#he lets me paint his nails since I can’t paint my own

[flyingwargle]

sakusa emerges from the bathroom in a curtain of steam, towel wrapped around his neck, hair still damp. dressed in old sweats, he slips his feet into the slippers left against the wall, and shuffles down the hallway, head raised at the sight of his partner sitting at the dining room table, engrossed in his nail care.

the apartment, usually comparable to a nightclub with how loud atsumu prefers his music, is quiet. all sakusa can hear is the file running over his nail, with occasional pauses for an inspection before resuming. most things that atsumu does related to volleyball, sakusa noticed, is done in silence. from silencing the crowd when he serves, practicing tosses to the tune of squeaky court shoes and bouncing balls, even doing cardio and weights to the rhythm of his own breath. there are few things that he devotes his undivided attention to, and sakusa is simply glad that he is one of them.

"hey."

he looks up, startled. atsumu has lowered his nail file to gesture at him. "c'mere. lemme do your nails."

“i think they’re fine.” sakusa isn’t as meticulous, but he gives them a trim once a week.

“they’re too long fer my standards. i don’t want ya to chip ‘em.”

he acquiesces and sits across from him, waiting for atsumu to wipe the table down before he places his hands on top. atsumu is gentle as he grasps his right hand, cradles it in his own, and runs his file over the nail.

a comfortable silence blankets them. sakusa, unsure if talking is allowed, settles with watching. his partner's eyes are narrowed, brows furrowed together, lips pressed into the tiniest pout. it’s a familiar expression, often seen at their favorite ramen joint as he contemplates between tonkotsu or shio, juggles between two brands of seaweed to save money or indulge, flip-flops between his playlists to determine the mood. sakusa suppresses a smile, endeared by his level of dedication.

“whatcha smilin’ at?”

atsumu looks up at him. of course he noticed. sakusa replies, “you.”

“what, i got somethin’ on my face?”

“you enjoy this.”

it’s not an accusation; just a mere fact. atsumu returns his eyes back to sakusa’s nails, having moved onto his index finger. “’samu never remembered to cut his nails. durin’ a match, he was blockin’ the other team an’ they got a wipe off ‘im. it hit his finger at a bad angle, an’ it broke his nail. he couldn’t play for a week.” his chuckle is light, full of goading but love. “after that, every time he saw me do my nails, he asked me to do his, too.”

sakusa can imagine it: the twins, perhaps positioned similarly as they are now, running a file over each finger, rough but tender, grumbling and protesting the entire time.

“ya wanna know who was up in my face about carin’ fer my nails? my ma.” atsumu’s fingers are rough against his, as most volleyball players’, but he runs the file gently, with slow, rhythmic movements. “i used ta feel bad that she got two boys instead of a girl. she didn’t have a daughter to dress up or paint her nails.”

he releases his hand, reaches for the other. sakusa remains still, lets him take hold, adjust his hand as needed, and continue. “if it weren’t fer volleyball, i woulda let her paint mine. she never got the chance, though, since we started playin’ in elementary school, an’ now, i still play, and ‘samu can’t ‘cause of work. well, not that he woulda let her paint his nails, anyway.” he pauses, eyes raised toward the distance. sakusa recognizes the expression well: nostalgic, edged with bittersweet longing. “instead, she was always on my case ‘bout keepin’ my fingers in good condition, ‘cause they’re what makes a setter.”

sakusa doesn’t respond, overwhelmed by the memories of all the tosses that atsumu made, often deemed impossible until they weren’t, becoming tosses that allowed his hitters to score. he never falls short of delivering the best, and he expects his hitters to reciprocate.

“there. don’t they look better?”

at his voice, sakusa blinks, glancing down at his hands, the sliver of nail on each finger uniformly shaped and filed. atsumu starts to clean up, retrieving another wet wipe, when sakusa speaks up. “motoya and i used to paint our toenails. he has an older sister, so he’d steal her nail polish. we used to paint them before games.”

“really? didn’t expect ya to be interested in polish. aren’t there a buncha nasty chemicals in ‘em?”

“yeah. motoya couldn’t convince me until high school, and even then, he had to buy a brand that i deemed safe.” sakusa draws in a breath. “i still remember what it is, if you want to try it.”

atsumu hums. “only if ya paint yers with me.”

“sure. it’d be fun.”

“never thought i’d hear ya call somethin’ like this fun.”

sakusa rolls his eyes. “i didn’t hate it when we did it before. no one would see it, anyway, except for us.”

“like it’s our dirty little secret,” atsumu replies with a wink. he laughs when sakusa reaches over to shove his shoulder. “not dirty! a fun, ‘lil secret. ooh, we can get our team colors!”

while he finishes cleaning, sakusa fetches his laptop from his room to look up the nail polish brand and find their website. atsumu joins him a moment later, and by the end of the night, they’ve placed an order for several different colors. as they head to bed, sakusa places a hand on atsumu’s shoulder. “in return, can you do my nails next week?”

“anything fer ya, omi.” and sakusa knows that he means it.

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XV

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Because I wasn't satisfied with the last chapter I decided to post the next one right now. I’m so excited about your thoughts because the plot is finally beginning !  I can’t wait to hear about your theories. 

“ It makes your boobs look ugly, another one please !”

You were being tugged behind the curtain already being undressed to put on another dress. Today you were with Alice, in one of the most expensive shops of all New Orleans, to find your wedding dress. It was an exciting, amusing and stressful experience. Alice was being, as usual, honest about the dress you have been trying for almost an hour. 

“ Alice, how many more dresses do I need to try? You know we still don’t have a date for the wedding? Alastor’s father is still missing.”

“ What about it? His loss if he misses the wedding. Now, I think I’ve found the perfect dress for you~!” 

You laughed behind the curtain. Alice didn’t even know Alastor’s father, she never met him but you have told her once that you didn’t feel comfortable with him and she decided that she would hate him until the end of time. You looked at the dresses you have been trying, a part of you was happy to be here with your best friend and yet you wondered…Were you selfish? You knew Alice was in love with Alyzée but they couldn’t get wed to each other… Were you hurting Alice without being aware of it?

“ Alice–?”

“ This one. This one will fit perfectly your waist, your legs, your shoulder, your chest. For heaven’s sake, I’m the best.” she said looking at her nails. Why were your best friend and your future husband so full of themselves while you were always insecure ! “ Come on, try this one.”

“ Alice.. I’m.. You’re okay?” you asked, taking the dresses off her hands.

“ Yes? Well, I’m still shocked about what you told me about John, but you know what we say, we don’t keep trash around us.”

“ Who is “we”?”

“ Me, Myself and I. Now, try the dress, doll ! I’ll find the shoes!” you laughed as you watched her running away. You sighed with a smile, you were surrounded by amazing people, you should try to be more sure about yourself.

The workers from the stores helped you put on the dress and your shoes. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt.. pretty. Really pretty. You smiled at yourself, moving the pans of the dress, loving the movement it was doing.

“ Can I see?”

“ Of course Alice.” you turned around. Since you could remember, Alice always knew how to dress you up. From her Christmas’s Eve’s soirée where she had found that beautiful dress from today, she would always come with outfits from other countries, always being new, unique, something Alastor scoffed most of the time. He was always saying that Alice was running toward the future without being aware of her surroundings. And Alice was always saying that Alastor needed to shut up because he was lucky to look good in anything.

“ Oh my Lord. You look ravishing, my friend!” she clapped her hands together, her eyes whelming up a bit. “ Oh God… I’m… I’m so proud of you.”

“ I haven’t done anything yet.” you laughed nervously.

“ Take the compliment for once. So, what do you think? I , personally, think it’s the perfect dress for you. But what do you think?”

“ This is my favorite too. but the price–”

“ Let me buy it.” you opened your mouth, ready to complain but Alice stopped you with her hand.” I know, I know, you’ve never liked me paying stuff for you, expensive things mostly. But please, just this one, let me buy it. I… The next time I go into this kind of shop might be for my own wedding, which won’t be filled with laughter and love like we just did. It might be selfish, but just.. I want this moment. I’m sorry–”

“ Okay.” you smiled, almost moved to tears by her comment “ But Alice, for your wedding, no matter with who, I’ll be there. There will be laughter and love, because you won’t be alone in this.”

You saw Alice nodded, wiping some tears from her eyes. You looked at her, your best friend might never be married to the one she loved, but you will never let her feel loveless. 

You took off the dress, as Alice went to pay in cash. You joined her once you were dressed with your own clothes and you both walked toward her place. You saluted the butler, who bowed to you.

You both sat down in the huge living room, sighing in relief. You took off your heels, your feet were killing you. 

“ By the way, if we need to find Alastor’s father to be able to have your wedding, do you want me to… pull a few strings for you? I could call the best of the best!”

“ No, no. I won’t lie, the fact that he is missing isn’t… bothering me.”

“ I’ll cheer for that. “ she winked at you before asking for wine. You laughed, she always loved Rosé. It wasn’t very strong in alcohol, it had a very good taste but when the alcohol hitted. Dear lord…

You didn’t drink too much, you had to walk back home yourself after all. You smiled when you saw Alice put on Alastor's broadcast even though she was rolling her eyes at the radio sometimes.

“ Are you hearing him? Gosh. I knew you when your voice was cracking, Alastor !” she shouted at the radio.

“ Alastor voice never–”

“ A woman can dream, dear. Gosh, now I hear his voice anywhere I’m going.”

You laughed behind your glass. Alastor was gaining popularity surprisingly quickly, which was good of course. It was the best outcome you could imagine.

“ Now, about my cottage.”

“ Alice, we told you we don’t have the money and you just bought me my wedding dress.”

“ Who is “we” my dear?”

“ Me, Myself and I.” You stuck your tongue at her, making her laugh. Alice was a girl ahead of her time with her manners and way of talking, she always felt like a breeze of fresh air. 

“ Well, if you all say so.” She took a sip of a drink before looking at the door, her father making his entrance. You stood up as the big man smiled at you, he always has been nice, never raising his voice, always wanting what’s best for Alice.

“ Oh, good afternoon ladies. Alice, I just wanted to tell you that you might have a date with the son of the–”

“ Yes Daddy, I know, don’t worry I’ll go.” she said, looking away. You saw her father smile sadly before leaving after giving you both candy you used to like when you were younger. You looked at her, worried. Was she going to be okay? “ Don’t look at me like that Doll. It’s going to be the same as usual, I’m going there, bat my pretty eyes and at the end, I’ll just say to Daddy that the man wasn’t what we needed for the family.”

“ How long do you think you can keep this game going?”

She stared at the large windows in silence. Alice was just like a bird in a cage, she felt like freedom, but would never taste it for herself.

“ As long as I can.”

You stayed with her until the sun was setting down. The maid took her to her bedroom as she was sleeping on the sofa. Seems like going on another date was getting harder and harder for her. Was Alyzée aware of it? You sighed as you gave your goodbye, before walking out of the mansion. 

You decided to go into a park, walking between the trees. There weren’t a lot of people outside, even though we were in March, the weather was still cold. You stopped when you saw an old man fall not too far from you.

“ Oh sir! Are you alright, let me help you!” you said as you took the cane that had fallen from his hand. You helped him sitting down on a nearby bench. 

“ Oh, thank you little lady.”

The man was tall, black with brown eyes, a white beard, he was wearing a hat, helding on his cane, he seemed like he had injured his leg.

“ Do you want me to take a look at your leg? I’m no nurse, but I used to help my father when he came back from war.”

“ Ahh, war. You don’t need to take care of me, little lady.” he smiled warmly at you. “ You look sad yourself, do you need to talk about it with an old man?”

You looked at him, he felt so warm and he was… cute. His aura was gentle, cute like a kid that wanted to learn something new. You haven’t seen your grandfather since he died during the war, you haven’t had the strength to go back to your old country to go to his grave so… Maybe why not indulge yourself and talk with this man?

“ I’m… I want to help a friend, she is in love but can’t marry that person.”

“ Aah, love. And why can’t she?”

“ She had to marry someone from “noble blood”.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. It was bullshit. “ She has no choice.”

“ Mhn… I think she does, little lady. We always have a choice, when you think you don’t have one, it’s because you already made up your mind. “ he smiled at you with eyes that held so much wisdom. 

“ But… What if the other choices are more dangerous?” you asked, feeling like you weren’t talking about Alice anymore.

“ Well, little lady. What would you do?” 

You stopped talking. You killed to be with the one you wanted. You had a choice and yet..

“ Are you unhappy with the choices you made?” 

“ No, but I’m afraid of what it will bring at my door.”

“ Aah.. Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse pouvait.”

“ What?”

“ You will see, little lady. Your friend is maybe so blinded by what she has to do that she can’t see what she could do. Love is the deadliest poison and yet the sweetest remedy in the world. She should try to think for herself, don’t you think? Would you rather live your whole life in misery or be happy for a short time of your existence? The difference between existing and living is thin, little lady, but it exists.” he nodded before looking at the sky, seeming lost in thoughts. 

You stared at this mysterious man. He seemed to be around 60, maybe that is why he seemed so wise. You looked at the sky and gasped when you saw the moon in the sky. It was already dark!

“ Oh, I need to go!” you stood up but before leaving you took the candy from Alice’s father. You smiled at the man, placing the candy in his veiny hands. “ Thank you for that useful advice.” You beamed at him as he looked curiously at the candy before smiling at you. “ Maybe we’ll see each other one day again !”

“ May our ways cross again if needed, little lady, may our ways cross…”

You ran back home, feeling better than when you left Alice’s house. You walked inside and saw your father with Jeff in the living room. They were still trying to understand how Alastor’s father could have disappeared like this. You smiled at the men, walking toward them.

“ Nothing news?”

“ No, my sweet daughter. We are trying, but from the moment he left the bar he wasn’t seen anymore.”

“ I’m sure the wife was having an affair and decided to kill the husband. Classic scenarios.”

“ And how could she have done that?” you sat on the sofa, staring at Jeff with an innocent smile. You almost smirked when you saw him puffing his chest, feeling so much pride in vomiting all the information he should kept away from you.

“ The man came home, drunk. She could easily poison him, hide the body somewhere and end the story.”

“ Mhn… But without a body, you don’t know. What if he was the one having an affair and ran away? From what I understood, he seemed to be someone who drank a lot, maybe he was being ambushed in an alley because we know for a fact he never made it back home.” you smiled at him, your father smiling with pride by your side.

“ That what they say but–”

“ No, that’s what we said. I was there. I’ve never seen this man come back home.” you stared at him down. He shut his mouth. “ You see, I really want to get married and the fact that you are trying to put the blame on my future family in law is getting on my nerves. So please, do me, us, a favor, find out what happened. And if you are unable to, just give up.” you looked at your father. “ I don’t want to wait forever, I want to get married.”

Your father stared at you before kissing your forehead.

“ Alright sweetie, we have a new man who’ll help us in this case. I’ll give him three months, if he doesn’t find anything, I will close the case and we will concentrate on your wedding.” you hugged your father with a happy grin. Finally! 

You bid your goodbye before going into your bedroom, getting ready to go to bed. You listened to the noises downstairs, waiting for Jeff to go and your father to go to bed.

You were concentrating so much on trying to hear what was going downstairs that you didn’t notice the shadows behind you. You almost shouted as a gloved hand fell upon your mouth, muffling your screams. 

“ You’re such an easy prey, dearest.”

You sighed in relief as you closed your eyes. Alastor was really the quietest being you have ever met, which was surprising when he was the noisiest man on the radio.

You turned your head toward him, looking at his mocking smile. He was so full of himself. You bit his finger before letting it go, going for a hug. He hummed against you.

“ How did you come here?”

“ Well, the windows, dear.” 

You scoffed before forcing him to sit on your bed. You sat on his lap and took his hand with yours, playing with his fingers.

“ I have my wedding dress.” you smirked when you felt his whole body tensed underneath you. “ And you won’t see it, because I left it at Alice’s.”

“ Do you really need Alice in your life, dearest?” asked Alastor with an amused voice.

“ Yes! Come on Alastor, be honest with me, you enjoy Alice’s company?”

“ Hah ! I enjoy Alice’s contacts nothing more.” he rolled his eyes, pressing you against his body. “ She is useful and she can be amusing, when she is having problems.” he smirked at you, making you slap his shoulder, trying to contain your laughter. He was such a…

“ Well, I have some news on your father’s case, my dear future husband.” you smiled as you explained what happened with Jeff. You couldn’t help but grin when you saw Alastor beaming with pride as he listen to what you have told the policeman.

“ My, my… So, they think my Mother did it?”

“ For now, we know that we have three months until we are completely free of it.”

“ Have you felt it again?”

You tilted your head.

“ What?”

“ The need to kill.” he asked you, gripping your waist, pressing your body against his. You felt lightheaded.

“ N-N.. Well… I thought for a second.. to kill John.” you saw Alastor’s pupils dilated as he stared at you before kissing your neck. You tilted your head to give him more room.

“ Mhn, interesting, go on, why?”

“ Because he was bad mouthing you.” you tried to contain the anger in your voice, you didn’t want to wake up your parents. “ Who does he think he is?” you rolled your eyes, you were still hurt about what John has said but now you weren’t feeling sadness over it, only anger.

“ Would you like to kill him?”

You looked at Alastor who had his chin against your chest, looking at you in a way too innocent face for the conversation you were having.

“ Alastor, we can’t. There would be too much suspicion on us, we already have your father’s disappearance on us, if we kill John–” he kissed you feverishly making you sigh in the kiss. Oh, how you loved the feeling of Alastor’s lips against yours.

“ Do you hear yourself, darling?” he smiled against your lips. “ In your mind, you are already ready to kill him… ” he sighed against your skin. You stared at him, stroking his cheeks. You wanted to see the Alastor you had seen the first time you killed.

 The difference between existing and living is thin, little lady, but it exists.

You kissed Alastor on the nose, with an excited smile.

“ Not now.”

You fell asleep with new marks on your thighs and your neck. When you woke up the next morning, you were already smiling.

You stayed with your mother all morning, spending time with her until you decided to go to Alice’s. You didn’t know when her date was supposed to be, but if you could help her morally before she had to leave, it would be great. You took some pancakes you’ve made and walked toward her mansion, the butler let you enter, escorting you to the living room.

“ Miss Alice shall be here soon.”

You nodded before sitting on the sofa. You put the pancakes on the table and wait until you hear the familiar footsteps of your best friend. You turned your head and smiled at her, as usual, she was beautiful. 

“ Hello Alice.” you stood up and you both hugged each other. She sat next to you, holding her head in her hand. “ Mhn, the wine doesn’t taste good the day after, right?” you laughed as she groaned.

“ Please, not so loud…”

“ What a hangover.” you whispered, mockingly. She stuck her tongue at you before digging into your pancakes. “ Well, someone is hungry.”

“ I don’t want this man to think he has a chance with me because I seem eager to eat.” 

You smiled, crossing your legs. You told Alice that you needed to wait three more months before finally concentrating on your wedding. You laughed as she let out a sigh of pure relief.

“ Thank God, since when do we stop living because a man disappeared.” she rolled her eyes before eating the last pancake. You look at the butler who came to announce Alice’s date. And like an actress, Alice put on the fakest smile she could conjure, Alastor would be proud. You stood up as a man, looking around 40 came into the living room, he was sweating so much you could see sweat pearling on his forehead.

You gave Alice a look, encouraging her with your eyes before leaving, you even made a face to the butler who nodded at you, with a disgusted face. You laughed before leaving, going out to buy some pastries. You walked to the park, thinking about your weddings. Where should you do it? What about the honeymoons? Did Alastor want children? 

You stopped when you saw the same old man from last time, sitting on the bench, smoking a pipe. You grinned and walked toward him.

“ Hello, sir.”

“ Hello, little lady.”

“ Might I sit a moment with you?”

“ It would be my pleasure. You seem happier than yesterday.”

You smiled as you sat next to the man. You felt safe with him, maybe it was because his aura reminded you of your deceased grandfather..? You didn’t know. You began to talk, mostly about what was going on in your life until you began to talk about your wedding.

“ Mhn, you have quite the ring.” the old man said with a little grin. He didn’t have a ring on his fingers, did he never get married?

“ Yes, in less than three months, I will be able to concentrate on my wedding.”

“ Who is the lucky lad?”

“ If you are listening to the radio you might have heard him, his name is Alastor.”

“ Alastor heh..? Quite a name, quite a name…”

You smiled, happy that Alastor was getting a name to himself. You took your box of pastries and held one for your new friend. He thanked you before eating one éclair au chocolat. You smiled as you kept talking with him, the man mostly listening and giving you wise advice.

“ Being too confident is not a good thing, your insecurity might be a blessing on some occasions.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Don’t be afraid, to feel afraid. The ones who don’t fear are gods, spirits…”

“ But it’s irrational.” you frowned, how many times you felt jealousy when you didn’t need to be.

“ Yes, but it’s instinctive. Here is some wise advice from an old man: trust your feelings.  Did they ever betray you in the past, when you needed them, little lady?” he looked at you with a warm smile.

You looked at the ground. Your family always told you, you were sensitive, you would easily be overwhelmed by what you were feeling or what was going on around you. 

But when Alastor’s father took the bullets, you didn’t know why, you felt it in your guts that something was going to happen. That’s why you had run outside to find Alastor and that's how you killed his father. 

But then, why did you not feel John’s romantic attention towards you ?

“ People who feel a lot are trying to balance themselves by becoming observant. That way, they feel more grounded, they think they are being rational, which can be good sometimes. But you mustn't discard your feelings, you’ll lose yourself like that. You seem like a sensitive little lady, it’s not bad and it’s not good, that's what you seem to be. Why would you want to be like others, they are already busy being themselves.”

“ So.. I should listen to myself more?”

“ It’s a choice you can make. Feeling emotions is a good thing, it connects you to the rest of the world.” he nodded before looking at the sky, smiling warmly. “ And isn’t it beautiful?”

You stared at the man. He was such an.. intense person in a way. Would he talk to you the same way if he knew you had killed someone and you didn’t feel any kind of remorse?

“ What if… by being connected to the world, I might be a bad person?” you whispered.

“ That’s your choice. For some people you will be a bad person no matter what you do, no matter what you think.” he looked at his cane before eating the rest of his éclair au chocolat. “ Soldiers killed during war, the winners are seen as heroes, and the losers as cold blooded killers. Who is right? They all killed people, they all did horrible things and yet they aren’t seen as the same. Your father have killed during the war, right? What made him different from an enemy soldier?” 

“ Because… he was fighting for what’s…right..?”

“ Who says?” he tilted his head, always having a gentle expression. He wasn’t judging you, he was just curious about your thoughts. 

You couldn’t find an answer to his questions.

You stayed in silence for a moment, thinking about the man’s words. What was strange, was that his words weren't shaking your morals, but it was making you accept them. You had killed, you wanted to kill again, maybe not as strongly as Alastor, but you wouldn’t be opposed to killing again, if it was to protect. You knew it was the difference between you and Alastor, you would kill to protect while you knew Alastor would kill.. Because he wanted to.

And you accepted it, you accepted him, you accepted yourself. 

You would be the wife to a murderer, maybe he would kill again, maybe not. You didn’t really care. You would be by his side, as promised. 

You opened your eyes, feeling lighter. You didn’t expect to feel burdened by all of this, but maybe, the fact that you were trying to make the wedding happen was a way for you not to think about what happened.

You felt better.

You turned your head toward the man who was looking at the people walking in front of you. They weren’t looking at you, just walking, not even caring about you. You smiled.

“ Thank you. I feel… better.”

“ Is it a good thing?” he asked, amused. You grinned.

“ Well, for my own happiness, yes!”

“ Then, everything is good.”

“ I’m going to meet a friend.. But, can I have your name sir?”

The man stared at you with his usual gentle and wise expression. You waited politely, maybe he thought you were being rude, asking his name out of the blues?

“ Legba.”

You bid your goodbye before walking toward Alice’s home. You were going to encourage her to break free from her chains! She didn’t need to marry a sweaty man, she could handle herself perfectly! You entered the mansion, the butler escorting you once again in the living room. Now, you just need to wait!

You opened your eyes, not even realizing you fell asleep when you heard shouting at the front door. You walked toward the entrance and saw Alice and the sweaty gentleman, your friend was shouting at the man, demanding his departure from her house while he was clearly trying to calm Alice.

“ What is going on?”

“ This man is just a filthy pig! Touching me like I’m some kind of harlot.” she was fuming, trying to contain her rage. What did that man do? The man, who didn’t seem sure of himself became more confident, pointing at Alice.

“ Maybe that’s what you are, kissing the mayor’s daughter like this. What a scoop that would be, unless we come to an agreement of course. I think you would make a darling wife Miss Alice. I’ll let you think about it, and if you need more convincing, I have proof. Now, have a great night ladies.”

And just like that, he left.

Alice closed the door before dropping to her knees, breathing heavily. You took her in your arms, looking for a butler or a maid but nobody was around, which was weird. You tried to calm her but she was panicking.

“ He saw us.. He saw us kiss.. Oh lord, what could happen if he were to open his mouth about it.” she was shaking, nipping at her nails. 

You calmly took her hand with yours.

“ Do you have any way to get rid of him?”

She looked at you, seeming torn to speak before sighing.

“ Don’t think I’m a monster but… Most of the richest families have.. people who do their dirty jobs? Sending… assassins or things like that..? I’ve never done that of course, but I feel so trapped right now… Oh, what Alyzée is going to think.”

“ She won’t need to think about it. Use your assassins.” you wondered if you were shocking her. Maybe you were a little too at ease with the idea of killing someone ?

“ No. They would report everything to my father and if they see the proof… My father would know about me and Alyzée.” she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. You knew it was dangerous, you knew it could backfire but…

“ What about me?”

“ You? What you?”

“ Do you want me to… ?”

Alice stared at you before laughing so hard she was crying. Or was she crying so hard that she was laughing ?You waited for her to calm down before staring at her.

“ Are you serious ?”

“ Seems like she is.”

You both turned around to find Alastor, standing in front of you, the door open.

“ My dear, we don’t talk about taking trash out at the entrance, I taught you better than that.”  he smiled widely at you. Alice was looking at you then at Alastor, seeming confused. You sighed before helping your friend standing up. “ Is there a place we could talk about getting rid of the trash?” asked Alastor with a beaming grin.

Alice seemed to come back to herself, and she tugged you to her father’s office. She locked the door behind Alastor, staring at you. 

“ Explanation ?”

“ Nothing too serious. You’ve been caught in a big scoop Alice, and you need us to clean the mess you’ve made!” you paled, asking Alastor how did he know, did the bastard already told everyone? “ Oh dear, no, but from Alice’s expression, the only things that could make her so upset would be you or her lovely Alyzée. I took a lucky guess.”

“ Alastor, you are… your father… oh… that explains so much.” Alice let herself drop on her father’s chair. “ So, that’s why you didn’t want me to help to look for his father, because he killed him?” asked Alice, looking at you, confused.

“ We killed him.”

“ Of course you did.” she sighed, putting her head on the desk. “ I need.. a fucking glass of whiskey, I’m not having this conversation sober.” She took a bottle from the cabinet before sitting back in front of you. She poured herself after giving you and Alastor a glass. “ So, let me get this through, you both killed Alastor’s father and now you want to kill the man who knows I’m in love with Alyzée?”

“ Well, Alice, for once you made your brain work. I would almost be shedding a tear if I cared.” said Alastor as he sipped his drink. “ And furthermore, this man is a pig that needs to be slaughtered.”

You felt relaxed. You didn’t know why, but the fact that Alastor was referring to the man as a pig made you feel even less remorse than you could have felt.

“ What are you winning from this?”

“ Nothing–”

“ Doll, I know you don’t want to manipulate me. I know. I’m talking about your murderous husband. He wouldn’t help me freely.”

“ Using your brain for the second time? What a day folks ! It’s simple really, you are at the head of one of the richest families in Louisiana. Having you on my side is a plus.”

“ I’m already at your side–!”

“ No Alice, you could be cutting yourself to prove your faith and I would still doubt you. But a crime, that is a win-win situation. The pig is slaughtered, you are free, my darling and myself are doing what we need and everything is back to normal!” exclaimed Alastor with his usual smile.

“ … Fine.” 

As Alice and Alastor were talking about the contract, you felt shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening. You don’t know why but you remembered Legba’s words. You need to trust your instincts. You couldn’t hear Alice and Alastor anymore, you could hear footsteps… You could hear…a shovel digging into the ground.

“ Darling?” 

You gasped as you felt Alastor hand on your shoulder. What just happened ? They both were looking at you, worried.

“ I’m okay.. I just.. I’m okay.” you nodded, feeling extremely tired all of the sudden. “ Alastor… Where is your father's corpse?”

“ Six feet underground.”

“ I think.. I think we should check it out.”

“ Why dig up dirt from the past?”

“ Because I think someone is trying to dig him up.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor @fandomsbookclub @hokkaido97 @catticora

[growup-thatbeautiful]

I LOVED your gym crush Dave lizewski fanfic!! If possible could you do a bimbo reader and Dave fic where reader needs help in whatever the case may be and gets horny around Dave and fucks him? Sorry for the sudden request

Of course lovely! 🧡

Warnings: sexual content, cursing, oral (m receiving), mdni

“Thank you so much for doing this,” you tell him when he opens the door. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I think you would manage,” he replies, letting you inside. He looks good now, in his element, away from the jeers and teasing of his classmates and friends. The softness of his sweats and the tightness of his t-shirt makes him look so homey. It’s what you’re used to.

“My grades don’t agree.” It’s no secret to your school that you struggle in most, if not all of your classes. It’s not because you don’t try; you really really do. It’s just never been easy for you to understand what the teachers are talking about.

When you got sat next to Dave in math, you thought he would tease you like the others smart kids do. But he didn’t- he offered to help instead of you didn’t understand, and most of the time you don’t. Hence your arrival at his house, donning a lace tank top and shorts.

Dave’s not like the other guys you know. When he sits you down at his kitchen table, a paint-covered tablecloth on top of it, he offers you tea. Tea. Most guys offer you booze or water.

You try to pay attention, you really do. But you don’t understand what he’s talking about. You didn’t get it the first time, and you haven’t gotten it the second time. You want to let off some steam, and math isn’t helping. You’re frustrated and pent up.

It doesn’t help that you keep getting distracted. You didn’t realize it in class, but Dave’s so pretty. His long lashed and the restless curls on his head just beg for you to ruin him. It should be as sinful as it is when his deft, calloused fingers trace the numbers on the page; you can feel them running patterns over your skin, waiting until you’re begging for him to touch you where you need it most. His lips look so soft, kissable. You want them everywhere.

There’s a tightening in your core that has you digging your heels into the tiled flooring, your thighs pushing down against the wooden chair. God, it’s unfair. He’s trying his best to explain this to you, and you can’t stop thinking about how his hands would feel in between his legs.

“Does that make sense?” he asks, his head tilted to the side. Your mind helpfully supplies puppy dog. Shit. You’re supposed to be paying attention to math.

“Uh,” you say. “Yes?”

“Great,” he smiles, sounding genuinely excited for you to understand. He’s so sweet.

“Dave,” you start, a whine in your tone, “Can we take a break? It’s been forever since we started.”

“It’s been thirty minutes,” he says, a frown appearing between his brows. Instinctively, you reach out and smooth it down with your finger, red nail polish against his skin. Other than the flickering of his eyes, he doesn’t move.

It’s your chance. Slowly, like you’re trying not to scare him, your hand creeps around to cup his cheek. “Is this okay?” you ask him.

“Yes,” he breathes. If that wasn’t enough, he brings his own hand up to slide up your shoulder, holding your neck. “Is this?”

“You fucking kidding?” you say. “Fuck yes, Dave. Please.”

“What’re you asking me for, baby?” he murmurs. “What do you want?” Fucking hell. He can’t know how absolutely profane those words sound coming out of his mouth.

“Your fingers,” you answer immediately. The blush that finds its way to his cheeks is beautiful and so unbelievably hot. You want to see it over and over again.

“Yeah?” he asks, laugh in his voice. “You want me to make you feel good?”

Your enthusiastic nod is all it takes for him to grab your thigh, repositioning you so that you’re on his lap, your legs straddling his. It’s uncomfortable and the kitchen table is digging into the small of your back, but it feels right.

It feels even better when he runs his hands along your waist, his lips scattering marks on your collarbone. You’ll have bruises tomorrow, but you can’t seem to make yourself care. Based on the noises you’re making Dave can tell.

But it’s not enough. It’s so, so good but it’s not what you want. Apparently, you’re transparent because Dave has mercy. His hands, warm from their contact with your skin underneath your shirt, slide underneath the waistband of your shorts, putting pressure onto the bundle of nerves that makes you see goddamn stars. One finger, then two, stretch you open, a delicious burn that has your hips chasing more.

Your head falls forward to catch his lips in a kiss, and when that’s too much you rest it in the crook of his neck and listen to the little encouragements he whispers into you ear.

Doing so good for me, baby.

Just like that, honey.

If you were with anyone else, they wouldn’t be doing this. He’s taking his time, making you feel good. You’re shaking and sharing his breaths and it’s all too much-

And the dam inside you bursts with enough force to stop your breathing. Your eyes screw shut and his name is the only thing you can remember. You don’t know if you’re chanting it out loud, but you don’t care. Dave, Dave, Dave.

“My turn,” you breathe when you finally get your breath back, your knees hitting the floor before he can say another word. His legs are spread wide, opening inviting you. His hands rest uncertainly above your hair, which you quickly fix by bringing them to tangle in your locks.

Slipping his sweats down just enough, you leave kisses on the underside of his cock through his briefs, paying special attention to lick at the growing wet spot.

You know he’s impatient, but too still too sweet to do anything about it, so you push his underwear down enough for his cock to spring out, flushed a pretty, angry red.

Humming, you take his head in your mouth, bobbing your head before taking more of him, the salty taste of him on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he groans above you, his arm across his face. He’s breathing heavy already, his shirt plastered to his chest with sweat.

It doesn’t take long for him to come from your mouth; you know what you’re doing and he doesn’t seem to have any problem letting you know that. With your heel digging into your clothed cunt, you slide a finger along your folds, heat blooming underneath your touch as you listen to his noises. When you moan, your mouth full of him, his head tips back against the chair and his thighs flex.

“Shit, baby, I’m-” is all je manages to get out before he comes, filling your throat and dripping down your chin. His eyes flutter back in his head, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge a second time with him, soaking your hand and the remaining integrity of your underwear.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately when he gets his voice back, pulling you up on his lap. “I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

“Yeah?” he asks, double checking your face for any signs of upset. When he doesn’t find any, an easy, bashful grin finds its way to his face. “Do you want a change of clothes?”

“Sure.” Suddenly, a thought occurs to you, horror flooding your mind. “Your dad isn’t home, right?”

“No,” he laughs. “He’s working. We have the house to ourselves.”

Your mind is slow with the aftermath of two orgasams, and your movements are slow and uncoordinated. You feel fuzzy and good; better than you’ve felt in a long time.

Maybe math tutoring isn’t so bad.

[sinsandsweetness]

hi my love <3

do you think you could do a rick grimes fluff where it’s an established relationship where he’s got a short fuse for everyone else but her and he’s super soft and gentle to her

or rick with a sleepy reader who he just lets fall asleep on his lap as he strokes her hair when he’s in the middle of discussing something important with someone else

ok I'm currently painting my toenails baby pink and got me thinking about rickyl with hyperfeminine!reader. (I know u said rick but this is what my brain said so...enjoy?)

It’s way too late but you can’t really help that you’re a night owl. And besides, the boys are still up, lights on in the living room, the two of them talking strategy for some hoard the group has been tracking for a few weeks. The conversation seems really important so you don’t want to interrupt but you also can’t see all that well since your glasses broke on that run last week and you’ve yet to find any new ones… so you were really hoping someone would help you out.

With your bottle of nail polish in hand, you stand in the doorway, fighting an internal battle of if you should go in or not. So in doubt, you hover, putting a few dishes away in the kitchen. Grabbing some water. Checking the fridge. All while the glass bottle of pink polish becomes warm in your hand. Bare feet padding against the cool hardwood as you finally decide to just go back to bed. The safety of the community is undoubtably more important than your damn toes.

“You alright, angel?” Ricks voice is soft as it travels to your spot on the stairs, swiveling around to see both men eyeing you down. Gaze travveling up your bare legs to your tiny little boy shorts and the oversized sweater with a stretched out collar and way too many holes in it.

“Mhm.” You quip, flashing a candy sweet smile.

“You’re pacin’. What’s up?” Daryl isn’t convinced as he looks you in the eyes, elbows leaned onto his knees. Still in his work clothes. Jacket, vest and jeans. Even his boots are still laced up.

“I just-" you look down at your bare toes. All prepped for paint, cut and filed and screaming at you to give them some colour. “Can one of you help me paint my toes?”

The way both of their faces soften at your answer gives you butterflies. They’re always way too worried. Too on edge. Especially when it comes to you. Wanting to protect you. Keep you safe and healthy and happy. So that’s why when they notice you pacing in the kitchen at half past midnight, they jump to their own little conclusions about what might be wrong. About what could possibly be going on in that beautiful mind of yours.

“C’mhere.” Rick pats a hand on the couch cushion next to him which you happily take. Practically skipping over and plopping down, ass on the cushion and feet in his lap.

He takes the bottle and gives it a little shake before continuing his conversation with Daryl, who doesn’t seem to be listening as attentively as he was before. With you laying on the couch, long legs sprawled out and a sleepy smile on your pretty face, you’ve become quite the distraction.

Ricks hands are warm as he holds your feet, carefully painting each nail, all while he stays talking. You hear snippets like, “- well if we do that, then they’ll just be headed for Oceanside. We need to find a route that makes sense for everyone, even if it means-” but you aren’t really listening. You’re more focused on making heart eyes with Daryl and playing with a loose string on the hem of your sweater. Eyes growing heavy with each coat of paint. The intoxicating, chemical smell that you've weirdly enough grown to love, fills the room and your feet tickle when rick blows cool air on them. Closing the bottle and popping it back into your hand while he leans back and asks Daryl something off topic about a run with Aaron. thumb running over your foot, hand traveling up your calf and gently massaging the muscle there. You sink even further into the couch, all warm and tired and cozier then ever. The combination of Ricks touch sending tingles up your spine, and the drawl of both their voices, act in accordance to lull you right to sleep.

You know that even if you do fall asleep here on the couch, it's no big deal. They'd carry you to bed in a heartbeat. They have before. So you let your eyes flutter shut under the comforting fact that you’re sure to wake up in clean, warm covers with a man on either side of you and two big arms wrapped around your waist.

[consuming-karma]

THE LOST BOYS HAND HCS.

buwan’s notes: I’d like to thank @britany1997 for fueling my wild obsession with the lost boys and their hands, and also for agreeing with me that Paul’s the KING of fingering. Thanks. 🤭

episode summary: talking about the lost boys and their sexy hands. yes I’m crazy.

content warnings: hand kinks, some hcs are for fem/masc audiences (will specify so). , spit kink, different other kinks that will take forever to mention, NSFW, me honestly talking about how my favourite necklaces is Dwayne’s hands, yeah..

PAUL

starting off strong with Paul, Brit this one is for you mainly (and me, but I’m on the side).

I think paul has very veiny and bruised hands. I think that the blonde has the type to manage to get bruises or cuts unintentionally and never notice it!

his fingernails aren’t long, and his fingers are somewhat long and he has HUGE palms.

like marko, he has the tendency to chew on his nails, maybe even bite the skin around it.

Paul’s hands is also littered with rings, I can’t begin to explain to you how many rings he has in his own little corner of the cave, even the other guys come to borrow from him time to time!

If I didn’t know any better I would’ve definitely done the “your hands are way bigger than mine 🥺” technique at him, it’s funnier knowing that Paul’s probably the type to fall for it.

Paul also has a tendency to need to grab, he will hold onto anything. His preference is your chest though, he loves how they cup perfectly into his.

he’s very touchy-feely, he doesn’t seem to understand how good it feels to just have you in his hands or arms, whether that’s just you hooking your pinky around his or letting Paul place his hand on your inner thigh, he just loves it.

If I could say anything, I’d say Paul gets off more on touching you rather than you touching him.

maybe even gets higher than he does smoking weed.

He’s like one of those cats who paw at you whenever they’re comfortable. He grabs at thighs, at upper arms, at the tummy. He loves all of you and want all of you to fit in his hands.

Paul’s hands are somewhat rough, I see Paul to be the type to suck at hand care and only really uses hand sanitizer and maybe lotion. (For you know what ;) ).

Brit and I are firm believers that he is the KING of fingering/oral.

Paul thrives, survives on pleasing his mate/partner.

His hands can grip and squeeze and please.

I like to think that Paul loves the way your thighs pool from out his palms, and how it doesn’t fit in both of his hands.

For my feminine readers out there, Paul would love to graze the tips of his fingers on your stretch marks and whisper sweet little dirty nothings into your ears as his free hand just rubs you on your hip dips. :)

Masc readers, never forgetting about y’all, his thick hands definitely wrap perfectly around your cock, and he definitely looks up at you prettily with those baby blues. His painted nails and rings make beautiful accessories for your dick <3.

Paul unintentionally fingers you to the point of overstimulation though, he’s got the attention span of a puppy and will not notice, no matter how many times you cum onto his hands.

his hands look amazing covered in cum and saliva ;)

spit on his hands and tell him to fuck his fist, his only lube being your saliva..

“Paul!” You whined, grabbing at his hands as they gripped firmly at your thighs. His face sported a grin as your squirmed in his hold, a worried look on your face.

It’s been hours since his fingers worked their magic inside of your hole, he worked your walls until they couldn’t anymore and it seemed like Paul would never stop.

A surprised moan left your lips as Paul grazed over a sensitive spot, Paul seemed to feel like the devil in disguise as he no longer grazed your sweet spot, more so, started abusing it.

You couldn’t stop your thighs from shaking and kicking as the overstimulation Paul gave you shook you to your core. You can see the black and white spots appear in your vision as you feel yourself get closer and closer to another high.

It felt like forever before Paul finally plunged his fingers deep into your hole one last time, letting you ride his digits until you came down from his high, twitching from the overstimulation.

After a short while, Paul gently pulled his fingers away, a string of cum connecting his digits to your hole before Paul brought it up to his lips and gently sucked.

His free hand held your hips in place, as you hazily looked up at him with confusion and a red face.

“Has anybody told you how divine you taste, babe?”

(visuals) :

MARKO

Marko’s hands are less veined than the rest of the boys, turning when he was around eighteen had him keep the smooth skin of a baby.

The curly-head’s hands are definitely more daintier than the rest of the boys, most of them have rough maybe thick hands, but Marko’s are thin and has little veins.

Although Marko covers it up with his fingerless gloves, I’d like to think that his hands are very smooth to the touch, his handcare is 10/10.

like Paul, his nails aren’t super long, I’d say he likes to keep them a nice length, but bites them off on the way.

His thumb has a mark where he keeps biting it with his teeth, unlike the other boys who might have bruises or cuts, he has a noticeable bump on his thumb and a small mark on his nail.

type of guy to be short but his hands are still bigger than yours. He always talks about his hands fits yours so well and how he loves seeing the size difference of both your palms together.

type of guy to also tell you that your body fits perfectly into his hands, his hands mold perfectly with your hips and thighs.

most of the time Marko does dirty talk you, but you can never reply back because most of his dirty talk’s in Italian, and you’re busy trying to keep Marko’s wandering hands from going under your shirt and latching onto your chest.

If Paul’s the most touchy with his hands, Marko takes second place with how touchy he is.

Marko has the tendency to play with his hands when anxious or anticipating something. He rubs his hands or massages his palms, looking off to wherever he’s expecting something.

Marko’s fingers don’t stretch you as much as the rest of the boys do, although the boys might be a bit more chunkier, Marko’s hands are small enough that they stretch you out to where it doesn’t hurt.

Marko’s hand game is strong, Paul gets cramps, but Marko doesn’t, I mean, the boy paints, he’s probably got some cool ass tricks in his sleeves to keep him from losing energy during your bedroom deeds.

Marko likes to listen to your sounds and your body, whenever he’s fingering you, he doesn’t mind the squealing or the squelching, he knows he’s the one who made you sound like that, and if anything, he’s more proud of it.

if I were to rate his fingering skills? 7/10. He’s got some learning to do but most of the time he’ll probably have you screaming his name from his fingers.

Fem!readers, this man eats pussy like he’s starved! Not the point though, because his hands are where it’s at, he knows how to work you up, and loves to tease, the tips of his fingers padded perfectly on top of your clit and he loves to go fast. No mercy. So while he’s enjoying a nice meal, you’re enjoying yourself.

Masc!readers, exactly the same!! This guy sucks cock like an animal and honestly it would take everything to get this guy off your dick. Since Marko’s hands are daintier, his hands definitely look amazing wrapped around you.

Marko would never admit it but, he loves when you stain his fingerless gloves with your cum <3, he’s the real artsy type.

He probably fingers you in public as well, no care in the world.

his favourite past time is watching your hands wrap around his cock, while his hands are bound together to keep him from being impatient <3

tie his pretty hands up and gag him, he likes the challenge!

Marko held you by the hands, his palms pressing them firmly to your back, your stomach to the bed and your back facing him. the curly-headed boy had you pinned to your nest in the cave.

Marko’s growls sounded in your ear as you felt your stomach flutter at his sounds. You could see him from your peripheral vision, his curls falling in front of his eyes as he pinned you.

You could feel the pads of his fingers gently running across the small of your back, almost..appreciating it in a sense, his hands felt soft, yet firm.

Finally, his hands slipped down to your ass, squeezing it in his palms as you squirmed from his firm grip. A small mantra of Marko’s name left your lips, unable to look back to see your boyfriend’s face.

You could feel from the air that he was enjoying this, enjoying you.

Marko, with the strength, turned you around, you laid on your back, bare for his hands to just wander.

His hands travelled from your ass back to your hips, up your stomach, and ended right on your chest. If it wasn’t so lewd, you would’ve thought Marko was giving you a massage.

Marko’s touch teased you relentlessly, you just wanted to yell out for him to touch you, use you. You wanted it so desperately, and Marko knew.

He grinned at your display of biting your lips and the small twitches his touch gave you.

“See, baby? You fit perfectly in the palms of my hands.”

(visuals) :

DAVID

David’s hands are very thick, probably the most thickest out of the boys.

His hands are the best for holding, gripping.

David’s hands could probably cover your whole ass if I know anything.

David’s very careful about his handcare. I think that David has the softest hands out of the boys, he takes good care of them, especially if he wears gloves to cover them.

Though I also think he’s got some blisters, years of driving motorcycles do that to you.

He’s got pretty long fingernails, they’re long enough to have the annoyance of cleaning them every time something gets under his nails.

He brings a cuticle around, I just can’t lie. I think that he’s the type of guy to be like those girls who’s always filing their nails.

probably pinches the hardest as well, he likes to do it when you’re not paying attention and actually causes bruises 😭.

watching him work without his gloves is so attractive, his hands moving as he writes in a notebook or diary, or when he’s playing with a cigar, it’s very, very, attractive.

The pads of his fingers is very soft, not tough like Dwayne’s and Paul’s.

Barely any rings litters his hands and the ones he has are very basic, no intricate designs, most of his complicated rings actually tore through a set of his gloves and he never worn flashy rings ever since.

Leather is his best friend, whether that’d be gloves or the handles of his motorcycle, or in this case, a leash to your collar.

He’s very into oral fixation, he loves shoving his fingers down your throat, likes the ability of being able to choke you out without pulling out his cock to do so.

He’ll also make you suck his digits clean after a long night of teasingly fingering you.

He loves seeing his hands around your throat too, he’s a sadistic little shit, if he doesn’t get off, you don’t either.

I think he’s got the thickest fingers out of the boys, he’s the one who stretches you out the most and sometimes it feels good, but it’s when he teased, that’s when you don’t like it.

Fingering skills are, annoyingly, at a 9/10. It would’ve been a ten if he didn’t tease.

Would NEVER ever paint his nails, like the boys always seem to have black nail polish and Marko’s and Paul’s are always chipped, but David’s is clean, polished, in good health.

His hands wrapped around your waist and dipping into your waistband, the tips of his fingers on the hand of your underwear.

Pulls you to him by hooking his pointer finger into your belt loops and into his chest.

Let him choke you out!!! He’ll be gentle!! Only because you’re human though.

Thumb on your lips always!! His thumbs make good work of finishing you!!!

A small shush left the platinum blonde as you tried to stop your whines, you moved uncomfortably on his motorbike’s seat, the leather being soaked in your wetness.

“careful, dear, you’re making a mess.” David mused, his lips shaped in a taunting smirk as his hands dipped deeper into your core.

You bit your lip to hold in your squeals, teased and tired. David could watch your expressions for the rest of his life.

he’ll never get tired of the way you cling onto his coat, your fingernails digging into its seams, as if any longer you’d have ripped his coat apart from the overwhelming feeling of his fingers pleasing you.

You tried to stay silent, feeling people’s gazes on you as you sat uncomfortable on David’s lap, his coat covered the indecent display of his digits inches deep inside you.

You were desperate for release, searching for your other three boyfriend to earn some mercy from David.

Your eyes looked around the boardwalk, eyes flicking from every similar person who looked similar to your boys.

Suddenly a chuckle and loud voices were heard, you saw your boys from afar. Hopeful, you decided to move off of David’s fingers when his free hand reached up to stop you by the throat.

A light squeeze to your throat, making you gulp and your core pulse with need.

“Eyes on me, dear. Don’t look at anybody else, especially when I’m this deep inside of you.”

(visuals) :

DWAYNE

THE BIGGEST OF THE BOYS!

DEFINITELY has the most veins out of the boys.

Can’t lie, Brit has listened to me want to lick his veins.

He’s got the lengthiest fingers out of them too. He’s the best when it comes to fingering.

His fingernails are nicely trimmed, it’s also littered with rings, his left hand is always bare though since he uses that hand primarily to hold laddie’s and he’s scared that Laddie might get cut from his rings.

Dwayne somewhat cares about his hands, he uses David’s shit though, lotion, Vaseline, serum, cream.

David doesn’t know how he runs out of hand cream so fast too.

Dwayne does carry his own hand sanitizer, but most of it goes to laddie and Paul.

Dwayne doesn’t have really flashy rings either, he doesn’t like the way it clicks together and it puts him in a very uncomfortable situation because he likes to massage his hands when awkward.

He’s big everywhere, his height, his heart, his cock, his hands. It’s crazy.

Prob can carry you in one hand, one arm under your ass and your arms around his neck.

Although he likes fingering, he prefers playing with your clit/cock even more, he’s surprisingly has the best stamina over all the guys but he likes to keep it secret.

A good surprise, I’d say.

I see him as the type to be more sensual than sexual. His hands are best at love-making than rough fucking.

besides Marko, he’s one of the best massuage therapists out there.

His hands somehow find every tense crack in your bones and somehow is able to perform chiropractic procedures like aligning your neck properly or fixing a locked jaw.

He owns a ton of essential oils, his hands always seem to smell of lavender or peppermint, and sometimes he does use it on you.

The boys have learnt that if you both smell like the same thing then you both most likely fucked teehee.

Dwayne’s hands are best for pulling hair!!!

Watch him tangle his digits into your hair and pull gently, maybe whenever you’re sucking him off, or when he needs a little handlebar during sex.

he likes to cover your mouth with his huge hands whenever you’re having a quickie in public, he loves the idea of keeping you quiet with just his hands over your mouth as he dicks you down in a shady alleyway.

He also looks amazing covering his lips with his hands, his veins are more prominent and they run down all the way to his upper arm.

I wouldn’t blame you if you told me you wanted to follow that long vein to the end ;)

his hands definitely flex and his veins show while he grips your headboard to death.

Dwayne’s actor, Billy rips panties with one hand, it’s no surprise Dwayne wouldn’t either.

And god he looks amazing doing so..

Hold his hands while you ride him, he wants to see you be so dependent on him and his hands, he’ll make you feel good, don’t worry! Just relax and let him do the work.

Leaves hand prints all over your body from how strong he grips!

In the end, let Dwayne wash your hair for you! He gives a good massage and he’ll leave you feeling relaxed then ever.

“Yeah…there..” you sighed in content, your stomach to your bed as a deep rumble of a chuckle was heard. “Feel good, sweetheart?” You nodded hazily, your hands gripping onto the sheets with pleasure.

“God Dwayne..when were you going to tell me you were this good?..” you groaned, feeling his huge hands run themselves down your back almost passionately. You could feel his fingers gently scan your back for any tense spots to fix.

A hearty chuckle was only heard from your boyfriend as he gently pushed his thumb into a tense spot in your back, a small crack leaving it as you let out a surprise yelp, before relaxing once again.

“Fuck..” you cursed out, feeling Dwayne’s hands reach up onto your shoulder and dig themselves into your shoulder blade. A whine left your lips as another pop was heard from your body.

You’ve never been so relaxed and turned on at this point, Dwayne feels amused by your reactions, sighing and whining in content and relaxation. He lives for the pleasure he gives you.

His hands massaged one of his favourite scented oils into your skin, hydrating it, and making you smell absolutely delicious to him, he couldn’t help but place a few kisses at the back of your neck as you felt like falling asleep under Dwayne’s touch.

After a while of a slow, long, amazing massage from Dwayne, the dark-haired man deemed you relaxed enough before he gently pulled you by the thighs, resting in between them as you yelped in surprise.

“Think you’re finished? Daddy needs his release too.”

(visuals) :

[holdinbacksecrets]

shadow, my shadow, my shadow

seungcheol: his name in your phone is cherries. no one gets it. it confuses all your friends. people don’t take the time to dissect what’s right in front of them. instead, they hope the answer will drop, release from its stem all on its own. here it is: he stains your skin; he fills your belly with laughter, with love, and it’s deep, an alluring maroon. the only color you ask for at the nail salon. the only color painted across your lips on a friday night. the only color saturating the sky in your dreams

jeonghan: he’s always just a telephone call away. he’s always just a handful of dialed digits away. he’s always close enough to touch before slipping away. he’s never close enough to believe. he’s a really fucking good dream, but it falters as soon as you wake up. he’s an almost. he’s an if only i had better luck

soonyoung: his embrace is overwhelming. it used to burn your skin. it used to keep you up for a night or two. it used to make you shake and press your hands against his chest, whispering too close, you’re too close to me. so you started to lay out in the sun and welcome the warmth. you started to visit tucked away cafes and drink delicious beverages. you started to welcome the love without argument, and his embrace became divine comfort, soft serenity, warm weather

wonwoo: your ceiling is beautiful. you’ve watched it for hours like a science project or a call to worship. sun rays display themselves so beautifully across it, covering crevices, blanketing stark white in something ethereal. you called in sick to work and haven’t looked at your phone since. you’ll stay just like this until nightfall and an embrace turns you away from the canvas high. he pulls you into him, whispers your name against your skin. you wonder if he says it as a reminder

seokmin: he’s beautiful. his constellated moles create your favorite sky—stars close enough to touch, and you’ve always wanted to touch stars. you drew fishing poles for three years as a kid, imagining a bucket filled with stars knocking your leg on the journey home. it sat beside number one on your christmas list, hoping santa clause would make a dream come true. he let it simmer, kept you waiting for a decade, kept you waiting long enough for the desire to slip, kept you waiting for so long that the real thing surpassed the imaginary

mingyu: he baked cookies for your birthday because you don’t like cake, and there’s something about the texture of frosting you can’t quite get behind—can’t trust the silky smooth. he brought home the milk that comes in a glass bottle. it’s delicious and thick and warms your heart with sweet nostalgia. you open his gifts first because he asked you to, and you find a beautiful goblet that’s the color of summer peaches. he fills it to the rim with glass-bottle milk. he fills his goblet too and presses a candle into the stack of cookies. the wish arrives as soon as you close your eyes

chan: he stands behind you in the kitchen, rests his chin on your shoulder while the sun rises. you’re early risers too. never were before. then this love unraveled in your living room, and you crave more of the day

[k4vehrtz]

STARBOY

-> Pairing: shōta aizawa / sub! (trans) male reader

-> Request: yes / no

-> Word Count: 1K (roughly)

➷...Summary: shō offers a helping hand (more like mouth) when you're in need.

-> Notes: not the fic that was meant to be posted this week but seeing as that one is yet to be completed i thought i would post this request in the meantime!

➷...Content Warnings: vaginal descriptions, use of the word cunt, mentions of testosterone, exhibition, age gap (though not specified, both are adults), coach/athlete trope(?), oral (reader receiving), squirting, being caught masturbating, biting, at some point it is implied that shō may have a negative reaction to the reader being trans but he does not. if i miss anything let me know.

“You've got to be—holy shit, this can’t be real.” He grunts, his voice a gravelly whisper amongst the sound of sneakers frantically shuffling across the court. Jesus. His free hand immediately goes to his mess of black hair, strumming his calloused fingers through the stray strands clinging to his sweaty forehead.

It’s a lost cause — it’s all a fucking lost cause. This team is the last nail in the coffin that was Shōta Aizawa’s career as an athlete.

The corners of his lips can’t help but curl upwards at that thought. An athlete? Maybe some ridiculously delusional part of himself still had a shred of his youthful shamelessness. He is, and has been, a disgrace for quite some time now.

His days of being a household name are long gone. You’ve taken his place now, haven’t you? You’re a good player, a team player, and not too hard on the eyes either.

Shō’s had his eyes on you for a while now. You’ve come a long way since he first saw you handing out water bottles to the members of your team. Now you’re destroying his team on the court. It takes every ounce of self-control in him to not laugh. Funny how the world works, right?

 Shōta Aizawa prides himself on how mature he is. He’s not going to pick a fight with you. You’re half his age for crying out loud. He’s above that because he’s incredibly mature; As most people his age would be.

So, it’s purely coincidental that he’s in the same locker room as you. He just happened to take a wrong turn when attempting to find his team. As their coach, it’s his duty to comfort them after such a…horrific loss. But accidents happen and he couldn’t just waltz in here without conversing with you. What if you misunderstood and painted him out to be some kind of pervert? It’s only right that he makes small talk.

But the words that were at the tip of his tongue disappeared in an instant. Perhaps his critical thinking skills have gone along with it. Well, this is quite the turn of events, isn’t it?

“…In all my years of playing this damn game,” He cocks his head sideways, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’ve never found it remotely arousing.” He says pointedly, clicking his tongue. Your skin warms.

You open and close your mouth once, twice, and then a third time but no words slide past those ridiculously beautiful lips of yours. Shō doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring. “Each to their own,” He shrugs and you want nothing more than the floor to swallow you whole.

“I…” You start, scrambling to find the right words to say. But in a situation like this, what could you say? The coach of the opposing team just walked in on you with your hands down your pants. Not a good look.

“Wh–What are you even doing in here, first of all?” You counter, fighting a heated blush as you not-so-discreetly pull your hand out of your shorts. Fingers coated in your arousal fluid.

Silence, then a moment later he deadpans, “Got lost, and then walked in on you…doing whatever it is that you were doing.” And before you can stop yourself, “It’s the testosterone, I can’t help it, alright?” you dig yourself into a deeper hole.

Shō blinks at you, once, twice, and then a third time. It’s like you’re taking turns leaving one another speechless. Before his mouth forms something of an ‘O’ shape. You grimace, bracing yourself for this embarrassing situation to take an even worse turn. But it doesn’t.

“Jesus,” He curses, more so to himself, and then takes a deep breath. “I can leave so you can finish—” He stops himself, sounding embarrassed, “…or I can help you with that problem of yours.”

“Go—You can go ahead,” you say, swallowing hard. Everyone has their needs, you remind yourself.

Shō’s gaze meets yours momentarily, silently requesting your approval once more. You nod, turning your head to the side as you lay on one of the benches, your legs spread. Dripping cunt on full display.

He lowers his face in between your legs without hesitation, warm breath tickling your sensitive thighs. As his teeth gently graze the fat of your thighs. He takes his time, gently nipping at your thighs before trailing light kisses up either one. Stopping just short of your drooling hole.

It’s torture, really. The way he alternates between light kisses, gentle nips, and then full-on sucking hickeys onto your inner thighs. Always stopping short of your cunt.

The rough pads of his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he holds you in place. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. His tongue lapped at your thighs covered in arousal fluid. It’s like he’s never tasted anything sweeter and you squirm, utterly embarrassed. Embarrassed by how wet it makes you; Embarrassed by the sounds you’re both making.

After what felt like hours—You don’t know, you’ve lost track of time. His mouth moves from your thighs to your glistening labia. He presses a kiss to your outer lips, taking his time to spread them, before licking a fat stripe over your labia. You feel yourself tremble, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. There are still people outside. But you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make it all the more exciting.

And then it happens without warning — his tongue breaches your entrance. Your eyes flutter closed, and you knit your brows together when you feel him squeezing your clit in between the rough pads of his fingers. It’s all so perfect. He’s dragged this out for far too long.

He’s so good to you. Your legs are shaking but he holds you in place with one hand as he laps at your sopping-wet cunt like it’s his last meal. You can feel your orgasm creep up on you and oh when it does, you’re squirting. Spraying your juices all over his face, and he doesn’t protest in the slightest. He pulls away, lips quirking, and licks what’s left on his face contently.

[lavendermunson]

i could see you as my addiction - steve harrington

chapter 3 of miss americana and the heartbreak prince

summary a perfect date makes you forget about all the worries, the insecurities and the future. even if this time you weren't careful, who's keeping tabs anyway?

content warnings +18. some mentions of insecurities, so much fluff. allusions to sex. dry humping. slight nipple play. heavy make out, touching. no p in v next time babes.

w.c 3.5k

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter (soon)

Something is wrong, something is definitely wrong. 

You find yourself sitting on the sofa at your private studio, no one joined you today since you came in a rush trying to come up with the melody for a song you wrote, about him. 

But it’s odd, nothing comes out of your head, and you let your fingers linger on the strings of one of your favorite guitars, the one with flowers painted by one of your artist friends. It’s been two hours and nothing comes to your head, not even the first note. If you could, you would smash this guitar right on the floor so it breaks, you are sure it’s some type of curse, usually, you lose sleep working but right now you are too tired to do so, and truthfully, your mind has been thinking about another thing, Steve.

Not necessarily on his large hands, his cute face, or his soft lips. No, it’s the worry that eats you alive. You wish the sofa could swallow you whole and teleport you to another universe where life is easier, when your life is not printed in newspapers and your face isn’t in every corner of the city. You love your life but it’s overwhelming, more so when it comes to dating, to love. Past mistakes tattooed in your head, dreadful memories and bad luck, seems like you are not worthy of love and you’ve been believing in it until you saw him.

Robin is right, she always is. Some things look like a fairy tale. Like it’s a dream and you are going to wake up, empty-handed and never knowing if someone would ever love you for who you really are. 

Your heart starts to ache, your teeth now biting off the rest of the old nail polish making it look chipped now. The buzz of your phone makes you flinch, you look at your hands in disgust and realize you are more than nervous. You catch a glimpse of the screen and see his nickname, causing a smile to spread across your face.

little secret: hey beautiful :) 

about tomorrow… i decided to skip practice, i know, don’t lecture me about it

it would be better if I took a day off to be with you, does that sound okay?

unless you have other plans, i’ll understand but i kind of have a plan so i hope i am lucky enough for you to take a day off with me

The typing bubble goes away indicating it’s your time to reply. Steve never sends so many texts in a short span of time, was he nervous? Anxious? Excited? You had a combination of the three emotions sitting right at the top of your belly.

you: hi handsome <3 yes, absolutely! all day with you sounds perfect. 

don’t worry, no lecture for today because I know how good you are at what you do. where are we going? 

little secret: do you wanna make me blush? 

uh, it’s a place a couple of hours away from the city… a farm, garden… i don’t know a friend owns it and we can have all the privacy we want

Perfect, privacy. Not that you don’t want to scream the world that you are dating the most perfect guy, but it’s exactly what you need, some moment alone with him.

you: privacy? to do what? ;)

little secret: oh i have a few things in mind…

You joke, trying to get rid of your nerves. But you blush at his reply.

little secret: eight am sounds good? Is it too early? i’ll pick you up

you: no, it’s perfect. i’ll send you my address!

little secret: great, have a nice day beautiful

you: you too, handsome <3 can’t wait to see you again

——

The next day comes, and you are hyper-aware of your nerves as you look in front of the mirror. You’ve changed your outfit at least five times, the room is full of clothes on the floor. You shouldn’t worry about it but you are, you want this to be perfect. 

It’s almost eight am and the only thing you can think about is how are you going to get out of the city without being seen and followed. You guess Steve has it covered but… what if he doesn’t?

Sixth change of outfit and last, you fix the hem of your skirt and put on some cherry chapstick, this time you went for a natural make up look to be more comfortable. You get your purse closed and sit on the couch while you check social media. It has never been your favorite hobby but it’s quite gratifying to see your friend’s faces and their new adventures. 

Robin’s “good luck” text pops up on your screen, You thank her and moments later Steve arrives.

You prepare yourself for what's coming, praying everything goes well and that your nerves won't eat you alive.

“Hi, beautiful. You look amazing” he says, standing close to the black SUV. He leans in to leave a kiss on your cheek and hand you a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey handsome” you blush at the feeling of his lips against your face, something you are addicted to. “These are so pretty, you really didn’t have to”

“Or course i did, i have to spoil you”

He winks and takes your hand to help you get into the vehicle, you see it’s completely dark so no one can look into it.

——

After the total chaos of switching cars in an empty dark parking lot and Steve’s driver keeping the secret of you two together, you are now in a quieter part outside of the city. The road looks empty, it’s a place you’ve never visited but you get intrigued at how calm it is. Your hair flows with the wind thanks to Steve’s old and classic convertible, the sun hits his face when you look at him. Sunglasses sit on the bridge of his nose and you miss that spark in his eyes whenever he sees you. His hand lingers on your thigh, feeling your hot skin under his soft fingertips, his hand keeps moving up with seconds and you let your body relax, your back pressed against the seat. 

The radio has been playing old songs and there’s a quick change to modern songs. The first one is a new song from your friend Vickie, following up it’s one of Corroded Coffin’s most popular songs and then you hear a melody too familiar.

“Oh, I love this song” his hand travels from your thigh to the radio’s tuning knob to turn the volume up. Missing the feeling of his warm hand on your skin, you take his hand in yours and place it on your thigh again. 

He grins at you while the song starts to play louder and you hear your voice.

“No, no, no!” you cover your face with your palms, shaking your head as you hide the red tint on your cheeks. 

“What? I love this song, it’s fun” Steve sings along, surprised he knows the words when you look at him with a smile on your face. A laugh falls off your lips when he gets to the chorus, screaming the lyrics of your song. 

“It's time, oh-oh. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling twenty-two” he keeps singing, taking your hand up in the air and dancing. “Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you” he takes a quick look at you, dedicating your own words to you.

You eventually join him, not only singing your song but a few that pop up on the radio, making the ride smoother, feeling like it went away quicker and you finally arrive at your destination. 

“I’m sorry about your ears,” he says, letting go of the steering wheel and taking the keys out of the ignition. A frown forms on your face, watching every one of his movements. 

“Sorry for what?”

“Your ears, I know I am a really bad singer but I do love music!” His laugh is contagious, seeing him smile so much is a thing that will be in your head forever. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t know how to play baseball so I think we are even”

“Are you admitting I'm a bad singer?”

“No, no I didn't mean it like that”

As soon as the car comes to a full stop, he gets out and rushes to your side, holding the door open for you and extending his hand to assist you in getting out. You take his hand and step out of the car, accidentally bumping chests with him.

“I didn’t mean it like that” you repeat. 

“I know, honey” 

He takes off his glasses, placing them on the collar of his shirt and his free hands find your waist. You do the same and tangle your arms around his neck, getting closer to him and brushing your lips with his in a quick kiss.

“I can teach you to play and some other things” he whispers on your lips, you nod and close the gap between you quickly.

As his lips move against yours, his hands squeeze your waist and his tongue finds its way into your mouth, it bumps with yours making him groan. Your head leans to the side to give him more access, the kiss becomes quicker, hotter and you feel so desperate to get more of his taste. Cigarettes, mint and a dash of cherry from your lips. He pulls away to take some air and looks at you with a smile, your chest rises up and down quickly as you try to do the same. 

“I- we should get inside and eat something. I’m starving”

You pinch your brows together, knowing how you both seem to push each other when it gets too much. Just like you at the concert, afraid that anyone will see you and start to scream. Anxiety sits on your stomach again, knowing that even if no one is watching you there is always a wall between you and Steve that will be hard to break.

You join him inside the house, it’s small but pretty. Pictures of his coach, Hopper with his wife and kids are all over the walls. They look so happy.

When you ask for a vase for the flowers he shows you where they are, not leaving his sight of what he is getting from behind the kitchen counter.

“I’m ready, let’s go!”

Steve has a picnic basket in his hand and a bottle of wine in the other. You follow him to the back door after placing your flowers in the vase along with some water. There’s a nice, big garden and to a big tree that casts a big shadow that looks like the perfect place for you to sit down and eat, you look around and see a lot of vegetables, fruits, and flowers planted on the floor. You notice the family likes to do gardening and eat fresh food, it all looks perfectly placed and taken care of.

You find Steve on his knees, taking the food out of the picnic basket. There are sandwiches, fruit cut into tiny pieces, a cheese board, and some chocolate truffles. You sit close to him to help him, getting the plates out along with some cutlery and the wine cups.

“You… Did you prepare all of this?” a smile shows on your face, which Steve loves. He nods, pressing his lips together to hide a grin.

“I had a little help but… yeah I did”

“Help? From who?” you ask.

“Uh, my friend Nancy”

You remember her, noticing how she was so close to Robin and it made you smile. 

“Nancy, yes. I haven’t officially met her but my best friend, Robin… she couldn’t stop talking about her the other night and I-” Your pause makes Steve’s brows form a frown. 

“You okay?” he asks you, not knowing if it’s something he did or hasn't done. He doesn’t know what’s happening but you are completely frozen in your place and your smile disappears. 

“Your friend, Nancy. Does she know about us?” 

“No, she just- I told her I had a date but I didn't say with who” He lies.

“Does your friend Robin know about us?” he asks, you can see his curious eyes scanning your face. 

“No, I- nobody knows. I haven’t told anyone” You lie and it feels very wrong.

Robin is your best friend, you tell each other everything and it is inevitable for you to not tell her but you lie because, of course, you don’t want Steve to be disappointed. He told you this was a secret.

“Oh, yeah, same” he sits down, his back pressed against the tree while he takes a sandwich and starts eating. He looks at you, taking pieces of fruit on your plate and being quiet.

If you asked Steve’s friends, they would tell you he gets distracted pretty easily whenever he is outside his games. He isn’t used to catching when someone needs to be comforted until the other person mentions it, because for him it has to be obvious. If someone is mad, they have to be screaming or making aggressive gestures because that’s how Steve grew up. His parents were always tossing things at each other, when Hopper gets mad he yells, and when Eddie is pissed he calls him an idiot.

But with you, it’s different. When your smile fades away, Steve thinks that it is normal but you are now quiet and not looking at him, he is missing your attention and his brain finally wakes up.

“Is there something wrong?” 

When you finally look at him, you get closer to him. Your arms bump with each other and Steve’s arm comes behind your neck to rest on your shoulders and leaves a small kiss on your cheek. He lets out a sigh knowing that he knows you still want to be close to him.

“Speaking hypothetically” Not ready for the answer but pretty impatient for it, you decide to rip the band aid off. “If I told someone else about us, would that be bad?” 

You lied to Steve. He lied to you. It’s a rough start but it’s a little lie, something you can manage.

“No, not if you trust that person” Steve bites his lips, your head rests on his chest and he rubs your thigh. “But I think we should keep it between us, still. I- I think it’s more special that way”

But it’s not, and Steve knows. He is used to lying to protect himself, lies are better than saying what he actually feels.

“Totally, it’s more special this way” You try to convince yourself but it’s not working, yet, you try to change the subject and ask him about this house, Hopper, and his kids. 

He tells you all of their stories. From meeting him to meeting his kids to his fight with Jonathan and Will’s friends hanging out with him as if he were the babysitter. Eventually, he found a family in all of them even if they aren’t connected by blood.

He asks you how you met Robin, and you start by telling him she has been your friend since you were kids and even though you had nothing in common she has been your rock and you’ve been hers. She is the one you trust more than anyone else.

The sun has been setting down, leaving the sky in a shade of pink and orange but the warmth of the day never leaves. You are not sure of when you got to this, your legs straddling him as his back presses against the tree, the empty plates scattered all over the place while you sit on his lap. His hands are all over your skin, fingertips traveling all the way to your breasts to give them a light squeeze. 

You stop kissing his neck leaving soft kisses on his sharp firm jaw and leaving a peck on the corner of his mouth before entangling your lips with his. After giving him permission, your head leans to one side as you cup his face gently, thumb tracing his cheek where his moles rest. Your lips brush against his tenderly, he savors the taste of your cherry chapstick and the remnants of strawberry, chocolate, and wine that make his heart flutter as the way he is becoming addicted to your lips, to you. 

As the kiss deepens, your tongues meet for the first time, dancing in a perfect rhythm leaving a trace of passion and longing, an intimate moment you both needed so much. The world seems to disappear around you when one of his arms goes under your skirt to touch the soft skin of your ass, his hands are soft but the warmth of his palms elevates you. His other hand sneaks to the back of your body to unhook your bra with one hand, impressive, you help him get rid of your bra and he breaks away from the kiss to admire your hard nipples under your top.

"You are so fucking pretty" he whispers against your lips, his words tingling on the bottom of your lip before they touch his mouth again.

His hand goes back to squeeze your breasts again, pinching your nipples with his fingers to give you extra pleasure but it's not enough. Your hips start to rock involuntarily against the hard bulge in his pants making him hide his groans over the kiss combined with your low moans. Wetness pooling on your panties as the rough material of his jeans gives you a pleasant ammount of friction.

He is lost in you, in the way you move over him and the way you are kissing him. He has never felt this, he has kissed other girls but no one has earned a place in his heart like you. He is putty in your hands, goosebumps adorning his arms as his heart beats as fast as when he is playing. It's a feeling he has never felt outside the field, the power you have over him is something unmeasurable.

As one of your hands rests over his cheek, the other goes under his shirt to touch every inch of his skin and try to memorize it. You feel the same, lost in him as your heart bumps against your ribs like a hammer. You swear you can see the stars, the questions, and the doubts fading into insignificance as you explore each other's bodies with warmth and desire. 

You break from the kiss, both trying to catch your breath as your chest rises up and down. His gaze is heavy on you, looking at your pretty eyes with so much desire and admiration, his hands leave your body to cup your face and squeeze the soft skin of your cheeks.

Steve looks at your face, your perfect glowy eyes making him feel warm. 

He smirks at the sight of your flushed cheeks and your pink puffy lips knowing he caused this. You are an angel, he thinks, you are here to save him and to make him happy and he wants to keep you forever. 

"If you could look at you the way I do, you'll see how much I want to scream to the world that I like you a lot" Steve hesitates for a moment, being trapped in the lavender haze of your presence and your bodies being connected, tangled.

"I like you so much too, i'd give up the stars just to see your face every night" You look at him with the biggest smile on your face, he leaves a peck on your lips and smiles with the same happiness you are feeling right now.

"Do you think we could-" He gets interrupted by a ring on the kitchen phone, is incredibly loud it makes you both jump. He freezes in his place, not wanting to leave his position, he is so close to you that it makes him crazy. 

"You should get that, it could be important" 

Steve helps you get up, telling you to wait and not move from where you are. His unfinished question is still on your mind. Do you think we could... what? Have sex? Tell the world we love each other? Wait, does he love you? Do you love him? Already? Is it too soon?

He comes back to you jogging, short of breath and with a sad frown on his face. 

"I'm sorry, Nancy just told me I have to get back. Hopper wants to have dinner and if I'm not there he is... I'm sure he is going to kick my ass"

You nod, looking at him with the same sad frown but trying to smile so he doesn't get to read your mind and see your worries. "Don't worry, it's okay Stevie" You know how much Hopper means to him, how Steve feels he owes him so much for helping him get to where he is now.

His heart skips a beat at the nickname, Steve sees you reach down to get your bra back. He is quicker than you and grabs it for you. 

"Let me help" A mischievous grin shows on his lips.

You turn around giggling as you take your top off, he sighs when he sees your naked back and the soft fabric of your top on your hands he misses the view he was waiting for, dreaming of.

"C'mon! you are not doing this to me!" Steve yells, defeated as he gets closer to you and helps you put your back on.

"I'm sorry, maybe next time handsome" You tease, a soft chuckle leaves his lips and helps you get dressed, hooking your bra and helping you get your top on again. He hugs you from behind, hiding his face on your neck and kissing it. 

His wet kiss turns into a bite, where he starts to suck on your skin to leave a mark. You shut your eyes, appreciating the little sting on your neck, but the smile never leaves your lips knowing he is marking you. No one will know who did it, but everyone will know you already belong with someone. 

"I'm sorry we have to go, i really wanted you to stay" his arms lock you in with your back pressed against his chest. "I hope we can see each other again and soon"

"We will, we will see each other many times from now on" Your hand finds his face and then his hair, you play with it for a moment just enjoying this hug before he takes you home.

The night comes, and the day ends. But this is just the beginning.

tags @eddiesguitarskills @hipsternerd9 @afraidofshrimp @rexorangecouny @crowssixof thank you for the support!! (comment if you want to join the tag list!!)

I hope you like this series, feedback is appreciated! don't forget to REBLOG TO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR! . ♡

this chapter is very cute but there's some angst coming...

[giggly-squiggily]

Nailed It! (Blue Lock)

Heyo! It's been a minute since I've written for Blue Lock! After fangirling over Bachisagi with the wonderful @intheticklecloset- this fic came to be! :D I hope you like it friend! :3

Summary: Bachira finds fake nails and decides he wants claws. Shenanigans ensue.

Bachira all but threw the bag in his face the second he came in. “I bought claws!”

“Claws?” Chigiri asked once his initial shock wore off. Bachira grinned as he dug into the bag.

“CLAWS!” He cried once more, presenting the pack of stick on nails. Plain in appearance, they shined under the fluorescent lights of the facility. “See?”

“Pfft-” The redhead giggled, taking the box and examining them. “Claws indeed. Why’d you buy fake nails?”

“‘Cause.” Bachira didn’t add more, dumping the remains of his goodies across the futon. An assortment of colorful nail polish and stickies fell out. “I wanted claws!”

“....You want me to do your nails?”

“Yeah! Give me claws!”

Chigiri blinked. Then he laughed, nodding. “Alright, I’ll give you ‘claws’.” Let’s go to the cafeteria.”

~~~

Unsurprisingly, Chigiri was amazing at this stuff.

With the precision of a surgeon, he held Bachira’s hands in his own as he carefully placed each fake nail. His hair was loosely tied back, falling over his shoulder as he leaned in to check if they were straight. “Good- you don’t want these crooked- it hurts.”

“You’ve worn claws before?” Bachira smiled happily, kicking his feet under the table as he watched. His other hand was already adorned with fake nails. The urge to tap them against the table and make a clicky sound was strong, but Chigiri insisted he waited until he had them painted.

“No- I’m allergic to the adhesive. Makes my fingers turn red.” Chigiri wrinkled his nose as he adjusted the remaining finger. “My sister wears them all the time though- I used to help her out. She could never get them to stay.”

“Hm.” Bachira nodded. “Do you paint your nails?”

“Not lately. They always chipped after practice. Hopefully these will stay on.” Just before Bachria’s turn, the dribbler insisted on painting his friends. Chigiri’s fingers were now coated with a surprisingly even set of pink.

Except for his ring fingers. Those were orange. “Kuni nails.” Bachira winked, making him blush and roll his eyes.

“I’m a good claw painter! And you are too- oooo.” Bachira forgot what he was saying when the first layer of blue touched his nails. It looked so much like Isagi’s eyes. “That’s pretty!”

“You picked them out- I assume you knew what you were doing.” Chigiri gave him a teasing brow raise. Heat creeped up Bachira’s collar as he averted his gaze, watching the redhead work. “Don’t squirm- you’ll mess up the design.”

“Design-” Bachira leaned forward to look, only for Chigiri to push him back in his seat with a pointed glare. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t know you could draw!”

“I er..can’t. I can make squiggles though.” Chigiri laughed softly, making Bachira smile. “I hope you don’t mind them.”

Bachira took his hands, posing them the way his mom did whenever she got her own nails painted. Stripes of yellow cut through the blue on his ring fingers, the rest a beautiful application of blue. Chigiri even managed to put some of the sticky gems on them, really making them pop.

“I love them!” He breathed, giggling as he hugged the other. “Thanks Chi-Chi! I’m gonna wear them forever!”

“Heh, no problem. C-Careful, they’re not dry yet!” Chigiri called after him as Bachira ran off, giggling the entire time.

He couldn’t WAIT to show Isagi!

~~~

“Look look! My claws!” Bachira shoved them in pretty much everyone’s face, wiggling his fingers for the full effect. As soon as they were dry he was waving them around, clicking them against water bottles and anything that would make noise. Kunigami jokingly told him he should do ASMR with them- Bachira tried but was far too loud right off the bat.

“Wow, look at those. They’re pretty!” Isagi giggled as he took Bachira’s hands, taking them in. “Chigiri painted them for you?”

“No, I did.” Raichi called out, earning a small burst of giggles from the others. His own nails were painted black- courtesy of said redhead. “I’ll do yours next, Isagi. Give me your digits!”

Isagi rolled his eyes as he turned back to Bachira, finding him no longer there. “Bachi-”

Something blunt but ticklish trailed against his neck. He shuttered with a sharp yelp, diving forward. “Ahah!”

Silence, the rest of Team Z looking at him with looks of both curiosity and amusement. Isagi felt his face burn.

“Ooo…” Bachira cooed from behind, something dangerous in his tone. “Was that…”

Isagi had two options. Stay and take it or run and get it anyway.

He opted for the latter.

“Isagi!” Bachira called after him as he took off, flying over futons and people as he bolted out the door, the dribbler hot on his trail. “Come back here!”

Nope, no way! Not happening! It was bad enough that Bachira knew his worst tickle spots. With those nails…

He was gonna kill Chigiri. He’ll plan his revenge later.

For now, he needed to RUN-

A dead end! He turned with wide eyes as Bachira began a slow ascent, glittery nails wiggling with devious intent. “Isagi~”

He looked both ways, knowing it was useless. Bachira had him cornered. “Bachira! Bachira- now wahahit just a mohohment!”

“No can do! The monster’s telling me to get you, so here I COME!” Bachira charged, easily trapping his boyfriend against the wall as his fingers skittered and danced against the exposed skin of his neck. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

“AH! Ahehahahahahhaha! Bahahhachihihihirahahha! Heahhahahahahha!” The other boy squealed as he sank to the floor, half trapped by Bachira’s legs as the other pressed into him. Those dastardly nails danced against his skin, sending waves of sensitivity across his nerves. “Wahahahahait, wahahhait- thhehehehey’ll fahahhahahall oohohohohohofff!”

“Silly Isagi- I know they will! That just means I’m gonna have to use them to their fullest potential!” Bachira giggled, tugging his boyfriend gently until he was half-lying, half sitting up against the wall. As he went down, a strip of skin revealed itself, giving Bachira a new opening.

“Bahahahachi- Bahahchi- WHAHAHHAIT!” The brunette all but shrieked when Bachira’s new “claws” found the soft skin of his waist, gently tracing the skin along his lower ribs and sending him through the roof. “DOOHOHOHON’T NOOHOHOHT TEHEHEHEHERE!”

“Oo, someone’s ticklish! Tell me- does it tickle more or less with the nails?” The bob-cutted player snickered as he stuck a hand up Isagi’s sweatshirt, clawing at his skin as Isagi squealed and thrashed against the floor. “I bet it’ll tickle way more if I do this~” He dragged them slowly, watching as his boyfriend arched and wheezed at the feeling. “Am I right, Blue Skies?”

“BAAHAHCHIHIHIHIRAHHAHA! GEHAHAHAH PLEHAHAHHASE!” Isagi was sure he was going to die- he was starting to see stars and his body felt light. If he were being honest, he didn’t mind it all that much.

Then Bachira yelped and pulled his hands away and his ascend to the afterlife came to an abrupt halt. “Ehehehahha..yohoohu gohohohod?” He gasped out, hands coming around his belly as he weakly looked up.

“Ow…I didn’t realize that would hurt.” Bachira moaned, rubbing his fingers. Two of his fake nails had popped off, and a third was hanging on by a few strands of glue. “My claws..”

Isagi sat up with some effort, taking in the dribbler’s hands. Gently, he took them in his own, rubbing soothing circles against the aching fingers. “Sorry they popped off. They were cool while they lasted, though.”

“Hmm.” Bachira nodded, sounding a bit glum. Isagi smiled as he brought his hand to his lips, kissing the dribbler’s bruising fingers. The gesture was enough to shock him out of his pout.

“There. All better.” Isagi grinned after kissing the last of his fingers, scrunching his face up when he got a taste of nail polish. “Gross- how do people eat with this stuff on? I feel like it’d make everything taste weird.”

Bachira stared at him. Then he busted out laughing, falling against Isagi’s shoulder. “Ehehehhe! I lohohove you so much, Bluuhue skies!” He pulled back until he and Isagi were face to face, their foreheads pressed together as he gave him the sweetest of smiles. “Do you want me to kiss it all better?”

Isagi only laughed, nodding as he closed his eyes, Bachira’s lips capturing his own soon after.

Thanks for reading!

[http-paprika]

All American Bitch / Alex Keller

my submission for @glitterypirateduck ‘s Alex Keller Challenge, with the prompts I don’t care what they say, you can do better than that, are you flirting or starting a fight, and is this what you wanted

wc 1260 / pairing alex keller x f!reader / warnings swearing, suggestive content but nothing graphic / reader's digression advised

summary after being snubbed countless times by your supervisor, alex decides to help you alleviate your rage.

notes yes the title and fic are inspired by the olivia rodrigo song. alex refers to reader as boss but she's not his boss. he still works with the CIA in this fic and i have no idea how the CIA works, so, inaccuracies. also, i wrote this on my phone while i had nothing to do at work, so it’s not edited.

It had been a long day, nauseatingly long as you finally managed to escape meeting after meeting, brutal briefings and overall snubbing you received from your supervisor. Your case, the one you’d spent months meticulously gathering intel, fighting tooth and nail to be given the resources needed to get off the ground, had been snatched right from under you. And all in favor of your supervisor’s asshole of a son who had spent the day gloating over the fact that it was now his case, and you would have to answer to him.

You fumed with rage, having forced yourself to hold it all in, you didn’t need to be punished further. The CIA had already beat you up enough, denying you promotions and undermining your work. And were it not for Laswell convincing you to stay, and your pretty boyfriend, you tell yourself you’d leave. It was clear enough that you were replaceable, they might not say it out loud, but your employers make it known. It didn’t matter how long you’d been there or how hard you worked, it was never enough for them.

“Hey! I finally got that report you asked for, was a little difficult, had to use some of my Keller charm but I—“ Alex enters your office— the one you shared with a co-worker who never showed up but still had his job— freezing and dropping his signature grin when he spotted the hot, red anger that painted your face.

“Give the report to Aarons.” You snap back at him, a little too harshly. Quickly, you reel yourself in, apologizing profusely to Alex. Because a girl like you always had to be forgiving and kind, even if you were angry at everything around you.

“Why’d I give it to Aarons? It’s not his case, you’re the leader, he’s just a glorified desk jockey.” Your boyfriend chuckles, dropping the manilla folder down on your desk while he leans against it. “Can’t even speak Arabic, the only reason he’s got a passport is so he can vacation in the Bahamas. The hell would he do in Urzikstan?”

Alex’s points only added fuel to your growing flame, reminding you that it was by name alone at Aarons had been handed over the job. The man was inexperienced, prideful, and would throw anyone under the bus to save his own ass, and with your horrid luck, it would be you if the mission went south.

“What’s wrong, boss? Why do you look like a firecracker that can’t explode?” He sobers up, wanting to find the root of the problem, like always. You’d compared him once to a loyal golden retriever and the image stuck in your mind since. It was almost endearing how eager Alex was to help you and keep you happy.

“Aarons is in charge of the mission from now on, they didn’t even say anything to me until this morning when they announced it to the whole team. I got fucking blindsided!” You exclaim, letting the anger seep into your words before recollecting yourself. “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear my complaining.”

If anyone else heard the complaining or the loud, violent anger, you knew you’d get written up. Giving your supervisor even more of a reason to take what you’d fought for and give to his trust fund son. And that pissed you off, you couldn’t have anything anymore it seemed, you couldn’t do anything without it being seen as wrong. Even your relationship with Alex had been criticized by your employers for being unprofessional, despite how many of your other co-workers dated around the office.

“Aren’t you the one who tells me I shouldn’t be making assumptions? So how do you know I don’t want to hear it? Come on, boss. Hit me with it, give me your best shot. I can handle a bit of anger, I’ve seen worse.” The last sentence made you raise an eyebrow, coming to realize that he was purposefully riling you up. Alex wanted to get under your skin, make you kick and scream until you’d blown off enough steam.

“I’m not doing this,” You state, annoyed by his proposition. The antics he could get away with, you didn’t have the luxury of. Alex was the star operative, he could do no wrong in the eyes of your supervisors. And sometimes, it rubbed you wrong.

“Aren’t you sick of being the better man, boss? Letting them walk all over you, taking away your credit? Come on, where’s your backbone? You can do better than that.” Taking deep breaths, you try to ignore him as he starts impersonating Aarons, waiting to see how long it would take you to finally let loose and scream. Alex knows you too well, knows how you swallow back your words and attempt to stay the picture perfect operator. Knows that despite your countless attempts, they wouldn’t see how talented and wonderful you were, not like he would.

“I told you, I’m not doing this.” Still though, you held back even as your anger ebbed away at you. He shook his head, amazed by your stubbornness and moved around the desk so that he was now behind you. His large hands resting on your shoulders, messaging them and loosening your tightened muscles.

“One way or another, I’m gonna get that frustration out of you boss. You’re just gonna decide how you want it.” His voice is like honey, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear before he moves his mouth down, peppering kisses underneath the collar of your shirt, leaving small marks where no one else but him would see.

“Alex—“ You groan, knowing the problems that could arise because of his behavior. “Someone’s gonna see.”

“So? Let them, boss, I don’t care what they say. They’re jealous of you anyway, how smart you are—“ He says, sucking on your tender skin, causing you to reach up and grab onto his hair. “—How talented you are, how fucking gorgeous you look when you’re working. You make me the luckiest man in this whole goddamn place.”

His instant praises continue as he moves his hands to the hem of your shirt, squeezing and running his hands over your soft skin. You can feel the tension easing, your head spinning as he kisses along your jaw. “Feeling better yet, boss? Or do you need more?”

You bite back a moan as his hands grip at the sensitive skin, moving them up under your bra and kneading. His mouth never lets up, staying attached to your neck, alternating from biting and kissing. After you squeeze your eyes shut, you think you’re seeing stars right there in your office, and when he abruptly stops you let out an annoyed huff.

“Is this what you wanted?” You ask him, having come completely undone and turning into a panting, shivering mess. Your body aching for the warmth of his hands.

Cupping your chin, Alex makes you look up at him, his pale blue eyes gleaming along with a smirk on his face. “I don’t know. Did I instill enough confidence in you to go get what’s yours?”

“Is this an attempt at flirting with me, or getting me to start a fight with Aarons?” His smirk manages to grow bigger at your question, and he bends down pressing a kiss on your lips.

“I support women’s rights. And wrongs, boss. Give him fucking hell if you want.”

[konigbabe]

PAYMENT

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader Word count: 1.1k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; p-in-v sex; unprotected sex; female gendered anatomy; light sadism, rough(ish) sex; implied cunnilingus Summary: You wanted Toji Fushiguro to tattoo you. Now's the time to pay for his services. Part of my JJKS2 writing week.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

All you originally wanted was just the tattoo. Something simple, easily hideable. Toji made it clear he wasn’t an exceptional artist–

("You have a tattoo gun?"

Intrigued by the sight of the compact, gleaming device in your hand, a mix of curiosity and surprise, you held it up to Toji’s apathetic face. His eyes met yours as he let out a nonchalant hum in response, "tried to make some quick cash."

"So you got a medical license," amused, you chuckled, "seems like a lot of work for someone like you."

He only shrugged, lounging on the couch with a careless demeanor, "Not exactly."

Now that made more sense.

"Ah, I see. You were an illegal tattoo artist, huh," you deduced, taking a step closer to him and placing the gun on the crackled, stained coffee table between you two, "can you tattoo me?"

The request lingered in the air as you stayed bent over the low table, both hands firmly on its surface; eyes staring right into the leaden depths of his own.)

–now; your skin’s burning. The wound on your hip bone stings; still fresh, open. Ink the shade of the night sky, lines swirling around the skin in an alluring pattern, painting a vivid image. The plastic wrap barely clings to your sweating flesh.

You can’t complain though. Not with the way Toji’s hips snap against yours; when he’s rutting into you with a fervor that hasn’t been in him since the day he’d first met you. Not with the way he holds you, his arms caging your aching, squirming body on the table. A hand grasping the soft side of yours, dangerously close to the new tattoo.

Thighs flexing, shifting; you feel the sticky mess of your juices coat his cock. Heels digging into the apex of his ass, the muscles constricting underneath your own. Taut. Years of hard work shaping his body to unholy perfection.

With each thrust, it feels as if the tip of his cock breaches the opening of your womb.

Painful. Sometimes, even.

But that doesn’t stop you; you welcome it.

"Ah–Toji–f–fuck…"

It earns you a grunt. Sound so guttural, emerging from the depths of his chest. His fingers burn as his thumb digs into the foil, unwittingly digging into the covered cut.

"It hurts," you whine when his nails poke at the onyx lines, "Toji–oh-don–don’t stop–"

And he doesn’t. He can’t stop, not with the sounds that are coming out of your mouth. The squeaks, moans and the loud keens. They’re all like petals dropping from a flower. And he’s just there, in the middle, watching them all fall.

Body writhing, spasming underneath his calloused hands; with his cock ferociously pounding into you, shamelessly chasing his own high…it amuses him. You amuse him.

"Huh–"

It’s almost maniacal; the way he feels entertained, enthralled by your body’s response to such simple human desire. Savoring the eagerness and zeal with which your body responds o him.

The hand that’s been grinding against the sore area of your hip bone moves. Toji putting pressure against the natural curve of your clavicle and pushing. The back of your head meets the hard surface of the kitchen island as his face hovers over yours. Your eyes fixate on the tip of his tongue, poking from his lips, still glistening with your juices from moments ago–it takes your attention from his other hand.

Which, in the meantime, moves from the table to your aching nub but instead of putting pressure, toying with it, Toji pinches it before rolling the bud between his thumb and index finger, eliciting a surprised, yet pleasured gasp from your lips.

"You a sadistic one, ain’t ya?"

He grins, dark eyes shining with mischief and desire. Breath hot against your ear, he whispers, voice like smoldering embers beneath a velvet cloak, "you like that? The pain. Want more?"

You can’t answer; mind a complete standstill. Every thought, every word he says seems to slip through the cracks and vanish into the darkness. But Toji wants an answer, and he isn’t one to take silence for it. With a quick tilt of his hips, he takes you up higher, makes you feel every movement, every ridge of his body against yours.

Tongue darting out, lips latched onto the side of your neck, his teeth sink into the heated flesh. Not enough to draw blood but still enough to leave his mark.

"Yes, more–ple–please."

Your hand grasps his hair. Feeling the silken strands flow between your fingers; you tug.

He growls against your skin, the vibrations setting your body on fire. Fingernails digging into the delicate skin of your body, hands kneading the flesh as his lips trail up to your ear, breath tickling your neck.

"Say it again," he whispers, voice low and gravelly.

"More, please."

He doesn’t stop; not until every breath you take sounds like a moan. Until you have no coherent words left in you.

Until you’re nothing but a trembling mess in his arms.

Your body arcs, fingertips reaching out; seeking each contour of his tight abdomen. That’s all the warning he gets.

Like a flood. You feel it wash over you; the heat coiling and burning. The moment stretches on like an elastic band–

Intensity guilds. Sticky warmth fills you. Toji’s relentless thrusting only grows in speed, hands gripping underneath your knees, opening your legs more. His pelvis meets yours; his thrusts limit you to sharp, noisy exhalations.

–until it snaps.

Like the petals had fallen, you fall. Limbs weak, you feel yourself go limp.

Fucked dumb.

But Toji isn’t done with you yet. You’re the one who started it, you don’t get to tap out so quickly, so easily.

"I ain’t through with ya, pup."

(Laying back on the cool surface of the kitchen island, body supported by your elbows, you looked down. Toji pulled back, petting the sore tattooed spot now wrapped in plastic.

You actually liked his work.

"So," you speak up, drawing his gaze at you with apathetic eyes, "what’s the payment?")

His hands sneak around your body – one lying flat against your nape, bringing your head up towards his flushed yet grinning face, body following suit as he makes you sit back up. His lips curl into a smirk, "get ready, next round’s gonna be rough."

And it is. The next few rounds, actually.

It’s brutal. Raw. Toji holds you down, his body over yours. You can feel him, grinding into you; his cock, pulsing with desire. A need to claim you. A need to feel you beneath him, to taste your sweat, your cries.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Never Say Never

Chapter 4

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.8K

1 2 3

The sun blazed bright in the afternoon sky, like a gentle kiss on the back of the neck from the summer that would soon be on the horizon. A soft breeze rustled your hair as you stood next to Steve at the little ice cream cone shaped stand in the park, the words Scoops Ahoy in blue across the top, a little anchor next to it. Kids raced across the grass, over to the playground, smiles splitting their faces with joy, faces and fingers sticky with the remnants of the sweet treats they’d just enjoyed.

You looked over at Steve and then quickly back to the playground again when he caught your eye, embarrassed to be caught looking at him once again but you couldn’t seem to stop. You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off of Steve the entire practice. The way he was so patient with all of the kids. The way they absolutely beamed when they received a high five from him every time they did something correctly. The way he encouraged them when they didn’t have it quite right. And yeah, the way he looked in his jeans and his olive green shirt that fit him in all the right places might also have caught your eye. 

You did not want to be one of those moms, practically having to wipe the drool off your chin, but you feared that might be exactly what you were because there was no denying the man was perfect. Annoyingly so and you were determined to find at least one flaw because no one could be that perfect.

But the highlight of the practice, though it was extremely petty of you, was the glares you received from some of the other moms when Steve jogged over to you and asked if you were ready to go get ice cream. You couldn’t deny that it gave you a delightful little thrill for all of those moms, some who had judged you mercilessly, to see you being the chosen one. Even if it wasn't true, even if it was just two parents taking their sons for ice cream and not two people who were dating, they believed it was and you couldn’t deny that you’d enjoyed it. 

If you could have burst into flames on the spot, disintegrating into ash, you would have from the heat of the glares that were coming your way. You could feel them as the two of you trailed behind your sons, making your way over to the park that was just a few blocks away. 

You could practically hear them now. He picked her? How in the hell did she snag Coach Harrington? I can’t believe he’s going out with her. Have you seen how much she’s let herself go since her husband died? It’s like she doesn’t even try. What would he want with her? 

Those snobby bitches always had something to say, whether it was about all the ways you failed as a single mother or the way you didn’t get your nails done or the fact that you had the nerve to walk through the world without painting your face first.

“Thank you,” you smiled, accepting your ice cream cone from Steve as he held it out to you, the boys having already raced over to a picnic table to start scarfing theirs down. “Did Eli even thank you for his sundae before he ran off?”

Steve laughed, waving his hand, the other holding his own cone, “He’s fine. Mine didn’t either. They were just eager for their ice cream. Probably hungry after how hard I made them work.”

“Yeah, you might want me to take my kid home for a shower before he comes your way to spend the night. After running the bases, he’s looking a little sweaty. Your house could get pretty ripe if he doesn’t get a hosedown at least.”

“You know, that sounds like a pretty good idea. Jere is looking quite glisteny from over here.”

“I’ll just take him home after ice cream and then drop him off a bit later, if that’s okay?” you asked as you approached the picnic table, sitting down next to each other, opposite the boys. 

“What do you mean take me home?” Eli demanded, looking up at you with narrowed eyes, his little mouth covered in fudge. “I’m going to Jeremiah’s house, right?”

You grabbed one of the napkins Steve had grabbed from the ice cream shop, impressing you yet again. Every parent should know to grab a large stack whenever their kids are eating but you noticed that dads seemed to be blissfully unaware of this fact, among many others. Lots of guys just coasted through parenthood but not Steve. Being a single dad probably helped since he couldn’t just assume that mom would have it like most did. You dabbed at the corner of Eli’s mouth as his face screwed up in annoyance, swatting at your hand. 

“Mommy, stop…” he groaned, clearly embarrassed that his mom was cleaning him up in front of his friend. His little face was turning red, hands clenched into fists, letting you know he was about to fall apart in the middle of the park. “I’m not going home, am I? You guys said I could stay the night at Jeremiah’s house.”

Before you could respond to your son, Steve answered, “Well, both of you boys are a little stinky after practice.” He leaned in, taking a big whiff, and then pretended to gasp and gag, making them both laugh. “I don’t know if me or Miles can survive all night with that stench. You know, Miles’ sniffer is way more powerful than ours. Poor guy. You don’t want to make him suffer, right? So, you’re both going to go home and take showers and then your mom will bring you over.”

The boys seemed mollified by his answer and you were left, once again, in awe of this man. Your son had been on the verge of a complete meltdown and Steve had swooped in, stalling it before it began, by simply making him laugh. The laugh calmed him down so he could hear the rest of the explanation. Was he made of magic? He barely even knew Eli and had handled him so easily, as if he had a sixth sense for what was about to happen.

Eli was, hands down, the best thing that had ever happened to you. You loved your son more than anything in the world. He was an amazing kid and you often found yourself wondering how you’d gotten so lucky. He was sweet. He was kind. He was so empathetic, to the point that he often got his feelings hurt because of it. But he could be a handful sometimes and he didn’t handle changes of plans very well. He didn’t handle the unknown very well. He needed to know what was coming, what was expected of him. And if he thought he knew and then you switched it up on him, you could be heading for a full on meltdown.

Sometimes you wondered if he was seven or had just skipped ahead to thirteen. He could stomp his feet, slam doors, and yell like a hormonal pre-teen when he was angry. And unfortunately, with you being the only parent, it happened more often than you liked. There were times you would tell him you could do something and then something else would come up. Those were the times when being a single parent sucked the most because there was nothing you could do. You were only one person and unless you could wrangle Janice or Matt to step in, you couldn’t fix it for him because you could not be in two places at once.

“Thank you,” you said softly, leaning your mouth close to Steve’s ear, and then regretting it when that deep, woodsy scent of him consumed you again. 

He winked, “No problem. I’ve dealt with my fair share of childhood tantrums. I know one coming on when I see it. Figured it was better to nip it before he had time to pick up steam.”

“We’re done! Can we go play?” asked Jeremiah.

“Sure, for a little bit,” Steve told them. “But throw your garbage away first, alright sluggers?”

The two boys grabbed their empty plastic containers, remnants of sticky ice cream and fudge in them. Giggling, they raced to the trash can and then took off for the playground, heading straight to the swings, both declaring they could swing higher. 

“I appreciate it. Eli can be a freight train of emotion sometimes and it can be exhausting.” Realizing what you just said, you winced. “I mean, he’s an amazing kid. Really, he is. He’s my everything. He just gets really upset when things get changed on him ever since…” 

You stalled. Was that a topic you really wanted to bring up sitting here with a guy you barely knew? A guy you might be interested in? Your dead husband didn’t seem like the place to start when you were just getting to know each other. Nothing could kill a good mood faster than someone bawling their eyes out in grief and you still struggled to talk about Justin without crying. You wondered if you’d ever be able to.

Steve watched you, those hazel eyes as warm as the sun shining down on them, his face full of compassion. His expression made you wonder if he already knew about Justin. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities considering their sons were best friends. Had Jeremiah asked Eli where his dad was? If he had, of course Eli would have told him. It wasn’t a secret. You wanted Eli to feel comfortable talking about his dad. And if he had, had Jeremiah told Steve? 

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Steve finally said with a shake of his head. “I get it. Kids, man. They are the greatest thing in your world and you wouldn’t give them up for anything. But they’re hard. They’re so damn hard sometimes. Take Jere. He’s a fantastic kid. I mean, I really couldn’t ask for a better kid but bedtimes are a marathon. It’s always when his talking button gets turned on and he has eighty things to tell me about. And you know, come nine o’ clock, I am ready to be done being dad for the day. I just want an hour to crack open a beer and watch tv or sit on the deck and enjoy the silence. Also, he hates haircuts. I mean, full on, four alarm tantrums whenever it’s time for a haircut. You should have seen his hair last summer. It was down to here.” Steve gestured halfway down his bicep with a laugh. “It was summer so I let it go for as long as I could but right before school started, I told him he had to because he also hates the hairbrush. I mean, if he won’t let his mom or I fix it, then it’s got to be cut, right? He was running around looking like a caveman. And brushing all the tangles out of hair that long…nightmare, especially with a kid who’s acting like you’re stabbing them before you’ve even touched them. Not even my Herbal Essences could fix that mess.”

You pressed your lips together to conceal the smile that appeared at his mention of his shampoo. Well, that explained it. Not only had the man been blessed with a head of gorgeous hair, but he also took care of those locks. Justin had been a Suave guy but then his hair had been buzzed close to his head for most of his adult life. Quality of the hair product didn’t really matter so much when you barely had any.

Catching your smirk, Steve sighed, “Yeah. Yeah. Go ahead. I’ve dealt with the abuse for years. Tell me how Herbal Essences is supposed to be for women.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Look, you have no idea how hard it was to find something that worked for me after Faberge Organics went out of business.”

“The Farrah Fawcett shampoo?” you questioned, struggling to keep the bubble of laughter that was quickly rising down. 

“Yes. And her spray! That shit worked wonders on this hair. Do you know how many ladies I got in high school because of this hair?” He gestured at his caramel locks. 

“I have no doubt. It’s great hair. Really.”

“You laugh. Go ahead. It’s not anything I haven’t heard before. Everyone loves to mock my hair.”

“I’m not mocking your hair. Seriously,” you assured him, captivated. With the sun shining down, his hair looked like a golden crown on his head, highlighting the myriad of highlights within. “Steve, seriously, I am not mocking. You have really beautiful hair.”

Those eyes, like the glow of a sunset, holding all the colors of the Earth itself within them, looked at you as if you were the only person in this park, possibly on the planet. The moment froze, time stopped, your heart pounding a rhythmic beat against your ribcage. Steve’s hand lifted, hovering in the air, as if he were thinking about touching you but uncertain about doing it and your breath became shallow as you realized how much you wanted him to. 

“Daddy!” Jeremiah yelled, racing up to you. Steve’s hand dropped to his side, his eyes tearing from yours to look at his son, the moment broken. “You gotta come see this! We made a castle out of sticks!”

“Oh wow,” Steve replied, smiling indulgently over at you. “A castle out of sticks. Sounds pretty amazing. We better go check this out.”

“Yeah,” you replied, slightly dazed, inhaling slowly as your heart resumed its normal pace. “Can’t miss that.”

____________________________________________________________

“So, let me get this straight,” Robin, his best friend of twelve years, commented from her perch on his kitchen counter. Her legs swung back and forth as she munched on chips straight out of the bag, never hesitating to raid his cupboards as soon as she walked in the door. “You met this woman who is both single and gorgeous.”

“Yeah. I’ve met single, gorgeous women before, Robin,” he reminded her. “Have you forgotten about the string of failed relationships I’ve had?”

“No. Definitely not. I’m well aware of how much you suck. I’m the one who collected all the data on it, remember?”

“Gee, thanks,” huffed Steve, folding his arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter next to her. “Why am I best friends with you again when all you do is abuse me?”

“Because I give you the dose of reality and humility that you need so you never get too cocky. King Steve needs to be knocked down from his throne every now and then.”

“I haven’t been King Steve in over a decade.”

“Not according to the moms around here,” Robin snorted. “Seriously, straight women are feral and the married ones are even worse. They’re desperate for attention, for someone to validate them, to assure them they are still desirable because we all know their husbands aren’t.” She paused, chip halfway to her mouth. “Damn. Maybe that’s what I need to do.”

“What?”

“Find a married woman.”

Steve’s eyebrows met as he looked at his friend, “You do realize that would mean that you are helping someone cheat on their spouse, right?”

Robin shrugged, “Look. Some of these men have it coming. They don’t appreciate what they have. And come on, you can’t tell me there aren’t loads of women in marriages who would rather not be. Women who married just because it’s what society expects them to do when really, that cute little barista looks much more appetizing than the man they have at home belching while scratching his beer belly.”

“Barista, huh? Could we be thinking about June?”

Robin sighed, those gray blue eyes hazing over, “I mean, you’ve seen her, right?”

“I have. She’s a very pretty woman.”

“Pretty? Please. That’s an insult. That woman might be the most gorgeous creature who’s ever walked this planet. And she makes a caramel macchiato like a damn magician. I swear she fills that cup with magic. I have to have one every single morning or my day just doesn’t feel right.”

“Yeah, I am sure the coffee is what you’re going in there for every morning,” he snorted with a shake of his head. 

Robin jabbed her elbow into him and he laughed. He loved her. He’d even wanted to date her, for a very short time, when they worked together, until she’d told him that he had equipment that she just didn’t require. His best friend was one of the most amazing people on the planet but she had such a hard time when it came to dating. She was terrified to actually ask anyone out, preferring to pine for them from afar.  

“Robin, just ask her out,” Steve insisted. 

“I can’t just ask her out! I don’t even know if she likes women, Steve.”

“Oh, she absolutely likes women. Are you kidding me? I’ve watched you two when you’re getting coffee. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear and looks up at you from under her eyelashes. Plus, her ex was definitely a woman. Come on, Robin. She’s totally flirting with you.”

“She could do that with everybody.”

“She’s never done it with me.”

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling, “Oh, and of course if she doesn’t bat her eyelashes at King Steve then she must not be interested in men, right?”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“And anyway, we were not talking about my love life. We were talking about yours. How long are you going to wait before asking gorgeous, single mom out?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if she wants me to.”

“Is Steve Harrington actually scared to ask a woman out?” asked Robin with delight. “Oh, this is interesting.” “What’s interesting?”

“I have not seen you flustered over a girl since Nance. Women don’t make you nervous. If this one is making you nervous, then you must really like her. Does Steve have a little crush?” She gasped, pointing at him. “You do! You’re blushing! Oh my god!”

“Shut up. Jesus, you are so annoying. Do you know how annoying you can be?”

“Steve and single mom sitting in a tree…” she sang loudly.

“Oh my god Robin,” he groaned, slapping his hand over her mouth. “Can we not be children about this? Look, it isn’t as simple as just asking her out. Her husband died.”

“Oh, damn,” Robin breathed, all traces of humor gone. “When?”

“I don’t know. Jere told me that Eli’s daddy went to heaven. But that’s all I know. I mean, it’s information from a seven year old, getting information from another seven year old. It’s not exactly the most reliable. But he’s not around and when she brought him up…you could see it, you know? The sadness. It was like a shadow came over her face. But whether it was four months ago or four years ago, I have no idea. That’s why I’m not sure what to do. I don’t know if she’s even ready to date anyone.”

“Okay, so ask her.”

“How do you ask someone that? So, how long ago did your husband die because I am hoping you’re past it enough to go out to dinner with me? Come on.”

“Well, obviously not like that, dingus. I swear, you are so helpless. What would you ever do without me?” Robin hopped down off the counter, turning toward him. “Just talk to her. If you’re getting to know each other, then obviously your pasts are going to come up. Share about your divorce and then maybe she’ll share about that.”

“I did tell her about my divorce.”

Robin chewed on her bottom lip in thought, “Okay, so maybe you mention that Jere said Eli’s dad wasn’t around anymore and then see what she says.”

“I don’t know…”

“Steve, you seem to really like her.”

“I’ve liked people before.”

“Not like this.”

“I barely know her.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Robin insisted. “I haven’t seen your eyes do that thing in years.”

“What thing? My eyes aren’t doing a thing.”

“Oh yes they are,” she smiled. “They’re all soft and warm like the inside of a chocolate chip cookie right out of the oven when you talk about her. I’m telling you, don’t let this one get away.”

“Maybe you should listen to your own advice,” he challenged, lifting his eyebrows. “Because your lips do that thing when you talk about June.”

“My lips do not do a thing.”

“Oh yeah they do. They get all pursed in the corner and you smile without even realizing it when you talk about her.”

“Fine. Then, I’ll make you a deal. You ask out single mom and I will ask out June.”

“You first,” he insisted, knowing she’d find a reason to back out.

Robin’s mouth dropped open as annoyed huffs escaped. She glared, folding her arms, stepping from one foot to the other. He knew her far too well. There was no way he was asking first because she’d drag her feet and put off asking June for as long as she could. 

“Fine,” she snapped, poking him in the chest with her finger. “But if I get my heart shattered to pieces, you’re buying me all the junk food I need to make me feel better.”

“All the Haagen Dazs and Oreos your heart desires,” he promised. 

Knowing Robin, this would still give him a bit more time to figure out a game plan, possibly get more information on your situation. Steve breathed a sigh of relief but then just as quickly that relief vanished when he remembered you would be at his door again at any minute.

___________________________________________________________

The front door swung open and what you thought for a moment was a massive black bear came charging at you both. Eli squeaked and then broke into a fit of giggles as the bear that turned out to be an incredibly large dog gave him a sloppy kiss. 

“Jesus, Miles,” Steve huffed, grabbing his collar and gently pulling him back. “As you can see, he has absolutely no manners and somehow is completely unaware of his own size. I know he’s huge but he’s just a big baby and he loves meeting new people.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” you cooed, dropping down onto your knees in front of the furry boy, burying your fingers in his thick fur as Eli raced off to find Jeremiah. “Aren’t you, you handsome boy?”

“That’s him, always stealing the pretty ladies’ attention.”

You froze, hands on Miles, your eyes moving up to Steve who smiled softly at you and there went your stomach. It was doing a full on gymnastics routine at the compliment Steve had just given you, even though it had been slyly. You were pretty sure he’d just let you know, once again, that he found you attractive. You sat back on your heels, swallowing down your nerves. 

“Well, of course he does. Who could resist a face like that? Anyway, we don’t mind, really. We love dogs. We were actually going to get a dog but then, you know, life had other ideas and now it’s just me. There’s just not enough time and I would feel bad leaving a dog home alone all the time between work and Eli’s practices and stuff.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky with that,” Steve replied, closing the door as you rose to your feet. “My job is a bit more flexible. I often get to come home for lunch so I’ll take him for a walk. And being that I only have Jere half the time, I’m only responsible for half of his schedule. Plus I have Robin and Dustin. They’re always happy to come hang out with the beast for a bit if I have a busy day.”

“That’s nice. Good friends are hard to find. I am so thankful for Janice. If I didn’t have her, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You don’t have any family around here?”

“No.” You shook your head, folding her arms over her stomach. “My parents moved when I was in college. I’m originally from the Cleveland area but I came here to go to Purdue. My dad got an offer to head up an office in Boston. It was a lot more money so they took it. I was living in an apartment with a friend at the time and in the middle of school so I didn’t want to go. And then I met my husband so that was the end of that. I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Siblings?”

“Nope. Only child. My parents said they got it right the first time so why mess with perfection?”you laughed, shrugging. “I mean, obviously I am not perfect but that was their joke.”

“I don’t know,” he mused, one of his hands resting on the door as he leaned into you, causing your heart to pick up speed again. “I think they may have been onto something actually.”

“Here comes Robin!” came Eli’s voice as the boys raced through the foyer, capes billowing behind them. Miles chased them, his own red and green cape flowing over his black fur, the boys giggling through the kitchen and then the living room. 

“Well, I think I have been forgotten,” you joked, thankful for the interruption. “I suppose that’s my cue to exit.”

“Exit? Oh, I…well, you know, I was thinking that maybe…you might, you know, want to stay for dinner?” His cheeks flushed and god, he was adorable when he was flustered. “It’s nothing fancy. I’m just throwing some burgers and hot dogs on the grill. I have chips and picked up some potato salad from the deli. But you’re more than welcome to stay if you haven’t eaten yet.”

Stay? He wanted you to stay? You had just assumed you would drop Eli off, see the dog, and then get out of his hair. But he wanted you to stay for dinner? You hadn’t been prepared for that possibility. 

Did you want to stay for dinner? You did but that gnawing feeling that you were doing something wrong began to twist up your insides again. Were you betraying Justin if you pursued something new? Were you throwing everything you’d had in the trash as if it didn’t matter? Were you possibly setting up your son for more heartache? A chance to lose not only someone who was quickly becoming an important male figure in his life but also his best friend? Would Eli understand? Would he be happy if you started dating someone or would he think you were forgetting all about his dad?

Steve stood awkwardly, fingers drumming along the wood of the door, lips pressed together as he waited for you to answer him. You were being ridiculous. You weren’t dating anyone. You were reading far too much into a simple invite to stay and eat a burger at the house of your son’s best friend. He was simply being polite and to decline would be horribly rude. 

“Sure. I can stay for a burger,” you finally answered, trying to ignore the way your stomach somersaulted as you followed Steve into his house. 

___________________________________________________________

“Wine?” asked Steve once you had cleaned up from dinner, the boys having darted up to Jeremiah’s room to check out his gameboy. 

“Sure. That would be great.”

Steve’s house was so cozy, far better than you’d expected for a single man living on his own. You’d enjoyed dinner out on the deck in the backyard and then sat for a bit, watching as the boys enjoyed the swingset, Eli declaring it was so cool that Jeremiah had his own playground.

As Steve handed you a glass of deep red wine, the two of you made your way back out there, sitting down on an outdoor sofa on a brick patio that was just off to the side of the deck. A massive fire pit sat in the middle of the seating area and you could imagine it would be very cozy to sit out here in the evenings, enjoying the night sky. 

“Your backyard is amazing,” you commented. “Mine barely even has grass. Yours is like a little oasis. I don’t think I’d ever leave if my backyard looked like this.”

Steve chuckled, “Yeah, well, it took a lot of work to get it like this.”

“You did this?”

“Yeah. I mean, I had some help from my friends but we put in the patio, the deck, the swingset, all of it. I love being outside. Being inside too much makes me claustrophobic. Even as a kid, outdoors with the sky stretching on forever, it just felt like I could breathe, you know?” He shrugged, sipping his wine. “I just knew that I needed a space where I could sit and see the stars at night. So, it took a couple summers but I finally have it.”

“I’m surprised. Most people would just hire someone to do it. Being in construction, you have to know loads of guys who do that kind of work.”

“You’re looking at one of them. I started off as one of those guys, remember?”

“I know. But still, a lot of people don’t want to have to put in the time for a big home project like that. Especially when it’s what they already do for a living. They do it all week so why would they want to do it on the weekends? It’s kind of refreshing to know you did all this yourself and impressive. Maybe I should hire you.”

Steve laughed, “Yeah, well, when you grow up watching people throw money at other people to do work they could easily do themselves but think they’re too good for and then proceed to treat those people like shit, it gives you a bit of a different outlook on things.”

Your ears perked at his statement, “So, would I be overstepping if I asked you to elaborate on that?”

Something dark passed over his face and you wondered for a moment if you had overstepped. The two of you barely knew each other. It was probably intrusive for you to ask. But you had the distinct impression between his current statement and his talk about his father the other day that Steve had grown up around money, lots of it, and you couldn’t help but be intrigued. Because how did a boy who’d grown up rich wind up working for a construction company, living in a nice, but modest house, and be so damn grounded and kind as he was?

“You’re not overstepping. So, I used to be known around town as King Steve.” When you snorted, he nodded with a grimace. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s just as bad as it sounds.”

“I wasn’t aware we had royalty in the states.”

“Jesus, this is so embarrassing.” He ran a hand down over his face, pulling at his chin. “My parents were rich, like really rich. I was a brat. Ugh. I was such an asshole. I was pissed at them because they were never around. I was raised by a goddamn nanny until I turned thirteen and they decided I could just raise myself from there. They were hardly ever home. My dad traveled a lot for work.” She noticed how he did air quotations around work. “Work was often some weekend tryst with his latest bimbo. Then my mom started going with him because she didn’t trust his ass. Not that I blame her. They’d be gone for weeks and not even a phone call to see if I was still alive. So, I acted like a shit. I threw massive ragers at the house all the time. Hence the title. Everyone wanted to be around me because I could buy shit. That was my parents' consolation gift. I couldn’t have their time but I could throw their money away, however I pleased, because there was always more of it.”

You cupped both hands around your wine glass, pulling your knees in as you tried to picture this guy you were getting to know as an angry teenager. He made it sound like he was one of those guys that you despised in school, the ones who walked around like they owned the school because nothing could touch them. You could not make the two images mirror together. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, tilting your head, confused.

“Like I was some poor neglected child. I had everything I could have ever wanted. I didn’t go without anything. There were kids who had it way worse than me.”

“There are a lot of different kinds of neglect, Steve. You were a child. No amount of money can make up for a lack of attention from the two people who were supposed to love you the most.”

Lifting his glass to his lips, he swallowed down the wine hard, “Yeah. Maybe. Anyway, I was that guy. You know that guy. Every school has that guy. The one that every guy wants to be and every girl wants to get with. The one that everyone wants to be associated with because it raises their level of cool. I was surrounded by people constantly but I quickly learned it was all bullshit. Not a single one of them actually wanted to be around me. They just wanted what I could give them.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“It was. It’s so weird. How can you be so damn alone when you’re surrounded by company? I was never alone in that house. I couldn’t stand to be alone in that house. It was like living in a damn museum. So I always had people crashing at my house just so there was someone there.”

“Is that why you like outside? Because you hated your house?”

“Yeah. There were some woods behind my house. I used to just go walking sometimes or I’d sit out back by the pool, smoke a joint, and stare up at the sky. It was the only time I felt like I could breathe, like I wasn’t suffocating under the weight of being a Harrington.” He snorted. “Not that it wound up mattering what my name was after I disgraced it completely.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned his torso toward you, lifting one leg and crossing it over his knee, “My dad expected me to come work for him. Legacy, right? I was supposed to work for him and then eventually take over. But because I didn’t give two shits about school…I mean, why should I when I had all that money, right? Anyway, I couldn’t even get into community college with my grades. Complete loser. So, my dad decided I needed to make a working man’s wage, see what the real world was like. That’s when I had the job at Scoops Ahoy. He was punishing me. They completely cut me off. I just decided I had enough. I didn’t want to work for him anyway. I hated him. I couldn’t imagine him being my boss. Like, it just hit me one day, how miserable my life was going to be if I kept following the path they laid out for me. It wasn’t one I wanted. I hadn’t chosen that path so why should I keep walking down it? So, I turned around and raced the other way as fast as I could.”

“And you went into construction?”

“Yeah. Well, so Nance, Jere’s mom, is kind of the reason I got my shit together. She gave me a massive thump on the head when she broke up with me in high school. I was a dick and I was going nowhere. She could see that. So, she split up with me before she went to college because she didn’t think we had a future. I really looked at myself after that, you know? I realized she was right. I was going nowhere. I was either going to be making minimum wage, living with my parents forever or turn into the biggest asshole because I was miserable working with my dad. I was already an asshole. I’d let my anger at them turn me into this person I didn’t want to be. So, I decided to do something about it. Take that other path. The problem was I didn’t know what I wanted to do. It was actually Robin who said I should get into something that allowed me to work outside because that was where I was happiest and well, here I am. I mean, being project manager I am not always outside but it’s enough of a change from office to job sites that it works for me.”

“Wow. You know, it’s rather commendable that you walked away from all that money. Most people would have taken the misery to be able to never have to worry about anything financially.”

“Shit, not me. I don’t know how commendable it is. I just knew if I had a chance in hell of being happy, I had to get out of there.”

“It’s pretty damn commendable. You recognized what was making you unhappy and fixed it. You saw what you didn’t want to be and changed it, Steve. A lot of people can’t do that.” The more you learned about him, the more you liked him and that was dangerous. Tread carefully, you reminded yourself. Don’t seem too eager. Don’t appear too interested. “So, if Nancy and you split, how did you wind up back together?”

“Oh, well, she came back home after college,” he answered. “She got a degree in journalism and got a job at the local paper. Her plan was to eventually get a job at one of the big papers like the Indianapolis Star. Anyway, we met up for lunch, you know. Catch up for old times sake or whatever and she said how proud she was of me. She’d missed me. I don’t know. All of a sudden we were a thing again. I think it was a comfort thing? Like, being with her felt like putting on an old sweatshirt. It might not fit and it might have holes but it’s familiar and simple. The next year we were married and then the next year Jere came along.”

“Wow. High school sweethearts reunited. First love and all that. It’s really sweet,” you commented. And it was. You felt genuine sadness that the two of them couldn’t make it work after having found each other, getting a second chance. 

“Yeah, well, it obviously didn’t work out,” Steve laughed, his arm waving widely. “Behold my solitary lifestyle. I was tired of all the people hanging around me, always crashing at my place, and now I live completely alone.”

“You don’t live alone. You have Jeremiah and Miles.”

“Well, I only have Jere half the time. And Miles is my shadow. I mean, when Jere is here, he is almost always by his side but when he’s not, that dog is attached to my hip. At least I always have someone to cuddle with at night even if I wake up with fur all over my face.”

You smiled, “That’s nice. The only warm body I ever cuddle is my own or well, occasionally Eli when he sneaks into my bed. But that’s been happening less the older he gets. Big old queen bed and just me in it.”

“How…uh…” Steve cleared his throat, leaning back to set down his wineglass. “I mean, I heard about…what I’m trying to say is…”

“Daddy! Are we going to do s’mores?” asked Jeremiah, him and Eli racing out the back door, capes long gone. Miles trudged behind them, his big tongue hanging out as he panted. The boys had clearly worn him out.

“Yeah. Of course. But we just finished dinner about thirty minutes ago. Are you boys really ready for dessert?”

“Yeah!” Eli declared. “We worked up a hero sized appetite and only chocolate can fix it.”

“Oh, only chocolate can fix it?” you questioned, rolling your eyes. Your son had a serious sweet tooth, something he’d inherited from you. “What about broccoli? Superheroes need their broccoli. It helps them be strong.”

Both boys made a face, sticking out their tongues and gagging. 

“Eww. Batman would not eat broccoli. He doesn’t like trees. Trees are not for eating.”

“Trees are not for eating?” gasped Steve. “What about apples? You like apples?” They nodded. “How about bananas?” They nodded, smiling. “Cherries?” Both boys giggled, their little heads bobbing. “Well, those all grow on trees so you do, in fact, eat parts of trees.”

“Yeah daddy but not like the leaves and stuff.”

“Well, broccoli doesn’t even grow on trees. It grows out of the ground like potatoes and I know how much you love french fries.”

Eli looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, “I love french fries too but french fries and broccoli are not the same thing. One is delicious and one is icky.”

“That was a nice try,” you told Steve, “but you are not going to win a battle between french fries and broccoli with my kid. He would live off french fries, mac and cheese, hot dogs, and chicken nuggets if I let him. It’s a battle to get vegetables in this child.”

Steve blew out a puff of air, “Tell me about it. He acts like I am torturing him if I tell him to eat one carrot.”

“Daddy! You know I don’t like carrots.”

“You eat them for mommy.”

Jeremiah huffed, “Because mommy won’t let me watch my tv shows if I don’t eat them.”

“As you can tell, I am not the tougher parent,” Steve shrugged. “And he knows it.”

You laughed. You weren't the tougher parent either even though you should be as you were the only parent. But Eli had already lost so much and really, was not eating vegetables at every meal going to impact his life in the long run? Probably not. You had to pick your battles and as long as he was fed, trying to get something green in him was not a battle you were willing to fight.

“Daddy, the s’mores?” Jeremiah sighed, reminding his father of why they’d come out there in the first place. “Right, s’mores.” Steve placed his hands on his knees as he rose to his feet. “Guess that means I need to get the fire going.”

“Well, you make your fire and enjoy your night. I think I am going to get going,” you told him, standing as well. This had been nice but you didn’t want to overstay her welcome. And you’d been dangerously close to discussing Justin and you just weren't sure if you were ready for that yet.

“You sure? You don’t want a s’more? Not to brag but my marshmallow roasting skills are pretty damn amazing. Best marshmallow you’ll ever enjoy. Perfectly crispy on the outside and ooey gooey on the inside.”

That smile was certainly making you ooey gooey on the inside, but you weren't sure you could handle anymore time with him right now. Every minute with him was threatening to knock you over. Winds picking up speed and you were about to be swept off your feet completely if you didn’t get out of the elements and take shelter for a bit. 

“While that is a very tempting offer, I am going to pass. I am going to go home and take advantage of the quiet if you don’t mind.” 

“I do not mind. I understand. You go home, kick your feet up, and sleep in tomorrow. I’ll drop him off on my way to take Jere back to his mom’s. Probably around two if that works?”

“Sounds perfect.”

When had you last had a quiet morning? A morning where you could sleep in, enjoy your coffee in the quiet? Two months ago. It had been two months ago when Janice and Matt had taken Eli to a movie and kept him overnight. 

“Good luck with all of this,” you told him, pointing to the boys who were already back on the swings. Miles lay in the grass, watching them. That dog was going to sleep soundly once the boys settled down. “And thank you for dinner.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. “Here. I’ll walk you out.”

His hand came to the small of your back, sending shivers of delight zipping along your spine. It was such an innocent touch but when was the last time you’d been touched like that? You couldn’t remember. It had to have been Justin. All those little things, little moments, that you took for granted, didn’t even remember, because you’d always thought you’d have them, not knowing it would be your last. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said as he opened the door. 

“Hey,” he said, stepping into you, so close you could make out the myriad of colors in his eyes, tiny flecks of gold and brown and green. His hands tucked into his front pockets. “So, maybe this is too much. I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together and maybe you’re sick of us. But I told Jeremiah I would take him ice skating at the indoor rink over in Greenwood on Thursday after school. It’s a bit of a ride but I was wondering if maybe you guys would want to come.”

“Ice skating?” There was that gymnastics routine again. You’d be ready for the Olympics soon if he didn’t stop. “Eli’s never been and it’s been years since I…”

“I could help Eli. Jere and I have been going since he was three so he’s great on skates. And I mean, I could help you too, if you needed it.”

“I…” A picture flashed across your mind of your hands in Steve’s as he guided you across the ice and your body warmed at the thought. “Yeah. That would be fun.”

That smile, like your own personal sunshine, shone down on you, blinding you as he said, “Great. Jere will be really happy.”

“Yeah. Eli too.”

He swallowed, eyes locked on yours, and your stomach rolled so hard you were surprised you didn’t roll with it. His tongue slid along his lower lip and your hand clenched at your side, wondering exactly what those lips would taste like. Then he blinked, turning his head away from you, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah. Okay. So, Thursday then.”

“It’s a date,” you grinned. 

Shit. Why had you said that? Steve smiled softly and you wanted to die. Could you be more obvious? You closed your eyes, willing your brain to function correctly again.

“It’s a date that I will mark on my calendar, for our kids to skate,” you corrected. “Okay, I am going to go now. Good night.”

“Good night.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement as you darted from the house, fumbling your keys when you attempted to get them in the lock. What was happening? You’d not been this flustered since your first date with Justin. Steve Harrington was completely undoing you and you were going to be unraveled on the floor soon. 

Chapter 5

Taglist: @katethetank@roxiehorrorshow@sapphire4082@bakugouswh0r3@frostandflamesfanfic @mix-matchsocks

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. 😊 And replies and reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoy it. ❤️❤️❤️

[berylcups]

Abbacchio x Reader :drabbles

“Just Friends”

Cw: drinking, dubious consent? (It’s like tipsy consenting but imma tag it as dubious just in case. Drink wisely lovelies 🍷) also this is OOC AF but for it’s myself indulgence lol MINOR DNI

Notes: here’s some drabbles from my storage. Hopefully this will keep y’all full until I got my other work completed. Let’s just say there’s some cuck fuckery going on mwahaha 💜 Beryl

Y/N was the 2nd to last addition to Bucciaratis' team. They were quiet,and reserved. They didn’t like to talk much so it was a breath of fresh air for Abbacchio. The last thing he needed was another talkative brat to annoy him. He did find them to be a little suspicious…of course it turned out they just had social anxiety.

The rowdy boys would scare Y/N back into their shell and they’d stop opening up for a while. Much to bucciaratis dismay he would have to scold the others into behaving properly so Y/N felt comfortable enough to open up and bond with the rest of the team.

What’s a way for Y/N to loosen up? Alcohol of course. Specifically wine. The team was celebrating another win for taking down a rivaling group in their territory. It was past hours at the restaurant so they all drank and ate as much as their hearts desired. Now all that’s left is Abbacchio and Y/N. Y/N is much more relaxed and talkative when they are tipsy. They 're pretty fun to be around!

“Prosecco? Pfft you’re a lightweight and a wine newbie.” Abbacchio teased.

“I only like what tastes sweet. The dry stuff makes my face pucker and upsets my stomach.” Y/N stuck their tongue out.

“Of course it upsets your stomach. You’re drinking it way too fast. You’re supposed to sip it.” He snickered. “ Here, try some of mine with the dark chocolate since you like sweet things so much.” He offered his glass to them and they took a sip and ate a piece of chocolate.

“Hmm…tastes better this time .” Y/N said concentrating on the flavors lingering in their mouth.

“See? I told you it’s better when you drink it slowly. Now you don’t have to rely on those cheap newbie wines anymore.” He said acting smug.

“Yeah but… I still like the sweeter one better .” Y/N teased.

“ You uncultured brat.” He chuckled.

Abbacchio was surprised to find someone that he could genuinely get along with. This was the first time Y/N truly bonded with any of the team. When sober, Y/N was still a little shy and pretty reserved but around Abbacchio they felt completely at ease. They were low key about it but they became close friends.

When Y/Ns CD player stopped working they were pretty frustrated. He offered one of his ear buds to listen to his music. This raised a few eyebrows, abbacchio never shared his music before.

You two had an evening ritual that just seemed to develop on its own where you would be the last ones up at night. You both enjoyed each other’s company and the comforting silence that came with it. Just drinking wine and listening to music. An occasional conversation would eventually pop up whenever he felt the need to say something.

“You should really stop biting your nails Y/N. It’s a bad habit and can cause nail damage.” Abbacchio would gently scold. “ Let me paint your nails. That will help you curb your habit. I think this color would look good on you.” He held your hands and filed your nails to an even length. Feeling how soft and small your hands are compared to his larger ones made him feel some sort of way… he never felt a feeling like this before. Is this what love is? No way, you wouldn’t like someone like him. Better suppress those feelings. He doesn’t realize how his low confidence is blinding what he’s seeing in front of them. He can’t see that you like him just as much but lack the confidence yourself as well.

————————————-

When Giorno joined he saw how quickly you went back into your shell again. Great- we made all this progress and this brat waltzes in and fucks everything up. You always clam up around new people and get shaky. He’ll gently place his hand over yours under the privacy of the table to calm you down. He’s gonna put you at ease by doing an old party trick…perfect for tea parties. You completely forgot about your anxiety seeing him put his back to you and hear him pissing into the teapot.

“You gotta be shitting me…” You thought in shock.

“Here… I hope you enjoy it. I made it myself.” He said deadpan to the newbie.

“?!” They clasped a hand over their mouth to keep themselves from bursting out laughing. They could feel the tears beginning to prick their eyes.

Of course your laughter would turn to horror when you see the young blonde down the “special tea” like it was his first drink he’s had in days.

Giorno would be a hindrance to your peace of mind but if it wasn’t for him, Abbacchio wouldn’t feel the desperate need to hold onto you tighter.

—————————————

“Eggplant parmigiana again Y/N? You don’t wanna try anything new? Here, try my Pasta alla Genovese. You’ll like it I promise.” He knew you were afraid of trying new things in case you didn’t like it and end up offending someone. He didn’t really understand the fear of offending someone but he knew it was just how your personality is. You were considerate of everyone and he thought that endearing but could also be a hindrance to you.

He pushed his plate closer to you so you could get a forkful, and you hesitantly put it in your mouth. He was right! It was delicious, you kinda regret not getting it.

“Wow you were right. That is good. It’s super meaty.” You said covering your full mouth while talking.

“I’ll give you half of mine if you give me half of yours.” He offered.

“Yessssss” You said excitedly.

“But you can only drink Chianti.” He smirked

“ fine— you wine snob.” You huffed pretending to be annoyed.

“Hey- how about sharing with us huh? Give me half of half your Genovese and you can have half of half of my fagioli!” Narancia complained.

“Shut u-“Abbacchio says before getting cut off by a fuming Fugo.

“Half of half?! Don’t you mean a QUARTER?! Have you LEARNED NOTHING?! you STUPID BASTARDO!.”Fugo blew a gasket and stabbed Narancias with a fork…again.

———————————————————————

You have a habit of falling asleep during long travels and you always somehow end up with your head on Abbacchios shoulder knocked out like a log. The smell of his shampoo and his cologne blend together perfectly and listening to the music he shares just puts you into another world where you forget about being crammed in a van with a bunch of rowdy boys.

“Aww aren’t you sweet letting Y/N sleep on you like that!” Mista teased. “You both look adorable ~”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re gonna wake them up and we’re just friends.” He gave Mista and the rest of the giggling crew the middle finger.

“…just friends…” you repeated in your sleep.

“Suuuuurrrreee buddy.” Mista teased as he gave him the finger guns and a cheesy ass wink.

“Get bent.” Abbacchio proceeded to throw an empty water bottle at him for that.

“…Are we there yet..?” You yawn, squinting your eyes as you adjust to the light.

“Not even close…” he growls. “ just go back to sleep. Y/N.”

Abbacchio gives Mista a scornful look that could kill him.

“H-hey don’t look at me like that! You throwing shit is what woke them up!” Mista said, trying not to fuel Abbacchios anger further.

———————————————————————

It was another night of you two drinking together but you decided to take it up into his bedroom for some privacy since a couple were still up playing video games in the living room. You were admiring the amount of makeup he has.

“You always know how to look so nice. I don’t even know how to put the stuff on other than foundation and mascara.” You sheepishly confessed .

“You have a nice natural look. But if you’d like I can show you how to use some of mine to change it up a bit. I have a few lipstick colors that would look amazing on you” he said getting some makeup off his makeup vanity.

His hand was gentle when he held your face, his ametrine eyes felt like they were staring directly into your soul as he applied the eyeliner on your face. You could feel your face getting red from the intense eye contact, his eyes were so gorgeous. You have never seen a 2 toned eye color before.

“If your eyes are hooded it’s best to go with a thinner line so it doesn’t smudge…” he said, focusing on the other eye now. “You can go thicker if you want but you need to wait a little bit to make sure it dries.”

“Okay…” was all you could mutter out. Him being so close made you get a little shy again like when you first met.

He wanted to keep staring into your pretty eyes, they were hypnotizing up close but he had to break contact to get out the lipstick.

It was your favorite color and it compliments your skin tone well. Looking at your lips as he put it on you was giving him impulsive thoughts. The way he instructed you to pout your lips made you look so kissable. His mind went into autopilot mode, he moved closer to you and you did the same. He kept staring at your perfectly colored lips and gently brushed his lavender ones against yours.

“Shit!” He realized what he did and jumped back and started apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do that—I’m kinda drunk so I’m not thinking straight-“

You cut him off by kissing him back.

“?!” If it wasn’t for his full coverage foundation his entire face would be red.

“You’re fine.”you say. “I…uh… kinda always wanted to do that.“ you confessed looking away sheepishly. “I really like you a lot .”

“Oh? And you kept this from me all this time?” He said trying to regain his confidence.

“And you didn’t notice all this time?” You gently teased.

“You brat.” He smirked and roughly pulled you closer to kiss you deeply.

You never did get a good look at how he did with your makeup. Confessing your feelings and making out is much more confidence boosting than a makeover.

———————————————————————

You two decided to be lowkey about your relationship, the last thing you two wanted was to be teased by the others. Also neither of you are a fan of PDA, it just adds unwanted attention and it’s kinda gross having people watch you.

That doesn't mean he doesn’t mean doesn’t make his affection known. Under the privacy of the table he likes to hold your hand. If he’s feeling flirtatious his hand is on your thigh. He'll run his hand up your inner thigh, give a good squeeze and massage it a bit. You have to do everything you can not to blush or just cream yourself.

———————————————————————

At the restaurant he would sneak off with you into the bathroom to have some impromptu alone time. Around you he just gets so needy so easily. He has you against the wall with one of your legs hiked around his hip as he grinds his clothed erection into your crotch. He’s muffling your moans with open mouth kisses and lots of tongue. He always tastes like his favorite wine and with how good he makes you feel it’s like you could get drunk off of his kisses.

He always has to have a handkerchief and an extra tube of lipstick on him to keep both of your little secrets a secret. He’s definitely looking for a transfer proof brand of lipstick for both of you to wear so you don't have to worry about all the smudging. But… seeing his lip prints all over you gets him off hard.

———————————————————————

When you don’t have missions together and you’re spending a few nights apart it’s tough on you both. But distance does make the heart grow stronger, and so does your neediness for him. You both make the best of the situation with what you have. Late night conversations that end up leading to some heavy sexual topics. He texts the lewdest things that you have to go read in private and even touch yourself to due to how graphic he’s being.

“Oh the things I would like to do to you right now... I’d kill just to have you with me.”

“You think you could ride me when I get home? I love watching your cute face as you try to take me all in.”

“ I want to watch your mascara run down your face as I make you cry my name.”

“You think you can take my entire load or do you think it will leak out? The thought of creampie-ing you is making me feral.”

“I can’t wait to get out of this hell hole. These brats are annoying me. The minute I get home I’m going to blow your back out. I swear I’m going to fuck the living hell out of you”

———————————————————————

When you have missions together you make sure to get a room. Bucciarati spares no expense and makes sure that everyone has at least a decent place to stay for the night. You think a nice hotel would have thicker walls but poor Narancia and Fugo did NOT get any sleep that night.

He had you on to your back in a mating press pounding mercilessly into your sopping wet cunt.

“Shit Leone~!”you mewled clinging on to him.

“That’s right bambina. You keep saying my name” he panted while nibbling on your ear.

“Fuck you’re tight… I’m never sharing you. You’re all mine” he growled.

Your feet were hitting the wall as he buried his cock deep into your tight cunt at a brutal pace. He let go of one of your legs and rubbed circles on your clit.

“Oh god~ Leone~ you’re going to make me cum!” You cried as tears ran down your cheeks.

“That’s right- you cum for me. Cum with me!” He grunted.

You felt the warm release inside making you feel pleasantly full. The knot in your belly tightened and legs spasmed, your toes curled, you felt the fire in you intensify and the knot finally snapped.

“Oh fuck~ Leo I’m cumming!” You howled as you arched your back.

You didn’t have time to bask in the afterglow, you both suddenly felt weightless for a brief second and a loud crash. You both broke the hotel bed!

A zip sound came from the door-“ I heard a commotion! Abbacchio are you being attacked?!” Bucciarati burst in and his eyes fell on the both of you and his face went red.

“!!!” You quickly covered your chest with the sheet. “Uh-um….” You couldn’t form any sentences.

“Let me guess…Just friends huh?” Bucciarati teased with a shit eating grin

“Bucciarati…with all due respect-please get the fuck out.” Abbacchio said deadpan trying not to get embarrassed.

“Oh alright… but you’re paying for the damages.” He smirked as he opened the door and left.

So much for keeping everything a secret…

[juminies]

leave the light on

a not-quite-impromptu reunion of old friends

♡ — post-jumin good end, mostly just jumin and jihyun being jumin and jihyun—some tension and some love.

read on AO3

☀︎

“Did you forget something, dear?” Jumin calls just out of eye shot of the door.

The man currently in the doorway clears his throat. The situation doesn’t quite call for a joke about being mistakenly called dear. “It’s me.”

Jumin walks into the room and his eyes grow noticeably wider as he registers who the ‘me’ standing in front of him is. He scans them cautiously from head to toe, as though he expects to find something catastrophic awaiting him there. “Jihyun?”

“Hello. Security recognised me and let me in. Sorry it’s been a while.”

“V.” A correction, maybe. Jumin pushes at the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. “It’s good to see you. What happens to be the occasion? We’ve barely heard from you since the wedding.”

“Ah. Yes. Sorry about that,” V says. He nervously taps against the neck of the bottle in his left hand, a red wine the pair used to indulge in often before inside-outside forces dragged them apart.

“I thought you were away,” Jumin tells him.

“I was. I had some free time though, so I thought it would be nice to come back and visit.”

Jumin raises an eyebrow. “Did you see my wife on your way in?” he asks.

“I can’t say I did.”

“I see. She just left for a few hours, coincidentally.”

There is already tension lingering, far too much of it, easily strung up by the silence in the penthouse. The last time they had stood together in this room was the day before the last party, on less than ideal terms. The last time they drank together alone was close to two years ago, as what could prove to be entirely different people. Neither man steps closer, as if some ragged fusion of time and carefully omitted truth and lacking urgency holds the other out of arm’s reach.

“I brought wine,” V says, holding up the bottle. His hand appears to shake ever so subtly as he does; it would have gone unnoticed by anyone less detail-oriented than Jumin. “I assume you still enjoy this one?”

“Of course,” Jumin tells him. “It reminds me of you, after all. Let me fetch some glasses.”

The space remains between them as Jumin heads to the kitchen and decreases only physically as V sits down in the armchair and Jumin takes his usual place on the sofa.

Conversation does not open as naturally as V had hoped. He has a tendency to forget Jumin’s gravitation to small talk when it comes to people he hasn’t seen for some time—a taught behaviour that has only grown to fall naturally upon him when thrust into what, admittedly, is a somewhat uncomfortable situation. V also has a tendency to avoid sharing details of the goings on in his life as a measure to prevent anyone other than himself coming into harm’s way, and these things in tandem do not piece together too well. As a consequence he mostly lets Jumin answer his own questions, listening keenly to him talk about the latest developments at C&R, about his honeymoon, about his wife.

Then comes a topic that cannot be deflected: “How are your eyes?”

V digs a fingernail into the arm of the plush chair he’s sat in, leaving a small mark in the cushion. He leans to pick up his glass from the coffee table to stall as he turns over the question in his mind; performs a swift but careful examination of it as though it's the brush strokes of an oil painting. “The circumstances aren’t ideal, but they haven’t deteriorated any more since we last spoke.”

Jumin hums noncommittally as if he expects more, and if he sees through the lie his expression does not give him away.

“I have very little sight at all in my right eye and no peripheral vision in my left. I’m just grateful I can still take pictures for now,” V adds. He punctuates his admission with a solemn half-laugh as he gently smooths a finger over the mark in the chair he made with his nail.

“I would still think it best that you make a legitimate inquiry about having surgery to heal them,” Jumin says. “It would be a shame were you to lose your vision entirely. Our wedding photographs were beautiful thanks to you. Retrospectively I find it difficult to believe that I could have so much as considered trusting someone else with the duty.”

V smiles softly and crosses his arms over his chest sheepishly. “If nothing else I’m glad I could be of service in that regard. You both deserved beautiful photographs.”

“You are doing me a service merely by being a friend. I can only hope that you consider it—the surgery, that is.” A bulb in the lamp across the room flickers and Jumin glances over to it. His face remains wholly unreadable. “For a friend, if not for yourself.”

V nods, tight lipped, and raises his glass to his chin. “I will consider it.”

He is rewarded with a sincere (and relieved) thank you.

The conversation gets easier after that, as though it had served as a reminder of the profound trust the pair have for one another. A bottle of wine is drained quickly and the gap between them closes in tandem; any bitterness brewing subsides. Though there had often been one thing or another to mull over—it’s in their nature to undershare—no feelings between Jumin and Jihyun had ever so much as begun to bleed through into resentment, and now is no different. Instead apprehension turns to laughter and agitation to playfulness. Between the two of them they hold enough admiration for the other to fill oceans.

“You know, V,” Jumin starts after some time, gently swirling his wine—the first glass from a second bottle that he claimed he had been saving for a special occasion. “I thought it very odd that my wife should opt to go out alone on the evening of my day off.”

V’s vision renders him oblivious to the mischievous glint in Jumin’s eyes. “Yes. Strange, I suppose.”

“And you brought wine to a supposed impromptu visit?”

“I bought it nearby,” V says. Then, with a touch of sarcasm, adds, “Would you prefer that I show up empty handed next time?”

“Not that I doubt your credibility, but…” Jumin leans forward and turns the now empty bottle that V had brought along so that he can see the label, then presses his finger against the name of a French town printed in grey cursive. “No local stores sell this variety,” he finishes, amused. “She put you up to this, did she not?”

The shift of V’s expression is enough of a confirmation in the eyes of a man who’s known him for twenty years, but Jumin doesn’t say as much. He leans back again, crossing one leg over the other, and Jihyun can’t help but break into a grin. “Put me up to this?” he echoes.

“Yes. Visiting me today,” Jumin says.

The mint-haired man takes a longer than necessary sip of wine.

“She did,” Jumin says, volunteering an answer to his own question.

V sighs and shakes his head, his smile unfading. “She did.”

“I knew it.”

“You knew the whole time?”

“The timing was too convenient.” Jumin chuckles. “And I assume she figured that my lack of opportunity to prepare would render me somewhat less formal about the whole thing.”

“She called me as soon as she found out I was back in the city and insisted I visit. She didn’t give me much choice, actually. She’s a very persuasive woman.”

“She is indeed.” Jumin smiles warmly. “Then it seems I will have to thank her later.”

“Me too,” V hums. The quiet unnaturally lingers for a beat too long before he adds, “Know that I did– I do miss you often, and I’m sorry for not getting in touch more. It can be quite difficult to approach when… Ah.” His free hand nervously opens and closes tight again in his lap—a visual to accompany the way he fiddles with the idea of honesty then pushes it far enough from the realm of possibility that he can plausibly deny it was ever there. “Things get in the way.”

“Call,” Jumin says, and does not press the vagueness of things or how they get in the way. His unbreakable loyalty sits unbelonging but welcomed with the utmost gratitude behind Jihyun’s rib cage. “Whenever you are available to do so. That’s all I ask.”

“The service really is bad out there most of the time.”

“A broken phone call is better than no phone call.”

“Noted.”

They fall into a real, comfortable silence, then. Through it something feels like they’re back, though they never really left. Like children who look to each other for love they lack elsewhere. Like teenagers willingly dependent on one another for companionship and a semblance of normality. Like fresh adults learning to navigate the world with one’s arm tenderly thrown over the other’s shoulder.

“Do you remember,” Jumin starts, “Between our sixteenth birthdays, when you stole a bottle of wine from your father for us to share?”

“Actually, I do. I think that was the first time,” V muses, “That I’d done anything I considered genuinely rebellious.”

Jumin laughs loudly in surprise and leans in closer, elbows resting on his knees as if he’s about to share a lifelong secret. “Are we not counting the time you snuck out of your house in the middle of the night to tell me about the dream you had where we ran away together and lived in a tent on Jeju island?”

“Oh, God. I had forgotten about that.”

“You got grounded for a week. I recall your father rather distastefully using my almost being kidnapped as an excuse to keep you indoors,” Jumin says.

V smiles, light and sweet, then leans back in his chair. He actually hadn’t told Jumin the extent of the way his father would compare them, he doesn’t think. Maybe for the best. “I think you’re drunk,” he says.

“Untrue.” A smile tugs at the corners of Jumin’s lips again in return. He reaches to lightly nudge Jihyun's knee. “You shouldn’t lie, nor so wildly doubt my alcohol tolerance.”

“You’re getting nostalgic. That’s the first sign.”

“Hmph.” An indistinct, quiet chatter drifts from outside of the penthouse and Jumin leans back in turn, stretching as he does so. “My dearest must be back,” he comments.

And time is a funny thing—passing always, steadily, yet hours can feel so short in the right company. Just as years can feel so long in the absence of it.

“Your hearing is exceptional even in your old age,” V quips.

“I’m just twenty-eight. And you are practically a month older than I am.”

The door opens through another bout of Jihyun’s laughter.

“Oh, V! I didn’t expect to see you here,” the woman says as she takes off her jacket in the doorway.

“Unexpected indeed,” Jumin replies. She looks at him and he hides his smile with the final swig of his wine.

“He figured it out relatively fast,” V says with a chuckle. “And then had me admit it.”

“My beloved wife and closest friend, scheming behind my back. Who would have thought?” Jumin teases, faux-offended.

“He can be very convincing,” V says.

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, exasperated. “Let me grab a glass and join you. I assume you’ll be staying longer, V?”

Jihyun nods and looks back to Jumin with a soft fondness in his expression; the kind reserved only for old friends. The kind that holds a deep-seated thankfulness—I am so glad you’re in my life. I can only hope that we’ll find each other in the next one.

[chenfleur]

BROKEN STRINGS

NINETEEN. tell him i said "womp womp 😕" 😁

(1.5k words)

There’s confusion painted on Chaeryeong’s face as she approaches the table.

“Six o’clock was five minutes ago,” she deadpans, blinking. “Did Jake forget his own birthday?”

The table you and Minji had been seated at is cozily tucked away into the corner of the restaurant, lined with lacquered chairs on one side and plush booth on the other. The dimmed amber lights above your heads illuminate the oriental patterns carved in the table’s surface and the thin partition screens hung up on the surrounding walls.

You smile warmly, beckoning her to sit down. “You look pretty, Chaer. Is that dress new?”

“As if,” Chaeryeong snorts. She slides into the chair opposite to you, smoothing out her sleeves. “It was from my aunt. I already spent enough money on Jake’s gift. Seriously—” She cranes her neck towards the entrance. “Where are they?”

“Riki got Jay Park locked in Jake’s pantry,” you explain. Your eyes briefly flit to Minji—who’s discreetly taken Jake’s gift bag and shoved her nose into it for a peek—before landing back on Chaeryeong. “Jake said they’d all be here soon.”

Chaeryeong is quiet for a comically long time before snorting in disbelief. “You know what, yeah. Yeah, okay.”

After asking a passing waiter for some lemon waters, you notice Jungwon and Sunoo’s figures through one of the sushi restaurant’s large windows. When they enter and see that it’s only you, Minji, and Chaeryeong there, Jungwon raises an eyebrow. “Are we at the right restaurant?” he jokes, faking a leave before walking up to the table with a grin.

“Yeah,” Sunoo says, taking a seat next to Chaeryeong. He gestures vaguely to the empty half of the table. “Were these people you saw in a vision or…?”

A laugh leaves you. “Jake texted me a bit ago saying that he and his friends would be late because one of them got another stuck in his pantry. He— well, he didn’t tell me anything other than that, but I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Let’s order some appetizers before they get here,” you propose, reaching for a small stack of menus.

“You know, Y/N,” Jungwon begins casually after accepting the menu you hand him. “Since they’re not here yet, technically you still have the chance to, you know… up and out.”

Confused, your eyes narrow. “Leave? Why would I leave?”

“I’m not saying you should,” he says, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m just telling you that you’re doing that thing with your hands again. That thing you do when you get anxious where you dig your nail into your palm.”

Surely enough, when your eyes flicker down to your hands, there’s a small cluster of crescent-shaped dents in the middle of your left palm that you didn’t realize you’ve been subconsciously thumbing over. Your eyes widen before you let out a quiet, ever-so-slightly unstable sigh, forcibly folding your hands on the table. “Thank you for pointing that out, Jungwon,” you mutter sarcastically.

“You look like you’re going to shit your pants. All because your boyfriend’s going to be here in a few minutes?”

Glaring at him, you grit out, “He is not my boyfriend—”

“But you wish he was. Don’t lie.”

You falter, and to your utmost dismay, it makes the boy snicker.

“Jungwon’s right, you look a bit flushed,” Sunoo concedes as he gently pushes your glass of water towards you. “It’s okay to be nervous, but don’t let it ruin your night. Seeing him, I mean.”

“I see him nearly everyday at training and school. I literally saw him yesterday,” you counter. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but this time he’ll be six feet away from you, you can’t hide behind the nearest person when he looks in your direction, and he looks super fucking hot,” Jungwon lists off his fingers.

Making a wretched noise, Chaeryeong slaps the boy on the shoulder. “Please, for the love of god, never say that again.”

“What? He does. I looked at his Twitter.”

“You follow him on Twitter?”

“Nope.” He manages to steal one of Chaeryeong’s deep-fried scallops, much to her protest. “Just did a bit of stalking. And, I can confidently say that Y/N is screwed.”

You groan loudly, raising a hand to massage at your temples. “You’re giving me a headache,” you murmur.

When Chaeryeong had told you to think about letting Sunghoon prove himself to you rather than forcing yourself to cut him off, you could feel the fog in your mind physically clear. Okay, you thought. An ultimatum of sorts.

It’s a straightforward approach, but it felt so relieving that those words were coming from someone else rather than you. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit that the hostility you showed towards Sunghoon was only half-true; that it’s more of a shield for your soul because you’re silently clinging onto a prospect that could so easily end up with you getting hurt again.

You force Sunghoon to leave your thoughts by screwing your eyes shut hard for a second, before opening them and focusing on the people in front of you. Tonight, you wouldn’t let Sunghoon get in your head. You’d celebrate Jake, gossip, laugh at the video that Chaeryeong will send everyone of Jake crying over his present, and eat so much food that you’d go home feeling like you’re about to throw up.

Yes, that sounds like a nice plan.

“Do you guys think—” Minji starts, her voice muffled from the food in her mouth. “—that if I make intense eye contact with him for long enough, he’d get so uncomfortable that he’d die of mysterious causes and leave Y/N alone?”

Jungwon snorts. “He might go blind from how hideous you are.”

The girl pauses, before slamming her hands onto the table to push herself up and lean over the table with a raised hand. “Fucking piece of s—”

It’s nearly 6:30 by the time the rest of your party stumbles around the corner. You have to press a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at Jake’s distraught expression. When his frantic eyes finally catch your waving hand, he visibly sighs.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake rushes out when he gets to the table. Carding a hand through his messy styled hair, he says, “I really do appreciate that you guys came, and I seriously didn’t mean to keep you waiting. It’s just this—” his head whips around to try and find Riki, who airily looks in the other direction. “Someone thought he was a fucking genius—"

“Why is it my problem Jay-hyung was in your pantry in the first place?”

“Just sit, Riki,” Chaeryeong says hastily.

Jake slides into the booth next to you, with Riki and who you recognize as Lee Heeseung on the other side of him. Your eyes scan the group of boys as they file into their seats, but your breath catches in your throat as they land on the person seated on the other end of the table—and god, never have you wanted to punch Jungwon more than right now.

The way Sunghoon looks makes your stomach twist. He’s wearing a loose black dress shirt you never knew he owned, with a singular button at the top unbuttoned that, to your misfortune, lets his collarbones peek out. The strands of his dark hair fall in front of his face like each one was meant to be where it was.

It’s like your plan to ignore Sunghoon had flown out the window the second he was actually in front of you. You despise how you can’t help but let your gaze travel to him. Watching the way his bottom lip is captured between his teeth as he pores over a menu with Jay, shivering when you can see his mouth moving in conversation but not actually being able to hear what he’s saying. You don’t remember the last time you heard his voice other than as a distant echo in the training centre.

You’re snapped out of your daze by Jake, who gently flicks you on the hand. Realizing you haven’t even looked at the menu, you struggle to speak. “Oh—”

Instead, Jake cuts in, whispering, “Are you okay with an eel rice bowl?”

Eyes widening, you give a small nod. “Yeah— yeah.”

Jake ends up ordering for you, with the others ordering their food after. When the waiter leaves, you whisper to the boy next to you, “You know I like those?”

He shrugs. “Your mom brought my family some once. She said it was your favourite.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

You turn your head back to your friends. The restaurant is an echo chamber of clinking plates, overlapping murmurs, and soft bossa nova playing from the bar, all of which is quickly drowned out by Jungwon and Minji’s third argument of the night. You let yourself sink into your surroundings. 

Oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been watching you, that caught the shy smile lingering on your lips.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

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PAIRING. park sunghoon x reader

SUMMARY. Since the day you first picked up a racket, Park Sunghoon had been by your side. He had been your first badminton partner, first best friend, first love—and despite the two of you never having a label, it felt like only something cosmic could come between you. But, when the pandemic makes the world shut down, Sunghoon slowly disappears, leaving you in the dust with no explanation. Now, as you start your senior year and the world starts to re-open, you try to move on from him—right when he suddenly enters your life again.

A/N. hello Party People today we (i) steal the moon (am free from exams)

TAGLIST. @euncsace @mrchweeee @ariadores @jiaant11 @jiawji @jaeminri @en-happiness @eneiyri @run2min @nyfwyeonjun @nctislifue @velvtcherie @sungookie @oldjws @saranghaohoshi @leaderwon @who-tf-soddhi @jwnghyuns @koizekomi @haechansbbg

[madlysage]

my stardew valley bachelor headcannons:

(basically just me creating my own characters as fodder for fic atp :,)

elliott (my darling)

- is from a wealthy family- his dad is british and a distant descendent of the royal family

- went to college for an english and philosophy double major and graduated with honors

- had an affair with a professor in college (he didn’t know she was married) and is estranged from his parents as a result

- secretly loves trashy bodice ripper romance books

- always comes in without knocking (dramatic man that he is)

- cannot garden to save his life

- an ugly crier

- yappiest yapper ever

- LOVES dancing (and was classically trained as a child- hello rich preppy parents)

-bi king

^^ like this but longer red hair (UGH)

sebastian

- bi-icon

- he’s mixed white and native american (choctaw to be specific)

- i always picture him with long ass black hair (it’s hot sorry)

- literally always picture billy wirth….

- he has a secret belly button piercing (but he’s hiding it from robin)

- his mom and dad had him as teens and his dad abandoned them because his family didn’t approve

- wants to be closer to maru but doesn’t know how

- alternates having crushes on sam and abigail (but let’s be so real it’s gotta be sam)

- has a soft spot for classical music

- smokes weed even more than cigs- feels responsible for how much sam smokes too

sebastian fans come at me all u want this is the man in my head when i picture himmmmmmmm

sam

-another bicon (could honestly be pan)

- secretly a smoker (don’t tell jodi)

- has tons of army men in his room- he started collecting them when his dad got deployed

- loves crop tops and will cut any and all of his band tees- but his mom keeps throwing them away

- is still kinda in the closet and a little girl crazy (particularly for abigail and penny)

- is teaching jas to skateboard on school breaks ever since she asked (a bit to impress penny)

(this just works for me idk- he gives me this vibe but like grungier and spunkier maybe)

harvey

- refuses to drink anything but black coffee

- king of anxiety

- secretly a good cook

- loses his glasses at least once a week

- can name any model of plane just from the sound of the engine

- wants to get his pilot’s license

- has a phenomenal record collection

………… yes this is my harvey and I WILL TAKE 0 NOTES GO ATJ GO

shane

- leaned how to braid hair just for jas

- was on the gridball team in highschool but keeps it a secret to avoid alex begging him to join his rec team

- was also best friends with jas’ dad in highschool from the gridball team and since his death he hasn’t been able to bring himself to play again

- wanted to go to college for agriculture but the loans would have been too much

- let’s jas paint his toenails any color she wants but is too embarrassed to let her do his finger nails

- got his ears pierced one night on a bender in the city but never wears them

- has a little crush on emily but is too embarrassed by it to ever tell (he doesn’t think she would ever feel the same)

- 1/4 indian on his mom’s side but isn’t in touch with the culture

- is a vegetarian but never talks about it

likkkke COME ON

alex

- wears a specific cologne and gets very upset whenever he runs out and can’t have his “signature scent”

- gets up early and makes breakfast for his grandparents everyday

- is poly but doesn’t rlly know that’s an option- and it ruins most of his attempts at monogamous relationships

- went to college for human physiology on a gridball scholarship but got Cs the whole time (but he’s still smarter than u would think)

- does yoga with evelyn every sunday and does george’s physical therapy each day too

- is the stardew equivalent of a freaking baptist christian (he’s all into Yoba)

likeeeee is this not bro