaned, a dirty noise that made you want to grab at him but you were hurtling towards an orgasm that you’d hadn’t been able to give yourself for weeks.

“M’gonna come,” you whispered, your throat tight, your voice wrecked. “Steve, Stevie, please, I’m gonna come.”

The boy didn’t dare take his mouth away from you, not even to whisper encouragement. He just snuck his hand from your thigh to your ass, squeezing you tight and he coaxed you further onto his tongue, silently telling you to rock yourself over his mouth, to take what you needed. And as your noises got breathier, needy, little whines that turned into groans, Steve took your clit into his mouth and sucked at the same time he slid two thick fingers into you, hooking them in place and rubbing.

You gushed around his fingers as you came, a sob ripping from your lips as your body gave in and bowed over Steve’s, hands clutching at his shoulders, his neck, trying to keep yourself up. Aftershocks jolted through you as Steve grinned, tongue seeking out your clit even still, licking over it softly as you came down, holding you in place as you tried to jerk away.

“Steve,” you gasped at him, pushing softly at his forehead until he gave in, running kisses up your thigh and stomach as he stood. “Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—”

“How’d you want me?” He gaped out, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from your fingers and his lips glossy from the way you’d ground yourself against his mouth. “Huh, princess? Tell me, I’ll give you it, I swear.” The boy was desperate, clinging to you, his hands on your jaw as he dipped in for a kiss, groaning wild when you licked yourself from his lips, sucking the taste of yourself from him.

You couldn’t really think, words coming out in strings of pleases and curses, begging for something you didn’t know how to ask for. So you pulled at the belt on Steve’s jeans instead, shoving the denim down his hips, just enough for you to pull his cock out and show it some proper attention. Steve’s eyes glazed over as you pumped him, thumb swiping over his leaking tip, your mouth kissing along his chest.

He groaned, a gasping, rough sound that you knew so well and Steve shook his head, batting away your hand before he came all over it. He patted at your hip, held his hands out for you. “Up,” he commanded.

You hopped easily, Steve’s hands catching your bare thighs, palms curving around your ass as he turned and set you upon the stacked kayaks. You were just the right height for him to slip into you, but he kept you waiting, playing with himself as he pulled down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits for him. He thumbed over an already hard nipple, watched in awe as it pebbled even more and he licked his lips, cock nudging at your thigh.

“Like this?” He asked you quietly, running a hand down your front, curling his fingers around your throat, squeezing gently at your chest, your hip. He was everywhere at once. “Could fuck you like this, or I could bend you over, huh?”

The kayak stand shook a little when Steve tugged at your calf, bringing you closer to the edge and his cock. You had zero faith the boats would withstand the movements that were about to ensue, but you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care.

You’d help Steve burn the camp to the ground, as long as he kept touching you.

“Like this,” you whined and god, you sounded bratty, needy, the way Steve liked it best. “Need to kiss you,” you told him and it was the truth. You were as desperate to kiss and hold and look at the boy as much as you were for him to finally fuck you.

Steve’s expression softened then, melting brown butter, his gaze sugar sweet. He leaned in, nose nuzzling yours as he kissed you, a one, two, sweet peck of a thing before your mouth fell open for him and you were gasping his name.

“Steve!”

He’d slid into you easily, caught your noise with his lips, kissing it away as he groaned through it too. You were soaked still, but the stretch and burn of taking him again for the first time in months was apparent. You whined, clutching at him, letting the boy coo and soothe you with kisses everywhere, scattered pieces of affection dotted over your nose and cheeks. He felt you clench around him, tighter than ever, and his hands found your jaw.

“Honey - Jesus Christ - baby, look, hmm? Look at me, baby.” Steve sounded almost serious, his tone low and soft, determined for your eyes on his. He caught your jaw, cradling it as he pulled out of you, just enough for the tip of him to stay inside of you, throbbing. “There we go, there, that’s it, princess.”

You could’ve let your eyes slip shut at the pleasure of it all, lips parting and jaw falling slack when Steve thrust forward again, a slow and steady rhythm that kept you stretched out and wet for him. But you knew that Steve wanted you to keep gazing at him, his own eyes heavy and half lidded as he leaned in, his forehead against yours, his stare hot as he picked up his pace.

“S’fucking amazing,” you moaned for him, almost unaware of the shuffling and banging noises you were both beginning to make. The kayaks were bumping into the wall with each rock of Steve’s hips. “Fuck, keep going, please.”

It turned harder, faster. A dirty snap of the boy’s hips against yours, his hands everywhere, one holding a thigh wide, the other tangled in the hair at the nap of your neck, a hot and commanding hot that made you arch your back for him. Steve grunted at the push of your tits bare against his chest, skin on skin and your bra, a tangle of wire and straps around your ribs, your skirt tucked up to meet it.

“M’really not gonna last long,” the boy admitted, his chest heaving, his eyelashes fluttering as he glanced down at your spread legs, the soaked cotton of your underwear stretched at the seams around one thigh, the slick, shiny wet of you coating him with each rock of his hips. “Fucking hell, s’too much, so fucking good.”

The sound of skin on skin and the rattle of kayaks filled the small room, the soft glow of the sunset coming in from the tiny window that was partially hidden by old gym mats. It turned you both bronze, shades of gold and rose and copper in the light, breathy gaps and whines that morphed into moans as you both reached the edge. You weren’t sure how long it had been, if the game was still being played, if someone had captured your flag - or Steve’s - if a whistle had been blown.

Fuck, it didn’t even matter that camp was ending next week, that you’d go back to Hawkins and live a life without the boy. Maybe. Maybe? Would you see him again? Before he left? Would you go to his parents house and stand in the same driveway you left him in and let him leave you? Would it hurt less or more after this, after you let him kiss you in the shadows, in the last bit of the sun? Would this fix it? Would it matter, once you had your clothes back on?

It was like Steve could tell you were floating away from him, like he could see you trapped in a box in your own head. He tugged gently at your hair, nudging his nose against yours and worked his cock somewhere deeper inside you. He tilted his hips up until you gasped for him and he smiled, nodding against you as you caught him for another kiss, swallowing his soft “there you go, honey, just focus on me.”

You couldn’t take much more after that, emotions and the feeling of Steve hitting that pretty spot inside of you over and over and over suddenly becoming too much. You blinked at him, body flush with his, clinging to his shoulder, his neck, his messy strands of hair. Neither of you mentioned your glassy eyes, the stuttering sob that broke in your throat when you told him:

“Need t’come, Stevie.”

Steve just kissed you sweetly, a lingering push and pull of his lips against yours that felt warmer and softer than a summer morning. Steve Harrington was still the afternoon sun and blue skies, those endlessly big clouds, the sound of a creek, the splash of a lake. He was blue raspberry popsicles and pink lemonade, he was the taste of honey, the smell of cedar and wild mint.

He was still yours.

You were sure of it.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting a hand fall to your cunt so he could flick over your clit, thumbing soft circles as he started a dirty grind of his hips into yours. “Gonna come for me, honey, yeah? Gonna come with me?”

And you did, easily. Too easily. Your whole body tightened around him as you came hard, crying out and blinking back tears. Steve was quick to follow, losing his rhythm as his hips stuttered, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as you petted his hair and whispered to him, pushing him closer and closer.

“Baby, where can I—”

It was strange to hear him ask the question. Of course, it had been asked before, a few times, years ago, when sex with each other was new and exploratory, when condoms were still used and the afterglow was filled with shy laughter and out of breath kisses.

Then comfort and familiarity grew between the tension, and intimacy took over from that new excitement. It was even better, knowing each other like that, being able to touch and feel and know what the other liked, the easiness of falling asleep stretched out beside each other, naked and ready for toothpaste kisses and a shared cup of coffee the next day.

You missed it.

You missed all of it.

“Inside,” you whined, eyes clenched shut as Steve swore and pulled you closer still. “Inside, please.”

Steve kissed you when he came, a mash of his lips against yours, an open mouth groan that you swallowed, a clumsy, aching thing that made you want to keep him this close forever.

But then the kayak underneath you squealed loudly, an ugly protest as it dug too hard into the stack beneath it, the shell of it splintering. You swore, clinging to Steve with both arms and legs before he could even pull out of you. He took your weight just as the boat cracked, a jagged hole in the bottom of it taking your count of destroyed call equipment to an all time high.

The silence was deafening.

Eventually, Steve spoke. His arms were still tucked under your thighs, his face at your neck, close enough that you could feel the twitch of his grin. “Maybe we could hide it. Y’know, before anyone sees.”

You laughed, a tired sounding thing as you tightened your hold around the boy’s neck. You wanted to kiss his cheek, his temple, his forehead, you wanted to love on him until either of you could take it anymore. You never wanted this to end - at least not with another broken kayak. But camp was almost over and August was crawling closer. So you hummed, shrugging. “We could throw it in the lake. It would sink, at least.”

—————

Neither Hopper nor Murray believed you when you told them you’d hurt your foot in the scuffle of capture the flag, as convincing as your limp may have been. And they certainly didn’t believe you both when you claimed Steve was there to help.

Hopper had narrowed his eyes at the marks on Steve’s neck, the mess of your hair, the rosy tint to each of your lips. You both shrugged, staring at the forest floor before Murray had snorted, breaking the tension and sending you both back to your cabins.

No other questions were answered that night, especially seeing as Murray was ten feet behind you both at all times, trailing you through the forest with a flashlight as he whistled jovially, ensuring you both ended up in your respective beds. So you took one last look at Steve and smiled, somewhat hopefully, maybe a little sadly, before you clambered up the porch steps and into the darkness of your bunk.

You didn’t get a kiss goodnight. Or was it supposed to be a kiss goodbye?

I don’t wanna lose this with you

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve took a deep breath and made his way out of his cabin.

It had been a long week, the last days busy and filled with games, tasks, a swim meet, a gymnastics competition, Eddie’s musical extravaganza show - his title, not yours - and a campfire story every night.

The kids were filled with marshmallows, made up of sugar and sunshine, tan lines and freckles littering their faces, messy hair smelling of sunscreen and the lake. Everyone was happy. That soft, slow kind of joy that faded into melancholy as the days turned over. For those last few days you’d spent at the lake, you regretted asking Hopper to let you run swimming with Billy more than ever before.

It kept you away from Steve, all the way across the camp so all you could do was try to keep your eyes on the kids in the water and wave at the boy when your eyes met. It was only a little embarrassing, that kind of childish, first crush kind of interaction, eyes meeting, cheeks warming, hand raised to say whatever it was you couldn’t to his face.

Not yet, anyway.

It was made even more painful with Billy lingering behind you, still sprawled on the same deck chair he stared the summer in, minus his sunglasses, because his broken nose was still too tender for them.

“Could you get more pathetic?” The boy scoffed, a little nasally, biting down on the toothpick between his teeth. “Honestly, Hawkins, you’re too hot to pine.”

You scowled, flicking your towel over your shoulder so the corner of it whipped at the boy’s shoulder. He glared at you as much as he could with his sore face.

“I’m not pining.”

“Moping then,” Billy offered, grinning. “Either way, it’s disgusting. I thought you two were over.”

“I wouldn’t tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, Hargrove,” you squinted at him through the sun, sparing a glance when Dustin pulled himself onto the dock, only to barrel roll back off of it. “What makes you think I’m discussing my love life?”

The boy huffed, a smirk on his lips, mean and cruel, like always. “Or lack of,” he commented. “You think one quick fuck can solve your problems? You think that what you got between your legs is good enough to make Harrington stay? Defy daddy dearest? Even Harrington isn’t stupid enough to turn down a free ride.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared stone faced at the water, watching the way the sun changed the ripples from white to blue to gold

Billy scoffed, taunting. “Keep dreamin’, princess.”

It hurt, his words. Billy Hargrove was a bully, a mean boy that liked nothing more than to make other people hurt as much as he did. You knew that. You’d always know that. But all that was left of you and Steve’s encounter in the gym was a fading lavender bruise on where your neck met your shoulder, a blurry bite of evidence that it had actually happened.

Your scowl deepened and you decided that being close to Billy wasn’t helping your mood.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, you sat in your bunk, wondering if you’d be brave enough to do something about the gnawing want in your chest.

You hadn’t been spying, not really, but it had become harder to ignore how often Steve seemed to disappear in and out of Hopper’s cabin. You’d spotted him through the window when the kids were eating lunch, everyone else distracted by the pizza party Robin and Bob made for the last weekend of the summer. But Steve was sitting with Hop and Murray, heads bent over the desk, pieces of paper scattered on the wood.

Hopper had looked pleased. Maybe even proud. Murray was chatting animatedly, hands waving, eyes bright.

Steve had looked the most hopeful you’d seen him in weeks.

But you didn’t get the chance to ask what was going on, because Nancy was dragging you out for one last hike and El was pulling at your hand, pleading for you to join them. You couldn’t say no and you were half way up the hillside when Steve eventually emerged, a folded piece of paper slipped into his back pocket.

And when you returned, bug bitten and tired, you tried to seek the boy out, only to find him through the office window again, his back leaning against the cabin wall as he bent his head, eyes closed and the office phone pressed to his ear. You couldn’t hear, not from so far away, not over the yells of excitement from the campers as Eddie brought out guitars and old drums, but you were almost certain Steve was yelling, a frustrated furrow between his brow before he dropped onto the sofa with the phone cord wrapped around his wrist.

You could’ve gone to him then. Knocked on the door and offered your hand, a smile, maybe a hug. And maybe Steve would’ve told you what was going on, maybe he would’ve explained everything. But it didn’t feel like the time, it didn’t feel right and Mike was pushing an out of tune guitar into your hands and challenging you to some sort of battle.

Steve returned to the camp pit soon after, his eyes a little red but his smile seemed sincere when Dustin ran to him, a faux sort of tackle that made Steve catch him round the middle. They grinned as they wrestled, laughing brightly and the air around the older boy seemed lighter than it had in weeks. When Steve caught your eyes over the kid’s head, he smiled. A real thing, pink cheeked and achingly full of love, that sticky sweet kind of adoration that you’d missed so much it had hurt.

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve knocked on your cabin door.

It was late, well after dinner and the kids were in their bunks full of sloppy joe’s and chocolate pudding, telling stories by flashlight, trading cards and secrets while they finished off their stashes of candy. Twilight had set in, that hazy lilac light that came after the sun had set and the forest was falling asleep. Cicadas buzzed in the depths of the trees and fireflies grazed the edges of the lake, that green-yellow glow that made you want to stay up a little later.

The knock came as Robin was painting her toenails, a cherry red she’d stolen from you, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel. She didn’t even look up at the sound, just slicked another coat of polish over her nail and said:

“That’ll be for you.”

You frowned from behind your book, setting it down with the pages splayed so you wouldn’t lose your place. The story of two star crossed lovers that pined for each other seemed more addictive than it usually would’ve been.

“M’not expecting anyone.”

Robin just huffed out a laugh and nodded at the door. “Don’t keep him waiting, babe.”

You padded barefoot across the cabin despite your confusion, sleep shorts high on your thighs and thank fuck you’d decided against wearing Steve’s staff sweater to bed, because the owner was standing on your porch when you opened the door.

“Hi.”

He had his shoved in his pockets and he looked flushed, slightly out of breath like he’d ran over. And maybe he had, considering it was lights out hours and no one was supposed to be out of their bunks.

“Hi.”

Steve smiled just as you did, a dopey, lovesick thing that felt awkward and lovely all at once. He shuffled on the wooden boards before he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to something you couldn’t see amongst the trees. “D’you wanna go for a drive?”

It was the easiest thing in the world to nod your head yes, trying to hide the smile that was making your cheeks ache. You dipped your chin as you turned back to your bunk, grabbing the sweater you kept under your pillow, avoiding eye contact with both Steve and Robin as you pulled it over your head. The material dropped to your thighs, the boy’s name stitched over your heart.

“Have fun and don’t get caught,” Robin warned cheerfully. She waved her nail polish brush between you and Steve before you had the chance to pull the door closed. “If either of you come back crying, we’re having words.”

You snorted, cheeks warming as Steve ducked his head with the same awkwardness. “We are?” You joked.

“Uhuh,” Robin nodded, “full intervention. Eddie will be here.”

“God forbid,” Steve deadpanned, wrinkling his nose at you when you laughed. He tugged his sweater sleeve, his fingers brushing over your wrist. “You comin’?”

You looked down at Steve’s hand like you weren’t sure whether to take it or not, if you were supposed to slip yours into his, fingers intertwined. But you nodded again, that little, shy smile still on your lips that Steve hadn’t seen in so long. Together, you walked between the cabins, keeping to the treeline and the shadows, smiling fondly when you heard the giggles and whispers from inside the kids' bunks. You were almost at Steve’s car, the BMW parked up in the makeshift lot behind the gym, when you both stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone else out in the dark.

Murray was walking back from the mess hall, a mug of something hot in one hand, an oversized cinnamon bun in the other. He was in slippers and a tartan bathrobe, his jovial whistling coming to a slow stop as he spotted the two of you out of bed.

“Shit,” Steve groaned, squinting awkwardly at the man. He raised a hand, half a wave, half a sign of defeat. “Murray, we weren’t—”

“That’s weird,” Murray interrupted, looking around the wooded area theatrically, eyes wide. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The man shrugged before looking right through you, whistling again as he passed.

“Wha—?” You were stunned, both you and Steve pivoting in the mossy ground, brows raised.

“Must be the wind!” Murray announced again, continuing his walk back to his own cabin. “But if it was a couple of rogue staff members, I’d be sure to tell them to be back by midnight. You know. If I saw any.”

Murray turned back before he took a turn in the path. He didn’t say anything else, but he winked and raised his mug before disappearing.

—————

You didn’t ask Steve where he was driving you. Honestly, you didn’t mind. Didn’t care. The passenger seat of the BMW was as familiar as your own bed, a sense of ownership and melancholy hitting you in the chest as you clicked your seatbelt into place. Steve smiled as you tucked your knees up, legs bare and feet shoved into unlaced converse, his grin widening when you fiddled with the radio dials until the mixtape he had playing turned up a little louder.

[TWICE A FOOL BY #1 DADS]

The windows were down as Steve drove down a road you’d travelled before, the wind still warm from the heat that made the day suffocating, the smell of pine needles and wild mint lingering on it. The breeze picked at your hair and Steve’s, lifting the strands until they were brushing your cheeks and sitting between your lashes.

It was all sunburnt cheeks and sore knees, achy and bone tired from a whole summer of hikes and swimming in the lake, chasing kids who were too adventures along the creek beds and hanging from tree branches when the sun went down.

The smell of sunscreen, lake water, lemonade, Steve’s cologne, wildflowers, home.

It was a broken heart that was still splintered around the edges, the anxious gnawing feeling of the possibility of loss, of something new and unwanted, something you couldn’t control. It melted into hope, into the idea of reaching out and holding Steve’s hand until he gave you something to cling to.

Steve wouldn’t drive you somewhere pretty and quiet and peaceful, just to break up all over again. Would he?

So you sucked in a breath - pine needles and wild mint and mountain air - and reached out to where Steve’s hand lay idle on the stick shift. Your fingers brushed his, cautious, nervous and he looked from the road to you with surprised eyes. Shock turned to warmth, like he’d spent the last ten minutes wondering the same things you had, sharing the same worries. He flipped his hand, palm outstretched, waiting for you to slide yours into his.

Your thumb found the scar on the back of his knuckle, the small silver line that he got four summers ago, from helping a tiny Lucas Sinclair try archery for the first time.

So Steve kept one hand on the wheel and his other in yours, a small smile on his face that seemed so content, full of a fondness that rivalled the warm comfort of the wind in your face, the lavender shade of the sky, the way the moon was just starting to rise over the mountains in the distance.

Everything was tall trees and the distant trickle of a creek, a long road that turned to gravel and dirt and Steve. You held his hand all the way to the lake.

It was the same one you’d been to before, two years prior with Robin on a day off, Eddie and Steve trailing with you in a last minute change of plans. The last time you’d been on this shore, you’d had an odd realisation that you didn’t actually hate the boy you were supposed to hate. Now, as you toed off your shoes and stepped into the same sand, you were overcome with the urge to ask Steve if he still loved you as much as you loved him.

Anxiety rippled over you the same way the lake lapped at the shore, and you suddenly hated the silence you once cherished. You could hear the wind between the trees on the other side of the water, the quiet trickle of the creek that fed into it, the soft huffs of Steve breathing.

Neither of you said anything when Steve shrugged off his shirt, letting it drop at his feet. His shoes joined yours in a pile and you watched as he closed his eyes, just briefly, the stress leaving his body. His shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t prompt you into anything, but you pulled off your sweater too - Steve’s sweater - wiggling your hips until your sleep shorts fell and soon you were in your underwear, some cotton mismatched things that were less than enticing.

But it made Steve grin, the daisy print on your bra familiar, one he’d seen so many times before. His belt buckle clinked in the night and soon, his jeans were on the sand and he was hopping out of them as you laughed.

It was the most simple thing to do, to follow him into the water.

[SKINNY DIPPING BY SABRINA CARPENTER]

The night made the lake cooler, an inky navy thing that nipped at your skin for the first few seconds. But you let it swallow you whole, waist disappearing, shoulders dipping under, hair slicked back and eyelashes dripping beads of it.

Steve followed suit, a warmth underneath the water that your body recognised, his own hair clinging messily to his forehead as he ducked under the surface, hands brushing your ankles briefly before rejoining you. It went like that for a little while, the sky getting darker, the lake ready to copy. There were stars on the surface, a mirror-like reflection when you weren’t making ripples. So you swam circles around each other, Steve’s car parked up on the sand, the mountains in the distance, tall trees all around. There wasn’t a sound except the small splashes of water, the soft bubble of laughter when either of you swam too close and your shoulders bumped.

Steve ducked under one last time before he resurfaced, swiping at his hair before he took a breath and told you:

“Hopper offered me a job.”

You blinked at him, lips parting so you could start asking one hundred questions. But Steve beat you to it, treading water as he smiled a little shy.

“The whole, ‘Mr Harrington’ thing, that’s what that was about,” he shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. Water dripped from his chest, his neck, rolling into beads from his messy hair. “Uh, him and Murray, they’re opening this community centre for kids. S’gonna be a year round thing. After school, weekends. They, uh, they want me to manage it.”

You gaped at the boy before the smile you couldn’t contain started lifting the corners of your lips, a ridiculously happy thing that made your eyes crinkle and your cheeks ache. You thought about Steve - your Steve - running after kids all day, tired but content, paint stained and giving quiet pep talks, glitter in his hair as he clapped his hands and yelled for order.

“Steve,” your voice was almost too loud in the night. It shook, a trembling, overjoyed sound. You were so happy for him, even if you didn’t know what this meant. “You’d be perfect for it— if, if you want to take it, that is.” The unsaid hung between you, the elephant in the room that was the size of a whole other state.

Steve held your gaze and smiled nervously. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said slowly, realisation dawning on you. Things were starting to make sense now. But instead you said in a whisper, “that’s much closer than Arizona.”

Steve laughed softly as you tried not to sound hopeful, but there was a sticky, cloying ball of emotion stuck in your throat and it was barely holding back the tears. What you were almost crying for, you weren’t overly sure, but Steve moved a little closer, ankles brushing yours under the water. You could count the freckles on his nose by moonlight, you could see the faded green ink on his bicep from where El had tried to give him a ‘tattoo’ two days ago.

“It is,” Steve agreed and there was a smile on his lips, a barely there thing that you wanted to rub your thumb over. “It’s so much closer than Arizona. Like, thirty minutes on a good day.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what Steve was trying to say. Hope bloomed between every crack of your ribs like wildflowers and it was overwhelming, breath catching, it made you want to make a break for the shore and beg the boy not to crush your heart again.

“Steve—”

“I don’t want to go to Arizona,” he interrupted. “I never wanted to go to Arizona. I— fuck. You were right.”

You shook your head. “That’s not the point, I didn’t want to be proven right.”

“I know, but you were. It was all my dad,” Steve smiled and it was sad. “He came in one night after a day of golf and like, eight martinis. Told he spoke to an old friend and boom, handed me my whole future on a piece of fucking paper.” Steve laughed, dry and humourless and you moved closer still, close enough that your thighs grazed his and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “He didn’t even ask, you know? Just sat down at the dinner table and told me what I was doing for the next ten years of my life.”

You could imagine it. So easily. Michael Harrington’s imposing figure in a sharp suit and slicked back hair. You’d always wondered if it was once as wild as his son’s, if he ever liked the same music or spoke about movies and games with the boy. Michael Harrington was a straightened navy tie and a leather briefcase, polished shoes and numbers on a sheet.

“He told me he knew what was best for me,” Steve continued and his voice hit a crack that he didn’t even blink at. “He told me that he was my only chance and making something out of myself, that without his help, I’d spend my thirties and forties stacking shelves and regretting having a kid with you before we were twenty five. He told me I needed his help, even if I didn’t know it yet.”

Anger bubbled inside of you, intense and hot enough that you were surprised the water around you didn’t bubble and hiss. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “Steve, you know that’s not true right? Your dad— shit, Steve, when was the last time you ever needed your dad?”

You waited as the boy thought, confusion on his features as he struggled to recall a memory. Eventually, he shrugged. “When I was sixteen, seventeen maybe. Crashed my first car trying to show off to my friends. I was shit scared on the side of the road. Everyone else ran. I walked to a pay phone and told him I needed his help.”

You raised your brows, waiting.

“He told me to fix my own mess.”

More anger, a surge of it, pushing at your chest, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you shook your head, hands coming out of the water to finally touch Steve. You clung to his damp shoulders, still warm from the sun even now.

“You don’t need him,” you whispered fiercely. “You never needed him. Not then, not now, not for your future.”

The boy smiled, sad and tired, if not a little relieved. “I know that now.”

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” you swallowed hard, pride and stubbornness going down with it. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t make it easier for you, I was just so— so sad that you were going to give everything up for something you didn’t want.” You let your hand trail to Steve’s neck, thumb brushing the spot under his ear, an unbelievably soft touch. “You know I would’ve supported you completely if it was something you wanted to do, right?”

Steve nodded, his hands finding your waist, bringing you closer.

“But finance? Fucking finance?” You made a face and Steve barked out a laugh, a sharp bright sound in the dark and it made your chest ache, hearing such a happy noise from him.

He nodded again, humming in agreement before he gave in and hid his face in your neck. “Fucking finance,” he repeated. “I hate numbers.”

You laughed too, watery and happy at being so close. His touch was overwhelming, stubble on his jaw scraping at your throat, his lips ghosting at your jaw when he smiled. “I know you do,” you whispered and god, your voice was thick with affection.

There was more silence for a minute, a long, slow moment suspended in the water, holding each other, feet brushing the bottom, your arms wound around each other. An owl called out from a tree and somewhere in the distance, a car revved its engine.

“I took the job.”

You froze, unblinking, scared to move, scared to talk. Eventually, Steve lifted his head from your neck and he studied you, waiting for your response, cheeks pink and eyes nervous looking.

You wondered if your heart had stopped beating, if the world had stopped spinning. You couldn’t fathom another reason for the stillness you felt at his words. “What?”

The boy cleared his throat, his big hands squeezing gently at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the band of your soaked bra. “I took the job,” he said again, a look of amazement and incredulity on his features, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “I told Hopper yes.”

Those wildflowers? The ones filled with hope that had wound their way into your chest? They flourished, blooming bright and big until the garden grew and grew and your bones cracked with the enormity of it.

“Steve—” you tried to say more, but nothing came out.

“My dad didn’t take it all that well,” he shrugged, grinning now, like he was suddenly weightless. He looked brighter, even in the night. “Yelled a lot, but I think we’re gonna have a talk when I’m back, a good one, y’know? He didn’t seem as… fucking furious when I told him about the job.”

“In Shelbyville,” you said, like you need clarification. You wondered if this was a dream, a really mean one.

Steve laughed, grinning all pretty. “In Shelbyville,” he nodded, looking at you through his lashes, tired and happy and feeling like things might just be okay. He hoped they’d be okay. “C’mon, let’s get you dry and warmed up, yeah?”

So you let him lead you out of the lake, a blanket pulled from his trunk that the boy wrapped you in first. You let him rub at your shoulders, your chest against his, sand sticking to your feet, water dripping from Steve’s hair onto yours. You were staring at him, still shellshocked, eyes wide and disbelieving and it made him laugh; soft, sweet thing.

You dressed with eyes on each other, wandering, lazy, greedy, seeking out the bare skin that you’d missed touching, kissing. And when damp legs were pulled through shorts and Steve’s sweater was back on your frame, you crawled into the front of his car and let the boy pull your calves over the console and into his lap.

He traced shapes there, copied the constellations from above onto your skin, joining freckles and scars until they made up a Milky Way and you could let your head rest against the window, languid, happy. You weren’t sure what all of this meant for you and Steve, but you’d go back to your bed happy, knowing that Steve was.

“Shelbyville isn’t far from Hawkins,” Steve murmured softly, his cheek against the driver's seat, his eyes on you. He smiled, shy, unsure. “Maybe you could check it out with me after we get home.”

You smiled, tired, the night a yawning thing through the windscreen. It was nearing midnight, the moon above the mountains and the sand glittering on the car floor. “That sounds nice. You think you’ll move?”

Steve nodded, shrugged, nodded again. “Maybe? Eventually.” The boy swallowed, nervous. “Could find a house by a creek, big yard. Big enough for a dog.” He squeezed your knee, a longing touch. “A start of somethin’ new, maybe. Somewhere different. Us. If you’d want.”

You thought about it, about the savings you’d both piled together, the extra shifts, the clip outs of apartment listings in downtown Indianapolis neither of you really wanted but could just about afford. You thought about the late night talks with your cheek pressed to Steve’s pillow, trying to hide your smile as you both whispered about houses with flower boxes and a tree you could hang a swing from, maybe a porch, maybe a lake you could walk to on the weekends.

‘Are we fixed?’ You wanted to ask. ‘Were we broken?’ You wondered.

And maybe Steve could sense your questions, maybe he just knew you that well. His hand swept from your knee to your ankle, fingers curling around, warm and soothing. His thumb stroked over the top of your foot, playing with your untied laces.

“S’okay, if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know you’ve got your job in Hawkins, I know your family is there. I don’t— I don’t expect us to just, you know, act like nothing happened.” Steve didn’t sound as nervous as before when he said, “But I know I love you. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t— that’s not changed.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. You knew the boy still loved you. You saw it when he looked at you, when he frowned at Billy when he got too close, spoke too boldly . You saw it when you strayed too far, when he searched for you in the crowds of campers, when he helped your drunk self into his bed, when he refused to take his sweatshirt away from you. Still, relief flooded you and your breath hitched, emotion catching in your chest. You held out a hand, palm up on your lap, fingers spread for Steve’s to link between.

He let go of your ankle to do just that, fingers twisting, his thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. He looked just as hopeful as you felt as he gazed back, all shades of navy and lavender in the night.

It was too easy to say, “I know I love you, too.”

Meet Me In The Afterglow

[YOU’RE SO COOL BY HANS ZIMMER]

The last of the kids left Camp Upside Down the way they arrived: in a flurry of colour and sticky hands, forgotten backpacks left on porches, teary eyes as they hugged their favourite counsellors.

You were left behind with Steve as the rest of the staff left one by one, more hugs exchanged along with new email addresses and promises to visit different cities and states before Christmas. And when the parking lot was just settling from clouds of dust and dirt, Steve appeared from Hopper’s office, a small folder in his hands, signed contracts and a set of shiny new keys. He twirled them around one finger, a smile on his face he was trying to tamp down with a crinkle of his nose and you raised a brow at him.

“Hey, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve let out a low whistle, joining you in between your two parked cars. He leant against his BMW and made a show of looking you over. “Oh,” he grinned. “Say that again?”

You laughed, slapping at his shoulder before pinching the papers and stealing it from him. You looked over the print, smiling warmly at the official look of it all. Full time hours, managerial role, pension plan, holiday pay. Hopper and Murray’s signatures were at the bottom with Steve’s and you looked up at him and beamed.

“Are you happy?” You asked.

Steve seemed to consider the question for a moment or two before he nodded, hair falling into his eyes that he didn’t bother brushing away. He pushed himself off his car with a foot, taking the two steps it needed to lean in close to you instead. He brushed away an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder, took it as an excuse to brush his thumb across your neck, ‘cause two months apart made him feel like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore. But you did you both a favour and leaned into it, lashes fluttering when his big hand cupped your jaw. He let his thumb push softly against your bottom lip in lieu of a kiss.

“Yeah, I’m really happy, princess.” Steve let out a small laugh, a breathy thing full of surprise. “It’s stupid how I happy I am.”

You turned your head to catch his palm, pressing a soft kiss there that made the boy turn pink, a flash of affection warming his eyes and it only made him drop his hand from you to tug you closer, fingers catching the belt loops of your shorts.

“What ‘bout you?” Steve asked quietly. A hand crept up the side of your shirt, fingers seeking warm, soft skin and familiarity. “You happy?”

You nodded, pushing yourself closer to the boy, hands running over broad shoulders. It was easy to touch him again, even though your heart thundered like it was two summers ago and you were like a preteen with a crush. But you’d missed him too much to let that get the best of you.

“I’m happy,” you murmured. “We got jobs, roofs over our heads, friends, families that don’t wanna disown us—”

“Still to be determined,” Steve quipped.

You tutted. “It’ll be okay, handsome. And you’ve got me.”

Steve turned soft for you, brown eyes caramel and sugar, lips lifting back into a smile, thoughts of his parents forgotten. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. A promise. “Always got me.”

The words seemed to soothe him and if the birds above hadn’t stopped chirping at the right time, you wouldn’t have heard him whisper a ‘love you’ into your hair when he turned to kiss the side of your cheek.

“You’re gonna be a whole forty minutes away from me,” he grumbled, like it was an awful, awful thing. A hardship.

You were both - maybe more you - determined to take it slow before rushing back in. Steve asked you to help him find a new home, an apartment in Shelbyville, maybe even a small house. You’d agreed enthusiastically with the promise to talk about moving in together in six months or so. Despite the joy that leaked out of you like summer and warmth, there was a lingering sting of rejection in your chest. You knew it wasn’t the case, but you’d spent a while with thoughts that told you Steve picked Arizona over you.

“S’not far,” you told him. “I’ll stay over, you can come round on weekends, it’ll be great. We’re taking it one step at a time, remember?”

Steve stole a kiss, a barely there press because he was smiling too much. His contract was a crush of paper between you. “We’ll see.”

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Steve had found a house in Shelbyville that quickly became a home.

It was a small thing out by Big Blue River, a patch of land just outside of town where the river led into a creek and wild raspberries grew in the garden. You helped him move in, watched from your car as he hugged his mother and received a firm handshake from his dad. They didn’t help him into his new home, but they invited you both for dinner the following weekend, so it placated Steve enough.

So you spent days at your job in Hawkins, a bag of clothes always in your car so you could drive to Shelbyville after work, music blasting, engine sputtering. You’d take turns making dinner, cooking some pasta as Steve built a bookcase, a lopsided coffee table, hung up his favourite movie posters a little squint. But the house was filled with Steve and a little of you, photos of you and the boy dotted around the house, Polaroids of your friends stuck to the fridge with magnets.

It got harder to leave each time.

It got harder to leave when Steve kissed you senseless against your car in the evenings, a slow building, needy thing that came with wandering hands. It was lazy mornings with a shared pot of coffee, a bed with soft sheets that smelled like him and you, your body wash in his shower, your clothes in with his piles of laundry. It was long lies on the weekends with the promises of a walk along the river, lunch by the creek laid out on a blanket, the sun on your cheeks and Steve’s head resting on your lap as he made you laugh with stupid jokes.

Then one night your car broke down before you could make it out of the yard and Steve didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, humming thoughtfully. He was all hands, sneaking up your skirt, pushing back your hair, lips against your neck, soft enough to make you shiver.

“Guess you’ll just have to stay,” he murmured against your jaw.

You snorted, “I need my car fixed, Steven.”

A shake of his head, his lips still on your neck. “S’a piece of shit anyway, princess, been yellin’ you for years.” It was cheeky enough for you to pinch at his side but the boy only grinned and took your face in his hands, cradling your jaw. He turned a little more serious, smile still there, but his words were determined. “I’m serious, babe. Stay. Please.”

“I just stayed all weekend,” you told him, your fingers tracing patterns along his collar. Your heart was thundering. “You’re not sick of me?”

Steve tutted, acting up. “You know that’s not what I meant. Move in. I want you to move in.” He nuzzled your cheek with his nose, smelling like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “Wanna live w’you.”

So the next day Steve gave you the keys to his car and painted the bedroom your favourite colour. You told your parents, who were unsurprised, packing up bags and boxes with your things, a bubble of excitement in your chest that you didn’t think would pop anytime soon. The drive to Shelbyville from Hawkins was like the drive to camp, and the same anticipation of a new adventure was in the air. You drove down roads lined with tall trees, wheat fields that turned golden past the old water tower, the beginnings of Big Blue River greeting you at the bridge.

And when you turned down the dirt lane that took you to Steve’s house - your house - it felt more like home than ever. The shutters were painted sage green, the flower boxes beneath the windows filled with blooms, and the old oak tree round the back looked the perfect height for a swing. A dog didn’t greet you, not yet, but Steve did, with all the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever.

Neither of you bothered with your bags, not right away, because Steve was pulling you from the front seat with a smile on his face that rivalled the sun. Steve Harrington was summer and sunscreen and lakes at night. He was mountain hikes with sixty kids, he was car racing out of town, he was sneaking out, sneaking in, he was lemonade, he was broken kayaks and hiding in the gym, he was arguing, he was kissing to make up and everything you ever wanted.

He was yours.

And he was staying here.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot

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covetyou · 1 year

Text

my bright future's behind me

joel miller x f!reader

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con (reader is paying a debt), anal sex, rimming, anal douching*, oil as lube, oral (f receiving), mild spanking, masturbation (f), praise kink, brief sex toys mention, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.8k chapter summary: The line between wanting to help your father and wanting to see Joel again blurs, and you find yourself at a familiar door asking for help. You know what's in store for you this time... don't you?

*NO DETAIL reader is given brief instruction on how to do it, and agrees to. no description of the actual event.

A/N: it's lengthier than I intened, but I really enjoyed writing about this in detail okay, let a girl have some fun. Like yeah, our reader is living in a hellish apocalyptic society and is an anal virgin going to a drug dealer to pay a debt with some serious dubcon vibes, but that man is going to be soft and gentle (ish?) af with her butthole and make her enjoy the hell out of it, okay? okay. let's go.

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song: anything but(t) by Hozier dividers: @saradika

Five weeks ago, heavy feet had carried you away from Joel's door in a daze.

You'd spent the first day waiting for your fathers pain medication to kick in. You spent the next getting him up and ready to go find work again. It was like watching a newborn deer finding its first footing; once he was up, a few stumbles and he was off, throwing himself back into work. He'd even picked up his medication himself at the end of the second week - you'd offered to go for him, but he declined. You deserved the rest, he'd said.

He'd come back, pills in hand, proclaiming how much of a "nice man" Joel Miller was. You didn't disagree.

You spent that night, fingers buried in yourself, whispering Joel's name into the dark as you clenched around fingers too small to feel satisfying.

Every night since then you remembered the look of Joel through the haze of the orgasm he'd slapped out of you. The weight of his cock, glistening head leaking precum as he rutted against you, the pressure of being filled over and over. His face, mouth agape, eyes glued to where you joined, mesmerized.

You came every time, whether it was to the thought of the first push of his cock into you, the firm, repetitive slap of his hand against your bare pussy, or his cum spattering across your naked body.

You didn't just grind pillows any more. Not all the time anyway. You bit into them, hard, stifling moans that you didn't dare let echo around the bare confines of your room. You made yourself writhe in sheets on a bed that felt too small, fingers stuffed to the knuckle, unable to reach the depths you craved. You'd even tried spanking yourself, desperate to chase that zinging feeling he'd given your pussy that day.

Weeks had gone by, and you'd spent every one using your own hands to chase the feeling of Joel Miller between your legs.

And now, an opportunity to grab those feelings presented to you all over again and, although your father was in pain, a part of you you'd kept hidden for weeks was glad for it. Five weeks to the day, and you were stood outside of Joel's apartment once again.

You knew what to expect now, you thought. You'd done this before, it was familiar. He was familiar. You knew how he moved, the sound of his voice, the look on his face when he came.

So, arm raised and feeling braver than you had any right to feel, you knock on Joel Miller's door for the second time.

A moment passes. Then another. You hear nothing beyond the door, and think about turning to leave, when there's a sudden click of the latch and the door flies open.

You'd psyched yourself up all day, but standing here you come to the stark realization that you're not ready to see him again at all. You shrink at the expanse of him.

His eyebrows raise as he leans toward the door frame. His dark eyes look you up and down and you stand there like an idiot, staring at him like you've never seen a man before.

"Can't say I expected to see you again so soon," he says, ticking his head to the side, inviting you in.

You walk past him, he doesn't move from the door way again, and you squeeze into his home.

The door snaps shut behind him, his feet thudding on the floor as he walks up behind you. You stay facing into his living room, staring at a deep scratch on the dining table he'd placed his whisky glass on five weeks ago.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart," he says, and you can hear the shit eating grin in his voice. He knew it was a stupid question. There was no other reason why you'd be here.

"My dad. He needs more. He's bad again and we can't..." you trail off, your poverty unspoken but understood.

Your eyes are locked on the table, you're trying not to clench your hands into fists. You weren't nervous this morning when you'd made up your mind, and now, trapped in this room with him your blood hummed with nerves, anticipation, fear, arousal. It was a cocktail you weren't familiar with and it was making you lightheaded.

Joel's footsteps thud again and you hear the nearby open and close of a cupboard door. He rounds back, appearing in front of you holding another familiar packet. He shakes it and you hear the rattle of pills.

"You ain't got any debt to pay off this time, sweetheart. You can take these right now and owe me... or you can pay me off right now."

You were waiting for this, but even so his offer makes your breath stop and your heart pound. You weren't just expecting it, you were wanting it, and you had a feeling he knew and his offer just proved that. He may as well have said do you want me or not. Your answer would be the same.

"What'll it be?" he says, extending the pill packet out with two thick fingers.

You take a deep breath. "I can... I can do right now. I-if that's okay?"

You can practically see the gotcha flash across his eyes.

"S'more than okay, sweetheart," he says, pocketing the pills with a smirk and crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"You know the drill - show me."

You begin to undress for him, stripping off your jacket and simple dress you'd worn to accommodate the dwindling summer heat. You'd worn your best underwear this time, the black cotton bra, faded to dark grey over the years, actually lifted you and showed off the valley between your tits. Equally faded black panties sat high over your hips.

He watches you like someone would have watched a boring TV show years ago - almost disinterested, but watching anyway. You remove your bra, freeing your breasts and dropping it to the floor. Hands come to your hips to shimmy your panties down your legs when he suddenly moves toward you. You stop immediately. He walks past you, around you, circling like a vulture, assessing your nearly bare body. He's so close you can feel the heat radiate off of him, but he doesn't lay a finger on you.

He completes another half circle, stopping when he's directly behind you. He can see the way the skant fabric of your panties parts the cleft of your ass.

"Take 'em off," his deep voice comes from behind you, closer than you'd expected.

You bend - perhaps more than you usually would - and pull your panties down your legs, pulling them past your knees and stepping out of them as you rise.

Warm hands smooth down the plush of your hips and to the swell of your ass, gripping and lifting your cheeks briefly before releasing. Both hands smack back onto your ass before he speaks again.

"It's a damn shame I never got to do this last time."

He kneads your ass some more, the feel of his massive hands foreign, all things considered. He'd touched you in ways no one ever had, in ways that had you reeling and dreaming of them still weeks later, and yet he had barely ever really touched you. He touched your thighs and your wet cunt, he'd tasted you and been inside you, but his hands had barely ventured further than that. You were unkissed, relatively untouched, and totally, utterly, fucked.

You steady yourself just as he withdraws, leaving your skin burning for him to touch you again.

"C'mon, bedroom. Got somethin' for you." You hear a smirk in his voice. You don't think the grin has left his face since you got here.

Once in his room, he pulls open a drawer on the large dresser. You peer inside. Colorful shapes fill it - you know these things, you've seen them before, but not in a long time. The last you'd seen being your own as you frantically stuffed underwear into a bag, ready to leave your home during the first evacuation at the end of the world.

The man is a god damned a sex toy collector.

"Why do you have all that?" Fuck. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. If there's anything you shouldn't do, it's question a strange man about his sex toy collection.

He leans toward you, whispering in mock conspiracy, "I use 'em on sweet girls who come to see me when they can't pay."

He pulls out an unfamiliar object. You had seen the other things in the drawer before, but you'd never seen this.

"You know what this is?"

It looks like a fucking mutant turkey baster.

You shake your head.

"It's an anal douche, sweetheart." He trails a finger down your arm, the skin pimpling in its wake.

"You never seen one before, let alone used one, huh?"

You shake your head again. Your body immediately set on fire with the mention of it. He'd ghosted a finger over your asshole last time and promised you that he'd have it next time. Now, here you were. Next time. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off from those exact words, if you hadn't tried touching yourself in the same way, going further and breaching yourself with a spit slicked finger, stopping barely a fingernail in, embarrassed even by yourself in the dark.

"You're gonna fill that up. Put that nozzle right in your pretty little asshole. Squeeze," he says softly, squeezing your arm. "Hold it in there for a little bit, and then you go push it out. Okay?"

You stare at him in dumbfounded silence - you'd never heard of this before and felt naive. One hand comes up and clasps your jaw, snapping your mouth shut, as he forces your head into a nod. He hands you the douche, and you take it. It's soft, but the nozzle is hard and unyielding.

"Good. Now you're gonna do that till the water runs clear, you got that? Don't want no messes." He moves to your side, looking between your face and your ass. Your face heats as his calloused hand smooths over your ass, giving another light slap to one of your cheeks.

You don't know what makes you do it, but you start talking. Rambling. Maybe panic at the unfamiliar had taken over, the nerves too much to bare, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"Or we could do the same as last time! I could even -" he cuts you off.

"You'll do this. Don't want anythin' else. Way I see it, I'm the one callin' the shots here. Of course, if you'd like me to do it for you..."

"What?!" you yelp in shock, your embarassement growing threefold. "No, no, please I-"

A dark laugh escapes his lips, he was fucking with you. "Didn't think so. Now, go on. You don't want to make a mess, do you?" You feel your cheeks heat with the preemptive embarrassment of that happening.

"I-I'll do it," you stutter, nodding your head once and looking down at your feet, willing the heat in your face to go away. You wanted what this led to, at least you thought you did. You'd thought about it enough, at least.

A kiss presses into your hair, the unfamiliar action melting your bones, sending you soaring. "Good girl."

A slap to your ass brings you back into the room.

"Get to it then, sweetheart. I'll be waiting outside. I want you clean, so no rushing."

The warmth of him moves away from you, back into the living room. You follow, watching, and he gestures to a partially open door next to his bedroom. You didn't pay attention to it last time, fear and tunnel vision blinding you to most of the details of his home.

You enter, close the door behind you, and take a shaky breath as you lean against the cool door.

You can do this. You just hope to fuck he doesn't hear a thing.

Joel is lounging on his couch reading a worn book when you exit the bathroom 15 minutes later.

"All good?" he says, not bothering to look up.

"Mhm," you nod. You didn't trust yourself with words and honestly, you had no real clue. You'd never done any of this before. You'd had thoughts, sure, but you were not familiar with any of it in practice.

He's up and moving toward you in an instant, the book thrown to his dining table as he passes it. You think you can see a growing hardness in his pants as he walks.

He looms over you, tracing gentle shapes over the bare skin of your upper arm, watching your nipples harden and a shudder run down your spine.

"Let's get you someplace more comfortable," he says with a softness to his voice that doesn't meet his eyes. His eyes are dark and molten.

He leads you back to his room and deposits you at the end of his bed once again. You stand awkwardly, hands and feet flexed in an attempt to push away your nerves. If Joel notices, he doesn't say anything.

"I've never-" you start.

"Oh, I know you've never had anything back here," he says, coming to stroke down your back and over the curve of your backside. "If you did you wouldn'ta jumped away from me last time."

Any humiliation that was bubbling beneath the surface floats away as he strokes gently over your hips and ass. The roughness of his hands against your soft skin makes your pussy thrum. If you were being honest, you'd turned up to his door wet and ready. By this point you were positively dripping.

"Have you ever..." you say breathlessly, closing your eyes. He laughs, it's raspy and deep, the sound of it sending another trickle from your pussy despite the anxious feeling in your belly.

"You ain't even the first I've ass fucked this week, sweetheart."

With that, he wordlessly moves you into place, turning you to face his bed, legs slightly parted. A hand comes between your shoulders to he push you down, making you hinge at the hips to bend over. Joel steps back, leaving you there nude, bent over his bed, and alone.

"Spread yourself for me."

You let out a shaky breath you didn't realised you'd been holding and reach behind you, gripping one plush ass cheek in each hand as you spread yourself for him. He approaches again, only to grip the meat of your ass with his massive hands to spread you wider, exposing both your holes completely to his gaze.

You slam your hands down on the bedsheets to steady yourself, the sound of blood rushing through your ears as you think of how much he's staring and where he's staring. Someone didn't tell your pussy this was meant to be embarrassing though, and you feel your heartbeat in your cunt.

Strong hands knead at you, pulling you apart and pressing you together over and over. You can hear Joel's breath get deeper behind you, enjoying the sight of your ass being manhandled.

Turning, you look around and up at him. His eyes are transfixed, and he's nodding gently, tilting his head from side to side as he drinks you in from every possible angle.

"Fuck yeah," he murmurs, looking up at you as he notices your stare. "Beautiful ass, sweetheart. You gonna let me play with it?"

You already want to moan. As if you fucking wouldn't let him play with it now.

You bite your lip and nod at him.

"Ain't I lucky," he grins, before crouching behind you. You feel a nip of his teeth on your ass cheek, then the same on the other. Your breath catches when you feel his tongue dip down into your folds, catching your clit and swiping upwards through the wetness of your pussy, pushing in briefly to taste you. He does it again, and again, and again. You're moaning softly with each swipe, his tongue moving closer to your ass with each lick. You're pouting, trying not to whine, when he pulls away just before he touches your tight ring.

"Someone's enjoying this," he mutters into your ass, soft lips placing another kiss to your cheek as he circles a finger around your dripping cunt.

Fuck yes I am.

You hear him laugh behind you, the puff of air from his nose fluttering across your spread holes. Your eyes go wide, realizing you'd been so lost in it all that you'd said it out loud.

He moves away from you completely, reaching to drag pillows down his bed. A tap to your ass prompts you to move.

"Get comfortable, sweetheart, might be a while."

Draping yourself over his pillows, you get to your knees and rest your forearms on the bed. He's moving around behind you when you duck your head lightly, trying to be discreet as you breathe in the rich scent of him from his pillow. The smell of him fills your lungs, leaving no space for nervousness now.

The bed shifts as Joel climbs on behind you, a hand stroking up your thigh. You can't help but sigh. You were really enjoying this - your dad and your 'reason' for coming here long forgotten.

Hands pull you apart once again, and he's back to kissing across both your cheeks. He returns to where he's spread you, and you feel the scruff on his chin scratch against your ass, another huff of his breath, and then a warm, wet tongue is finally licking over your asshole.

Your toes curl as he licks you in gentle circles, tasting you. You'd never felt anything like it, the sensation strange and not exactly as exhilarating as you were expecting. And then he moans and you finally get it.

"Oh."

He wiggles his tongue gently into your tight hole, not quite breaching you but adding a pressure that has you pushing back into him slightly, willing him on. A broad lick and a kiss to your hole later and he's pulling away again. He keeps pulling away but you're desperate for him to continue.

"Good girl. Stay nice and relaxed just like that for me, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper into his pillow.

"Just a little longer, sweetheart," he says, stroking a finger up and down over your asshole.

There's a small snick behind you, and the finger stroking you pulls your cheek to the side.

A dribble of something cold, thick, and wet trickles over your asshole, and drips down to your cunt. You flinch and wiggle at the feeling, but a hand clamps down around your calf, keeping you in place.

"What's that," you gasp.

Hand on your calf keeping you steady, you hear another snick behind you. A finger traces the trail the substance took, up from your pussy, spreading the slickness of it around as he gets to your tight hole.

"Cooking oil. Ain't no lube in the fuckin' apocalypse and I don't wanna go in dry. Tear my dick straight off, and I quite like you havin' two holes instead of just one."

The tip of his thick finger, slick with oil, pushes into your asshole. You take a deep breath and the pressure gives way, allowing his finger to breach you. The hand on your calf releases, and traces up to your ass, squeezing.

This is as much as you'd ever managed with yourself, but with Joel doing it, it feels so much more. The tip of one of his fingers so much thicker than yours, and the oil easing his way so much better than your spit slicked finger.

He wiggles and swirls the finger just inside your hole, and you whimper, toes clenching. This is nothing like his tongue. Something like this shouldn't feel so good, none of it should, but the embarassment is long gone and all you want is more.

The finger pulls from you before he can give you what you want, and you feel more oil being poured onto you.

You arch your back, hoping he'll go right back to what he was doing, and he does. Finger to your asshole, he circles gently once, before pushing in again, not stopping at one knuckle this time.

"Nnngh," you moan, as his finger settles deep into you.

"All the way in all in one, good fuckin' girl."

He pulls out half way before pushing back in, fingering your ass with his index finger and holding you open with the other hand so he can get a clear look at your ass taking his finger.

There's no stretch, just a fullness, and goosebumps prickling over you as he moves in and out. You settle into it after a few more pumps, skin calming as you do.

"How's that feel?" he says. He must have seen you relax back down into his pillows, or felt it as his finger moved inside you more easily.

"S'good," you mumble into his pillow.

"You like my finger in your ass?"

"Mm," you moan, as he picks up the pace, fucking you a little harder with his thick digit.

"Let's get another in you, huh? Sweet pussy would like that too, I can see her twitchin'."

He begins to curl his finger, swirling it around and stretching against your hole. Your skin prickles again and you let out a whine, the fullness and added stretch feeling so good.

The finger retreats again but it's quickly replaced with the feeling of two pushing into your ass, one slipping in just before the second starts to spread your hole further than ever.

You groan deep and low, the sound being pulled from your chest without warning. When he's down to the knuckles of his fist, he holds there, twisting and scissoring them deep in you.

You're breathing heavy, whimpering, as Joel plays with your asshole. At one point you hear the snick of the bottle again and feel his fingers withdraw half way before spreading, creating a valley between them and spreading your asshole open for him, when a drizzle of oil is poured onto them. His spread fingers funnel the oil into your ass, and he pushes them back deep into your needy hole.

Over and over, he pulls his fingers completely from you before punching them in quickly, giving you no time to recover as he watches your hole barely wink closed each time.

"Nice and oiled up now, sweetheart. Just a little more. Wanna see somethin'."

His voice is thick and heavy, loving watching the way your ass is taking his fingers, listening to the whimpers and moans you try to hold back.

He's not touched himself, but you can tell he's rock solid and desperate just from touching you. You lick your lips at the thought of his cock, remembering the faint taste of him he'd smeared on your mouth weeks ago, and you feel more slick drip from you.

It was funny, if you thought about it. The attention to your cunt last time such a stark contrast to the neglect it was receiving now. You didn't mind.

Slicked fingers speed up in your asshole, really fucking you now, your ass jiggling with each thrust of his hand. You let out a high pitched whine, and he fucks you through it, before burying his two digits deep in your ass. He keeps pushing against you, never ending pressure making him feel deeper and deeper than he is. As if reading your mind, his other hand comes down to swipe drips of oil across your clit, using the tips of his fingers to rub in soft circles.

He keeps the pressure in your ass, releasing and pushing rhythmically so it feels like he's fucking you impossibly deep. Another wave of goosebumps cascades over you, and you feel your neglected cunt tremble.

"Joel I - fuck - I'm gonna come. Please, I-" you gasp, holding onto the pillow tighter with one hand but scrambling frantically with the other, not knowing what to do. The pressure is so deep, so foreign, but so incredible. You've never felt like this.

"Fuuuck yeah," he grunts from behind you, pushing his fingers deep in you again. Instead of releasing them, he starts shaking his fist, fingers still buried in your tight asshole. His other hand swipes over your clit in tandem, and you feel it.

The crashing wave of it comes for you, and there's no running. You're consumed by him; nothing but the scent of him in your lungs, and his fingers deep inside you. Moans that only he has ever pulled from you. Nothing else exists. The world falling to shit, caring for your ailing father, the years of loneliness at the end of the world. Gone - chewed up and spit out and gone, all at the hands of Joel Miller.

Before you know it, your thighs and cunt are twitching as an orgasm batters into you, knocking the air out of you with a scream you can't give sound to.

"Comin' from bein' ass fucked, thatta girl. Filthy fuckin' girl," he pulls his fingers from your ass as you still twitch, riding through your orgasm totally empty. A slicked up hand slaps your buttcheek, sending another aftershock through you.

Joel rises to his knees and you hear the tell tale clatter of his buckle through the white noise in your head - you'd long forgotten you were nude and he was not.

You look around to see him stroking his thick cock with an oily hand. You whine, you could come again just from watching. Every nerve in your body is on absolute fire.

He slides his slick hard length up your ass, rutting himself against your crack.

"I'm fucking one of your holes today, sweetheart. Don't have to be this one though, but I'd like it to be."

"I want it," you moan without hesitation.

"That's a good girl," he says, sliding his cock between your cheeks a little quicker. "You give me what I want, and I give you what you want."

His solid cock pulls away from you, and he rests a hand on your lower back, pushing down on you gently to hold you still. You feel the tip of his cock drag down through the slick of your pussy before he swipes back upward toward your ass.

Knuckles drag across your ass as he pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock in line with your hole. A firm press of his thumb to the tip of his cock, and your asshole gives way, letting him slip in.

"Would you look at that," he says, before pulling his thick tip out of your ass. You immediately feel more oil drizzle into your hole, still opened from his slicked head breaching you.

He pushes back in, even easier than before. The stretch of it sends the most ferocious wave of goosebumps over you yet, drawing a babbling moan out of you.

"Jus' look at that," he groans, eyes locked on his cock fucking into your asshole. He fucks his tip in and out of you for a moment, your moans dying down as you adjust to the feeling, before his hips push forward again.

"Fuck, I could just slip all the way in sweetheart," he says, pushing deeper into you. "All the way in." As he says it, he slips his cock further into you with ease, sliding down impossibly far in one smooth thrust.

He stills. You feel so full, so stretched, but you don't feel the weight of his balls against you, or the heat of his warm belly. There must be more to go, but this is already so much. You whimper, almost begging him to pull out, when a hand slips around between your legs and starts lightly caressing your pussy.

"If you want more you're gonna have to ask for it."

"P-please, Joel. I want more."

Finally, he pushes all the way in, his entire dick encased in your oiled heat. He throws his head back with a groan, drowning out your whimpers as he bottoms out, grabbing both of your hips to steady himself.

"Fuuuck."

There's so much of him in you, you try to wiggle forward to relieve the pressure, even with both his hands clamped on your hips.

"Hold still," he shushes you. "Hold still and take it."

You'd do anything he told you right now. You quieten and let him push into you more, his dick twitching in your ass sending a jolt through you. You can feel his balls on your cunt, slicked up from your pussy and the oil covering you.

"Hold that slutty little hole open for me," he growls.

There is no hesitation in you as you reach back with both hands to spread your cheeks for him. Your grip is hindered by the oil, but you hold firmly and pull, spreading yourself and allowing him even deeper into your ass. He was quickly making being spread for him your favorite thing in the world.

He pulls out, leaving just the tip in you once again, before fucking all the way back in in one motion, pushing the air out of you when his pelvis meets your thighs.

Somehow you still hold yourself open, moaning and rocking your hips, and he fucks into you, his large hands on you pulling you toward his cock with each thrust.

Joel's breathing is heavy as he fucks into your ass, grunting softly every so often. He shuffles his legs as they slip away, unable to get purchase on his sheets in the constraints of his jeans.

They slip again and he slams into you, hard, with a growl.

"Fuck," he grunts in frustration and you hear the frantic shuffle of fabric as he pulls his pants down his thighs, his dick still buried in your ass. His belt clatters again, and he quickly pulls out of you. The bed rocks as he moves to discard his jeans, before he climbs back behind you, placing his feet either side of your knees. You try to look around in confusion, but then he lifts your hips, lines himself up, and in one smooth move, he's pushing his entire cock down into you.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, high pitched and desperate.

You let out a keening high pitched scream as he pulls out and slams into you again, and then he's fucking you in earnest.

He's like an animal, grunting as he ruts into you, fucking his cock down deep into you so far you swear you can feel your organs shift.

"That's it, she's likin' it now, huh. She's fuckin' likin' it now," he snarls.

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chant with each gasping breath.

Your hands slap down onto the bed, white knuckle gripping the sheets as he pounds into your asshole from above.

"Ohhhh, yes - fuck - yeeaaahhhh," you groan. You can't tell if you're coming, it feels so good that you could be but it doesn't feel the same. You have definitely never felt this before.

"Takin' it so - fuck - fuckin' well, sweetheart," he gasps. "So. fuckin'. well."

He speeds up, pounding faster and faster, his balls smacking against the meat of your ass.

"Gonna come in this fuckin' asshole. Gonna get my cum all up in you."

"Please," you don't know what you're begging for, but his thrusts accelerate and that might just be it. You're screaming around him, his hips stutter, slamming into you. Joel's thighs quiver with the force of his orgasm, rattling the entire bed as he shakes and unloads deep into your ass.

You've deafened yourself. You've maybe came, you can't tell. All you know is your body is on fire and your mouth is dry. You could sob and you don't know anything, you just know it feels so good and so much.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you lie there, face down, in a daze.

Joel lowers his shaking knees to the bed, still buried in your ass. His grip on your hips relaxes, fingers unconciously soothing you in gentle circles. His breath is heavy, and for a moment you feel him lean over your spent body to press a kiss to your back, before he retreats, pulling out of you and leaving your asshole still full of him.

You don't know how long you're there, ass still in the air, head floating through a million different universes, too fucked out to care you're still naked on Joel's bed.

"C'mon, sweetheart," says Joel, his voice gruff from heavy breathing. "Gotta get you home." You feel his oily hand softly pat you on the thigh, bringing you back to reality.

There's a thump as your clothes hit the bed, and you look around to see him for the first time since he put his dick in your ass. He's fully dressed again already, running a hand through his graying hair, sweat patches blooming on his t-shirt.

You nod at him and sit up - the floaty feeling has escaped your head and is buzzing all through your veins, creating a distance between you and your body. You mindlessly dress yourself, and he watches.

When you stand, your legs are somehow steadier than last time, and you don't even stumble as you pull your panties up the rest of the way.

Joel guides you out of his home, no offer of a hand or a touch to steady you. You slide your feet into abandoned shoes when he unlatches the door and pulls it open. Fishing around in his jean pocket, he pulls out the packet of pills, holding it out for you to take.

You thank him, taking the pills and walking from his apartment. You don't turn, intending to walk away from him before he can close the door on you again.

"I'll make you a deal," he calls out to you. You stop in your tracks. "You keep comin' to collect for your daddy and I'll give you those pills for free."

You frown and turn to look at him. He's standing in the doorway with his arms crossed like you'd just arrived. "That's not free. I won't whore myself for pills."

He lets out a wry laugh, "You already are, sweetheart."

Shaking his head, he closes the door on you once again, leaving you alone in the hallway.

And he still hasn't kissed you.

next part

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totaly-obsessed · 1 year

Text

Work-Life Balance

Georgia Stanway x reader fic

-> Reader is very much overworked, Georgia tries to convince her that it doesn't need to be that way

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Georgia was not a fan of early training sessions, coming home at 2 in the afternoon just felt wrong, so it was safe to say, that she was especially happy when the session was pushed to later in the day.

It gave her the possibility to spend her morning with you, her girlfriend. And usually, the Brit was happy about that, but today was not one of them – The day started completely wrong.

She was alone. Sure, the two of you did not live together but you usually stayed at her place, and you had been there when going to bed last night. In her kitchen she found breakfast already made, a little note attached to it ‘picked up an early shift. See you tonight! -ly!’.

This was not how Georgia wanted to start her day.

Everybody at training noticed how off the usually bright and cheerful character was, especially Lina. “Hey, what’s up with you? Did your Wifey break up with you?” The German tried to lighten the mood, but seeing her friend's deep frown, she realized something was wrong.

With a defeated sigh Georgia continued packing her bag while avoiding eye contact. “She picked up another early shift.”

Lina’s head snapped over, knowing about your working history and all you did “Again?” The brunette continued to stare at her football boots, “Yeah, and after that she has to study all night.”

To be able to study at university and be able to afford an apartment was quite the feat, especially with no help from your family, so you worked two jobs, as a cashier in the early mornings or incredibly late evenings as well as at an elementary school in the afternoon. There you helped the kids whose parents worked later with their homework and played with them. Added on top of that were Lessons in University, homework and studying.

You had been doing both jobs just fine for a while, but upon meeting Georgia at your internship at Bayern, which was already stressing you out, more things were added to your calendar. Obviously, you wanted to be with the Brit but it was hard with the life you were living.

“I will see her tonight, if she comes to my place.” Lina's heart hurt a little seeing her friend so done with life.

“She really needs to give up that supermarket job.” Everyone knew that you hated working there, being yelled at by rude customers before ten in the morning was a blow to the day. But in your mind, having grown up with money insecurities, you needed to make as much money as possible, and this was an easy way to do so while being in Uni.

“Yeah, but if she quits, she can’t stay in her apartment. She is at my place all the time anyways but she will feel like a burden and she is scared of being dependent on me.” Georgia knew how your mind worked, even if she wasn’t happy with it. You moving in with her, was something she currently wished for with incredible fervor.

“She won’t be dependent on you though, she’ll still earn money. And when she’s got her degree, she can just start at Bayern, they already have a contract up for her.” Just like that the Brit had a new Goal in mind, and this one wasn’t on a football pitch.

Upon returning to her apartment, she almost missed your presence, if she hadn’t fallen over your shoes in the hallway. “Babe?”

No answer.

The apartment wasn’t big enough that you couldn’t have heard her, so where were you? The brunette didn’t have to look all that hard – a sock-clad foot could be seen peaking out from in front of the couch. “Baby?”

She still didn’t receive an answer and she quickly saw why – your study materials were distributed on her fluffy carpet with you asleep on your stomach on top of it all, face first into a book. With a chuckle Georgia picked up your materials, sorting them just how you liked it, the only thing missing was the book that was cushioning your face.

Even though the midfielder titled herself as “heavy-handed” she was ever so gentle with you, coaxing you out of your uncomfortable sleep, slowly but surely.

Just a few minutes later you were sat on the couch instead of in front of it, your girlfriend feeding you biscuit after biscuit.

“There you are, baby! Welcome back.” Your blurry eyes finally found her cute face.

“Need to study Gee.” As softly as the Brit could, she grabbed your hands and held them in her lap, as you tried to reach for your folders and notes. “Not right now Baby. We need to talk.”

Your tired mind went from zero to a hundred real quick. Wide eyes staring deep into Georgia’s. “Not like that baby. We need to talk about your work-life balance.”

You couldn’t help laughing. The only thing you kept thinking about were those IKEA ‘work–life–sleep’ advertisements that were all over Germany just a couple of years ago. “I’m serious.”

She was. The usually goofy grin on her face was gone, instead, she was quite expressionless. With a deep sigh, now knowing that she had your attention the midfielder started to explain her view.

“I think you should quit your second job and move in with me…” With a warm hand, she shushed you before you could even make a noise. “Just hear me out, okay?”

A small kiss was pressed to the corner of your mouth – the brunette hoping to convey, that she wasn’t mad or anything, that she just wanted the best for you. “Okay, your apartment is just a waste of money, you are here most of the time. We can put your desk and work things into my spare room, so while I work out you can keep me company while you work.”

You did that anyway, but usually, you just dragged a chair into the nearly empty room, trying to balance your books on your legs. “And then all my stolen hoodies are back in the closet, and you can just pick whichever one you want. We can cuddle every evening, and we can cook together. And we can-“

Now it was you who shushed Georgia with a soft kiss on her lips. The Brit could feel your smile, making her stop her rambling. “Alright – Sold! What else?”

The Bayern player was thankful that you listened to her. “Quit your job. You don’t need the money when you live here, and when you are done with Uni, you can work at Bayern.”

The silence in the room was heavy. Georgia could see your brain working overtime. “Fine. I’ll quit the hob at the supermarket, but I’ll continue working with the kids! I will not live here for free, I will contribute to the rent.”

The midfielder would never let you pay rent, but you didn’t need to know that, at least not now. “So we have a deal?”

Back was the goofy grin as the brunette stared at your extended hand, which she grabbed just to pull you closer and press a giggly kiss on your lips – “Deal.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

liked by linamagull and 44.330 others

stanwaygeorgia: New roomie is kinda invading my personal space. Not sure if I like it...

buehlklara: 'not sure if I like it' - Sure...

-> leahwilliamsonn: I am not convinced

user01481: I need that sweater!

-> y/n: kindly lent to me by @stanwaygeorgia

linamagull: 'roomie' huh? So you did it?

user27231: Who even is that?

#woso x reader #woso imagine #georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway #engwnt x reader

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rafedaddy01 · 4 months

Text

Get on top

She’s never had sex before, so imagine her surprise when her two closest friends ask for a threesome.

It was a typical Friday night, Dre and Nick were over along with the rest of the cast and you guys were having a few beers while talking about wrapping up the show.

“You killed it in that last scene, y/n” Rudy said as he took a sip of his beer.

“You think? I feel like I could have done better” you always felt a little insecure being on screen. Madyline and Maddison were so perfect, you had a different image of yourself in your mind. No matter how many times Drew told you you’re gorgeous. But he’s your best friend so he doesn’t count.

“Hey, don’t stress babe. You were amazing as always” Madyline said as he squeezed you in a tight hug. Her and you were probably the closest out of the girls, although you got along with the boys better, Madyline was more layed back and it was easy to talk to her about stuff.

“You want another?” She asked, pointing to your empty beer bottle. “Sure” you gave her the empty one and watched her walk into your kitchen to grab a fresh cold one.

The rest of the night went on. You’ve probably drank 3 or 4 beers and had a few shots of tequila, thag was not your friend.

You weren’t drunk but you definitely wouldn’t remember snippets of the night in the morning.

“Alright, me and mads gonna dip. It’s already 12:00am” chase put his arm around his girlfriend and before you knew it they were gone. Slowly everyone else cleaned out the apartment.

“Don’t worry, we’ll stay and help you clean up” Nick said gathering some empty bottle and putting them in the trash.

Drew smiled warmly at you as he started picking trash off the ground.

“Aww you guys are the best.” You walked over to nick and gave him a kiss, you tried to go for his cheek but his head turned in your direction and captured your lips instead.

Your cheeks flushed as you pulled back, but his lips pulled into a grin. “It’s alright” he eases your mind and brushes it off before going back to cleaning.

Your to tipsy to really focus on the embarrassing moment so you walk over to Drew and start helping him.

“Thanks for staying, you didn’t have too”

“It’s not issue, you’re our girl. We got you” he winks at you charmingly before continuing cleaning.

Your confused. First nick didn’t make and issue out of you kissing him and now Drew’s calling you their girl. Are you reading too much into this?

“Right.. well thanks anyway, both of you”

Once you guys are all done cleaning the mess your friends left behind, it’s practically 1am. “You guys can crash here if you want”

Your all standing in the, nick and drew in front of you as you try not to check them out. They’ve always been hot and you’ve always thought they were, but they were your friends and you know they don’t feel like that about you.

Drew glances that nick and he shrugs, “sure, why not. Put apartments pretty far away and we both drank so it’s safer to just sleep it off”

“Cool, I’ll get you guys some blankets.”

You walk off to grab each of them a couple of blankets and when you walk into the living room your eyes widen and the blankets drop to the floor.

They’re both standing in their underwear. Their toned chests glistening, even in this crappy apartment lighting, that’s how hot they are.

“Uh- haha, sorry” you bend down to pick the blankets up, taking a deep breath to clear your mind and get images that shouldn’t be there out.

“You alright, y/n?” Nick asks as he takes a step forward to help you with the blankets.

“Yeah- I’m-I’m great. Why do you ask?” You clear your throat as you try really hard not to look down.

“What, you’ve never seen a guy in underwear before?” Drew speaks up from behind Nick.

Your cheeks blush, nobody knows your a virgin. But clearly it’s come out now.

“Holy shit. I don’t think she has” Nick says as he grabs the blankets from you.

Your embarrassed now and a little upset that they think it’s funny, “anyway I’m off to bed”

“Y/n, wait. I- I didn’t meant to make you uncomfortable” Drew grabs your shoulder to stop you. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s cute that your a virgin”

You look up and your eyes meet. His expression softens, and he’s so beautiful your breath catches. “Would you- I mean could you-“ your words get twisted but the alcohol still running through your body pulls them out.

“Would you fuck me?” You bite your lip as you watch the shock on Drew’s face turn into interest.

He doesn’t say anything, “I- forget it. It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have-“ before you can turn away drew spins your around, your hands slam into his hard chest and his twists into your hair as he kisses you, hard and soft at the same time. Making your legs turn into jelly, but he holds you up.

You both pull away out of breath. Staring into each others eyes.

“Do you-“ Drew clears his throat before speaking again, “do you want us both?” He completely forgot Nick was here, that caught up in the amazing kiss, until Drew moved a little and nicks standing there. A clear bulge in his underwear.

“A threesome?” Your mind can’t even comprehend the word. You’ve never slept with anyone. And now they’re asking you to sleep with both of them.

“Only if it’s okay with you” Nick comes up behind Drew, reach out for your hand and rubbing small circles on it, his touch brings tingles to your skin. And suddenly you want it all over. “Yes”

They both look at each other before they pounce.

Ones taking off your shirt and bra while the other helps you out of your pants and panties. You don’t even know who’s who. There’s just hands grabbing you at all angles.

“Wait” they both stop what they’re doing and look at you. “Maybe we should take this into the bedroom?” You giggle as a wide smirk plastered both their faces.

Nick picks you up and throws you over his shoulder with Drew following behind. He throws you on the bed, staring at your naked body, all the way from your eyes to your perfect manicured toes.

“What’s wrong” you wonder if suddenly he’s disgusted by you, “nothing, your perfect” he hovers over you, kissing your neck.

He starts sucking and your head rolls to the side, your moans quiet and soft as his hands move over your breasts.

Your eyes open to find Drew, he’s sitting next to you on the bed, his underwear gone and his hand wrapped around his cock as he watched your face.

You look at his angry tip and suddenly want to know what it feels like in your mouth and inside you, you can’t wait.

“How are we gonna do this” you speak between breaths as your eyes are still on Drew’s hand and nicks lips still suck at your sweet spot.

“First we have to warm you up” Nick says as he steps back and takes off his boxers. Your eyes fly to his cock. It’s not as long as Drew’s but it’s thickets and your insides do flips as you watch him sink to his knees.

“What are you-“ you gasp out a moan as you feel the swipe of his tongue against your folds. “So wet” he speaks into your pussy and you gasp more and more as he dives further in, tongue fucking you.

“Shh, it’s okay. Relax, let him make you feel good” you didn’t even realize Drew was behind you, your upper body leaning on him and he massages your breasts, tweaking the nipples. “Fuck” you moan and shit your eyes.

The feelings of nicks tongue and the way Drew teases your nipples becomes to much. “I-i can’t. I’m gonna cum” you moan as nicks grip tightens around your thighs and he pushes his face further in.

“It’s okay, baby. Just let go” Drew soothes you as you feel your orgasm take over and your thighs begin to shake. Nick licks up the mess and pulls away, licking his lips and wiping them with the back of his hand.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and Drew pushes your hair away from your neck, he starts peppering small kisses down the column and your mind goes fuzzy again, ready fore more. “What’s next”

“Your impatient aren’t you” Drew whispers in your ear and the sound of his voice is so sexy, goosebumps cover your skin.

“It’s my turn to make you feel good” Drew gets off the bed and takes nicks place. “Turn around for me” he waits for you to flip onto your stomach and when you look up nicks cock is right in your face.

“Tell me if you need me to stop” you feel Drew’s tip rub at your clit. He runs it through your folds, getting it nice and wet before slowly pushing in. Your mouth forms an O as you squeak out from the pain. “Doin okay?” Nicks pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and you nod. “I’m good, just keep going. Fuck”

Drew pushes the rest of the way in. Stopping when his balls hit your clit. “I’m gonna start moving now, and nicks gonna stuff that pretty face. So if you need either of us to stop just squeeze his tight. Got it?” Drew says behind you, his voice is strained, likes it’s taking everything in him not to fuck you silly right now. “Yes” your drooling at the thought of getting fucked while tasting nicks cock in your mouth.

“Good girl” Drew slaps your ass lightly before he pulls back and slams back in. Your mouth opens in a gasp and nicks shoves his cock in there.

The bed squeaks as Drew continues snapping his hips into you. Nick groans as he stuffs your mouth over and over, loving the way you look up at him through your lashes and the way your drooling. You moan around him and he grips your hair, tugging a little.

“Fucking hell, gonna make me cum” he throws his head back as you feel your mouth swell and a warm liquid hits the back of your throat.

He pulls out of your mouth and sighs, “shit, that’s the fastest I’ve ever come” he chuckles as he takes a seat on the bed to continue enjoying the show.

“Fuck, she’s squeezing me so tight” Drew groans and your head drops to the bed, your nails dig into the sheets and your a babbling moans mess as Drew cock hits deeper and deeper with each stroke.

He pulls out and you whimper. “Come here” nick calls you over. You muster the energy and crawl over to him. “Get on top”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart

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zoropookie · 4 months

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WHAT YOU WON'T DO FOR LOVE (WYWDFL) — ONE

YOU couldn't be having a worse halloween night. choose your fate with your fellow readers and see if it gets better!

chapter two

soulmate!wanderer x gn!reader

"Yeah, I understand that it's the third day I haven't paid my rent, I'm telling you my banks been closed."

Your voice to your landlord, Kamisato Ayato (who is also your boss), on the phone reeked with desperation. And yet, even though this was the case, you still had time to snack on chicken strips at a picnic table.

"(L/N), there's nothing else I can do, your extension is up. I need a payment by tomorrow." His voice crackled through the phone, stern but never sympathetic. "I have other tenants to consider."

"Wouldn't have guessed that one." You laughed as a jab at the other, a thin veneer of your humor and the intense need to scream gnawed at your mouth. “You’re rich as hell telling me that you have other tenants to consider, but you’re still making me clean toilets? Couldn't give me a promotion to accountant or anything? I know about 16 of your slimy practices.”

“You're being dramatic.”

“The only other tenants are Itto and Yoimiya with her dad. This is a side thing for you with how often my shower head is broken.” Your eyes dulled. “If anything, I should be telling you to pay me.”

The other end went silent, as your boss Ayato cleared his throat. “I never said it was free housing in the lease.”

“Ooh, slimy practice number 17! Hey, maybe if you make it to 20, I can wring 700,000 mora out of you.”

“You can make as many threats as you want, you still haven't paid in time. I can’t keep extending deadlines for you.” Ayato’s voice hardened. “If you can’t pay by tonight, you will have to find somewhere else to stay.”

You felt helpless in the moment, but still managed to hold on to the call for just a few more seconds. “Really, Kamisato.” Your voice dulled. “You’re going to lock me out of my apartment, keep me in a Halloween costume, and deny my valid reason just because I didn’t pay up 1,000 mora? Me, who cleans your event hall everyday.”

“Perhaps you should have been more conscious of your money management. Please be more responsible in the future, (L/N). Good luck to you.”

And with that, he hung up. You let out a growl of frustration and slammed your phone down on the picnic table. It happened to bounce up and land face down on the floor. You gasped lightly, reaching quickly to pick it up as you checked it frantically.

Cracks up and down the screen of your phone you still managed to be making payments on. "Wow..." You stared at the cracks in disbelief, feeling a disastrous amount of weight that prompted you to throw away the greasy chicken strips. You've been going to this place for so long to save money that you wondered if you were ever really saving anyway.

You gathered your thoughts quickly before continue your walk back home. You had just came back from a big Halloween party that your neighbor Yoimiya invited you to. You weren't listening entirely, but she was yapping hard about this concept about soulmates and how it's been actually proven that what the mark you were born with yadda yadda yadda. Because of this, anyway, she had made these weird concoctions that made the fireworks different colors. From purple, orange, green, and so on to get everyone in the spirit.

You were too scared of her to say no; one of these days you were convinced she's going to accidentally make a nuke and kill everyone. You'd rather not make an enemy if it meant you had a chance living in her oddly huge bunker (how did she make a bunker underground her bottom floor apartment?).

If anything, your spirit was crushed as soon as you left the party. With how the only guy blowing up your phone was Ayato and he just wanted the money that he gave you back, and looking like a very horrible version of an 80's professional acrobatics instructor with an equally as bad haircut, you were pretty much having the worst Halloween night of your life.

Especially seeing your crush for 13 years, Xiao, kiss the literal only other guy at the party, Venti. How long were you even waiting to get your chance? He didn't even know Venti that well compared to you, and he was probably crushing on him just because he could sing. And now you have the very moment that you were happy to not in the blink of an eye, so miserable seeing it that you could swear you felt yourself sober up.

And to Creep by Radiohead blaring in the background, they were kissing to one of the most unconventional songs you can kiss to. For what may have been a song for them to remember their first kiss was a song that you wanted to shove an ice pick through your ear canal every time you heard it now. You guessed the soulmate stuff Yoimiya was talking about was true. They saw the exact same mark on each others wrists...

You could sing too, probably even better than he could. Singing isn't even that hard.

As you started singing a very off-key and melancholic version of Teenage Dream by Katy Perry to prove yourself right, you weren't even worried about the long winded alleyways and dark streets you were weaving through. The eeriness of the night was mocking, but comforting. Long, distorted shadows, making the streetlights cast them oddly.

Your footsteps echoed against the narrow walls of the alleyways, a gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine and stretched the night on. You kicked a pebble absentmindedly, watching as it skittered along the cracked pavement. It was ironic being at a party you actually felt comfortable being at and getting your hopes absolutely shattered in the meantime. It seemed so out of reach from what did occur.

The sight of your apartment was a burden, and even though you were guaranteed going to be kicked out tomorrow, you didn't want to linger on the reminder any longer.

As you were about to climb the steps, you paused once you heard something similar to a whine. It was faint when you first heard it, almost blending in to the light pollution of the street. You turned your body towards the nearby alleyway, awaiting for another noise to confirm your delusions. Moments passed, each second stretching into eternity. Just when you were about to dismiss it again, another cry of what sounded like a man alerted you, followed by a groveling sound that sounded similar to a guttural gurgle.

Hell. No.

Now usually, you would mind your business and go to sleep with a knife in the bed next to you. You were not a stickler for being the person in the horror movies that said 'let's go see what it is'! But you weren't entirely convinced that the neighborhood was terrible, and with your current dilemma? Maybe dying a horrible death would feel better than whatever you're about to go through in the next twenty-four hours.

But at the same time...you weren't convinced that whatever is doing that wasn't an injured puppy or something. You may have had a heart for what happens to animals, but you aren't stupid.

#zoropookie #wywdfl #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x yn #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x you #self insert #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you

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kesujo · 3 months

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Other Plans - Part 2 of 3

Link to part 1 here.

The face that greeted us surprised me. It was Tiffany, my date from a few days ago. "Hey Jessi!" she greeted her friend happily, hugging her tightly. "And--" she paused when she looked at me. She immediately turned red, but smiled at me anyways.

I smiled back to her, causing her to turn more red. "Hey Tiffany," I said awkwardly. Why would she be here? Was Jessi just pulling a prank on me all along, and just lead me to Tiffany's apartment? Was Tiffany here for the same reason we were?

Noticing my confused expression, Jessi explained. "Tiffany here is the director." I turned a bit pale. Yet another innocent image I had of someone was instantly shattered. But Jessi wasn't finished yet. "She was just hired last week, which is how I was able to reserve the spot; she took the job only because she was desperate for money, not because she liked--"

"Oh," I cut her off, not wanting to hear more than I needed to. And, after noticing Tiffany blush even more, that it was good I cut her off.

"S-So, you guys will be having lunch w-with Taeyeon," she told us, stuttering, face still red. "This is so you guys c-can get accompanied with each other," she continued. I smiled at her stuttering; she had done this during our 'date', and I still found this cute.

She then turned around, a bit quickly, and led us into a room with a low table filled with several delicious looking food; the smell teased my nose, making my stomach growl. The fact that I didn't have breakfast didn't help either.

Already sitting on a cushion was a woman with flawless skin; it seemed to glow from how pure it looked. She had silky golden hair, which seemed almost as soft as Jessi's, that seemed to flow down past her shoulders. She had black eyes that seemed big, for some reason, which combined with her slim nose and thin lips, made her look even cuter. Her facial features clearly distinguished her as Asian. She looked no more than 16, but Jessi had already told me that she was in her twenties, which I found hard to believe. Her thin, but slightly muscular arms were resting on the table, still maintaining her perfectly white skin color; her fingernails were painted a sparkling gray. No matter how I looked at it, I couldn't imagine how she could be experienced with having sex.

She wore a pleasant smile as we were sitting down. "Hi, I'm Taeyeon," she greeted us. "So, you must be Alex," she said, looking at me in the eye. I nodded, smiling back. Then, her eyes traveled downward swiftly before moving to Jessi. "And you must be Jessica?" Did she just check me out? I thought as I sat down on the cushion provided for me.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you, Taeyeon!" she chirped happily, extending a hand, which Taeyeon shook.

"So, dig in, I guess," she told us, picking up her chopsticks and starting to eat. We followed suit; I tried my hardest not to just devour everything on the table as fast as I could. Jessi didn't have this problem, since she basically was never hungry, which was why she's so skinny in the first place. "So, there will be two scenes," she told us. "The first one will involve Alex playing as the teacher, and Jessica and me playing the students with bad grades. We approach him to try to persuade him to raise our grades, but he doesn't budge; so, we make our move, if you know what I mean," she said. Her eyes showed the same mischievousness Jessi had shown earlier, causing me to stop eating momentarily. "And the other scene," she continued, looking away from me, "is where Jessica--can I call you Sica?" she suddenly stopped herself, looking at Jessi.

“Sure!" Jessica quickly chirped in response.

Taeyeon nodded. "Ok, so the idea of this scene is that Sica is Alex's girlfriend, and she has been sex deprived since Alex has been working so much," Jessi looked at me with raised eyebrows, seeming to tell me ‘as expected’. I stuck my tongue out at her. "So Sica called her friend, me, to try to help with her problem: so, I handcuff Sica to a bed with various sex toys attached to her a little before Alex comes home. When he does come home, he'll notice his girlfriend in this state and fumble to take off the toys. Extremely turned on at this point, Sica starts to strip Alex, and soon after, I join," she explained calmly, eating in between her explanation.

The thing I wanted to know was how both Taeyeon and Jessi be so calm about this. I guess Taeyeon being calm is no big deal because of her experience, but Jessi's calmness was unnerving. After a brief moment of silence, Jessi initiated conversation, and we started talking normally until nothing was left on the table.

When we finished, Taeyeon led us outside and to another room. The room was already set up, and looked, uncannily, like the average high school classroom, with neatly set up desks and cheeky, motivational posters plastered around the room. On the front desk where three sets of clothes. Looking around the room, I could see many lenses. Even though the fact that I was actually about to do this made me uneasy, I was a bit relieved that there were no camera men/women; or any that we could see.

Taeyeon walked to the desk and began stripping right away. "Wait--" I exclaimed, averting my eyes.

"We're going to see each other naked eventually, might as well now then later," she said, cutting me off. I continued to hear the sound of clothes coming off, followed shortly by the sound of footsteps.

"Come on Jinnie, we need to change!" I heard Jessi say. I reluctantly walked to the desk and grabbed my uniform. Luckily, Taeyeon had already changed. Unluckily, it was the skimpiest outfit ever: the skirt showed basically all of her legs, not to mention the top having an extremely low cut. For some reason, I couldn't peel my eyes off her until I caught her staring at me with a sly grin. I focused on the task at hand, changing into my uniform as quickly as possible.

The new outfit was pretty comfortable. I was wearing a white and blue plaid shirt, a brown suit on top of that, and brown khakis. "Remember, just keep calm until I pull your tie, ok?" Taeyeon told me, exiting the room. We were supposed to start off with them two walking in, me looking at some papers.

"Ok," I told her. While they were walking out, my eyes caught on to their asses. I never noticed how round, soft, and squishy...

The door closed. I snapped out of it, looking down papers on the desk. I was surprised to find words on it. It was a paper on String Theory; intrigued, I began reading it, figuring that reading it would get me into the role even more. The door opened; I looked up from my paper and saw them walking towards me. "Is there anything I can help you ladies with?"

"Yeah," they said simultaneously, walking up to the desk. I tried hard not to be distracted by the low neckline of the school uniform. "Our grades have not been doing too well recently, and we were wondering if there was anything we could do about it," Taeyeon continued, leaning down to give me a better view of her cleavage.

Remembering my role, I instead looked her in the eye. "Well, you could do the extra credit I gave out," I suggested.

This time Jessi leaned down, frowning. "But that's too hard..." she whined, squeezing her breasts together suggestively. I, with much difficulty, kept my poker face on.

"I don't think you understand," Taeyeon continued for her, leaning forward. I gulped softly at the amount of cleavage I was seeing. "We would do anything," she said, running her finger along my jaw. "Anything," she whispered again in my ear.

I grinned at her. "Would you..." I trailed off, removing her finger, leaning forward. I could feel her start to grin. "...study?" I finished.

She straightened up, frowning. "Mr. Han," Jessi said in place of Taeyeon's silence, pulling her uniform's neckline down, giving me more of a view of her breasts. I swallowed, but kept my poker face. "You are looking exceptionally attractive today," she told me.

I gave her a genuine smile. "Thank you, Ms. Jung."

She lifted herself up to seat herself on the desk. "Actually," she said, scooting closer to me. "You look," she leaned in, placing her mouth next to my other ear. "Sexy," she breathed into my ear.

I strained to keep a straight face. "I appreciate the compliment, Ms. Jung, but flattering me won't bring your grade up," I told her. She frowned and got off the desk, standing next to me. I noticed that on my right, Taeyeon was also standing next to me.

"Come on, Mr. Han," Taeyeon whined, placing her hand on my chest. I scooted my chair back, but she followed me. "I'm sure we can make you think otherwise," she said, sitting on my leg. I shuddered as I could feel her wetness seeping through her panties and my pants. She pulled on my tie and captured my lips. Recognizing this signal, I responded to her kiss, grabbing her and stood up, pushing her against the wall, not breaking the kiss.

"Maybe you can," I growled at her, finally able to release my building sexual tension. After I broke the kiss, I pulled off her skirt and her panties in one swipe. I threw the two items of clothing behind me, then put my knee in between her legs, rubbing her inner thigh with it.

"Ng, Mr. Han..." she moaned, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall. I pulled off her uniform top, diving in to capture her right breast. I caught her nipple with my tongue and began to flick it. "Mmm," she hummed with pleasure, pushing my head into her breast even more.

Her hands found my pants and my boxers and pulled them both down, using her legs to push them the rest of the way. I kicked the pool of clothes that had land on my feet backward, hearing them land somewhere behind me and continued to massage her inner thigh with my knee. "Oooh, Mr. Han," she moaned. "You're soo good..." she said as she grinded against my knee.

I took my mouth off her breast, using my right hand in place of it as I moved up to capture her lips. Moaning, she eagerly responded to my kiss, moving in sync with me. When I broke away for air, Taeyeon pulled off my suit and plaid shirt in one upward motion, throwing it somewhere in the room. I started to kiss her again, but felt something soft pressing against my back, and right after that, a warm mouth nipping my neck. Jessi had slipped her hand in between us and started tracing my abs, making me shiver.

Deciding to use my fingers, I snaked my hand down south on both of them. Jessi, on the other hand, slid her legs in between Taeyeon and me, trapping my legs behind her and causing our hips to align. As soon as she achieved this, she started humping me. "Unf," I groaned, also being pushed into Taeyeon, who also moaned. I lowered my right hand down to Taeyeon's legs while using my left arm to reach back and slide up Jessi's legs.

They both moaned; I could feel them start to shiver in delight. I stopped millimeters before reaching their pussies, rubbing the smooth, and already slightly wet with pre-cum, skin. "Ng!" the both moaned, bucking downwards. I had anticipated this motion and retreated my hand before they could achieve the contact they so desired. I put my fingers in their original position afterwards and continued the rub the skin, simultaneously lubricating my fingers with their pre-cum. Then, I made sure to put my leg in between each other their legs, in case they tried something.

Which Jessi did, but I had already put my leg in place. Letting out a frustrated groan, she bucked again, but I retreated my finger. Right after though, Taeyeon did the same, almost catching me off guard.

I broke off the kiss from her, in need of oxygen. Instead of kissing her again, I bent my head down and captured her left nipple in my mouth. "Ng!" she moaned, bucking once again, only to have me retreat my fingers temporarily. Soon after, I heard kissing sounds: Taeyeon and Jessi had started to kiss each other.

Extremely turned on by this, I moved two fingers each onto their pussy lips, running my finger up and down the slit. "Hng!" they moaned, muted by each other's mouths as they simultaneously bucking into my fingers, but to no avail.

This happened several more times, until they broke apart, in need of oxygen. "Mr. Han, please," Jessi breathed, resting her head on my shoulder and trying to close her legs once again, but was blocked by my leg.

I let go of Taeyeon's breast. "Please what?" I asked, poking my finger in teasingly. They both bucked again, but I pulled back in time.

"Fuck..." she moaned.

"Ah ah, no swearing in the classroom please," I told her, smirking. "Now, what is it that you wanted?"

"Finger in pussy," Jessi said brokenly, head on my chest, breathing hard.

"Hmm?" I asked again, flicking both of their clits. Taeyeon moaned loudly, while Jessi swore loudly again.

"PUT YOUR FUCKING FINGERS INTO MY SOPPING WET PUSSY," Jessi screamed. I happily obliged, taking three fingers and plunging them into the hole. "UNF!" she moaned, bucking her hips to bring my fingers into her more.

"See, was it that hard?" I asked, now facing Taeyeon as I continued to pump my three digits inside of Jessi. I felt her bite into my neck, but my hormones had me so horny that I ignored it.

"I-I won't beg," Taeyeon said, voice sounding very much like a helpless high school student. I couldn't help but think how good of an actor she was, even in this situation.

"Won't you?" I asked, accepting her challenge. The look of fear shone in her eyes; I'm not sure if it was real or acting, but it turned me on so much that I almost plunged my fingers in right there. Luckily, I held back.

I leaned in to kiss her again, fingers tracing her slit once again. Up, down, up, down, flick. And with each flick, Taeyeon would buck, but meet nothing. I grinned every time this happened and continued to tease her. I felt her desperation grow with every failed attempt.

Feeling her almost give in, I broke away from the kiss and captured her nipple with my mouth, sucking on it lightly. "Ng," she moaned, but still didn't utter a word. I tried again, but gave it a little bite, while brushing her clit simultaneously. She violently bucked into my fingers, but yet again met nothing. "Pl-Pleasee..." she moaned softly, finally giving in.

"Please...?" I asked, nipping her nipple again. She moaned, but didn't say anything. I stuck my finger in teasingly, but pulled it out just as quick and avoided her buck into my finger.

"Fuck," she swore when she missed.

"Please what?" I asked again, running my fingers up and down her slit. I flicked the nipple with my tongue while pinching her clit. "PLEASE PUT YOUR FUCKING FINGERS INTO MY FUCKING TIGHT PUSSY," she screamed, giving in. Now satisfied, I took three fingers and put them into her. She screamed in ecstasy, bucking violently into my fingers. Her fast pace made me increase the pace for Jessi too.

"Hng," she moaned, easily matching pace. "More..." she begged, breathing raggedly. She had started to rub her breasts on my back desperately. I could feel she was close, so I decided to obey her and add a fourth finger. "Ng!" she moaned, her tight walls trying to accommodate for them. I used my thumb to press on her clit, making her moan loudly again. After the fourth finger finally got in, I started to increase the pace while rubbing her clit. "M-Mister Han," she breathed, obviously close. "Mis-Mister--AHN!" she screamed, releasing a rush of warm liquid onto my fingers.

"Mister Han," Taeyeon whispered. "More, please," she begged me as well. I complied, adding a fourth finger inside her as well. It slipped in with almost no resistance. I started to increase the pace for her as well, using my thumb to make circles around her clit. "HHNnn..." she moaned, also matching my pace easily.

Jessi, meanwhile, was bucking into my fingers again, so I started pumping inside her, eliciting a satisfied moan.

"Uhnn, you're so good Mr. Han," Taeyeon moaned, starting to rub her breasts against my chest. Turned on by this, I started to increase my pace for both Taeyeon and Jessi, my thumb more aggressively rubbing their clits. Jessi jumped when I did this, releasing the pain by biting into my neck; however, my hormones once again nullified this pain. I heard their panting quicken, as their moans became more frequent and drawn out.

"Mis-Mister Han," I heard Taeyeon moan. "I-I'm close..." she panted, bringing her hands up to play with her own breasts. At this time, I pulled my fingers out of both of them, soaking wet with their sticky bodily fluids, grabbed both of Taeyeon's arms and trapping them in between her stomach and my hand while grabbing Jessi from behind me and pinning her on the wall next to me, also trapping her arms on her stomach. They both groaned in frustration and fought against my grip, but I didn't budge.

"Now, who wants the extra boost more?" I asked them. They were still squirming against my hold, trying to break free to relieve themselves. "If either one of you can prove that you need the boost more, I can--" and was immediately cut off by both of them barraging me with seductive compliments and looks, as well as pleads, promises, and even some aegyo via Taeyeon. Which I had to admit was pretty cute, despite everything.

"Hmm," I stepped towards them, immediately shutting them up. I first stepped towards Taeyeon, who looked at me eagerly. I smiled at her and moved onto Jessi, who also looked at me, looking like she was expecting something. "How about this," I said. "You guys have sex with each other, and the one who impresses me the most gets to be fucked by me," I offered them. They nodded eagerly, preemptively struggling against my hold. I grinned and released my hold.

What they did surprised me. Instead of going for each other, they both jumped on me, as if they had telepathically agreed on this, pinning me to the desk. Taeyeon crawled on top of me, my whole upper body resting on the desk with Jessi working on my lower body, taking my shaft into her mouth. "Ung," I moaned as Taeyeon's breasts were pressed against my face. I took them into my mouth, hearing her moan. I worked my way around it, trying to lick every inch of the smooth skin when Taeyeon suddenly grabbed my hands and straightened my fingers, pulling them down to her legs before shoving them inside.

"Oooohh," she moaned lustfully, pumping my hand in and out of her, effectively masturbating with my hand. Pressure began to build up inside my stomach again as Jessi continued to swirl her tongue around my shaft skillfully, occasionally sucking on my hard cock, causing me to groan and buck into her mouth. She would gag for a while, but would continue. "M-Mis-Mister Han..." she moaned, using my thumb to press on her clit. She spazzed at the contact, pushing me harder onto the desk. "Oh ... I'm close ..." she moaned, adding her own fingers along with my four, increasing her pace. I continued to suckle on her breast, only able to breathe through a narrow slit between her breast and my nose. "Uunn..." her breathing quickened; "uuunn," I flicked her nipple a few times; "uuunnn" she added another finger, increasing the pace even further. "AHNNG!" she screamed, spazzing against my body as my fingers felt a seemingly unending flood of sticky fluid, which dripped onto my arm.

She took her hand out and sucked her cum off her hand, looking at me seductively. "Ug," I moaned, bucking into Jessi's mouth again as she sucked on my shaft. I could begin to feel the pressure become unbearable.

Taeyeon next took my arm out and, while staring at me, licked the cum off my arm. She then pressed my hand to my lips, suggesting that I lick the rest off, and found out that her cum was slightly sweeter than Jessi's. "Jess--" but stopped when Jess's mouth left my cock.

"Hold him still," Jessi told Taeyeon. Before I could ask, Taeyeon's legs held my hips in place. I groaned at the loss of contact, the pressure built up about to explode.

Soon after though, I felt her legs come in contact with my cock. She began to use it to run it over her pussy lips, causing her to moan incessantly. I can see why she told Taeyeon to hold me, as I had tried to buck into her, desperate for release. "Ah ah," Taeyeon smirked at me. "You have to listen to your students sometimes," she told me.

I groaned and leaned back against the desk, trying to control myself. However, the teasing didn't last long as Jessi herself got impatient, and without warning, shoved her pussy onto the full length of my cock. "Ung," I moaned, the warm walls of her vagina wrapping around my stiff shaft, seeming to pull it in more.

"Hnn," Jessi moaned, starting to pull away and push, increasing intensity and speed with every thrust. "Mister..." she breathed out, wrapping her legs around mine to increase leverage. "Han..." she started to pound into me with more intensity. "Uh...so good..." I felt the walls around my cock gradually get tighter, but Jessi easily compensated, and more, with the force she put behind each thrust.

The pressure in my stomach started to expand again, increasing with each thrust. I could also feel that Jessi was close from the increase of her panting and her constant moaning, not that I wasn't doing the same.

Taeyeon impatiently held my head and brought it up to her face, pouring all her lust into a kiss. I moaned into the kiss, about to explode. I tried to mumble a warning, but was muffled with Taeyeon's mouth. "Mister Han, I-I'm going to--AHH!" she screamed, shaking a bit, releasing a torrent of warmness onto my cock. A split second after she came, I followed suit, body vibrating against Taeyeon's.

Taeyeon got off me and cleaned us up; but I had other plans.

I grabbed Taeyeon by her shoulders and pinned her against the wall. "You've been a naughty girl," I growled at her, kneading her breast while using my knee to rub her thigh. She let out a throaty moan, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes. "You need to be punished."

"Please punish me," she begged, eyes clouded with lust and excitement. I could feel a warm liquid start to coat my knee as I continued to move up. I grinned and picked her up, carrying her bridal style to the nearest pile of clothing. I picked up the shirt that lay on the ground and ripped it into pieces, quickly making six strips of cloth. I then used those pieces to tie her legs and her upper thighs to the legs of the chair, easily exposing her pussy. I used the other two to tie her hands behind her back and the last one as a blindfold. "Hey--" I cut her off with a kiss, which she eagerly received. Just as she moved in to deepen it, I pulled away.

"Wait a moment," I whispered to her and then moved away.

Jessi, observing all of this, was masturbating, desperately pumping her fingers in her pussy, her free hand playing with her nipple. I quickly grabbed her wrists, causing her to whine in frustration, and brought her to the desk right next to Taeyeon. "You," I said to her, almost growling, pushing her against the desk and leaning my forehead into hers. "You deserve to be punished more." Her only response was an eager nod, her eyes shut tightly, mouth slightly open. I was tempted to just ditch my plan and fuck her right there, but I resisted. Instead, I poked my finger up, momentarily touching the sticky liquid that coated the pink muscle.

"Ung," she moaned, bucking down, but I already retreated my finger. "Pl--Please..."

"Ah ah," I said, grabbing the uniform I had thrown laying on the ground before stepping forward to use my hips to trap her. I also ripped that shirt into six pieces. "Remember, your punishment?" I let go, quickly tying a piece of cloth around her eyes and around her wrists first, trapping them behind her. She whined in protest, but I moved down to her legs and tied four pieces of cloth there as well. "Now, was there something you wanted to say?" I looked at her. She stubbornly shook her head, closing her mouth tightly, telling me that she wasn't going to beg.

Grinning, I accepted the challenge. I moved forward, facing upward so her shiny wet pussy was directly in front of me. I leaned in and blew cold air onto the slit. "Hnng!" she moaned, bucking down, but failed as a result of my makeshift bindings. I merely waited a while before blowing more cold air. She cursed and struggled against the bindings, but to no avail. "Fuck..." struggling against her handcuffs.

"Are you sure you have nothing to say?" I tempted. I backed up and looked at her, but she was still keeping her mouth shut. I shrugged and got up to walk away, but suddenly had an idea. I looked on the ground and picked up the skirt, tearing it up into three pieces. I tied two pieces extremely high up on her thigh, and used it as a hook for the third piece, which hovered right below her pussy lips, barely brushing the sensitive muscle.

"NG!" she violently struggled with her bindings, clearly frustrated, but the knot I used proved to be too resilient. The commotion caused Taeyeon to struggle as well, clearly curious as to what was happening. "Please!" she screamed, but I was already moving away from her. Hearing this, she violently struggled uselessly a few more times before calming herself down a little.

"What--" Taeyeon began to ask in a strained voice, but was cut off when I placed my lips on hers. She happily received the kiss, seeming to sigh in relief.

I held her face with my hands, leaning my face down deepening the kiss. She moaned and eagerly accepted it, giving me complete dominance. I began to move my hand down: past her chin, her neck, her collarbone, and finally, her supple breasts. I felt her shudder as I slowly moved a finger across the sensitive skin, giving the nipple a teasing flick. She moaned into my mouth again, shuddering a little. I continued to slide my hand down her smooth skin, and when it finally reached her leg, I took a step closer and pressed my chest against hers, eliciting another moan. I rested that hand on her thigh, other hand still on her face, and started to rub my cock on her thigh. "Nnnn," she moaned, shuddering in anticipation.

Deciding to tease her further, I slid my left hand back up to her breasts, palming the nipple and the areola around it. She arched her back, desperate for more contact. "M..Mister…H-Han…” she moaned into my mouth. I separated our mouths and latched onto her right breast. "Unn," she moaned again, arching her back even more. I could hear Jessica start to get restless, the desk shaking slightly. I grinned in satisfaction.

At the same time, I slowly moved my cock upwards, tracing circles on her legs. She began to shudder uncontrollably in anticipation, moaning every time I moved up a centimeter.

I pinched her left nipple and bit her right one, causing her to scream and struggle against the bindings once again. I could hear Jessi cursing and doing the same, but only to quiet down a little later.

"Mister Han, pleaase," she moaned, surprising me a bit. I was still a good 2 inches away, but then again, the sticky bodily fluid had already traveled that down far her leg. I ignored her and continued to inch forward, millimeters at a time. Growing impatient, her attempts to solve her problem only resulted in the sound of the desk rattling. I started to knead her breasts, rolling the skin with my knuckles. She let out a throaty moan, arching her back once again to achieve maximum contact. I used my teeth to nip at the soft skin under my mouth, causing a small wave of pre cum to flow onto my cock. "Mister Han," she moaned.

I released her breast, causing her to whine. "Yes?" I asked, looking at her expectantly.

"Pleaasseee," she moaned as I pinched her nipple again.

"Please what?"

"Put your hard cock into my soaking wet pussy."

The harsh words were the only thing I needed as I covered the rest of the space in an instant, ramming my cock into her pussy. "UN!" she screamed, throwing her head back in ecstasy. "Yes! Oh god, yes," she panted as I began to pump inside her at a fast pace. The desk next to us began to rattle once again, signifying Jessi's restlessness.

"Fuck..." I heard her swear, followed by another set of violent rattling. I grinned, satisfied of how well my plan was working.

I leaned into Taeyeon's face, kissing her, hard. She moaned, but eagerly opened her mouth to allow me entrance, which I immediately took. I rammed my tongue in, licking every inch of her mouth, making sure I left nothing undiscovered. After coming away for the need of oxygen, I moved my mouth to her ear. "Who's my bitch?" I growled at her, another more lustful personality taking over me.

"Oh god..." she moaned, grinding against my cock, hard.

"Who's my bitch?" I repeated in a low voice.

"I-I am," she said softly, voice very in line of that of a helpless high school student.

"Who?" I shoved my cock further into her, ramming her pussy even harder than before.

"Fuck!" she screamed, tongue almost sticking out at how fast she was panting. "I-I am!" she screamed. Jessi swore loudly and rattled even more.

I deliberately slowed down the pace, despite the building tension in my stomach region. Sensing this right away, she whined and caused the desk to rattle again. "You're a slut, aren't you?" I growled at her, forcing myself to keep my pace painstakingly slow.

She didn't respond, filling the room with the sound of rattling. I slid my hand down and pressed against her clit, hard. She screamed, trying to muffle herself against my shoulder. "Yes," she moaned.

"Yes what?" I prompted.

"I'm a slut. I'm your slut," she panted.

"And what do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me as fast and as hard as you can," she seemed to plead

I grinned. "With pleasure," I told her, increasing my pace in an instant, ramming her pussy so hard that I was making the desk shake.

"UNG! FUCK! YES!" she screamed with every thrust. More rattling from next to me. "OH GOD YES! UNG, FUCK..." she moaned loudly. "I'M GOING TO--" sensing her climax, I immediately pulled out. "Fuck," she whined, violently bucking, causing the desk to shake. "Mister Han, please," she begged me. "Please fuck me with your big hard cock," she pleaded, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out, upper body now upright. She shook her chest, causing her boobs to jiggle. As delicious as it looked, I resisted.

"Your punishment," I reminded her, then leaned in tentatively, "is to listen to me as I punish Jessi now," I whispered, pulling back just as she tried to dart sideways with her mouth.

"No..." she moaned as I started to walk away. I turned back to look at her; her nipples were still fully erect, her tongue was back in her mouth, but her breasts heaved with every big breath she took. Her legs her shining with her own cum, pussy lips parted, convulsing as if it was begging me to finish her off. "Please teacher..." she begged me in a voice still laced with lust.

"Patience is a virtue," I reminded her, finally arriving in front of Jessi. "Jessi over here has learned it the hard way."

Hearing my voice so close, she immediately jerked her head up. "J-teacher?" I answered by putting my hands on her hips. This motion itself caused Jessi to violently buck forwards. "Ung, please," she moaned.

Was she really this horny already? "You've waited patiently," I breathed into her ear. I could feel her shuddering at the proximity. "Now you'll get your reward," I told her. She sighed a breath of relief, but let out a frustrated whine as I started to trace her hipbone. "But you'll get it slowly," I told her, grinning mischievously now.

"No, please," she begged. "Mister Han, please just fuck me already." She sounded desperate.

I continued to trace her hipbone, causing her to shudder uncontrollably, occasionally bucking forward in an attempt to receive contact. I hovered my mouth right over her breasts, breathing hot air onto it. Whenever she arched her back, I retreated and continued breathing air onto it. "Fuck..." she groaned after the umpteenth time of failing to receive contact.

"Now, what was that thing that you wanted again?" I prompted, pushing the cloth hovering right below her pussy a little further up. Her breath hitched.

"F-Fuck me," she moaned.

"We'll get to that soon," I promised her. "But first, beg."

I was surprised when I saw her shake her head. "No?" she shook her head again. "Well, you asked for it," I told her, moving my hand down to her thighs. She shuddered violently when my fingers landed on the smooth skin. I bent down and removed the hanging piece of cloth; she sighed in relief, probably thinking that she was finally able to escape that torture.

I began to draw random shapes on her legs, only barely touching it; meanwhile, I blew cold air onto the glistening pink muscle. "Fuck!" she screamed, shaking the desk violently. It didn't budge.

"You can start begging at any time," I reminded her. After a moment of silence, I moved my fingers a bit further up and blew cold air onto the slit again.

"Fuck!" she screamed again, shaking the desk violently, yet again. "I can't..."

I moved my fingers and my face a bit closer. I could feel the heat radiating off her pussy, tickling my nose. I placed the rest of my hand on her legs and started to blow a steady stream of cold air onto her parted pussy lips.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck" she moaned, desperately struggling against her bindings. "Pl-" she started, but cut herself off.

Determined, I got off my knees and removed my right hand from her leg, cupping it right below the source of heat. I latched my mouth in the middle of her lustrous breasts and gave it a long lick, pressing the nipple down along the way. "Fuck!" she screamed again, arching her back as far as it could go, but only meeting empty air. "Please," she moaned softly.

My ears perked up. "Please what?"

"Don't make me say more," she begged, but I intended on her doing exactly that.

I brought my other hand up, simultaneously giving her breast another long, hard lick while pinching her nipple with the other.

"FUCK! PLEASE, FUCK MY ACHING SOPPING WET PUSSY WITH YOUR FUCKING ROCK HARD COCK," she screamed, almost blasting out my eardrums. I heard the desk shake next to me, followed by a hissing noise of some sort.

"Who's my slut?" I breathed into her ear, wondering how far I could get her to go.

"ME," she screamed desperately. "PLEASE, JUST FUCK ME ALREADY."

I grinned and nodded, deciding I tortured her long enough. I plunged my cock into her pussy, which slid in easily due to the excess amount of lubricant already there. "UNG YES! OH FUCK YES!" she screamed. Her walls pulsated around my cock, as if it was as eager to accept me as Jessi was. "OH MY GOD FUCK YES OH GOD," she screamed as I continued to thrust into her. Feeling my eardrums about to burst, I covered her mouth with mine. This only muffled her screams as she continued to shake in pleasure.

My left hand started to massage her breast, kneading it like it was dough, while my other hand circled around behind her and landed on her clit. Her scream, luckily, was muffle by my mouth, but even then, it didn't help much.

"MPH, MPH, MPH," she moaned with every thrust, the desk beginning to shake each time I thrusted into her. "MMMMPH!" she moaned into my mouth. Luckily, I caught the meaning and began to thrust faster until finally, she screamed one last time before meeting my cock with a huge, much delayed wave of cum.

She shuddered violently against my body for about five seconds before calming down and resting against my chest. However, my own hormones weren't satisfied, so right when that happened, I began pumping again. "Ung," she moaned softly. "Oh god..." she began sucking on my neck, breasts still pressed against my chest. I used my finger to stimulate her clit again, eliciting another drawn out moan.

I felt myself getting close, so in need of release, I started pumping fast again. "Ung...UN...UNG..." she panted, moans getting louder with each thrust. I felt my lower area clench. "I'm going to--" but I was unable to finish, as right as I started talking, I released a torrent of cum into her.

After releasing all my bodily fluid into her, I stopped to rest for a while before taking my cock out. "Nnn," she moaned in longing. "Don't..." she panted, trying to buck down, but missing. "Please..."

"I'll be right with you," I told her, going over to Taeyeon.

Taeyeon, hearing me come closer, immediately straightened her body. "Miss me?" I whispered to her, rubbing her inner thigh.

"Mmm," she moaned in pleasure, tilting her head back in pleasure. I placed my other hand on her other thigh, running them down to undo her bindings. I made sure to only loosen them, then release them with my feet so she couldn't take advantage of me, which she immediately tried to do by attempting to wrap her legs around my waist. I let her do it, leaning in slightly to undo her handcuffs. "Mmm," she hummed again in pleasure as my cock pushed slightly into her already wet pussy.

After undoing the makeshift handcuffs, I undid the blindfold. She squinted a bit, eyes dilating at the sudden amount of light. After she adjusted and looked at me, I pushed my cock slightly into her experimentally, making sure to hold onto her hips. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure. "Umph," she moaned, trying to buck into my cock, but my hands holding her hips in place.

"Be patient," I told her, grinning as her eyes grew darker with lust.

I carried her and placed her down in front of Jessi, who was trying to find something to rub against her pussy. "So, the plan is that I fuck you doggy style while you eat out Jessi's pussy," I told Taeyeon, but loudly enough so Jessi could hear.

When she heard this, she began squirming in anticipation. "Un, please..." she begged us, her excess movement causing the desk to shake. I felt Taeyeon also shudder in anticipation.

I placed her down on all fours, placing my hands on her hips, and pushed her forward enough so she could easily look up and tongue Jessi. "You'll have to start tonguing Jessi before you get fucked," I told her, causing her to eagerly meet Jessi's pussy lips with her own lips.

"Unf," Jessi moaned loudly, the desk shaking loudly. I watched the incredibly sexy scene in front of my eyes, feeling my cock get harder as I got more and more turned on by it. Just the sight of Taeyeon's face buried between Jessi's legs caused my stomach to churn with so much excitement that before long, I grew impatient and plunged my cock into Taeyeon, eliciting a muffled moan.

I moved my hands to grope her breasts, leaning forward and lightly resting on her body to get more leverage. They both continued to moan continuously, the sound of the rattling desk joining them. I kneaded Taeyeon's breasts, occasionally flicking and pinching her nipple, using my hold of her breasts to get even more leverage as I began to pound into her with such force that Jessi's bindings became slightly loose. She immediately took advantage of this by bucking into Taeyeon's face, falling down onto my body, her breasts pressing against my back.

"Oooh Taeyeon," Jessi moaned. "Oh, fuck yes, oh gOd oh goD!" she panted as I turned my head around and began pestering her extreme lower body with butterfly kisses.

I felt Taeyeon's walls clench around my cock, only egging me on to pound into her with more force. Her muffled moans caused Jessi to tense against my body, pressing her breasts further into my back as she bucked into Taeyeon's face again. "Oh my god yes," she breathed out.

I felt my stomach clench once again. "Taeyeon I'm gonna--" and was cut off as Jessi sunk her teeth into my lower body, causing me to tense in pain. She used me as a muffler as she screamed in ecstasy, violently shuddering against my back.

Directly afterwards, I felt a rush of liquid cover my cock, not soon before I released my cum into her. I let her ride out her orgasm until finally, she stopped shuddering.

I pulled out, causing her to groan, and used one hand to support Taeyeon and the other to support Jessi before standing back up. Remembering our roles, I motioned them to get into a desk; they obediently sat down.

"So do we get the boost?" Taeyeon asked eagerly, despite being exhausted.

"One session equates to one 100% test score," I told them. They nodded eagerly, smiling.

"So can we come tomorrow?"

I grinned at Jessi. "Of course."

"And cut!" I heard an unfamiliar voice say. Strange. Didn't Jessi say that Tiffany was going to say cut?

Then, I had just realized what I had done. My face paled; I just had sex with Taeyeon, someone I just met, and Jessi, basically my long-lost twin, in front of a camera. Oh god, what did I just do to myself?

Taeyeon, noticing my paled face, got up and walked to me. I flinched as she did so, but didn't move, glued to the spot I was standing on.

She put a hand on my shoulder, smiling ... sadly? "Sorry, but when Jessi told us about how you normally would never participate in a porno, not to mention that you both were virgins, we decided to include the lunch so we could spike your food with stamina-increasing drugs and your drinks with hormone-inducing drugs," Taeyeon explained. Even though I had listened to everything, I couldn't help but to stare at Jessi, who was still sitting a desk, her head resting on the desk behind her, her breasts arched out, heaving with every breath she took.

"O-Oh," I murmured, feeling my member start to harden again. Unfortunately, it was at this exact same time Taeyeon decided to step in to hug me, my member poking her leg.

I felt her grin. "Ready for round three?" she whispered to me.

"N-No, it’s just--" I gasped as she started to lick that sweet spot I mentioned earlier. "W-Wait..." I tried to back away, but her hands kept me in place.

Thankfully, the unfamiliar voice came over the PA, giving me a chance to escape as Taeyeon loosened her grip on me. "Ok, so you guys get about three hours of rest before she starts the shooting for the next scene. Rest up in that time."

I went for my clothes, but I felt a hand grab me. "You don't need clothes to sleep, right? Plus, we have already all seen each other naked, so there's no point," Jessi's soothing voice told me.

"But--"

"Just come with me, ok?"

I reluctantly agreed, turning back around and heading out the door and into another, much smaller room, containing a huge bed pushed against the opposite wall. I tried my best not to stare at Jessi, or Taeyeon, but of course, I failed. While we were walking to the bed, Jessi suddenly turned around and caught me staring at her. I immediately turned my head away, but she already saw and giggled. "Come on byuntae, let's sleep," she said, motioning me to get into the bed, which was already occupied with Taeyeon, who was currently staring at me hungrily.

"Isn't there another bed?" I asked nervously.

"Nope," she responded calmly.

"..."

Noticing my fearful expression, she continued. "Come on, just get in. We'll try not to rape you, we promise," she said, jokingly. Or, at least I think she was joking.

So, I got under the covers, followed immediately by Jessi, who basically pushed me until I was shoulder to shoulder with Taeyeon.

"Hey there," I heard Taeyeon whisper in a very sexy voice, breathing hot air into my ear. I stared hard at the plain ceiling, trying to ignore her. Which was very hard when she was right next to you.

Without warning, she rolled on top of me. I started, almost hitting her head with mine. "Wh--Wait--!" I felt my hands being brought up, wrists touching cold metal before hearing a distinct click!

She took full advantage of me being handcuffed and stretched against my body, pressing her breasts into my body. "Unf," I groaned, feeling my member to harden again, poking her thighs. She just grinned before resting her head on the crook between my shoulder and my neck, arms wrapping around my slightly elevated shoulders.

I saw Jessi cover her mouth, giggling. "Shut up," I whined, closing my eyes. Right after I did so, she pecked my lips. "Hey--" I opened my eyes again, only to see her laugh even harder. "You promised not to rape me," I whined.

"Sorry, it’s just so tempting," Taeyeon said for Jessi, wrapping her legs around mine, causing my thigh to touch her silky legs.

"Just--" but was cut off as Jessi pecked me again. "Jessi," I pouted, launching her into another fit of giggles. "We're supposed to be sleeping," I reminded her.

"Oh, right," she said after calming down. I closed my eyes and tried my best to fall asleep.

Part 3 here.

#jessica jung #snsd #kpop #soshi #kpop smut #snsd smut #smut #taeyeon #kim taeyeon

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y2kuromi · 10 months

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✶ : ❛ 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗨𝗦 : seishiro nagi x reader ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

˖ ִֶָ𐀔 — contents ⋮ birthday fic for moi <3 fluff, fluff, fluff, fem! reader, established relationship, nagi is literally whipped. reo being a d1 hater. pet names . second person (you/your/yours) and third person pov. w/c : 2.4k

if you told nagi he'd be sitting cross-legged in his kitchen picking thorns off pink roses and counting them under his breath while his best friend reo talked him through this (or at least attempted to), he would've laughed in your face. even more so if you'd told him his cheeks were flushed a shade darker than the soft petals he clutched and his heart hammered loudly in his chest. but here he was doing just that hours to your birthday

"what do you think?" nagi asked reo, bringing the bouquet into view. he was quite proud of the floral arrangement of roses, chrysanthemum, lotus and hydrangea flowers. "’s it too much?"

"it's pretty lame, why don't you just cover (y/n)'s apartment in rose petals instead" reo suggested, he was only kidding

"you just want to see me suffer" nagi grumbled. when he'd facetimed him for moral support, he hadn't expected him to crack jokes at his expense, "cleaning that up would be such a hassle"

"i'm surprised you made the bouquet yourself," reo said thoughtfully, "wouldn't ordering one be more your speed?"

"nahh" the grey-eyed boy shook his head, "(y/n) likes these specific flowers for some reason, florist didn't have any arrangements like this"

"so you just bought four bouquets....? you do know custom orders exist right?" there's a small smirk on reo's lips as he teased. nagi shot him a withering glare as he firmly tied the stems together with twine

"wouldn't be as special that way" nagi muttered. he was blushing again, despite being in the comfort of his own home, he could feel the blush still warming his neck and ears

"you really love her, huh?" reo questioned gently his eyes softening when he saw nagi shyly smile at him

"yeah..." nagi breathed out quietly, smiling softly down at the flower arrangement, "should i bake a cake?"

"what??"

"'ve got this heart-shaped pan, and i bought cake mix and some other stuff after training today. i think i could pull it off”

“are you sure about that?” reo queried, “i’m not gonna help you”

“that’s fine, not like you can bake anyways,” nagi scoffed, setting the flowers down on the counter. “it shouldn’t be that hard right?”

“depends on the flavour” reo affirmed

“what should i do for icing, buttercream?” nagi asked, picking up a bag of sugar and a tub of butter. “’s the easiest”

“buttercream then”

“i wasn’t really asking you, but sure”

“dumbass”

“(y/n)’s dumbass” he grinned, his voice softening at the mention of your name “god i hope she likes this. i feel like i could’ve done more”

“you made her a bouquet, you made her a gift basket and now you’re baking her a cake. you didn’t even get me anything for my birthday” reo said pointedly

“you’re not my girlfriend reo, and you can buy stuff for yourself”

“you’re a terrible friend”

“i’m a good boyfriend though” nagi said softly, “the best in the world”

reo couldn’t argue with that. nagi only put effort in the things he deemed important. you stood at the top of that list, above soccer, gaming and sleeping. he wanted nothing more than to make you happy.

to his credit, he tried his best. he went grocery shopping whenever you asked him to pick up groceries. he made sure you ate enough, and he always made time for you. even if he wanted to spend his entire day playing video games, he still made sure he was by your side.

he would do anything for you. hell, if you asked him to do a handstand and sing baby shark backwards, as stupid as it sounded, he would do it just to see your heartbreakingly beautiful smile

“‘m gonna make (y/n) breakfast in bed” he murmured, he could already see the smile stretching across your face “french toast or pancakes, dunno yet”

“you? cook?” reo laughed, “you’re gonna poison her”

“shut up” nagi scowled, his nose scrunching up in mock annoyance, “i know how to cook, ‘s just a hassle but if it’s for (y/n) i don’t mind” he said as he mixed the dry ingredients until the salt, sugar and cake mix were evenly combined. he cracked two large eggs into the bowl and poured in milk, oil and vanilla extract. the cake mix reminded him oddly of you. sweet and sugary

“you’re whipped” reo said. “you’re too far gone,look at your face all mushy like that you’re making me sick”

“‘s called being in love, not that you can relate” nagi retorted. he gently scooped the batter in the baking pan with a spatula while reo stared at him agape. “‘s obvious” he shrugged, slipping the pan into the pre-heated oven.he ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against the counter with a content look on his face

nagi was still learning what love really was. to him, it looked a lot like you.

loving you felt like breathing, like waking up in the morning after a good night’s sleep. he loved your smiles, your laugh, the sparkle you got in your eyes when you were around him. he loved everything about you. he’d probably never love anyone the way he loved you. and he was okay with that, he wouldn’t trade you for the world

“simp” reo said “ i’m surprised she puts up with your lazy ass”

“you call this moral support?” nagi muttered, “should’ve called someone else”

“who else would sit on facetime with you while you did all this?” reo asked, “i’ll wait”

nagi was deep in thought for a moment but he remained silent. he knew you would, but that would inherently ruin the surprise

"so, nobody, huh? thought as much," reo remarked, rolling his eyes, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. it was a breath of fresh air to not be the one pushing nagi to do something for once

*ding* nagi’s eyes lit up as the timer chimed. the kitchen was filled with the scent of freshly baked vanilla cake. he slipped on an oven mitt before he took the pan out of the oven and placed it on the island. his cheeks were flushed as he glanced over his shoulder to shoot him a triumphant look

“cake’s done” he was slightly giddy with anticipation, once he was done icing it he could finally drive to your apartment and see you. he knew you were already sleeping, he’d called you an hour ago and your voice had been laced with the precipice of sleep. he didn’t really care, he selfishly wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. even if it meant waking you up at midnight

true to his word nagi slipped into your apartment as soon as the clock struck midnight. to his credit he was as quiet as possible. setting your presents down on the counter before sneaking into your room

the bed dips and suddenly there’s a warm body behind you. nagi wraps an arm around your waist, pressing himself closer to you. you let out a small noise as he pulls you in for a long kiss, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“sei…” you yawn, squinting at him with your sleepy (e/c) eyes. you’re unbelievably pretty he thinks. even with furrowed eyebrows and a worn-out look on your face. your lashes fan across your face and he can feel his heart melting

“happy birthday baby” he murmurs, placing the sweetest of kisses on your forehead.

“thank you” you hummed, resting your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from the blankets. “thought you weren’t coming till later…”

“couldn’t stay away” he admitted with a sigh, wrapping an arm around your waist, “‘m sorry i woke you”

“it’s okay” you smiled,you brush a few locks of his hair away from his forehead, leaning up slightly to peck his lips. you pulled back slightly content with blissfully reveling in his presence before you sat up properly, pulling back the covers and climbing out of your bed, “c’mon i want my presents now”

“what makes you think i got you anything?” he mutters. eager to stay cuddled up in bed. his hopes were dashed as you dragged him towards you

you wonder how someone could be as cute as he was, despite his hair being messed up more than ever and his eyelids heavy with sleep. you bring your free hand up to his cheek and smile. his hand comes up to hold yours as he nuzzles into your palm, soft grey eyes affectionate and loving, the everpresent pout no longer visible on his face.

“because you love me” you reply, smiling when he grins lazily at you, a little bit dazed

"i do love you," he mumbles, leaning up and slowly kissing the corner of your lips. “wait here” he tells you softly as he stands up, giving you another quick kiss. you watch him leave the room with a fond expression on your face.

your 6’3 boyfriend returns less than two minutes later, cradling a (f/c) box filled to the brim with your favourite snacks, manga and a fluffy miffy plush. as well as the prettiest bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen.

you practically tackle him, hugging him tightly as he laughs. you pull back to admire the flowers in his hands and you gasp, reaching out to take one of them.

“are those lotuses?” you ask, staring at them lovingly. they almost glow under the light in your bedroom

“yeah,” he nods, “you said you liked them”

you loved lotuses, although nagi didn’t understand why. the soft pink lotus flowers and their dreamy forgetfulness and symbolic unwillingness to leave reminded you distinctly of him

“they’re beautiful, thank you so much” you beam. you took the bouquet from him, eyes widening when you realized they weren’t store bought. tears pricked your (e/c) irises and you sniffle as you tried your best not to lose it.

“ hey!” he says, noticing the tearful expression on your face. he cups your face gently “don’t start bawling on me yet”

“you made this yourself?” you whisper, staring in awe at the bouquet, “for me?”

“do i have another girlfriend or something?” he says, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. you glare at him before laughing

“shut up, i love you” you say. you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a tight hug. or at least you try to, the box slightly gets in the way.

“i love you too” nagi smiles, and it’s one of those smiles he reserves for you, one that lights up his face and makes him shine brighter than any star, “now look at the rest, ‘m sorry i didn’t wrap anything”

“too much of a pain?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. he nodded in response, holding out the next gift. a sleek photo album. the first page is filled with a plethora of pictures. there were candid shots of you, pictures you didn’t even know existed. the one that stuck out to you the most was a picture of you at the arcade on your first date.

“you can fill up the rest yourself” nagi yawned, trailing towards your bed and placing the box carefully down on it. you placed the pink and purple bouquet on your dressing table before joining him

“thank you sei” you said, you honestly couldn’t say it enough. when nagi had asked you out a few months ago you’d never imagined he could possibly make you feel this special. hell, you didn’t even care about your birthday that much. you almost hated him now, he’d ruined your expectations for life by making you feel like this..

nagi’s grey eyes drooped as he leaned against your pillow, “s’nothing, there’s one more thing you’ve gotta see tonight” he lazily pointed at a white box tucked neatly beside the cinnamoroll plush with a striking resemblance to nagi

you opened the box gingerly, the sweet scent of buttercream filled your senses. “a cake?” you exclaimed, “sei, you baked?? you baked me a cake??”

“i baked” nagi shrugged, “’s just a small one, and ‘s not from scratch”

you dipped your finger into the buttercream and licked the sweet (f/c) frosting off, “this is really good,” you tell him

“‘m just good at everything” he murmurs, grinning when you gave him an exasperated glance “‘m glad you like it”

“of course i do” you frowned slightly, “sit up for just a second, you gotta sing while i blow out my candles”

“‘m not singing”

“pleaseeeeee” you pleaded, “it doesn’t even have to be the full song, you owe me sei, since you woke me up”

“fine” he sighed, sitting up reluctantly. he watched patiently as you placed the candles in the centre of the cake and pressed the flame to the wax. once the candles were lit, you reached over and grabbed his hand.

he thought you looked really beautiful like this, with the candlelight casting your features in warm glow and your hair fanned out over your shoulders. you seemed ethereal. he stared at you and smiled softly, watching as the flickering light danced on your face, casting shadows onto your (e/c) eyes

“i don’t hear you singing” you said, giggling when his cheeks flushed a startling shade of pink.

“shut up” he huffed, looking away, but you only grinned wider as he sang for you. you didn’t know why he didn’t want to in the first place, he sounded like an angel. after the song was finished, you blew out your candles gently

you wished for a plethora of things all of which you knew nagi would stop at nothing to give you. you felt like he’d given you the entire world already. so you wished you could give him endless happiness. you wished you could spend day after day falling further in love with him, and you wished you could give him the entire universe

after the cake had been kept safely in the fridge and your breathtaking flowers arranged in a vase, you placed a lone lotus flower on your bedside table, nimbly slipping under the sheets beside your sweet boyfriend

“what did you wish for?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he kissed the top of your head

“my wish won’t come true if i tell you” you hummed.

“‘s not fair” he pouted, “i told you what i wished for on my birthday”

“if i kiss you will you shut up and go to sleep ?” you asked. nagi nodded meekly. you didn’t need to ask him twice. he’d do anything for you

#✶ .. mimi writes ?!#⋆ 𝓫. llk ﹕#𓂃˖ letters from: nagi #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #I HATE THIS #but i love it sm too ughh #he’s js so!?!?#my man my man my man!

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fatuismooches · 1 year

Note

From the Fontaine trailer, some people headcanon Arlecchino to be a perfectionist so imagine her lover feeling insecure and becoming distant because they think they're not good enough for her, which Arlecchino quickly denies.

It was hard not to be insecure.

You knew that everyone felt insecure every now and then, but you felt the unconfidence in yourself growing with every passing day. After all, your lover was Arlecchino. The Knave. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger. One of the most strongest people that served the Tsaritsa. Not to mention stunningly beautiful.

And now “the perfectionist.”

You had always known that your wife liked things to be done her way, or no way. Arlecchino looked down on many things and people that she considered to be beneath her. She would pick apart anyone who had the audacity to upset her. But she had never once directed anything of the sort to you. You were good enough for her, you thought. She always made you feel so loved, so worthy of her, of everything, despite her… less than sane tendencies.

Until a few days ago.

The regular Fatui soldiers loved to gossip amongst themselves. You couldn’t really blame them, even though the Harbingers were feared, many of them were also idolized. And there wasn’t much else to do on duty. (Your wife always made sure to station a few guards outside your room. She was very serious about your safety.)

You actually learned a good bit of information from listening in on their conversations, but the parts you cared about the most were related to Arlecchino. From the time you overheard that she seemed more irritable than usual at the orphanage, so you made sure to pamper her to the fullest extent that night. Or when she was somehow in a good mood, so you did your best to make it even better by being extra romantic when she arrived home. But now you had stumbled upon a conversation you would have been better off not hearing.

It was the wee hours of the night, when you had been waiting up for hours to see if Arlecchino would make it home that night. She did not, which was disappointing, but it was nothing new. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Regardless, you were sleepy now, but before you crashed you wanted to see if the Fatui were talking about anything juicy. By now, they would think you were asleep. You crept to your door and leaned close to it to see if you could catch any hushed whispers.

“You know, I heard Lord Pantalone and The Doctor got into another quarrel…” Bingo! Looks like they were chit-chatting tonight. Pantalone… the guy Arlecchino rebuked quite a few times. You don’t think she liked him very much, from the way she always hid you behind her, away from his unsettlingly sweet smile. Though that wasn’t the point. The guards continued to prattle on quietly, but it was becoming boring for you. Looks like one of the Harbingers made their subordinate cry again. You heard that one all too often, so it was time to finally go to sleep.

“Say, Lord Arlecchino…” Well, staying up for a few more minutes couldn’t hurt, right? You were eager to hear what they’d say.

“Lord Arlecchino is a real perfectionist, isn’t she?”

You don’t know why those words hit you so hard all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I think so too. She’s quite obsessed with perfection. If you don’t comply with her every standard of perfection, she’ll think of you as nothing. I don’t think anyone could be good enough for her.”

Perfection. Perfection. Perfection.

The word had now taken up residence in your head and you could no longer hear the muffled voices outside, your own thoughts being too loud. You were never well acquainted with the word “perfection.” You never considered yourself to be perfect in anything: looks, personality, smarts, talents, skills, strength, health. And well, you tried to keep it out of your mind as much as possible - Arlecchino’s love kept you very fulfilled anyway - but now your thoughts were spiraling into something not so nice.

You tried to not think about it. You knew deep down she was like that but hearing it verbalized so clearly was draining for you. But it was okay, right? You were good enough for Arlecchino, you repeated in your head. You’re good enough for her, you tried to convince yourself. There was no need to dwell on it.

But once a seed has been planted, it’s hard to stop its growth.

—

You didn’t get much sleep that night. The morning had come rather quickly, light filtering in through the windows. Arlecchino’s side of the bed was still untouched and cold. You contemplated staying in bed a while longer, but it was probably better to do something to get your mind off the events of last night. Perhaps a nice, hot bath would do you some good. Dragging yourself out of bed, you rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes and padded along to the bathroom, until a glint caught your eye.

Your and Arlecchino’s shared dresser with a rather large mirror.

It held fond memories for you. Oftentimes Arlecchino would sit as you removed her hairclip and began to brush her hair, her face expressionless but still soft as she looked at you in the mirror. Or sometimes you’d be the one sitting down, her hands placed on your shoulders as she stared adoringly at your reflection, complimenting how enticing you looked. How she could just eat you up, kissing your neck, having to resist the urge to leave a smidge of her lipstick there. Bringing you as her plus one was both a curse and a blessing; she could show the whole of Snezhnaya her enthralling darling, but at the same time people laid their filthy eyes on you. Very fond memories indeed.

But that was the last thing on your mind, your reflection staring back at you almost hauntingly. Immediately your eyes couldn’t help but pick out the little imperfections and flaws in your body. Imperfection. The opposite and enemy of perfection. You wondered, did Arlecchino notice these imperfections too? Perhaps, she’s noticed all along and decided to not say a word out of pity?

You shuddered at the thought of disappointing her and quickly retreated to the comfort of your bed after that, hoping your dreams would provide you with something sweeter.

—

You knew you had slept in too late when you awoke to Arlecchino at your bedside. At first, it was a soothing feeling, waking up to fingers stroking your hair. And then realization hit you like a ton of bricks as you scrambled to sit up to which Arlecchino watched you with an unreadable expression.

“A-Arlie!” You half-exclaimed, voice cracking embarrassingly. “You’re home.”

“I was surprised when you weren’t by the door to greet me like usual. You usually never sleep in this late,” she commented, indirectly asking if you were okay.

“Oh well… I just felt more tired than usual,” you replied, which wasn’t really a lie. Arlecchino narrowed her eyes at you.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been staying up late again,” she sighed when she saw your nervous guilty smile. “I keep telling you to sleep instead of waiting up for me,” she gently tsked as she glided her finger under your eyes. “It is not healthy for you.”

Your wife’s touch made you hot and you gladly accepted it, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but think back to the Fatui soldier’s words. You probably looked so imperfect right now. Arlecchino noticed the change of expression on your face.

“What’s wrong?” Well damn, you didn’t mean for that to happen.

“Oh, nothing,” you quickly reassured her. “You know, just the sleep deprivation kicking in.” That excuse probably didn’t even make any sense but you had to roll with it. Arlecchino simply stared at you before answering.

“You do look more tired than usual. You should rest for a while longer,” she nodded as she guided you back into a lying position. You don’t think she fully bought your excuse but at least that exchange was over.

That was only the beginning of your distance behavior, which Arlecchino easily noticed. You wouldn’t initiate physical contact anymore, and wouldn’t “surprise” her with hugs from behind. No longer would you go on about your day when she got home from work. Whenever she got into bed with you, you’d always pretend to be asleep instead of spending the night talking with her. It was strange and made her feel… not good.

Arlecchino was a very observant lover and could read your mood very well, even more so when you tried to hide it. Usually, she could pinpoint what caused it or you would tell her. But this time you were completely silent. Not just for a little while too, it had been days.

She’d find out why tonight. How? Because tonight was your regularly scheduled dinner date night.

Arlecchino was a classy woman. She could always appreciate a private, fancy dinner with her beloved. And though it was only in her mansion, it didn’t stop her from wearing her best suit and encouraging you to dress up as well. Both of you always enjoyed these nights. It was usually mostly you doing the talking, but she took pleasure in hearing you chatter over a nice meal. Not to mention she liked to feed you dessert.

Normally you’d be ecstatic to spend time with your wife. But now? Now you were kind of terrified. You were going to be so close to her. She would be able to see your every move. Dissect you with those piercing eyes of hers. Your mind was going to the worse possible places and you didn’t like it.

Were there any wrinkles in your outfit? Hair combed perfectly? Wait, was your outfit even nice? What if it was and it just looked poorly on you? You found yourself worrying over the minor details far too much. But you didn’t have much more time to fret before Arlecchino entered the room with a slight smile.

“You look ravishing, my dear,” she hummed as she circled you, her heels click-clacking against the floors and her eyes dragging across your body. Her compliment did make your heart sing a little.

“Thank you, love,” you managed a smile to which Arlecchino reciprocated. You held out your held and Arlecchino grasped it with hers, kissing it.

“Shall we go?”

“We shall.”

—

There was no laughter or conversation to be heard during this particular dinner. The only thing that could be heard was the clatter of knives and forks against plates. It was unsettling how you didn’t even try to start up a conversation. How when Arlecchino tried to get you to speak, your only responses were a few words or merely a nod.

Why? Because your mind was racing over things you never worried about before. Was your voice pleasing to her ear? Was it too high or too low? Best not to test it. Was your etiquette good enough? The idea of not being perfect enough was still eating away at you, even in the things that didn’t matter.

Arlecchino always thought herself to be prepared for many things, many kinds of situations, and outcomes as a Harbinger. Though as a lover, it seems that she had some room to grow, she thought as she watched you change into something more comfortable and get ready for bed. But she was going to attempt to remedy that.

“[Name], speak to me.” Straight to the point as usual.

“About?”

“Why have you been so distant lately? It’s as if you’re a completely different person.”

“Everything is fine.”

“There’s no need to lie when you’re with me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Both of us know this cannot go on any longer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“[Name]-”

“I am fine!” Your voice snapped before you realized what you’d done. “I’m fine,” you repeated softly as you turned your face away. “Sorry.”

The room was silent for a few moments before your wife spoke again.

“My lover is the last person I thought I’d be interrogating,” Arlecchino’s voice dropped to a softer tone, one that was quite rare. It was making you weak.

“I know… and I’m sorry,” you said in a deflated manner, the weight of the whole situation catching up to you. “I’m sorry…”

“Do not be sorry,” Arlecchino gently corrected you. “Simply be honest and tell me what is wrong. Your troubles are my troubles as well, love, and I swear to fix them.” She came to sit next to you on the bed, tentatively placing her blackened hand on your shoulder to gauge your reaction, and then running it up and down your back once she saw your approval. You felt like an idiot for wanting to cry right now.

“I know, I just-” You started to sound like a broken record at this point but divulging such thoughts was definitely not easy at all. But there was no way to escape this conversation so you had to come clean eventually. At least Arlecchino was extremely patient with you.

“It’s me,” you finally said. “I’m… the problem,” you stated quietly, head hung low and staring at your legs. You had done it now.

“You?” Your wife repeated. “How could you ever be a problem?” Arlecchino remained calm on the outside but her mind was racing with questions that needed answers. She placed her fingers on your chin and guided your face to look at hers instead.

You balled your fists and opened your mouth to speak but it was beginning to clog and dry up from your overwhelming emotion. “I’m not good enough,” you blurted out in one go. “Not good enough for you.” You were sure your heart was racing faster than what should be humanly possible. You squeezed your eyes shut, afraid of what her facial expression would be. Archons, you just wanted to disappear into nothingness right now.

Arlecchino was momentarily shocked, even letting the emotion show on her face for a split second before she quickly schooled it back to her normal expression. Though she had no idea how you came to such a conclusion, she was not going to let you believe such lies for another second.

“[Name], look at me. Now,” she commanded. With that tone of voice, you knew better than to disobey her. Hesitantly you opened your eyes, reluctantly making eye contact with her, the red X’s in her eyes staring directly at you.

“You’re wrong,” she stated plainly, not meant to hurt you but rather convey to you what she thought was the obvious truth. “You could not be farther from the truth. How has such an erroneous belief infiltrated your mind?” You didn’t really know how to respond to that so you merely shrugged your shoulders and broke eye contact again, but she quickly tapped your cheek so you could look at her again.

“I guess… I guess I was just thinking about how perfect you are, and how everything around you is perfect as well, and I don’t… deserve to be around you,” your voice trailed off towards the end. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold back the tears. Arlecchino paused for a moment seeming to take in your words before she spoke.

“It is true I surround myself with perfection. But does that not already answer your question? You are perfect to me. There is nothing I do not adore about you.” A quiet “oh” was the only word you could muster in response to that. Although it wasn’t enough to completely rid you of your insecurities, her genuine words of affirmation were starting to make you feel a little better.

“I don’t think you know how utterly addicted I am to you. I crave every part of your being so often, it drives me crazy,” she whispered. “I may look calm now, but inside I can feel myself burning at the mere thought of you.” Arlecchino let go of your chin and reached for your hand, guiding it to her face. “There is absolutely no one else I would want as a spouse. Do you understand?”

The lump in your throat had grown much larger so the only thing you managed was a meek nod.

“Can you use your words, love?”

“Y-yes,” your voice was teetering on the edge of breaking down. With that, Arlecchino moved in to place a very gentle kiss on your forehead but that was the final straw for you. Tears gushed down and you hurriedly reached to rub them off, but it was really to no avail because your wife had obviously already seen them.

Admittedly, Arlecchino was not the best when it came to tears and comfort. So she just did what she knew how to do - let you cry into her chest as she stroked your hair and back comfortingly. She didn’t say anything for the time being, letting you get out everything you had been holding in for the past few days. She didn’t care that her shirt was being wetted by your tears. She didn’t care that she had a long day ahead of her tomorrow. What she cared about was the person in front of her and their wellbeing.

Neither of you paid attention to how much time went by, as it didn’t mean anything. Eventually, your sobs were reduced to soft hiccups that you managed to mostly keep under control. Arlecchino’s touch and chest were so soft, you felt like you could fall asleep right now after all of that crying, which Arlecchino seemed to notice as well.

“Go to sleep now. You need rest,” your wife instructed, kissing the crown of your head and then gently moving your body to lay down on the plush mattress. She made sure to wipe your face delicately with a tissue as well and kiss the corners of your eyes, stained from your tears. You made a noise of agreement as the soft blankets and pillows were already winning you over. Arlecchino placed a final kiss on your forehead as she sent to off to the land of dreams.

Arlecchino gazed at your face as she pulled away. You looked so tired but still so beautiful. But she would have to talk to you about this again. She was still unsure of why you suddenly started acting this way, not wanting to push the subject immediately. Did someone feed you lies? Or was it truly just on your own? Regardless, she was going to make sure to reverse those thoughts as much as possible. Everything about you was so lovely. So charming, so divine. No matter how long it took, no matter how many times she had to reassure you, she’d make sure you were aware of her feelings.

Arlecchino clasped her hand with your own and squeezed it. You would always be more than enough for her.

Perfect.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin #arlecchino fluff #arlecchino #arlecchino angst #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers #fatui #fatui arlecchino #i think the pacing got a lil bad but... yea arlie fluff !

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mydearesthrry · 1 year

Note

how would gf!reader react to seeing Harry’s ex at a function

ooooh. stirring the pot. i like it! made this fbh and new(ish!!!!) gf!reader cause hes hot and why not! enjoy :p also sorry anon this took so long lol love u

jealous-ish reader and some angst under the cut 💋💋

Walking into the party, her arm resting on the inside crook of Harry’s elbow, she took small steps next to him, trying to take up as little space as possible.

To signify the start of school, Harry’s frat had obviously thrown a party. This was one of the first times the couple had seen each other all day, Harry working with pledges and helping out with house prep prior to the party. He’d gone to her apartment just a few blocks from campus to pick her up, originally clad in a brown toned flannel, a white Rolling Stones graphic tee, and a pair of black ripped jeans. However, the flannel now draped across her shoulders since she’d met him in his car wearing nothing but a tiny black dress that exposed her arms and went down to her midthigh. And there was just no way he was letting his sweet girl get all cold. Not under his watch, anyway.

His skin was soft beneath hers, her fingertips now gripping onto the soft fabric of his sleeve, her palm on his inner elbow as her hand slipped farther and farther down. As if he could sense it, he moved his arm to let hers fall to her side, and moved behind her to rest a hand on the junction between her lower stomach and hip, scratching lightly at the silky material of her dress. Nudging her forward with a kiss to the back of her head, she kept walking, now leading her and her puppy dog of a boyfriend.

The night carried on, Harry occasionally greeting his brothers with a few shared expletives, Y/N being a supportive girlfriend and just leaning back into him whenever he paused to talk to someone, introducing herself to unfamiliar faces with Harry’s help. She could barely hear them because the music was so loud! Smiling apologetically whenever she asked them to repeat themselves, Harry took initiative to start introducing the unfamiliar person to his girlfriend, and vice versa.

There was eventually a small lull in the night, the two standing in the kitchen with an almost full red solo cup being shared between them, Y/N curled into his side as he ran his hand up and down her side. Her eyes scanned the crowd from their spot in the darkened room, eyes widening when she caught sight of a familiar face.

“Oh shit,” She said, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against Harry a bit more, looking up at him with a wide grin.

“Wha’?” He drawled, hand coming up to bring the cup to his lips.

“I see Anna,” She giggled, resting her head on his shoulder, small giggles turning into full chuckles when she felt the way he tensed.

“Oh, um,” He mumbled. “Yeah, she comes t’these parties pretty often.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled, pushing off of him to leave the kitchen.

“Oh, oh no, absolutely not. Do not think about it, puppy. I’m warning you.” He whined, pushing off the counter to follow her.

“I’m doing it, you can warn me all you want, but I’m not gonna listen!” She shouted, running after his ex girlfriend. She knew that the break up was mutual, and there were no hard feelings involved, but she thought it’d be fun to mess with her boyfriend a little.

“Jesus Christ. What’d I get myself into?” He whispered under his breath, following his girlfriend with annoyed steps.

“Hi! I’m Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you!” He heard his love squeal, and when he rounded the corner, he found his girlfriend and his ex both with excited gleams in their eyes, hands holding hands, compliments whirring in the air between them.

“Oh my god, hi! I’m Anna! You’re Harry’s girlfriend, right?” The blonde smiled, squeezing Y/N’s hands in her own.

“Yeah, I am!” Another shared grin.

“Hi, Anna.” Harry greeted, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“Hi bug,” She smiled back, hands slipping from the grip they’d initially had on Y/N’s, now coming to the front of her stomach to fidget with her cuticles. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has. I see you’ve met Y/N,” He smiled, his arms stagnant by his sides.

“She’s an angel, H. Good job, really. I knew… I knew you’d find someone really great for you.” Anna said, placing a hand on his arm. Now, this might’ve been Y/N’s first real relationship, but she wasn’t dumb. She could sense the distaste that Anna withheld the second she went up to her, and she could see the hearts practically sown into her eyes, and the worst part about it? Harry seemed like he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Matter of fact, he was eating this shit right up.

“Thanks, A. I um- I appreciate that.” And she thinks that was her breaking point.

She knew it was mostly her fault, but she really didn’t think she’d get jealous! She promises!

“Okay, um- I’m gonna let you two catch up, and I’m gonna go get a drink. Find me, H, will you?” Was all she said before she turned on her heel and beelined for the kitchen, trying to will away any tears before they could even think about arising. She felt herself flicker onto autopilot, making her normal cherry vodka with Sprite as if she was tracing the steps. Her mind was just swirling with doubt. Doubt if Harry was actually in love with her, or if she was just being delusional and wasn't picking up on any tells that he could've been making obvious. Seeing him with Anna- the way he was just so comfortable with her- made her want to sink into the floor with embarrassment.

"Hey, baby," His voice made her jump out of her thoughts, now completely in control of her body again. "Y'okay?"

"Mhm. Peachy," She squeaked, cursing her vocal chords for failing her so prematurely in the conversation. "Why?"

"'Cause ever since y'pretty little face left m'side, I've been watching y'and noticed that y'got that look on y'face." He says, grabbing her cup and placing it on the counter, boxing her in against the cool marble with both of his arms encasing her, hands flat against the corners.

Fuck. "What look?" She could play dumb, right? He wouldn't notice, she thinks.

“Don’t play dumb, baby. You know I know what face y’make when you’re jealous.” Fuck. Never mind.

“Umm, I don’t know what you’re talking about?” She questions, voice wavering as she began to give up her facade since she knew she’s been caught.

“Bunny,” He starts, pausing when she groans and drops her head to rest her forehead on his chest. “Why’d you even go over there? I knew you would get jealous the second me and her talked.”

“And you didn’t stop me?”

“Why would I? You wanted to so bad, I even tried telling you no. You don’t listen to me, bunny. I literally— dude, I literally warned you.” He sighed, shaking his head but placing small kisses onto the top of her head, burrowing his nose into her hair to inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo.

“I didn’t think it’d go that bad.” She says simply, hooking two of her fingers into the front left pocket of his skinny jeans.

“Well, that’s your fault- ow!” Harry groaned, releasing his girlfriend to rub the side of his thigh.

She’d smacked him. But, this was serious, and he was taking it too lightly!

“H, this isn’t funny! Now I look like the stupid girlfriend who’s jealous of my boyfriend’s ex! And I hate being jealous!”

Grabbing her shoulders, he pulls her back to peer down into her eyes, grabbing her chin when she avoided eye contact. “Hold on, woah. I, for one, love it when you get jealous. It— it makes me realize how much y’actually want me. I love the feeling, mama. It feels nice t’be wanted, y’know?”

She sighs. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“I don’t want anyone but you. You’re m’present and m’future. Couldn’t see m’self marrying Anna, but with you? God, bunny, I think about it like, four times a day. You’re my person, baby. I promise.” He starts choking up, making Y/N step forward to collide with his front, propping her chin onto his chest.

“I love you, probably more than I’ve loved anything or anyone.” She whispers, trying to keep the intimacy of the moment sacred in the semicrowded kitchen.

“Promise?” He asks, leaning down to place his forehead onto hers.

“I promise.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #frat boy harry #fbh x reader

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adirajackson · 1 month

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Wait, what?

My first skz story :D

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Fluff

“Wait, what?”

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You’ve been feeling sick lately, vomiting and feeling nauseous. It could’ve easily been a cold or a fever, and that’s what you originally thought.

Until you were 6 days late on your period.

Channie knows you’ve been feeling sick, and he’s tried to comfort you as much as he could. But it’s hard when he’s an idol who is preparing for their next comeback. That’s obviously okay though, you can take care of yourself. Anyway, you went to the pharmacist and grabbed a box of two tests. When you got back home, you were shaking. You were scared.

What if I am pregnant?

What if he leaves me?

What if we can’t keep it because of his job?

Or, what if I need to stop overthinking and actually open the fucking box.

You finally opened the box and took one of the tests.

Wait.

Just wait.

How much longer?

Now?

How about now?

Maybe now?

Or now?

Please be now!

Your phone timer finally went off, the alarm startling you.

Positive.

The tears immediately fell, racing down your face like it was their life mission.

No. No no no no no. Please, please be false! Youre shaky hands scrabbled to grab the other one, chugging water until your stomach felt full. Finally, you took it.

Hurry up.

Please be false

Would he want a baby?

Or would he leave me?

Or would I be forced to get rid of it or leave him because of his public image?

Or-

The alarm went off again. You stopped walking back and forth and wiped a tear, looking at the test.

Still positive.

Fuck.

Your first instinct was to call your mom, but you didn’t want to freak her out. Mind the time difference, you didn’t want to wake her, or risk her not picking up. So you just walked over to your couch and hugged your knees, sobbing rapidly as your heart rate picked up. Soon, you were hyperventilating and your head was pounding.

This went on for 20 minutes until you finally snapped out of it, wiping your tears and snot on your sleeve. The sleeve of Channies hoodie. Your boyfriend. A famous idol.

And the father of your child.

You blinked for a moment and turned on your phone, spamming the password in and opening messages.

The big nosed bitch who stole my heart✨🌹🦘

Hey

Heyy what's up??

I know you're probably working at the studio still but please come to my apartment. I need you.

Is everything okay love???

I'm heading over now.

When Chan got to your place he immediately saw you spooning jello into your mouth as if it would run away. He nearly sprinted over to you and hugged you while on the couch. “Baby are you okay? What happened? Are you sick? Are you hurt? I left Changbin in charge of recording for now, you’re my top priority,” he rambled so quickly that it made your brain think he was mad at you. So you cried. “I’m- I’m sorry!” You sobbed, covering your face with your sleeves. Chan was confused, why are you apologizing? “Hey, my love, it’s okay, I didn’t mean to sound mad. Can you take a deep breath for me?” He rubbed your back as he calmed you down. He always had a way of calming you even in the worst situations.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong now, yeah?” He asked gently. “I’m- I’m pregnant…” you nearly mumbled. Chan was shocked and he felt like time had stopped. “Wait- what?” He asked, his brain already knowing the answer but not really processing it. “I’m pregnant,” you said, a bit louder this time. “I…how far along?” He asked hesitantly. “I don’t know, I just found out….” You checked the time, “An hour ago.”

“Woah. Uhm, alright….fuck I don’t know what to say…do you want to keep it?” Chan asked, rubbing her thigh gently. “It’s our child. I mean, I could never just get rid of it and forget about it…” you responded shakily. “Yeah…?” He questioned before speaking, “I want to keep it. Keep him or her.”

“Really…?” You asked, wiping snot away from your puffy red face. “Really,” He confirmed, “I want to keep our baby. The life we made together.”

This only made you more emotional, tears making themselves known, appearing on your face like they had a plane to catch on your chin. “Hey, it’s okay, let it out…” her said softly. When you finally calmed down, he spoke again. “Do you want to tell the others now or later?” He asked. “Now…” you responded. “Okay…well, how about we go get some food for us, then go to the studio and tell the boys, hm?”

“Okay, but let me get dressed? I look like a wreck.”

“You look gorgeous.”

Part two?

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#stray kids #skz x reader #skz #skz imagines #skz stay #skz scenarios #skz bang chan #bang chan #pregnant #bang chan x reader #ate skz

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ltbarnes · 9 months

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‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

#stark u #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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blasphemecel · 9 months

Text

Michael Kaiser — On Your Knees

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2.9k TYPE: Humor, Teasing, ERM I think y/n and kaiser might like each other 🤓 WARNING: Suggestive sorry (flirting is only verbal but explicit at times)

Kaiser always looks alright with his hair wet. Not, like, stunning or anything, but passable. Then you know it’ll start standing up in weird ways after it dries a little and he’ll ask Ness to help him with it — which, embarrassing, by the way.

But anyway. You wanted to check out the communal bath after you took a shower, figured you’d be alone because it was already bordering on late, and Kaiser followed you because why wouldn’t he. Not like you value your peace and solitude or anything. He can be such a pest sometimes.

You were telling him what Isagi told you — it’s called a sento and apparently it’s different from the more popular onsen — and he said you weren’t ‘worldly’ and that you weren’t ‘impressing him’ and then some more about how ‘everyone knows this.’ Shithead. You should spit in his breakfast tomorrow, if you remember.

Well, you like sitting in the bath, at least, so you’re not too sour right now. Even Kaiser being right next to you can’t ruin it.

“I like this Raichi guy,” you say.

Kaiser shakes his head a little to show you he disapproves. “Don’t tell me you mingle with them. Also, the guy’s always benched. He’s second-rate.”

“No, listen, he was telling me about this sexy soccer motto he has. I really wanna know what it’s about.”

“You’re embarrassing. If you’re in my entourage, you should act like it.”

“Dude, you’re just mad at Isagi ‘cause he was trending on football twitter more than you were that day,” you say.

“I’m not!”

Very persuasive argument coming from him here. It’ll take a lot out of you to take it apart. He’s fuming about it, too. Maybe it’s not so bad Kaiser came along if you can poke fun at him.

“I don’t know why you’re the favorite on the team, anyway,” you say. “They all die over your corny tattoo and not to mention how much you love showing it off. Not cool at all.”

“You wish you were me. Now you’re being jealous because no one likes you, and it’s making you look even uglier than usual,” says Kaiser, seeming to believe himself if the smug look on his face is anything to go by.

“I mean, I had a girlfriend till recently, you know.” Kaiser rolls his eyes, but you ignore him. He’s always doing this, pretending he doesn’t want to hear you. “She had this botched blue dye job and said things like ‘pussy power,’ with the crystals in her room and the tarot cards and all.”

“Yeah? Sounds great. Did you pick her up after a match, loser?”

You click your tongue and wag your finger at him just to be annoying. “No, I don’t fool around with fans. Seems more like your forte.”

He flicks the offending finger away. “I’ve never done that, you slanderous pig.”

“No, but listen, she didn’t care about football at all. She didn’t even know what a scissor kick is. Ooh, she drove me wild.” You sing the last part, looking up at the ceiling fondly as if you’re recalling a warm memory.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you, frowning. “You’re one strange individual.” And what a pompous way to put it.

“But anyway, wanna know what kinda tattoo I’d get?”

“I seriously don’t care.”

“A skull with two guns. Hard as fuck.”

“You’re so lame. It’s appalling, and also probably why you got dumped.”

He’s taking the tattoo thing seriously. At least seriously enough to insult you over it. He’s even snickering at you in amusement. His face is always, how can you put it… snide, but he does look a touch more evil when he starts grinning and shit. What a hoot, though. Really.

“Nah, there was this guy. He wore suspenders with plaid polos and these little sweaters over them. They were sustainable. Sustainable. Can you believe it? Sustainable! I didn’t stand a chance.” You poke him on the neck, already distracted from what you were rambling about. Kaiser is going to bring up your low attention span soon, you can smell it on him. It doesn’t take any effort to reach out, though, what with him sitting so close next to you. “This isn’t such a bad spot for a tattoo, actually. I don’t know, maybe you were onto something.”

“Paws off,” he says, swatting you away like a bug. A pedestrian bug, probably, at least in his imagination. “You really wanna fondle me that badly, you’ll use any excuse to do so?”

“Paws!” you repeat, clapping. “You’re hysterical.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes again. He seems to like to do that a lot, at least in your presence. If there was such a thing as competitive eye-rolling, you wager he’d be good at it, maybe even better than he is at football.

“No, but listen-”

“God, I hate it when you say that,” he interrupts with a groan, then contradicts himself by also swinging an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer just to yawn in your face with great exaggeration. The water is way too hot for this nonsense, so you push him away. “Because I never want to listen to you.”

“You’re crazy. Insane. It’s super clinical. Like, really.”

“Yes, I’m sure, unlike me, you’d pass a psychiatric evaluation because I’m crazy and you aren’t. Of course.”

“Imagine-”

“Can you stop topic-hopping?” Kaiser asks, annoyed. See, you knew he’d bring it up. “Does your head ever hurt with how much bullshit goes through it?”

You shush him. He scowls at you like you’re some mold growing in the bath, but you disregard his expression of disdain. “Imagine you’re having a nice day, I don’t know, at practice. Then I barge in with all of my asshole glory, right, and I walk up to you, and for no reason, I say, ‘On your knees,’ instead of greeting you. Isn’t that kinda deranged?”

Kaiser stares at you. To his credit, he’s decent at maintaining a poker face, but once he’s embarrassed, there’s no hiding it, no going back. Because no matter how much he does his usual male posturing or whatever it’s called, his face is all red, the blush even going up to his ears, mouth wavering the slightest bit. “W-What? In your dreams.”

“Oh, do you like getting bossed around or something?” you ask with the sensitivity of a numb toe. “That’s so pathetic.”

It’s quite the spectacle when his skin somehow becomes even more flush. Sick of your leering, maybe, Kaiser whips around, albeit not all the way, and covers his cheek with his hand while peering at you through his fingers. Finally, he decrees, “You suck,” with too much authority.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Forget about me, though. In that situation, do you spit or do you swallow?”

It’s unclear whether you’re getting any gratification out of this besides the satisfaction of flustering him, but you smile in amusement regardless. As if you care about Kaiser sitting there, looking all pretty and nervous because of some nonsense you’d been spewing. Not like you’re crazy about him or anything. That’d be ridiculous. You couldn’t be more unfazed if you tried.

You grab your towel with what you’d call impressive swiftness, then turn around and stand, covering yourself before preparing to go on your merry way. Kaiser pulls you back by the ankle, trying to trip you or something, the menace. Hilarious guy, really.

He is staring up at you in this petulant sort of way, grabbing onto his own towel with his other hand. “Why are you leaving so soon?” he asks, sounding peeved, as if you haven’t been here with him for an unreasonable amount of time already.

“I thought I should give you some privacy since you’re all hot and bothered now,” you say (with this douchebag laugh you have for situations like these, where you’re being a douchebag — self-explanatory), stepping out of his grip. Then you try to imitate his voice, but more high-pitched, accompanying your performance with a few vulgar hand gestures. “Oh, [Y/n], you slanderous pig! I think that’s what you’d sound like.”

“You’re such a lowlife,” he says, before all but leaping out of the bath and trying to maim you right here on the spot, and the only thing to save you from your demise is that he gets lightheaded and almost faints immediately after.

You reach out to pull him up and keep him steady, holding him by the arms. “You can’t be jumping out of the bath like that, man, come on.”

The lack of response concerns you, but after a while, Kaiser gathers his wits enough to say, “I’m going to make you slip, and I’ll be praying you split your head open.”

You burst out laughing. “Do it, then. You don’t have it in you, do you?”

Instead of doing as he promised to retaliate to your provocation, he settles for letting go of you and glaring, before clutching the side of his head and going still again. If there was any medical wing in this goddamn football contraption, maybe you would’ve taken him, but alas. At least you don’t need to worry about Kaiser too much since he eventually concedes and holds onto your arm for support.

The sight of you two stumbling around towards the changing room is probably comedic — uncoordinated as hell, covering yourselves with these flimsy little towels, using the hands not clutching at the other.

“You’re supposed to drink a lot of water before getting in,” you say.

“It’s your fault! You didn’t warn me we were going.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you weren’t invited. Jeez.”

“Oh, whatever.”

You return the tiny towel to the basket, swapping it for a bigger one and making quick work of drying yourself. You’re slipping on your shirt when you ask, “Is your head all right now?”

“I’m fine.”

When you turn around to judge whether he’s being truthful or not, he’s dabbing himself in a manner which is way more laborious, examining his reflection in the mirror as if he’s in some slow motion commercial where the camera will capture a conspicuous water droplet falling down his neck, admiring his jaw from different angles. He makes you sick sometimes.

“I’m not gonna wait for you to finish checking yourself out.”

He shoos you away with a dismissive wave of his hand. Unlike his, your actions most often align with your words, though, so you do walk out of the door. You’re not even ten steps in when Kaiser reappears, now magically dressed.

“Stop rushing,” he says, pushing you out of the way — and for no reason! There’s enough space for both of you in the hallway. You end up lagging a bit behind him. “I’m dizzy.”

“I thought you said-”

“Blah, blah,” he cuts you off, untying his hair and doing a bad job of smoothing it out with his fingers.

You’re rooming with him and Ness, so you’re already headed in the same direction. As much as this stinks, your other option was Gesner and Grim. God, is fucking Gesner obsessed with dick cheese. Of all things, that’s what he’s always talking about. Grim has your condolences, but the problem is out of your hands now.

“Your hairstyle’s ridiculous.”

Kaiser turns his nose up and smiles, coming off as pleased by the insult. “You can only wish to pull it off.” Always preening like a peacock. He’s entertaining. You swear he is.

You hook one of the ends, where it’s the bluest, around your finger, twirling it around and around. “I had a dream about you recently.”

“Aww, I’m on your mind even when you’re unconscious. I could vomit right now.”

“You were in the meditation position, but you were levitating, and the rat tails were holding you up.”

Maybe you’ve committed some kind of utmost offense, because he doesn’t even bother insisting they’re not rat tails this time. “Wow, those are the kinds of things you dream about me? Your brain is defective to the core.”

“What do you want me to dream about you, then? Are you implying something?”

He faces you, and he has this way of looking at you like you’re a blight on humanity. You have an urge to press your palms against his cheeks to check how warm they get when he blushes, but resist it. “You’re so delusional.”

He’s rolling his eyes again.

“Keep rolling them, see where it gets you.”

“What, are you implying something?” Kaiser asks, mocking you, but he seems kind of happy at the insinuation. You’re not about to point it out, though, having a semblance of self-preservation.

“But anyway, your hair,” you say. “It looks good for tugging on.”

He snorts, either at your audacity to speak such things out loud to him, or at the way you straight up ignored his question.

So you elaborate, just so he doesn’t get the wrong idea, “Yeah, like, I kinda wanna grab you and swing you around till you fly outta my grip.”

“What?! As if.”

“It’d be so funny, though.”

“Maybe to other stupid people like you. Dense people who always ruin the fucking moment, for example, that type of thing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, stifling a laugh before entering the room.

The lights are still on when you come in. Ness seems to be reading some kind of book, sitting upright and all. “Hey, guys. You were gone for a while.”

“We were,” Kaiser says, you assume just because he likes hearing himself talk. “All that time I can’t get back.”

You crouch down to get him a water bottle in case he forgot how dehydrated he was (or more likely decides he’s above getting it by himself). It’s rare for you to do something out of the goodness of your heart, so when you turn around to pass it and find him draping himself over the solitary bed — the one you won dibs on in an honest round of rock, paper, scissors — you swear to never do anything nice for him ever again.

“Hey, get off! It’s mine.”

“But I want it,” he whines, as if his word holds more weight than the aforementioned game of rock, paper, scissors, which, as already established, you won.

You’re about to make an earnest attempt at throwing him out of the bed until Ness comes to his defense. “Come on, leave him alone.”

Saying no to Kaiser is exceptionally easy. But going against what Ness is asking? You can’t get a read on the guy. He’s either way too happy most of the time, or is secretly plotting your murders for all you know. You toss the water bottle at Kaiser, leaving him to smirk at your relenting.

“By the way, do you mind if I turn the lights off after I do my nighttime routine in the bathroom? I’m kind of tired,” Ness says.

“Sure,” allows Kaiser. So generous and charming with a winning personality to boot, this guy.

You lean against the bunk bed and ask, “Oh yeah, why are you still up?”

“I thought it might be rude if I went to bed before you both came back, so I decided to wait.”

Damn, now you feel kind of bad for dilly-dallying for so long. You clutch your chest with a tasteful sense of drama. “You’re so perfect. Hey, Ness, you wanna take the top bunk?”

“Wow, really?”

“Why not at this point,” you say. After all, Ness came in second in the game, but gave it up to Kaiser, and he ruined everything already.

“Thanks!” He grins at you before rushing off to do his business, almost blinding you with the sweetness he emits. Your gaze trails after him until he leaves the room.

Kaiser is looking at you with a mix between scorn and disgust when you walk over to his side to retrieve your phone from the bedside table, but you pretend not to notice.

Figuring you have nothing better to do, you take Ness’s previous spot, lying down on your stomach, ready to check your notifications. In your peripheral vision, you see Kaiser take his shirt off theatrically, then he has the fucking nerve to throw it at you. He makes such a big show out of existing.

It’s probably more painless to throw him a glance now than to be stubborn, so you exhale out of your nostril in resignation and turn your attention back to him. Kaiser props himself on his elbow while reclining on his side, posing on the bed, gracing you with a bastard smile. Almost presenting himself like a Renaissance painting you’re supposed to admire in some chaste, intellectual kind of way.

“Wanna know something?”

“What?” he asks, apparently irritated since you don’t seem so appreciative of him right now.

“I think shitty, obnoxious guys like you need to be put in their place,” you tell him.

It really is way too obvious on his complexion when he starts getting shy. He’s like a breathing mood ring. It’s almost fascinating. For a second, Kaiser is incredulous, but then he turns smug again, addressing you with a sense of challenge. “Don’t even joke. You’re not really about it like that. All you do is talk.”

You think you’re gonna start having even more fun together after today.

___

No homo I HATE HIM 😍

#michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you

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