#i need that picture of ice framed or something

[stopthatfool]

BREAKING NEWS! Ice and Mav STUCK in a centrifuge! (do NOT let them out.)

lock them away. they need to be put away. LOCK THEM UP! i put them in a centrifuge. they're gonna be spun around so fast that all their liquids, gasses, fluids blah blah blah are going to separate and then i'm going to figure out what's wrong with them.

[steddiealltheway]

It's Cass Day!!!! Happy happy happy happy birthday @henderdads. i love you so so much, and I'm so thankful that you let me plot all my fics and ficlets (including this one ha!) in your dms. (and of course, I'm thankful for you forever and always for everything). I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful birthday :))))

Wednesday afternoons are Steve’s favorite afternoon out of the whole week.

There’s something about pushing a squeaky cart around the local grocery store and making small talk with the Wednesday regulars - a gossipy book club of moms who do their shopping at the same time so they have more time to complain about their husbands - that really fills Steve heart. (Or maybe it’s just the slight bitchy side of him that loves to rag on Elizabeth’s husband Tom who really needs to get his head out of his ass and appreciate the beauty in front of him, and of course he can’t forget Charles, Lisa’s dick of a husband who apparently doesn’t know what a date night is, oh! And Margaret’s husband Al… and really, he could go on about these husbands for hours without getting tired of it)

Really, he loves the routine of it all. And the way the women dote on him for being so kind to his girlfriend back home - which he constantly reminds them is not his girlfriend. But he sometimes wishes the groceries in his cart and the scribbled list in his hand was for someone he could go back home to greet with a kiss. (After giving Robin a hug of course, because in any fantasy, some of those things on that list and in the cart are always going to be for Robin).

But really, it would be nice to have someone to brag about to the group. Maybe bring up their spirits that love is not lost and-

Steve stops in his tracks, all thoughts gone from his head as he does a double take at the magazine rack near the checkout. And yeah, he knows that Corroded Coffin is popular. Hell, he’s seen Eddie’s face on the same rack at least five times before. But never like this.

The picture on the front page is taken at a lower angle, with Eddie clad in leather pants and a tight mesh black shirt that might be a crop top, but Steve can’t tell with the way Eddie’s guitar is covering his midriff, hands flying over the frets, showing off silver rings glimmering under the stage lights including the one that Steve helped Dustin pick out for him as a celebratory gift. But as Steve’s eyes trace over Eddie’s bare arms and the stark black tattoos, he’s led to wild curls perfectly framing Eddie’s face which stares down at the cords, mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows knitted together in concentration in a way that makes Steve feel weak in the knees.

And Steve’s suddenly hit with the question: Why didn’t anyone tell him that Eddie was hot???

He snatches the magazine off the rack before he can even really think about it, and tries not to think of what the moms will say about him when he leaves.

Maybe they’ll stop assuming he has a girlfriend at home at least.

During his drive home, he can’t help but think about the magazine laying between the loaf of bread and carton of ice cream that were packed together by the newest bag boy - which the ladies have a lot to say about, but Steve can’t think of anything besides that damn picture.

Once he’s back at the apartment, he puts the groceries away at an alarmingly fast rate, before making his way to the couch and laying back with the magazine in his hands.

It’s nice to see Eddie on the front cover of a magazine without it being attached to some weird scandal that Eddie had nothing to do with. Usually it’s an ill timed photo because he always happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this time…

Steve let’s out a deep breath and flips through the magazine, hoping that there’s some type of interview with more pictures that he can secretly stare at and panic about later.

There’s a bunch of boring looking articles and ads until he spots a page with bright red lettering and a number of pictures. Steve can’t help but wet his lips when he opens the page to find a picture of Eddie smiling at something off camera, looking totally different from the front cover. He just looks like… Eddie.

Yet, Steve finds his heart racing even harder at this picture, missing those dimples and that glimmer of mischief in Eddie’s eyes that’s usually directed at him. And Steve suddenly wonders what or who Eddie's looking at, feeling a bloom of jealousy in his chest.

He glances away from the picture and scans the page for another one. He smiles when he sees Eddie with the rest of his band mates, leaning heavily on Jeff while pulling his signature expression, nearly elbowing Jeff in the ribs to do his devil horns.

Steve laughs at Jeff’s face scowling down at him while Gareth and Frank cackle beside them. He wonders when they’ll be back in town.

Wait.

Steve dog ears the page before running up to his calendar where Robin had written “Dustin’s favorite day ever” on the upcoming Friday.

“Oh no,” Steve mutters to himself. That’s way too damn soon for Eddie to come home after Steve’s realization. He needs to give him at least two weeks to panic and process.

Okay, if Eddie was there with him, the panicking and processing would probably happen in two hours- no, minutes- maybe even seconds. But giving Steve two days is not the right amount of time. That’s just enough time for Steve to really start and settle into the panic. But hey, maybe he can dedicate the next twenty-four hours to panicking and the twenty-four hours after that to processing. Right?

Absolutely. He can do this.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Robin, I can't do this."

Robin rolls her eyes at him. "I can't believe one picture wrecked you."

"It's not my fault! It's the damn photographer and whoever put that picture on the front cover," Steve complains, running a hand through his hair. "They're the ones who made me think of him like that."

"Uh huh."

Steve glances over at Robin who looks completely engrossed in painting her nails a deep purple color that looks black from where Steve is standing. He glances at himself in the mirror, nervously styling his hair before picking up the magazine from where it has made a permanent home on the coffee table. He flops down on the couch next to Robin who yelps and groans, "You made me smudge my nail polish!"

"We have more important things to worry about than the state of your nail polish."

Robin carefully cleans around the edge of her nail, stained with the dark color before turning to Steve. "Yes, the sudden realization that Eddie is hot is very important to me."

"You know what I mean," Steve sighs, leaning back against the couch as he opens the magazine to his favorite picture of Eddie in this edition. He looks at it for a moment, immediately closing it when he realizes he's smiling.

Robin blows on her nails and frowns before glancing back at Steve. "Okay. He's going to be here in less than an hour. How can I help you? Although, I really don't think you'll need my help at all."

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, a pinch forming between his brows.

Robin gives him a look. "You're going to act weird around him. He's going to eventually pick up on it. And then you're going to confess all these feelings you're having and then..." Robin has a sudden look of realization and immediate disappointment. "Then, I'm going to have to find somewhere else to stay tonight since you told Eddie he could stay here on the couch, which is not going to happen after your little confession."

"He's going to leave?" Steve asks quickly in confusion and slight panic.

Robin huffs, "No, he's going to be staying in your bed. And I really do not want to hear that."

Steve frowns. "You don't even know if he thinks I'm hot."

A look passes over Robin's face, first humor, then a bit of confusion, disbelief, and, once again, disappointment. "Steve," she asks, grabbing his hand, eyes staring hard into his. "This whole time you've had the magazine, you never read the interview?" Robin asks as if it's the most important question she's ever asked him.

"Why would I read it?" Steve asks with a shake of his head. When Robin's jaw drops, he gets the sudden message that he is definitely missing something. He snatches up the magazine and flips it open, somehow not getting to the interview right away although he was sure that he opened it to that page so much that it permanently creased the spine.

Just as he gets to it. There's a loud, persistent knock on the door.

Steve's and Robin's eyes meet in a panic. "Hide the magazine," Robin all but hisses as she makes it to the door raising her voice to say, "We have neighbors! Keep it down, dingus!"

Steve looks around, wondering if he can shove the magazine under the couch, but he knows Eddie would somehow see it in his antics. When he spots the stack of magazines on their side table, he rushes to put the magazine right in the middle of them. Hiding in plain sight. Perfect.

He stands up as soon as the door swings open, trying not to look guilty and failing miserably, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he realizes it's only Dustin. "Henderson," he says with a goofy smile launching into their handshake and ending it with a quick laugh, knocking off Dustin's hat to ruffle his hair.

When Dustin starts complaining about his hat being on the floor, Steve bends down to pick it up, only for a pale, ring-clad hand to grab onto it at the same time Steve does.

Steve glances up and locks eyes with Eddie. His heart starts to pound at an alarming rate as he takes in the familiar deep brown irises, moving on to take in the slight blush on Eddie's cheeks alongside a wide smile. "Steeeve Harrington," Eddie drawls out, the way he does when he hasn't seen him in a while.

"Munson," Steve says with a nod, a wide smile tugging at his lips that he tries to push down, as he always does when it comes to Eddie as if pretending not to care. The same way he does when he's trying to get someone to like him...

Oh.

Shit, he doesn't just think he's hot. He likes him. Hell, he's liked him for a long time even. And now he has even less time to panic about that.

Steve glances up, finding that Eddie has stood up, hat still between their hands as he stares down confusedly at Steve. He offers a hand, and Steve takes it, easily being pulled up into his space. He lingers close to Eddie, eyes dipping down to his lips, realizing how much he wants- needs this.

He glances up at Eddie, finding his pupils blown wide and his brow furrowed. And Steve finally feels that electricity that he's been searching months- no, years for.

"Am I getting my hat back?" Dustin asks, clearly annoyed.

Steve and Eddie both shove the hat over at the same time, eyes reluctantly leaving each other, only for Steve to see Robin giving him an unimpressed look. He can practically see her trying to figure out who she's going to call to spend the night with.

Steve glances back at Eddie and rushes out, "It's- uh, good to see you again."

Eddie grabs a strand of hair and pulls it in front of his face, kicking nothing as he says, "You miss me, Steve?"

Steve shakes his head automatically, "No." He turns to Dustin and asks him when the others are getting there, but his question is answered when the door opens behind them again.

"Do you guys knock?" Robin asks, stealing the words out of Steve's mouth.

"Do you guys lock your door?" Mike snarks back.

Steve sighs and moves to Robin's side, watching as the kids all greet Eddie excitedly. "Why don't they greet us like that?" Steve quietly bitches.

"Because we're not famous and gone all the time," Robin answers with a frown. "By the way, tonight is going totally as I planned."

Steve rolls his eyes. "No, it is not. I have been acting completely normally around him."

"Yeah, because you two have the tendency to eye fuck each other for an uncomfortable amount of time." Robin pauses and considers what she said. "Actually, I take that back. You two are acting completely normal."

"Since when do we-"

"Hey," Eddie says, successfully cutting Steve off, "When the pizzas get here, I'm paying."

Robin nudges Steve in the side after a few seconds pass, and Steve can't help but stare at the man instead of processing anything he said. "Hmm?"

"I'm paying for the pizza you all ordered," Eddie says, brows still furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Steve nods and crosses his arms. "Yes, it's just that we didn't order any pizza."

"But Dustin said..." Eddie trails off and glances at the kids. "Those little shits."

"Someone needs to give them a stern talking to."

Eddie raises his brows. "Are you shirking your co-parenting duties while I'm away?"

Steve huffs out a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm keeping your sheep in line."

Eddie offers him a big smile and leans in to say, "Sorry, I can't be here often, sweetheart."

Steve shoves him away with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the way his heart flutters at the nickname. "Go do your part and entertain them."

"And pay for the food!" Eddie reminds him yet again, walking toward the group, eyes not leaving Steve.

"My hero," Steve says, taking a page from Eddie's book of dramatics by crossing his hands over his heart and fluttering his lashes.

Eddie stops in his tracks, looking over him before shaking his head and going to the table where everyone is setting up.

"That was painful to witness," Robin says, scaring the shit out of Steve. She crosses her arms. "Did you really forget I was here?" When Steve doesn't respond, she walks away, muttering, "Unbelievable."

Steve runs a hand through his hair, willing his heart to slow down before he has to sit through this long-ass campaign - that he secretly really enjoys, but no one except Robin will ever know.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, Steve finds himself giving the kids hugs as they rush out his door, nearly missing their curfew. When they make their way to Eddie, he whispers to Robin, "See, the night didn't go as planned at all."

Robin raises her eyebrows at him and whispers back, "Yeah, you're not going to act weird at all when you two are alone."

Steve gives her a panicked look. "What do you mean- you're not leaving are you?"

Robin throws her hands up in a shrug as she backs up into her room, leaving the door open as she very obviously packs an overnight bag. Steve wonders if there is any way to stop her without alerting Eddie.

"What's Buckley doing?" Eddie asks, startling Steve. Eddie reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay? You've been on edge all night."

Steve nods automatically. "Yeah, I'm fine." And yeah, he is fine. And he has not been on edge at all because that would mean that Robin is right.

Speak of the devil... "I'm heading out tonight! You two have fun," Robin says with a salute. "I'll see you tomorrow." Before Steve or Eddie can stop her, she's already out the door, leaving them entirely alone. Steve doesn't even remember when the kids all left.

"I'm guessing you know what that's about," Eddie says, eyebrows disappearing under his bangs as he stares at the door.

"No idea," Steve replies, making his way back to the dining area to clean up the remaining mess the teens made, and really he was going to have to give them another lecture about cleaning up after themselves.

"Steve," Eddie says softly.

Steve hums in response but doesn't dare to look his way as he stacks up various empty plastic cups.

"Steve," Eddie tries again.

And Steve knows that tone. Knows that if he fully engages, Eddie will want to have a serious conversation which is not something they often do. So he just keeps cleaning until there's nothing left to do except brush imaginary crumbs off the table.

"Steve," Eddie says, voice impossibly close to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and turns to him, heart skipping a beat when he finds Eddie hovering in his space.

"What's going on?" Eddie asks gently.

Steve shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing." He quickly moves away from Eddie, grabbing a napkin off one of the kitchen counters and tossing it into the trash on his way to the living room.

"Why are you acting weird?"

"I'm not," Steve says, resting his hands on his hips in the same way he does when the kids start to annoy him.

Eddie raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, staring but not saying anything.

Steve stares back, jutting his hip out in a show of how adamant he is about his answer.

After a few tense seconds pass by, Eddie slowly walks closer to him, and Steve fights for his eyes to not flicker down to his lips. When Eddie is within arms reach, he leans forward. "Steve, what is wrong?"

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes betray him and flicker to the stack of magazines beside the couch. He tries to keep his features carefully blank, but he sees the moment Eddie realizes there is something significant about that glance.

Before Steve can stop him, Eddie is diving down to the magazines, snatching up the whole stack in his arms. Steve moves forward to grab them, only to realize his error when Eddie scoots back and smiles wildly. "This is it, isn't it? What, did you hide a filthy magazine inside here or something?"

"Eddie..." Steve warns, standing above him, hands still on his hips.

Eddie smiles before turning his eyes to the stack and leafing through them. Steve moves down quickly, knocking the magazines out of his hands as he practically straddles Eddie. He stares down at him, eyes wide, about to move back when he notices Eddie's eyes resting on his stomach.

Steve glances down between them only to see the image of Eddie on the front cover staring back at him.

"Shit, I didn't know they released that yet," Eddie says, laying fully back, hands dragging over his face. He lets them rest there before spreading his fingers to ask, "You read the interview, didn't you?"

"No," Steve says honestly.

Eddie frowns and props himself up on his elbows. "When did you get this?"

"Wednesday." And curse his damn mouth for rambling without his permission.

"You got this two days ago but haven't read the interview?" Eddie's expression shifts from fearful to cocky. "Steve Harrington, did you buy this just to stare at me?"

"No," Steve says, crossing his arms.

Eddie sits up fully, and Steve becomes very aware of the way he's still sitting on top of Eddie's thighs. "Did you get all flustered about this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine teasingly.

Steve's eyes flicker to the front cover again, and his lips suddenly feel very dry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. He glances back at Eddie and shrugs. "You look fine."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

"Has anyone ever told you you need to get your ego in check?"

Eddie smirks at him. "Why would I need to do that when I know Steeeeve Harrington bought the magazine with my face on it?"

"Stop saying my name like that," Steve says, leaning forward trying to be menacing, but only satisfying Eddie by getting closer to him.

"Why? Steeev-" Eddie's cut off when Steve suddenly moves forward and kisses him, hands flying up into his curls to pull him closer.

Steve stills before pulling back, searching Eddie's eyes.

"You...?" Eddie asks before raking a hand through his hair. "You actually bought it to stare at me?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "You already knew that since I'm 'such a bad liar,'" Steve says adding air quotes.

"I was hoping you were. Christ, Steve, this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. "You look hot!"

"Christ," Eddie says again, this time dropping the magazine to pull Steve into another kiss. He breaks it to mumble, "I can't believe you haven't read the damn interview." His hands run through Steve's hair messing up the strands before he pulls back suddenly. "Wait."

"Yeah?" Steve asks as Eddie's eyes practically glaze over in panic.

Eddie's chest heaves for a second before he says, "Fuck, you bought it because you thought I'm hot not because... fuck." He looks away from Steve and stares down at the magazine as if it personally offended him.

"Huh?" Steve asks, knees starting to ache on the hardwood floor. He climbs off of Eddie with a groan, but Eddie must take it wrong because he almost immediately stands up.

"Sorry, it's stupid," Eddie says with a humorless laugh. "Hey, do you think Buckley will be upset if I take her bed for the night? It's been a long day, and I'm about ready to clonk out."

Steve can feel his face morph into an expression of bewilderment. "Eddie, what?"

Eddie shakes his head. "Yeah, you're right. Dumb idea. Robin would kill me. I'll take the couch like usual."

Steve carefully stands and steps into Eddie's space, but Eddie sidesteps him easily. He watches as he flops down on the couch, refusing to look at him.

Steve's eyes settle back on the magazine, reaching down to grab it to find whatever the hell is in that interview.

"Steve, please don't."

Steve ignores Eddie the same way he ignored him, opening the magazine to the same page his eyes have landed on several times before. His eyes settle on the image of Eddie before moving to the words, skimming before he finds his own name staring back at him. He backtracks, looking at the question and answer.

Do you guys have any sources of inspiration?

Jeff: Oh, Eddie sure does.

Frank: He has what you might call a muse back at home.

Eddie: Please shut up.

Gareth: A beautiful muse with the most beautiful hair you've ever seen.

Eddie: Please stop talking about Stevie.

Jeff: He's just shy when it comes to his little crush.

Eddie: Next question, please.

Steve glances up at Eddie who sits red-faced on the couch. He clears his throat. "They told me they would cut it out entirely, but then they reached out later saying it was too good not to publish, but they did me the favor of changing your name to something more feminine so they didn't out me. Still fucked though. I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess."

Steve looks back at the magazine and then at Eddie. "Is it true?"

Eddie groans and lays back on the couch dramatically. "Please don't make me answer that. I've gotten enough shit from the guys, and I know you don't feel that way about me. It's okay that you only find me hot, I'll take what I can."

It hits Steve all at once what Eddie's sudden dramatics are about. "Oh my god. Eddie, I like you, too!"

Eddie's head pops up. "What?"

Steve turns the magazine to him and points at the picture of Eddie laughing. "This is what I've been so flustered and weird about. Yes, the front cover made me realize that, hey, I find you really attractive. But I've been staring at this picture for way longer, and I didn't know why until you got here tonight. And it hit me that I like you. I think I have for a long time, but I just didn't connect the dots before."

"You like me?" Eddie echos, dumbfounded.

Steve laughs. "Yes, I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't have feelings for you."

"That's a fucking relief," Eddie says, scrambling off the couch and racing to pull Steve into another kiss.

Steve smiles into the kiss, pulling Eddie as close to him as possible as Eddie attempts to do the same.

"I'm going to give that photographer the biggest tip ever," Eddie says breaking the kiss for a moment only to kiss him again.

Steve smiles so wide that he can barely kiss Eddie back. When they break away, Steve says, "I'm going to have to buy another."

"Why?"

"I have to get the front picture and the interview framed," Steve says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course," Eddie says with a laugh before wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in close. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too," Steve replies.

They hold each other for a while, not willing to break the moment until a sudden thought has Steve groaning.

"What?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look at him.

"Robin was right."

Eddie smiles. "When is she not?"

"Never," Steve answers simply.

They stand in each other's arms just happy to be so close, taking each other in as if it's for the first time. Steve wonders what to tell the Wednesday regulars and how they'd respond if he introduced Eddie to them. He thinks back to Lisa's comments about how the group should just date each other and how Sarah had responded with a little too much enthusiasm, and Steve thinks things will be just fine.

"What are you thinking about?"

Steve shakes his head with a smile. "What are you doing this Wednesday?" he asks, making a mental note to add two frames, another magazine, and Robin's favorite ice cream to the list.

"Anything you want," Eddie replies easily.

And with that, Steve finds himself looking forward to his Wednesday afternoon even more than usual.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Paper Rings - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 750 Summary: Signs of you are all over Joel's bedroom in Jackson. Warnings: Smut, slight somnophilia, drinking.

Masterlist

Thank you to @beskarandblasters for the amazing Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge, I picked Lover because I've been listening to a lot more of it as the weather begins to get warmer. "Paper Rings" is definitely not my favorite Taylor song, but oh my god I LOVED writing this about Joel, it fits perfectly for him.

***

The story of your romance with Joel Miller could be told with just one look around his bedroom. 

The picture frame on his dresser with a picture that you painted of the two of you the night you met.

It was quite a meeting, a quick slip on the ice as you stepped off the curb on your way to the Tipsy Bison to celebrate Tommy’s birthday, Joel jumping towards you to catch you. His hand grabbing your blue jacket’s shoulder before you fell into the large pool of water leftover from the melting snow. You both making your way to the Bison together, his handsome face taking your breath away once you saw him in the light of the high moon. You became fast friends, urged on by Tommy and Maria’s matchmaking. Your friendship accidentally turning into something more after a night of drinking and dancing together in Joel’s kitchen. The two of you sharing your first kiss as you slowly swayed along to a Neil Young record. The kiss turning heated, turning into Joel taking you from behind as you gripped his kitchen countertop.  

The books you’ve read stacked up on the table beside your side of the bed. Your favorite chapters marked with the bookmarks you made.

He’d always try to bring you home a book to make up for how early he’d have to leave for patrol on Monday mornings, the day always being more sad and dreary due to his absence. He’d always succeed at not waking you up until he’d kiss you goodbye. He found it hard to control himself when he’d hear you let out a small sleep drunk moan as his lips touched yours. Some mornings he could manage it and walk away, and others he’d be late to the stables, leaving you satiated and smiling after gently fucking you in the light of dawn. 

The comforter rumpled on the floor in the corner, left there from when Joel threw it off the bed last night before he made love to you.

Your glass is still sitting on the coffee table half full of wine, the thought of finishing it out of your mind once Joel began kissing your neck. You were teasing each other all day, playing a game of cat and mouse. Biding your time until both of you couldn’t take it, Joel stalking behind you up the steps as he threw his shirt off and started unbuttoning his jeans. 

The t-shirt of Joel’s you wear to bed with the large blue paint stain on it from the time you helped him paint Tommy’s house. 

He loves to see you in it, your body filling it out in places he loves to touch. He loves how you smell of him whenever you wear it, how it sits against your smooth skin. He loves it when you ride him while wearing it, seeing his clothes on his girl as you grind your hips.

The sheets on the bed always on your side, Joel sleeps warm, he never needs a blanket.

You like to watch him sleep, his face more at peace, his breathing relaxed and slow. A small grunt usually escaping his mouth when he turns away from you, followed by a hum of contentment when you wrap your arm around him. Sometimes you’ll wake up before him just to watch the rise and fall of his chest quicken as you take his cock into your mouth. Joel always waking up thinking he was having a dirty dream until he looks down and meets your eyes staring up at him. A small half smile as he realizes what comes next, his tired eyes growing larger with lust. 

The jewelry hung from the hooks surrounding the mirror above his dresser. 

The mirror that Joel loves to watch himself kiss you in. Sometimes because you had a long night. Sometimes because it’s the best way he knows to tell you it’s gonna be alright. Sometimes because he waited his whole life for you. He loves to stand behind you and watch his reflection touch you, he loves watching you gasp as he sticks his hand down your pants. 

The paper rings on each of your nightstands. 

Joel secretly teaching himself how to fold them as a way to surprise you until he could find a ring that would fit you. He just couldn’t wait to make you his wife.

[space-matt]

dad!matt or dad!chris fic

a day with daddy

dad!matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: what do you want more from life when you can spend a whole day with your favorites girls?

author’s note: I really hope that you’ll like it! if you all want I can make a Chris’s version ♡

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English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

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revised

The long-awaited moment had finally arrived: a day with dad

Matt has decided to dedicate a day every week to spend with his two daughters, whom he considers his little princesses. When he received the news of their birth from the gynecologist, he was so ecstatic that he jumped all over the room. He immediately shared the news with his brothers, Chris and Nick, and even shed a few tears of joy.

When they were born, he was so enchanted by their presence that he didn't leave them alone for a single moment. He wanted to be with them as much as possible, which led to the idea of dedicating a day to them so that you could rest.

In the morning, he woke up early to prepare breakfast for everyone.

After finishing his morning routine, the man heads to the twin room to wake up his daughters. He sits on the bed and admires them, still in disbelief that they are his own flesh and blood. Slowly, Lola, the older twin by 20 seconds, opens her eyes and sees her father in front of her. She jumps into his arms, screaming "Daddy!" loudly enough to wake up her little sister Daisy. Daisy then wakes up and greets her father with a cheerful "Good morning, Daddy!"

He held both in his arms and gave each of them a kiss on the cheek before enter into your room. As he whispered, "Mom is still sleeping, are we going to wake her?" in a joking manner, they immediately understood with a nod and stepped out of his arms, and then screamed as they ran towards your room.

''Mummy, wake up! It's morning!!" with one click, you take them both and start tickling them, their weak point, causing the room to fill with their laughter. In the meantime, you look up and notice Matt standing on the door frame with a broad smile on his face, all thirty-two teeth showing as he looks at you. "Okay, okay, we've bothered Mom enough, now everyone has to have breakfast" he says, attracting the attention of the girls who immediately follow him like a train.

After finishing, you change into comfortable clothes and settle down on the sofa to continue watching your favorite series, which you had paused for a couple of weeks while Matt was occupied with dressing the two young ones. Suddenly, all three of them appear in front of you dressed alike, thanks to Matt's idea. You couldn't resist taking a picture to capture the adorable moment.

The morning continued after greeting you. Despite the cold, the sun sprang up, allowing you to enjoy the day as they headed towards the park.

As they walked, Matt held the hands of the little ones firmly in his own. When they reached their destination, the children spotted their cousins near the slide and ran towards them. Meanwhile, Matt approached his brother Chris.

"Did they drag you out of bed?" asked Matt with a sarcastic smile, as Chris glared at him. "Yes... I wanted to sleep a bit more, but I would do anything for them" Chris replied, turning his head towards the direction of the people who woke him up.

It was lunchtime, so they decided to walk home and then drive to McDonald's, which was the girls' favorite place. After placing their order, they enjoyed their meal at a leisurely pace, and finished it off with some ice cream.

In the meantime, you finished watching a series with an unexpected ending. Not wanting to get bored, you decided to tidy up the house, so that you could later take a nice warm bath with music in the background.

This was something you needed, as you had neglected your mental health due to all the paperwork you had to do. Thanks to these days designed by Matt, you had the opportunity to recharge your energy.

Matt and his daughters were back in the car, with their favorite songs playing at full volume. Thanks to your musical recommendations, your daughters had become obsessed with your favorite singer. Even Matt, who was initially skeptical, began to appreciate the music so much that he started humming some of the refrains and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

Upon arriving home, the twins eagerly ran towards you, showering you with hugs. Meanwhile, Matt collapsed onto the sofa to rest for a moment. However, a couple of hours later, he was awakened by a delightful aroma wafting from the kitchen.

"Hey babe, why didn't you wake me up? You know you don't have to do anything" Matt says with a sleepy look as he approaches you to give you a kiss. "You seemed more tired than me" you laugh, "So I let you rest a little." you continue to stir the ladle in the pan and he asks "Where are the girls?" to which you reply, "They're in their room coloring."

Matt decided to take a quick shower before dinner so that he could freshen up. Dinner ended early because the girls were excited to see the new Disney movie.

The evening ended in the best way possible - the four of you huddled together in bed with smiles on your faces.

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter one: southern nights

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI), nothing explicit in this part but future parts will be

series summary: 

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 4.4k

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), mild alcohol use, mentions of food/eating, pet name (sweetheart), polite southern manners (*cough* sir *cough*), feeling familial and self pressure

“I can see a truck pulling up now! C’mere, see if you can get a glimpse of them. You’ve got better eyes.”

Your mother is standing at the side of the picture window in your living room, attempting to stealthily get a good look at the new neighbors moving in next door. Her hand waves you over from where you’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, disheveled from the sleep that is still fogging most of your brain.

You definitely have to be half asleep because you comply with your mother’s urgent pleas, the bottoms of your bare feet sticking to the humid wood floors. You are fresh-air people, as your mother says, leaving all the windows and doors open for as long as humanly possible in the summer. It only lasts for the first few weeks of warmer weather, and eventually, everything gets sealed up and the house becomes a frigid ice box with the way your parents crank the air conditioning. Peeling your feet off the floor one last time, you stop in front of the glass.

Standing next to your mother, fully visible in the open window, you study the moving truck that’s pulled into the driveway adjacent to yours.

A local company. Must already be from Austin.

Behind the massive truck, a navy blue Ford pickup that you don’t recognize coasts down the asphalt, getting thrown into park in front of the lawn of the vacant house. Two men, maybe early thirties if you had to guess, climb out of the driver’s side and passenger seat, already talking over each other.

The one at the passenger side has dark brown, nearly black hair that looks just long enough to need a trim and frames his face with curls. Fairly tall, firm build. The white ribbed tank top that he’s wearing hugs his torso underneath the green shirt thrown on over it, buttons undone. He has a shit-eating grin on his face about something that must have been said, hand banging on the side of the car before he walks back towards the bed to grab a cardboard box out of it.

The other, the one that’s come out of the driver’s side, looks a bit older than the passenger. Much more cropped, but still messy, lighter brown hair sweeps down onto his forehead, the back of it curling up slightly at the nape of his neck. Definitely could use a haircut, too, but the bedhead is endearing. A hand reaches up to scratch at the trim beard and mustache that he’s sporting, the facial hair framing his strong jaw nicely. His eyebrows are furrowing in frustration or annoyance, or maybe a bit of both while his head shakes back and forth at whatever his companion joked about. He makes the grumpy stare charming, and you suddenly have the thought that you’d like to know if he’s always got that crease in his brow or if that’s only reserved for the man who was unpacking the truck now. The muscles in his biceps flex as he shuts his door, t-shirt pulling taut over his chest as he steps to open the rear door, a grin growing on his face.

Out from the backseat pops the most adorable little girl you’ve seen. Looks to be about seven or eight years old, maybe, with tiny, sweet features and dressed in a lilac shirt and denim Bermuda shorts. She’s got voluminous, kinky curls that show off natural highlights in the Texas sunshine. She’s giggling and giddy, reaching for the man who opened the door to help her down from the raised truck. He scoops her up, a shriek of laughter coming from the little girl as he slings her over his shoulder. More muscles flex in his back as he carries the weight easily, walking back to the bed of the pickup to grab some bags out of it to bring inside.

So tunnel-visioned on the vignette of family life playing out in front of you, you didn’t even think that you could be seen. A voyeur of your street, you forget that your curtains are drawn, the window is open, and a large pane of clear glass is the only thing in front of you. As if he could feel the burn of your stare, the eyes observing his movements, the man carrying the little girl turns towards your house. His stare catches your own that was already trained on him, a friendly smile plastered to his face as he raises the hand holding the girl in a short wave.

Mortifying. The first impression that your new neighbor, your attractive new neighbor, had of you was you, standing in ratty cotton sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, hair falling out of the hair tie at the back of your head. Heat warmed your cheeks and the back of your neck at the embarrassment of being caught, and of being caught in this outfit.

Your mother next to you erupts in laughter, turning away from the window as you grumble under your breath about that interaction being her fault. Trudging back up the stairs to get ready for the day, annoyance is still twisted in your expression. You skip back down the stairs to the kitchen, dressed and hair fixed up, skidding into the open room to see your dad at the table alone, the newspaper in his hand with the job listing page already pulled out and set at your usual spot.

“Morning, kiddo.”

“G’morning, Dad.”

Sliding into the wooden chair at the kitchen table, you start to look over the listings in search of a summer position to occupy your time at home before you start your last year of university in the fall. There are a few postings for dogwalkers, hostesses, and waitresses that you’ve already seen or applied to in the last week. A couple of bartending jobs catch your eye, thinking about the tips to be made, but your thoughts quickly deflate when they require state licensing.

A huff of disappointment rolls from your lips when your mom comes back inside through the door to the garage, an artful smile pulling at her lips. She’s looking directly at you, the expression making you uneasy in anticipation of whatever news or plan she’s concocted. Your mother meddles, in the most loving way possible, but she can’t help but stick her nose in everyone’s business. So the next words out of her mouth really shouldn’t surprise you, but they do make your stomach turn with newfound anxiety.

“So, I just met the new neighbors. Well, one neighbor and his daughter, I guess. The Millers. His name is Joel, and his daughter’s name is Sarah, she proudly told me she was seven years old and starting the second grade in the fall. The other guy we saw was his brother that he introduced me to, Tommy.”

You’re currently rereading the same job listing over and over again to avoid looking at your mom, feigning disinterest as you nod slowly at what she’s saying. At the same time, your nerves zip in excitement at knowing his name now, and you bite your tongue to ask your mom to continue, knowing she’d tease your eagerness.

Instead, you let her tell you about the rest of the brief interaction, recalling whichever neighborhood Joel had said they moved from and how he and his brother have lived in Austin their entire lives.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you both,” your mom addresses your father for the first time in the conversation, the call to his attention making him lower the newspaper to look at her, a silent nod getting her to continue, “I invited them over for a barbecue tonight to take a break from moving in and have a nice meal after their long day. I’m gonna need you to run to the store for me, and I’ll have to get to cleaning the house…”

Your mom’s plan for the day and list of chores trail off in your ears as a buzz muffles it. Your hot neighbor was coming over to your house, tonight, and you were going to have to face him after being caught blatantly staring.

How great for you.

The sliding screen door pulls shut behind you with a woosh and a click, returning to its pathetic job of keeping insects out of the house while letting the slightly cooler evening air in. Foamy flip-flops smack against the weather-worn oak wood deck as you shuffle over to the large silver grill that your dad commands. Steel wool scrapes against the metal grates of the inside; your dad’s bent over to get better leverage to clean all the burnt bits off.

The beach-themed melamine platter weighs heavy in your hands, covered with burgers, hot dogs, and brats - plus a couple of veggie burgers - to the point where the design of crustaceans and shells in the waves and beach towels laid out on the sand is completely disguised.

“I didn’t ask what they like to eat, so I got everything I could think of! You can’t assume these days with all these new folks moving to Austin, I’m trying to be considerate,” is what your mother said to you when you asked if she was planning to feed the whole block or a small army with the amount of food that was going on the grill. 

Don’t even get started on the sides.

You set the platter piled with meat on the webbed black iron patio table to the side of the grill, shuffling over to stand at the edge of the deck, overlooking the chlorine-blue pool water that shines in the slowly fading sunlight. Your parents had installed the in-ground pool the first summer you’d been home from college, jokingly claiming it was their way to make sure you came home every summer, and your brother, Chris, too when he went away to school a short two years after you.

To be honest, it may have been a joke, but it was definitely part of the reason you came back each summer. That, and you just felt more yourself, more at ease at home. It was your comfort zone, but after spending every school year pushing yourself out of your comfort zone academically and socially, you always wanted to return to the warm, sun-soaked home that you grew up in. Maybe that made you more dependent on your parents still, maybe your friends saw it as immature, but you knew what you wanted to do, and you weren’t going to suffer over break just to seem like “an adult” like your friends thought they did.

“You gonna go for a swim, kiddo?”

Your dad’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, focusing your eyes back from the wide aperture they had fallen into as you stood mesmerized by the water moving down below you. Clearing your throat, you cross your arms over your chest as you turn back to your dad at the grill, the clicks of the gas burners lighting aflame while he twists the dials at the front.

“Maybe later. Once this attempt of Mom’s to get the first gossip on the new neighbor is over.”

Your dad laughs softly at your lightly satirical joke at your mother’s expense, shaking his head and giving you one of those looks that says ‘just do as your mother says like you always do.’

“Well, you can relax plenty later. Just be on your best behavior for the neighbors, will ya?” He laughs at his own comment, the sarcasm coating the request he’d made. You’ve never made waves in your family, in your friend group, in your neighborhood. Always known as the “sweet girl” to your older neighbors, the “golden child” to your peers and your family. Your initially reserved nature gives everyone the impression that you are a polite, kind Southern belle. If only they could read minds.

Flip flops thwacking with each step as you cross the deck again, slipping inside through the sliding door. Skating past the kitchen quickly before your mom can rope you into helping with more preparation, you take the stairs two at a time to get up to your room to get ready.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that there was a small part of you that was excited to meet Joel. The majority of you burns with embarrassment and is dreading having to face him after getting caught in your voyeurism this morning, but with how attractive he was, it could be a bit fun to have him as a neighbor next door.

Which is why you’re standing in front of your full-length mirror, hair fixed up from the state it was in when he first saw you and a short, light blue sundress on. Eyelets and embroidery covered the dress, the square neckline was framed by cap sleeves. It was modest enough to keep your intentions for dressing up hidden from your parents, but it was revealing enough to make you feel confident to face your hot neighbor for an official introduction.

The next half an hour is spent following your mom’s instructions, most of them being silent points of her finger while she’s absorbed in another task. Every so often you make eye contact with Chris through the patio door, him in the middle of the same treatment from your dad out by the grill.

At one point, your mom is so tunnel-visioned that when you finish the last assignment she’d given you, you slip out to where your dad and brother are now lounging in the chairs around the table on one side of the deck. The metal scrapes against the wood as you pull out one and take a seat, sighing gratefully when Chris passes you a beer from the cooler next to him. The cap twists off with a hiss and a pop, the water from the melted ice dripping onto your chest. As you tip the bottle to your lips and dab off the water before it runs down your skin to the neckline of your dress, the Millers walk up the steps at the side of the deck, tumbling greetings over each other.

Your dad stands, your brother behind him as they take a few steps to meet Joel and Tommy halfway. Polite handshakes are exchanged while you get up out of your seat, beer left on the table to go get the embarrassment over with.

Sarah stands shyly next to her dad, her little shoulder completely encompassed by her dad’s hand as she looks up at all the men around her starting to talk about the latest Astros game. You smile softly at her and give her a wave as you move to stand with everyone, a slight smile growing on her face at someone acknowledging her. She steps away from her subtle hiding place next to Joel, the movement causing Joel to glance down at her before his eyes turn up to you.

A friendly smile ticks up one side of his mouth, brown eyes speckling with caramel highlights as he squints in the sunlight to take a step forward and reach out his hand to you.

“I’m Joel, the new neighbor.”

You give him a firm, polite handshake with a warm grin attached to it, nodding your head. 

Please dear God, or whatever is out there, don’t let him mention this morning.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. Hope today hasn’t been too much of a nightmare moving in.” Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you can’t help but feel them turn to butterflies when his eyes darken ever so slightly at the word ‘sir’, hand quickly falling out of yours and resting back on Sarah’s shoulder as he clears his throat quietly.

“Hasn’t been too bad, right bug? You wanna introduce yourself?” His eyebrows raise encouragingly to his daughter and the nickname warms your heart, watching as Sarah grows more confident to stand up straight, a smile on her face.

“My name’s Sarah,” she directs towards you and then turns to her dad, waving him to crouch down to her level so she can whisper at the not-so-subtle kid's volume, “What do I say after that?”

Joel chuckles lightly and whispers back to her quietly enough for you not to hear. He stands up straight again, watching Sarah.

“It’s nice to meet you, miss!” she turns to Joel again, beaming proudly, “Is that right?”

He nods and looks back at you as you laugh softly, a wide smile on your face from the adorable and incredibly polite greeting Sarah’s given you. His own smile pulls larger as you bend down to be at eye level with her, warmth emanating from you introduce yourself just as Sarah did and fall into conversation with her.

She tells you all about her last school year in the first grade, her favorite toys, and how excited she is for her summer camp. The two of you have moved to sit next to each other on the outdoor couch, your drink forgotten next to you as you listen to the bubbly seven-year-old.

Joel and Tommy stay in conversation with your dad and Chris near the grill, standing around in a semi-circle and making small talk about sports, weather, and the sturdiness of your deck. Joel and Tommy mentioned having a contracting business together, and your dad ran with it, asking them every question under the sun about the longevity of the build that was done a few years ago.

Your mom comes out to join them for a bit, sitting with you and Sarah as you talk with each other before she gathers all the meat fresh off the grill to bring inside and finish setting up everything.

A few more minutes pass before your mom pops her head out and calls everyone in to make a plate. You stand up and wait for Sarah to climb off the couch, following behind her bouncy curls. Everyone’s made it through the door ahead of you, except for Joel as he lingers to wait for his daughter. One of his hands finds her head as he carefully ushers her inside, turning to you with a sincere look in his eyes.

“Thanks for keeping her entertained. She loves to talk, doesn’t really get that from me,” he drawls out, his accent a bit thicker than yours. You shake your head, waving a hand at him to dismiss him.

“She’s the one keeping me entertained, I’m surprised I’m not boring her with my lack of summer plans to discuss. She’s very excited for day camp,” you chuckle quietly, still standing less than a foot from Joel at the sliding door. You can smell the body wash he must’ve used in the shower before coming over, fresh eucalyptus and birch mixing with the richer cedarwood and bergamot of what you assume is his cologne.

“Oh, yeah. Big time. She was begging me to sign her up finally this year and it made sense with my work schedule getting busier. But, still, thanks for hanging out with her.” He nods toward the door, gesturing for you to walk in ahead of him. His hand hovers behind your back as you step in ahead of him, fingers brushing your dress lightly before he quickly pulls them away.

You stand to the side to let the guests go through to get their food first, Joel helping Sarah put everything she wants onto a plate while balancing his own. Tommy happily starts eating what’s already on his plate halfway through the line, earning a jab in the side from his older brother. Once everyone’s gotten what they wanted, you all pile back outside to the deck to sit around and eat.

The table isn’t large enough for everyone, so it ends up being your parents, Chris, and Tommy sitting around it while you, Joel, and Sarah sit around the patio lounge set. Sarah happily sits on the ground at the coffee table, you slipping a cushion down for her to rest on before sitting in one of the chairs across from the couch.

Joel’s settled next to his daughter, facing you as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“So, uh, your dad said you’re going into your last year at TCU? What’re you studying?”

“Public Relations and Advertising. I’m hoping—”

“She wants to move to Boston!” Sarah interjects with a mouthful of hotdog bun.

Joel looks at her with a gently reprimanding look, “Bug, please don’t talk with your mouth full. ‘S not polite.”

He turns back to you after patting his daughter’s curls, lips curled up to one side.

“Boston, huh? What’s all the way up there?”

“Not here,” you laugh softly, shrugging your shoulders as you stab a piece of potato salad with your fork, “I love Austin, don’t get me wrong, but living here my whole life and going to school only three hours away in Fort Worth feels like I haven’t seen much outside of Texas. Plus, there’re some good agencies up there and it’s not as scary of a move like New York or Los Angeles would be.”

Joel nods in understanding, speaking up after he finishes a bite, “I get that. Haven’t lived anywhere but Austin my whole life, but I can understand wanting to experience new things.”

You might be imagining things, but you swear you can hear his voice drop deeper in the last half of his sentence. It sends a flutter between your legs, and the back of your neck burns with chagrin.

Conversation continues to flow easily between you and Joel, and Sarah, too. Your parents don’t ask you to help clean up because you’re so invested, laughing quietly at his subtle humor and smiling widely when Sarah adds in her commentary or tells a story.

Tommy and Chris join you all on the lounge furniture, falling into a wider group discussion of neighborhood politics and what fun things you and Chris got up to when you were around Sarah’s age.

Joel’s eyes stay trained on you whenever you're speaking, even glancing at you when you’re both listening to someone else. The eye contact from him stirs your stomach and hitches your breath, your own stare avoiding his when it gets a bit too intense.

Hours are consumed quickly, the twilight blue skies dimming your backyard so that only the porch and string lights illuminate the deck. Low light and the late hour have soothed Sarah to sleep, her small frame tucked into Joel’s side. He keeps a hand on her back while she rests, everyone looking at her tenderly.

Joel asks you and your mom if you know of any other neighbors with young kids that are going to the park district day camp for the summer, wondering if there’s a possibility to carpool or arrange some care for Sarah when he’s got a busy schedule.

Not knowing anything yourself since you don’t live here full time anymore, you turn to your mom and watch as the gears turn in her head, eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Actually, haven’t you been looking for a summer job, honey? Maybe you could nanny Sarah! Drop her off when Joel can’t, pick her up every day, and watch her until Joel gets home from work. That is, if you’d be interested in that, Joel.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to stutter out a response, feeling a bit flustered at your mom’s out-of-the-blue suggestion. Plus, you aren’t sure you could manage to work for your hot neighbor and to see him often; it was one thing to have a crush and pine freely from afar, but spending time in his house? Seeing him every day?

Your thighs press together as your mind races with thoughts about more of Joel in all aspects.

Being the ever-so-polite Southern daughter you were raised to be, you turn to Joel with a glittering smile and nod despite the stomach acid creeping up your throat with your nerves.

“I’d love to help out if you need it. Spending my summer with Sarah would be fun.”

At your confirmation of the offer, Joel pauses for a moment to look down at his sleeping daughter, heading swinging back to you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Guess that solves my problem then. Think you can start next week? Her first day is Wednesday.”

Arrangements are made with Joel as the Miller crew gets ready to leave, your own family have said their goodbyes and retiring inside to clean up after the night. Joel and you stand on the deck next to the stairs that lead to your side yard and over to their house. He shifts on his feet, passing Sarah from his arms to Tommy’s for his younger brother to get her home.

Joel’s arms stretch up briefly, giving you the slightest peek at the bottom of his stomach when his t-shirt lifts. Saliva floods your mouth as the thought of kissing there when you’re on your knees for him passes through your mind quickly. 

Stop thinking about him like that. Yeah, he’s hot but he’s also now going to be employing you.

“Thanks again for offering to nanny, Sarah. She’s gonna be real excited when I tell her in the mornin’. You sure you don’t wanna take the out now?” His hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, a coy smile on his face.

“It’s really no problem at all. Like I said, I think it will be a fun summer.” 

There’s no hidden meaning to your words, but for some reason Joel drops your stare after you speak, glancing down at his boots before he raises his head again, his smile a hint wider.

His drawl coats the words as he replies, “Well, it’s definitely gonna be somethin’, sweetheart.”

Joel turns on the heel of his boot, bounding down the short staircase and over toward his yard. He looks back once, a short wave raised towards you as he calls out a ‘goodnight’ to your frozen frame on your deck.

The front door of the Miller house clicks closed and you finally exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. Slow movements carry you inside and up to your room, flopping down to your bed on your back. One had rested on your stomach filled with butterflies, the other over your heart to feel the quickened rhythm.

Joel was right, this summer was definitely going to be something. And you were eager to find out what exactly it could be.

series taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn

[aliaology]

STAY DONE

SUMMARY: you know you and alex should break up, but you’re too in love with him to stay done.

PAIRING: alexander holtz x fem!reader

WARNINGS: semi-toxic (?) relationship, slight cheating, blood

EXTRA: i know alex (most likely) wouldn’t actually cheat, but its just for the fic! my boy needs more about him done. also THIS SUCKS LMFAOO im a lil rusty. BASED ON A SONG.

the look in your eyes even after he yells at you was something truly remarkable, incredible even. the awe-struck gaze your eyes held as the boy in front of you angrily spoke. his anger may not have been directed at you, but he was definitely taking it out on you.

his narrowed eyes and irritated tone as he went on and on about his hockey game made your stomach twist and knot. the feeling only going away as he punches one of the picture frames, causing the glass to shatter and the frame to fall to the floor.

your awe-struck gaze was no more, and was now filled with worried as he walked into the bedroom, mumbling curses under his breath. you let out a sigh as you grabbed the broom from the closet. you swept the broken glass up and removed the picture from the frame. it was a picture of you and him when you visited italy.

you gave the picture a sad look before placing it on the counter and throwing the frame into the trash bag, along with the broken glass. after putting the broom back, you walked into your shared room, alex sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. blood dripped from his knuckles and down his hands.

you walked into the bathroom, grabbing a few bandages and alcohol wipes. kneeling down in front of him, you removed his hands from his face, gently.

“i think you played well tonight, alex.” you spoke softly. grabbing an alcohol wipe, you carefully wiped up the blood and the wound, causing him to hiss in pain.

“can’t say much when i was only on the ice for like five minutes. i make one mistake and lindy fucking benches me.” he spoke angrily.

you gently wrapped his hand. “i think you should talk to them about being traded.” you told.

alex scoffed out a laughed. you gave him a look. “im being serious, alex. this team is messing you up— you know you deserve better.”

alex sighed, “ill think about it, alright?”

you nodded and stood up, placing a small kiss on his cheek before bringing everything back into the bathroom, and throwing out the bloody wipes.

you huffed out a breath, knowing how idiotic you looked in front of your friends. you told yourself you would be taking a break from alex, that you would give yourself space, find yourself.

you needed it, especially after finding out he was hitting up other girls. hearing this— you stayed cordial, but honestly, you wish you went off on him. you wish you didn’t stay calm.

but thats the thing with alex, as you stand here calling him, you realize you can’t stay done with him. he was a constant need in your life, he was the sun and you revolved around him.

“hello?” his voice sounded through your phone.

you let out a shaky breath. you stood on the sidewalk, your little black dress keeping almost nothing warm. you held your large coat close to you.

“can you come get me? please?” you asked.

you could hear a deep breath escape his lips before he talked. “where are you?” he questioned. you could hear the sound of clothes rustling, then the sound of his keys jangling.

“outside of the bar on hawkins.” you told, shivering slightly.

“jesus christ baby— outside? seriously? are you by yourself?” he asked.

“yeah.” you muttered into the phone.

you could hear him swear under his breath, the sound of his car door opening and shutting rang through your ears. “get inside that damn bar, wait near the doors.” he demanded.

you hastily obeyed and stood inside, right next to the doors. he stayed on the phone with you the entire time, letting you know when he was close.

once he got there, and you hung up, getting into his car, he gave you an irritated look.

“dont you ever do that again— you hear me? do you know how dangerous it is? standing out there by yourself in the middle of the night?” he spoke.

his tone was harsh, but he clearly was worried, at least you hoped. “im sorry”

he sighed. “dont apologize. lets just, lets get to the apartment.”

you nodded and titled your head against the window, watching the lights as you passed them. you hated the feeling of not being able to be the bigger person and leave.

alex was your best friend, but your enemy. he loved you and hated you. you loved him, and loved him, and hated him. but there was no one else you wanted to wake up to. no one else you wanted to go to bed with.

you just couldn’t stay done with him.

im unable to tag everyone!

TAGS: @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @lxnceclercs , @honethatty12 , @outrunangelss , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @lovinbarzal , @shadowsndaisies , @um-mads , @bqbylon , @whoreforthehughesbrothers , @Robloxlover2007 , @p3nislawd , @alexx-stancati , @queenmendes , @-eedwardss , @if-my-heart-bleeds , @love-like-woaah , @freds-slut , @sleepybesson , @love4lando , @equallyshaw , @bellstwd , @ivy-34 , @slafgoalskybaby , @hischierxx , @dancerbailey3 , @jackhughesily , @cstads-blog , @ru-kru , @sbrn0905 , @love4ldr , @loveforaugust

[greenboyfriend]

choose something cold... (tarot card reading)

"what do you need to know?"

image 1: it's cold. I mean, really cold. but your blood is warm, even if your fingers are blue. where's your soul? image 2: a framed painting depicting a wintry landscape, complete with a log cabin, whose blue smoke trickles from its chimney and blends in with the world around it. image 3: three ornate glasses, made of ice. are those cracks intentional? or just by virtue of its design? image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

there’s an opportunity being presented to you. it may be a celebration of some kind, or just something that has a lot of excitement surrounding it. what i’m getting most of all is that this may be a chance to find freedom. with the seven of swords reversed, maybe you’re the type of person to handle your problems on your own, “lone wolf” style. there’s a million reasons why someone might do this, but for you, you’re afraid or distrusting in others. when you opened up in the past, maybe it didn’t end up so well for you, and this has made you keep things mostly to yourself.  however, the four of wands reversed tells us that this lone wolf energy is blocking you from fully enjoying yourself. “freedom”, in this sense, is the freedom from yourself, or rather, your fear. in the original Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the seven of swords shows us a man with his arms full of swords, shirking off to his own devices. for you, these swords represent an unnecessary burden, being wary or even afraid of others to see your true colors/problems/ect. opening yourself back up again is a task much easier said than done, i know. but the 6 of cups shows us what this looks like, once fully realized. when we talk about our problems and emotions, we’re able to release and/or deal with them more easily. i’ve definitely been in the position of worrying endlessly about something, just to finally open up to someone, and realize that the answer was sitting in front of me all along. the six of cups represents this as having a “clean conscience.” being, you’ve released yourself from carrying a burden all alone, and have found freedom– the four of wands. finally, the king of cups reversed reminds you to have patience, and to be tolerant of others. not just one person can supply you with all the information or support you need.

(6 of cups, 7 of swords reversed, 4 of wands reversed, king of cups reversed)

2.・。.・゜✭

you’re in a period of transition, be that between attitudes or people. this change has you feeling down. maybe not emotionally destitute, but not in the best spot, either. as you wade through these waters, know that the queen of swords is by your side, and will lead you to better times. the queen of swords is someone with a good head on her shoulders, and will always tell the truth. she is very forthright, and doesn’t do any under-the-table dealings. she holds herself to these standards because of her past experiences, and knows that an honest, open approach will best suit her motives. you may embody the queen of swords already, and if you do, great! if you don’t, that’s ok, too. but it’s time to start really leaning into that kind of energy. don’t conceal the truth– both to yourself and others–, and let yourself have a laugh every once in a while! the thing about being experienced is that you know not to take everything so seriously. the queen of swords can see the big picture, and knows that, even if right now is tough, later will be much better. the place/person/vibe you’re coming from is represented by the knight of wands. i’m getting, cockiness– to the point where you/they were being presumptuous. this might also have had to do with someone being hot tempered, and restless, where they couldn’t handle being bored, so they’d decide to pick a fight. this energy is still here, but not necessarily causing harm just yet. what’s really impeding your path towards healing is the knight of cups. the knight of cups reversed is in direct opposition with the queen of swords, in the sense that he allows his emotions to take control of him, rather than accurately assessing the truth of his situation. he may let his imagination become overactive, and begin believing things that aren’t true. where the queen of swords faces all her dealings head on, the knight of cups may shade the truth, dance around the issue, or simply hope someone else will deal with it. he may also tend to isolate himself from others, which only worsens his imagination into spurring up unrealistic scenarios and focusing too much on his own “failings.” i’m thinking… you’re going to need to temper the knight of cups with the knight of wands. use that fiery, self confident energy to seek out the truth, rather than make assumptions. and, in turn, the knight of cups can help to deplete those feelings of restlessness through introspection. most importantly, keep your head level, and honor the truth above all.

(queen of swords, 6 of swords, knight of wands, knight of cups reversed)

3.・。.・゜✭

so… there’s a lot to unpack here, image 3! i’ll start with this, the energy of the queens of wands and of pentacles are important right now. the queen of wands seems to be especially important, urging you to work hard to maintain her optimism, confidence, and enthusiasm. this situation will require you to be a sort of “soft” leader for others, where you can be looked to for inspiration. if you’re able to serve as a role model through keeping your head up even when the going gets tough, and to do so with strength and vigor, it will not only help you and your purposes, but will also inspire those around you to do the same. the opportunity to embody this energy is not fully here yet, but once you hear the call, you’ll know it’s for you. strike the iron while it’s hot and give it your all! no time for dilly dallying. in being a leader (even if you’re not completely cognizant of it) you will have to temper your generosity with what you know to be true. so, for example, if someone is late to a meeting one time, you may give them the benefit of the doubt. but if they’re continuously late, some changes need to be made. this can also apply to other situations, where you will need to decide between your loyalties and what’s true & just. you may have already experienced scenarios like this in the past, so it will help you to call back to those times for foresight. doing what is fair may be difficult in the moment, but will lead to the best outcome. the queens come together here to guide you on your way. keep trying! you know that you’re resourceful, so don’t be afraid to try your hand at solving problems. it may also benefit you to remain down to earth during this time, and not to try to control what others think or say. at the end of the day, you are your own person, and what a wonderful person you are!  finally, we arrive at the page of cups. i’m getting a very loving, forgiving energy from this card. it may benefit you to invite that energy into your life, both towards yourself and others. when a challenge faces you, or someone is less than nice, decide to turn away that anger with love. consider, what may compel them to act this way? maybe they’re going through something you don’t know about. it’s not that you need to nurture them back to good health, but realize that maybe, they’re just not worth your time, and a simple nod & turning of the cheek will do you both some good. most of all, listen to your intuition to tell you whether or not this argument/situation is really worth getting into.

(queen of wands, 8 of pentacles reversed, 8 of wands reversed, queen of pentacles, ace of swords, 3 of wands reversed, page of cups)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Wrong One 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Raymond Smith

Summary: You get caught up in the double lives of your employers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The men leave you as the last of the sedation wears off. You languish as the worst possibilities swim through your head. You don’t know what’s going on but you know they’re dangerous. This is the sort of mix-up you can’t just laugh off. It’s not like you got the wrong drink at the cafe, this is very, very real.

You curl your fingers, only halfway as the numbness creeps up each digit. You shift in the chair, your tailbone aching from the barely cushioned seat. Your knees are no better your bound ankles keep them at an awkward bend.

You lean your head back and groan. Your efforts to breathe out the shadow of panic only sparks it. You feel a sudden surge of terror. You’re going to die here. All because those men made the wrong choice.

No! What did they even want with Mrs. Malfort? How on earth could she be mixed up with the likes of them? She’s tall and pretty and sophisticated. Her hair is always just so and her outfits are always carefully coordinated. Her and her husband are the very picture of upper class. These men are criminals at best.

You sit up sharply, the chair rocking. You lean forward, pulling against it. The frame creaks. Could you…

You push back again and swing forward. This is stupid. What are you doing? Even if you can get yourself free of the duct tape, you doubt you’ll get past these walls.

You rock again. You’re not thinking, your adrenaline is drowning out any sense. Back, front, back front. The chair falls backwards and you curl your chin down to keep from smashing your head. Great, the chair is still intact and you’re just on the floor.

You whine and let your head loll to the side. This is absurd. You really can’t accept that it’s real. Your luck can’t be that bad.

Click, the door opens. You whimper as the chair crushes your hands. Suddenly, the world tilts back to normal as the chair is pulled up. 

It’s him, the leader. You know him by his blue eyes. He backs up and crosses his arm as he stares at you, his mask barely concealing his agitation. You give a sheepish cringe.

“What do I do with you?” He asks.

You try to shrug but can’t. You suck in air and shake.

“Let me go? I won’t say anything–”

He puts a hand up and you snap your mouth shut. You don’t need him to tell you to be quiet. You’re too terrified.

“Rhetorical,” he growls. “You might not intend on saying anything but there are people who will find a way to make you.” He turns and paces to one side, then the other, then faces you again. “They will know…”

You nod and flick your lashes as your eyes burn. That means there’s only one option. You’ve seen the movies. You’re not dumb but you are fucking scared as shit.

You close your eyes and brace yourself. You sit like that, cheeks taut, mouth drawn. You can at least die with dignity. His tread scuffs and he sniffs.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

You open one eye, “hm? Oh, I’m getting ready.”

“For?” He reaches up to rub his chin through the mask.

“Death.”

He’s quiet as he cups his jaw. He clucks and exhales through his nose. He drops his arms straight and shifts his weight to one foot.

He reaches behind himself and wiggles something free from his belt. He brings the gun around and checks the chamber. You close your eyes again and squeak. You’ve never seen one up close. Your blood is ice. Your teeth chatter as you hide behind your eyelids.

Really? Isn’t your life supposed to flash before your eyes? All you see is black.

You wait. It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming–

He sighs and you hear a metallic click. You wait until you can wait no longer. You open your eyes, peeking through your lashes. He pushes his head back in exasperation. “Fuck.”

“Come on, dude, this is torture. I can’t wait any longer. I got a nervous stom–” you hold back a wretch, “a nervous tummy.” You gulp back again, “I don’t wanna die with puke in my mouth.”

“Shut up!” He waves his hand angrily, “shut up.”

You seal your lips, if only to stave off the swell of nausea. It’s getting worse. Now that it’s really sinking in. The end. Oh no, no, no!

“I’m gonna barf.”

“What?”

“It’s happening.”

“Don’t–”

“I can’t–” You hold your breath, spasming as you fight the vomit bubbling in your stomach.

“Stop it,” he demands.

You nod and groan, bending your head forward as your insides clench. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he stomps across the room and grabs a plastic bag. He approaches you and holds it open. “In here. Not on the carpet.”

You lean as far forward as you can and hurl. You wretch until you have nothing left, acid searing your throat as the bagel you ate for breakfast floats in chewed chunks amidst the bile. You sit back and heave.

“Thanks,” you let the tension leave your shoulders.

“Ugh-gh-gh,” he shudders as he closes the bag, “that’s… that’s gross.”

He holds it with one hand, away from his body.

“Tastes pretty bad,” you grimace.

He shoots you a mean look and you wince. He twists the bag and ties it in a knot. He turns cautiously, as if it might break, and strides to the door. It opens and slams behind him.

You didn’t think things could get worse but the taste of puke definitely isn’t better.

[bokutosmochi]

kinktober day six: cybersex!

I WANNA GET FREAKY ON CAMERA ♡ GOJO SATORU

fem!reader x gojo satoru 

ingredients: what's a girl gonna do when she misses her boyfriend who's a continent away?

what's it: smut

allergen warning/s: satoru talks to your pussy, fingering, mutual masturbation, cybersex

sugar level: 2.9k

regulars: @ventdavi154 @deobiforever @sugusshi @angelshub

parlor's note: inspired by this fanart by the amazing @/3aem

p.s: the guitar solo referenced at the end is in the song i don't wanna be me by the band type o negative. i recommend checking out that song, or at least that solo. it's so good and definitely one of my favorites.

bon appetit!

the only reason why you're here is because you were peer pressured to go.

most of the time, you would totally be down to attend parties your friends hosted, but you haven't been feeling like yourself lately. gojo was assigned to a three month long mission overseas and you were missing him dearly. funnily enough, that was also the reason why you were forced to go.

"c'mon, it's halloween." shoko rolled her eyes at you. "you can't not go just because gojo isn't here. besides, you clearly need a pick me up. you can't just lay around your bed, eating ice cream and sniffing his shirts that you wear forever." she gave you a pointed look. in defiance, you rolled your eyes, crossed your arms against your chest and gazed elsewhere, not caring about how childish it may have seemed.

you had no idea how she found out your daily activities since satoru has been gone. perhaps searching around your house for secret cameras that she planted would be a good idea. regardless, you sounded pretty pathetic when she put it like that, but still. were you not allowed to miss your boyfriend?

if that wasn't enough, shoko still had more to add. "plus, didn't you already buy a costume?"

and that's how you ended up in your current situation.

you could see how much effort shoko put into the party. her house, usually decorated with a minimalistic and classy aesthetic in mind, was home to countless realistic cobwebs and fake spiders all over the little items she had, like her clock and picture frames. there was also something dripping down the walls, though you couldn't tell whether it was supposed to be blood or some form of slime because of the red lighting that came from the few jack o'lanterns scattered around the house. the lack of proper lighting gave the room an eerie feel, and the scented candle that smells of burning leaves did not help. it was expertly made, including the songs that played. the playlist included songs from bands like bauhaus, siouxsie and the banshees, and lebanon hanover, then halloween classics like thriller and monster mash.

you're dressed in a less than appropriate black dress with red details which satoru chose. it's a bit plain by itself, but you added a corset that pushed your tits together nicely. the outfit's paired with black red bottom heels, gothic necklaces, and a makeup look that tied everything together.

"you're supposed to be here having fun, not moping around the snack table." shoko nudged you with her hip making you huff at her. "i'm allowed to miss my boyfriend." you said stubbornly. "he's been gone for almost three months now, we haven't spent that much time apart until, well, now." you looked at her with a sad look in your eyes that conveyed everything that you were feeling.

thankfully, it made her sigh in defeat, seemingly understanding what you're currently feeling. "ugh, fine, fine whatever." she waved it off. "just stop looking at me like a kicked puppy and try to have fun or something." she walked away.

a part of you felt guilty. after all, she was trying to make you feel better when you obviously aren't doing the best, but at the same time, she's been tugging you along to do different activities to keep your mind off of gojo's absence for so long now.

you're tired and you really just wanna be whiney and act like a lovestruck teenage girl.

thankfully for you, you didn't have much time to dwell on the feelings of guilt because you got a new notification on your phone -- satoru sent you a photo.

you really couldn't open it fast enough. with how you're missing him, you'd be thankful for anything he sends you, be it a photo of what he's having for dinner, a puppy he saw in the streets, a restaurant that piqued his interest, or a photo of him.

you cannot lie, you did heavily prefer the message being a picture of him. nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you opened it.

nothing could compare to the sight before you. not a photo of the finest michelin star dish, not a photo of a puppy that's your favorite breed, not a unique looking restaurant, because it's satoru.

his face is turned from the camera, but it's definitely satoru. his soft white hair is the most obvious reason why you think so, plus why would he send you a sexy photo of another man. aside from that, you've spend hours tracing over the muscles of his back, his biceps, and even more hours grasping at the flesh, digging your nails into it as he fucked you.

you wonder if he knows you miss him, or if he misses you and the reason why he sent that wasn't to tease you and show off what you can't have, but to get a reaction out of you so you can set up a video call with him.

a gut feeling tells you that it's probably both. he knows what kind of reaction he can get out of you from flexing those muscles.

whatever the answer may be, the truth remains: you can feel the slick forming between your folds and there's a familiar ache between your thighs.

you quickly run to one of shoko's guest bedrooms. thankfully, because of your training as a jujutsu sorcerer, you're able to get there in record time without bumping into anyone in the process.

you look at yourself in the mirror there, fixing strands of hair that has been messed up in your haste as well as straightening out your clothing before setting yourself down on the available bed and clicking on the video call button on your phone.

and like you've expected, satoru accepts it without a second to spare, as if he's waited by the phone after spending the photo, waiting for your flustered call. he has a knowing smirk on his face, one you know all too well.

"hey there, baby." he drawls. "wasn't expecting to see you here this late."

"satoru," it comes out as a breathless gasp that was not caused by the running. "i've missed you so much." you wriggle on the bed, getting comfortable.

his answering smile was cocky, but you spot the hint of warmth in his eyes and longing in the way his smile is bigger than it usually is. he doesn't have to say it verbally, he's missed you too.

"aww, did you, pretty girl? 'm sorry for leaving you alone for so long." he coos at you. "i promise i'll be there in a week, kay?"

he transfers the phone from one hand to the other, but while doing so, he lowers the camera view a bit, giving you a heart-stopping peek of his abs, something he definitely meant to do to rile you up some more, as if your brain wasn't going a hundred miles an hour right this second.

you rub your thighs together to give you that friction that you so desperately need. "that's not enough though." your voice comes out painfully needy and you know satoru isn't going to let you live that down anytime soon. the moment he gets home and gets his fill of you - even before that, maybe - he'll hold it over your head for the coming months -- and knowing satoru, it's not a long shot to say the coming years. he'll keep on blabbering something or other about "remember that time i had to go on a really long mission and you were whining to me on the phone about how much you needed me?" but you couldn't care less right now. he would be right, you need him so bad.

"aw, does my sweet angel need me? 'm sorry, baby, but i just can't be there right now." he explains like you didn't know that already. "tell you what though, if you ask me politely, maybe i'll find a way to help you out a bit, then make it up to you when i get home, yeah?"

"please 'toru?" you pout at the camera and flash him your puppy eyes. you know that those will work already, but wanted to do more so that's what you did. you subtly pushed your boobs together, internally thanking shoko for forcing you to go to this party because if not, you wouldn't be wearing this dress satoru loved so much. "i need you so bad. can you please help me out?"

"that's a sweet girl." you see him look down and hiss. the camera moves a bit too and you wonder if it's caused by him freeing his dick from his gray sweatpants.

"i want you to play with yourself for me." he states. "start with pulling the neckline of that dress down and letting me see those tits." he breathed. you hear wet sounds from his side and now you know he's already jerking off to you.

you changed your position, getting on your knees and using the pillow you were using so you'd have something to rest your phone on. when that was stable, you did what he asked of you.

you let yourself get into the moment first, caressing the skin around your neck, your collarbones first, humming at the sensual feeling, louder than usual so satoru would hear you clearly before your hands moved to the straps of your dress and pulled it down.

the clothing was quite tight so you still had to pull it down to expose your lacey bra, but satoru didn't mind. as much as he wanted to see your body, he did love that tight dress on you, cursing whoever assigned this mission to him because he wasn't able to be with you right this moment. he adored seeing the quality fabric hug the shape of your body, adored seeing your silhouette.

next to come off what your bra, and you made a show of that too, albeit a short one because satoru was so loud through the speaker of your phone. to say your neediness increased tenfold would be an understatement.

"there you go," gojo said as he watched your boobs bounce out of the shed undergarment. his gaze was fixed on your body. the lust was pouring out of his intense blue eyes. "play with them for me, baby."

you took your hands and squished your boobs together once more, gave them a final squeeze, then paid more attention to your nipples, erect from your arousal. you rolled them between your fingers, noticing that every time your eyes fluttered shut while you pinched them, satoru would let a particularly loud whimper.

but "it's not enough, toru, wan' more." you whispered. it was something he agreed with, murmuring a small "yeah," under his breath.

"i want you to spread your legs for me, baby." he waited for you to adjust before saying anything else.

you could feel the beads of sweat forming on your forehead, but couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. you changed the way you sat, now sitting on your ass, planting your feet firmly on the bed while your knees were raised so satoru would have an unobscured view of your pussy when your legs are spread.

you lifted the skirt of the dress up and over your legs until it's bunched up at your waist, letting satoru see your crotch and the patch of wetness on your panties.

the view made him curse under his breath.

"touch your thighs, yeah, just like that." even the simplest touch had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. it's been such a long time since you've been touched like this, and that fact paired with satoru's breathy voice and the slick sound of him tugging on his dick was a combination that could make you come untouched.

your hips started to move back and forth though there was nothing there that could ease the ache between your thighs. his praises of good girl, and you're doing so well for me, baby had your cunt pulsing against the cloth of your underwear. "'toru, more, please." your not want, but need was palpable through the way your voice cracked at the last words. "need it 'toru, please, fuck."

"write my name over those pretty little panties, baby."

little did you know, he was so close to coming. even closer than you were. he knew he couldn't come though, not yet. he'll bring you to the brink of pleasure first so you can do it together. it's the least he can do after leaving you along for so long, so he slows down his movements.

he didn't plan to start touching himself so early on. he wanted to start doing it at the same time you sank your fingers into your pussy, but he couldn't help himself after seeing you in that pretty dress he picked out. upon seeing that dress on the rack for the first time, he already knew you would look gorgeous in it. he thinks that you can wear a garbage bag and he'd still be itching to put his hands all over you, but god, did you look absolutely irresistible in that versace dress. and to think that you discouraged him from buying it at first because of the price.

it's worth every single yen.

it took everything in him to not speed the motions of his hands up when he saw you spell out g-o-j-o s-a-t-o-r-u along with a couple of hearts on the crotch of your already wet panties. he constantly had to repeat "slow down, slow down, slow down," in his head before he completely loses focus.

he decides that it's enough teasing, at least for today when you're both so desperate for one another.

to you, his next words are like a life line.

"take your panties off, baby. show me that pussy i love so much."

you breathe out a sigh of relief and delight and it seems like you can't take the lacey undergarment fast enough. you toss it somewhere in the room, too intoxicated by satoru's presence to care where it lands or if you'll still be able to find it later.

"there she is." he moans, gazing at your cunt. "missed my girl so much. look at how wet she is, bet she missed me too, huh?" his eyes flash to your face for a second, before returning to your pussy.

"missed you so much." you replied, touching yourself without needing instructions from satoru.

you started with your clit, drawing gentle circles on it with your index finger, then slowly pushing your middle and ring finger inside you.

you and satoru moaned each other's names at the same time for the first time in what feels like forever.

your digits moved fast inside you, pushing in and out of your gummy walls at such a pace where you could hear the wetness and feel little splatters of the sticky liquid coating your thighs.

"fuck, you're so wet." satoru hisses, and you don't hesitate to tell him the truth. "it's all for you 'toru," you whine, throwing your head back with your back arched. you imagine that it's his fingers inside of you instead of yours despite the way he can stretch you out in a way that your fingers never could.

"satoru," he was addicted with the way you said his name; like it's the sweetest prayer that could cleanse you of all your sins.

the coil in your belly winds and winds, continues to get tighter with every stroke of your finger. it clouds your brain, letting you forget about every single thought you could ever have, like how there's a party right outside the door and shoko, armed with the key, can walk in at any moment. the only thing on your mind is the way that satoru sounds as he fucks his fist, pretending that it was you, and the way your fingers feel as they pleasure you.

it's so overwhelming, the way you feel. you can't even hold yourself up anymore, having to scoot up the bed so you can lay against the headrest while one of your hands stroke your clit and the other thrusts in and out of you.

you're shaking now, as you address satoru once more. "'toru, 'm close. s' fuckin' close. can i come? please. fuck! ah-need it so, so bad." you're almost at the brink of tears as you plead at him.

"go ahead sweetheart, i'm right behind you."

thankfully for you, the sound of an electric guitar solo drowns out the sound of you screaming satoru's name, and you make no noise other than pants as you struggle to catch your breath.

satoru recovers a few seconds before you do.

"fuck," he runs a hand through his sweat slicked hair. "we need to do that again."

"no," you disagree with him, but too tired to glare. "i don't wanna go three months without you again."

"this was so hot though, baby. i'd pay good money to hear you beg like that again."

i get: reblog

you get: a personalized gojo selfie

[imthebadguyyy]

Hold Me In Your Arms Tonight

pairing : steve rogers x reader

fandom : marvel

synopsis : steve comes home from a mission, and all he wants is to be wrapped up in your warmth and in your arms.

a/n : i just wanted to write something tender and sweet and smutty so here ya go

warnings : smut

the usual murmur of the quinjet had dulled, into a thick and heavy silence. as the machine soared through the night sky, the avengers found themselves in a rare moment of quietude after a particularly intense mission.

the air inside the jet hung heavy with a mix of exhaustion, and tension.

tony as usual, was the first to break the deafening silence. reclining, in his seat, his signature smirk missing commented, "well, that was fun, wasn't it? remind me to thank fury for these vacations."

natasha, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow, one hand pressing an ice pack to the indigo bruise blooming on her wrist.

"now's really not the time" she muttered, eyes gesturing towards steve, who looked the picture of defeat.

the mission had started promisingly and could have been regarded as an amateur operation. intel suggested a hydra base operating in a remote location, with plans for a powerful biological weapon that could endanger innocent lives.

steve and tony had decided that the entire team didn't have to come, so the two of them with natasha and thor had suited up and gone, leaving bruce, wanda, clint you and sam to wait in the compound. they had what they thought was a meticulous plan to infiltrate and neutralize the threat.

until they actually reached the base.

as the team breached the compound, it had become evident that hydra was one step ahead. the entire facility was a trap, a carefully orchestrated ambush. waves upon waves of highly trained soldiers overwhelmed the avengers, forcing them into a chaotic retreat, that had left most of them nursing minor injuries.

"we didn't know cap" nat said, looking at the simmering anger in steve's eyes.

steve didn't lift his eyes off the spot he was focusing at on the wall.

"they knew we were coming. how the hell did they know?" thor asked, slamming mjolnir down in the ground.

tony muttered something along the lines of "our intel was compromised" but steve didn't care.

as the silhouette of the avengers compound came into view and natasha heaved a quiet sigh of relief.

she knew that the only person who would be able to calm steve and get through to him was you, and that you'd be the only person he'd ever open up to a 100%

with a hum, the jet landed, and the four trooped out, to see an awaiting maria hill, a grim furrow in her brow.

"cap we need a debrief on the-" her words died on her tongue and she computed the glare thor sent her way.

she understood the message : leave him alone.

speaking of, steve had walked into the compound, stepping into the elevator, head dropping low, he finally let out a deep sigh, fingers pressing the 4th floor, wanting nothing more than to have you in his arms.

the ding of the elevator signalled his arrival to you before he did.

you were standing in the kitchen, listening to the merry bubble of the kettle as you boiled hot water for a warm cup of midnight tea.

tony had given you and steve the entire fourth floor as your residential area, and you couldn't thank him enough for the state of the art amenities and accommodation.

just as you put your two spoons of tea leaves in the ceramic blue teapot clint and his wife had gifted you for your birthday, you heard the elevator door open, and the heavy footfalls of your husband echoed in the hall.

smiling to your self, you poured the hot water from the kettle to the teapot, just as steve's muscular frame filled the door of the hallway, his long shadow preceding him as he walked into the kitchen.

steve could smell the scent of black tea before he saw you, the homely scent wrapping him a warm hug that he didn't know he needed.

there were softly lit candles glittering softly all around the penthouse, and fresh bouquets of flowers in every vase. the plush sofas looked freshly dusted and soft music was playing in the background

soft, muted lighting enveloped the space, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. the city lights beyond the windows twinkled like a myriad of stars, creating a breathtaking backdrop against the darkened sky.

but to steve, none of this mattered. the only view he cared about was the one of you, shuffling around the kitchen in fuzzy bunny slippers and your silk blue pyjamas.

he watched as you moved with a quiet confidence, navigating the familiar space with ease. the rhythmic clink of porcelain against the marble countertop echoing as the cups were placed gently on a tray as you selected delicate tea cups from the cupboard. he watched your fingers, adorned with subtle rings, tracing the edges of the cups with a practiced familiarity.

as steve observed you with a mixture of admiration and emotion, his gaze, fixed on you, spoke volumes as he recognized the beauty in the simplicity of this moment. the anxious lines on his face softened, revealing a depth of emotion stirred by the sight of someone he cherished engaged in such an ordinary yet intimate act.

"hi baby" you smiled at him, smile dipping when you observed at the tenseness in his body language. his shoulders were taut, remnants of anxious lines softly fading from his forehead as he looked at you.

"hey" he said, voice cracking slightly, even more as you let out a soft "oh" reaching him in two steps to wrap your arms around him.

in the dimly lit room, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions and words, but you both knew he didn't need words, he needed the unspoken reassurance that you were there with him, physically, in the moment.

he stood there, shoulders slumped, carrying the weight of the world on his weary frame. even captain america got overwhelmed sometimes. you approached him with a gentle understanding, eyes reflecting both empathy and love.

as you reached out to him, arms enveloping him in a comforting embrace, he crumbled.

the embrace wasn't just a physical connection; it was a lifeline, a silent reassurance that in this moment of vulnerability, he wasn't alone. your fingers traced soothing circles on his back, a rhythmic gesture that mirrored the ebb and flow of emotions he was clearly feeling.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, desperate to find solace in the softness of your presence. the scent of your hair, a mix of strawberry and vanilla, familiar and comforting, mingled with the quiet warmth of the room.

the thump of your heartbeat, pulsing through your body, steady and reassuring, echoed against his chest, a gentle reminder that they faced the challenges together, and that as you had stated in your vows, your hearts would beat together as one for the rest of your lives.

"we were so close, but everything fell apart. the intel was off, our intel was compromised, we were ambushed. the team got separated, and we couldn't prevent the disaster. it's like no matter what i do, it's never enough." he whispered, voice broken and eyes haggard, pulling back to look at you.

his eyes sought home in yours, desperate to find the love he needed so badly.

you listened attentively, absorbing the raw emotion in his voice. as he spoke, his hands clenched, betraying the frustration and helplessness he felt.

running your hands up and down his back, you whispered back, "you can't blame yourself for everything. you're only human. superhuman, sure, but still human"

steve ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, letting out a bitter chuckle.

"im supposed to be a hero, someone who saves the day. but what if I'm not cut out for this? what if I'm just making things worse?" he said, and you found tears rising to your eyes at the anguish your husband was in, blue eyes as stormy as the ocean, nothing but insecurity and fear reflecting in them.

you reached for his hands, holding them in a reassuring grip, fingers running over his knuckles in a pattern only you could interpret.

"darling, being a hero doesn't mean you always succeed. it means facing challenges, even when the odds are against you. it means being brave enough to admit when you may possibly make a mistake and it means allowing yourself to grow from the bad days. you can't control everything, but you can learn from it and keep going. you're not alone in this. you have all of us and we're always going to be there when you need us because you're always there when we need you. thats what makes you captain america, steve, your unrelenting ability to show empathy in the face of danger"

steve found solace in the warmth of your gaze. the weight on his shoulders didn't vanish, but the shared burden made it more bearable. "i love you so much" he said, leaning his forehead on yours.

bending down, he pressed his lips to yours, as you melted into the kiss, hands coming up to hold his jaw, as your thumbs ran along his cheekbone. he rested his palm on your waist, fingers splayed out and tracing a pattern, as his other hand reached up to caress your face.

you had to reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down by the neck to meet your lips. he pulled you impossibly closer to him, hands gripping you so tight as if you would vanish into thin air.

before you knew it his lips were heavy on yours, hot and needy, each kiss becoming more and more desperate as his hands roamed the expanse of your body.

his tongue pushed against yours urgently, but you broke apart, panting heavily, to kiss his cheek and whisper a soft "i love you"

steve swore his heart melted as you spoke, fingers caressing your cheek as he scooped you up from below, letting your legs wrap around his waist, hands gripping your thighs tightly as he guided the both of you to the bedroom.

the bedroom embraced an alluring intimacy, its subdued lighting casting a warm, hazy glow that danced across the plush surfaces. a large canopy bed, draped in rich, dark linens, stood as the focal point, its soft contours inviting and enticing. the plush cushions and silken sheets glowed softly in the dim lights,

the air was infused with a subtle fragrance of vanilla and lavender, creating a sensory tapestry that heightened the atmosphere.

the heavy curtains were drawn, swaying in the gentle breeze from an open window, allowing a filtered moonlight to cascade into the room, creating a soft interplay of light and darkness.

candles were strategically placed on various surfaces, flickering with a mesmerizing rhythm, casting enchanting patterns across the walls, rose petals scattered on the bed and the loveseat in bedroom.

steve carried you into the room, awestruck at how you had set up the room for his arrival.

"you did this baby? for me?" he asked, eyes softening. "all for you my love" you assured, smiling softly at him. "all of this and all of me is for you" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

you felt him shudder softly against you, and the sudden pick up in his pace as he dropped you gently against the bed.

"i adore you" he murmured, pressing kisses all the way from your head to your forehead, trailing down your face, from the curve of your nose to your plump cheeks, pressing delicate kisses to the soft skin, before ultimately stopping at your lips.

he pressed his pink lips to yours, lips moulding into one as he let his body hover over yours. his tongue darted out to lick your lip, begging for entry and when he squeezed your hip and you let out a moan, he slid his tongue into your mouth, tongue clashing against yours, teeth stopping to sink into your lower lip, pulling it back to watch it snap back into place.

you kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he floods your ear when you near his throat. he groans when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder, your hot tongue sliding against his neck, with your chapstick tasting of shea butter and cherry, fingers dancing across the hem of his suit like a tease. his arms slide down to your top, the silky material scrunching up as he pulls it up, marvelling at the skin below.

"touch me" you whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. he sighs at the phrase, sea blue eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. "touch me, use me, use me to get rid of your stress" you whisper, rocking your hips slowly against his.

you could feel his hard on against you, and you gently rolled your hips against his.

you were sure it got hard, this facade of being perfect all the time. so maybe just this once he needed to let go. let go of the gentleman person and fuck you raw till he was calmed down and satiated.

your shirt rides up even higher as steve drags a rough palm over your ribs, his rough hands have you jittering. his head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re rotating your hips around him. "you're absolutely unbelievable" he groans as he gently licks around your sensitive belly button. he groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you say, "i dont know how lucky I got with you" he murmured.

"touch me. just touch me like you won’t ever stop" you whimper out, and steve studied the want in your glassy eyes and nodded softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. the intimacy of the moment is jarring against how desperately the both of you want each other. but it's sensual and sweet because its a long buildup his finally being at peace.

agonizingly slow, his fingers dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your pussy. the gentle notion makes your breath hitch, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit.

his middle finger circles draw leisurely over the sensitive nub with slow, rough circles and your thighs twitched.

his voice hitches in his throat as he observes your reaction. "oh, doll, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?" he groans as you guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your arousal against your wet entrance. "my gorgeous, gorgeous girl" he whispered, pressing a sugar sweet kiss to your jaw.

"I'll always love you no matter what" you moan, scratching at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. your eagerness spurs him on and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. "fucking tease" you whine and he smirks.

your steve is usually demure even in bed, ever the perfect gentleman, gentle with you as if you'd snap into two if he was too harsh with you.

but this steve was daring and experimenting with his rough side.

your next sentence died in your throat, a soft gasp leaving your lips when he pushed his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretchs.

he inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. you shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. he hums at your expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his sharp jawline.

he mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his sloppy kisses. you rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own moans against your skin.

"you’re so perfect" he groans, fucking his fingers in and out of you. the noises that leave your pussy and his throat are sinful, sounding like the harmonious mixture of splashing waves and delicate moans, his hand cupping your mound while he fingered you impatiently.

"fuck, Y/N. you’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, my angel? god, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to"

"steve, your fingers..." you watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. you nearly sob, waterline beginning to water as the pleasure intensifies, "you get me so wet" you whimper and you hear the groan he tries to suppress at the juxtaposition of your angelic voice and face and the filthy words coming out of your pretty mouth.

"that’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that?" he asks as you clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you.

his touch is generous, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. he fucks you faster, thumb rubbing at your clit hard.

while others would resort to their own personal pleasure to de stress, it's your pleasure that brings steve relaxation. the fact that he could draw earth shattering orgasms from you was what helped him feel good and he knew that it was only when you were completely satisfied that he would be too.

you cry out into his chest, bite marks littering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax.

your body shakes from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, steve's fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you. 

your pussy pulses needily between your thighs, toes curling as you focus your attention on steve undressing. his suit comes off, discarded somewhere in some corner, his under clothes come off, and then finally, he drags his gray boxers down his legs, and his cock stands proudly, slapping against his stomach as he releases it from it's prison.

you moan as you take in the sight of his thick cock, long and girthy and big enough to leave you breathless as it always did. steve after all was a supersoldier, and his cock was to match. he also had incredible stamina and you knew he'd leave you exhausted.

he nears you again, heavy against you and you reach down to stroke him, smiling up at him, realising your hand doesnt fit all of him into your palm. his cock twitches again when you moan, a throb settling at the base of his spine with an uintelligible moan.

"stevie, baby, i want nothing more-" you strain, reaching behind your own hips to take ahold of his cock and line the weeping tip up perfectly "than for you to fuck me. i want you to fuck your pain and your distress away" you say, and his eyes darken with lust, the baby blues fading to black, like a dark and thunderous sky.

his dick catches against your clit first, causing your body to jolt in shock before you sweep him through your dripping folds. he grabs ahold of your hips, seemingly spellbound as to where else to hold you. his eyes flicker all across your bare skin, unable to settle on the best spot.

his teeth reach down to grab your nipple in between them, one hand reaching up to fondle the other. his tongue darts around the perk nipple, sliding all around it, saliva dripping all around it. your hips rut wildly at the pleasure on your sensitive nipples, and the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers toying with the other.

a chorus of gasps sounds between the two of you as you slowly roll down onto his dick, harmonizing almost like a symphony. he stretches you deliciously, and he's big. very big. perfectly filling. It’s akin to losing all sense of direction, unsure of up from down, left from right. your hips stutter and still from the shock because through your haze you feel steve thrust upward and into you to bridge the gap and you whine as he brushed a sensitive spot within you.

a high pitched wine of "oh fuck!* leaves your lips, and a deep groan echoes in steve's chest.

you groan, finally feeling him sink all the way into your pussy, already shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. before you can comprehend, hes bottoming out in your slick pussy.

rising back over the curve in his cock, you lift yourself back up until only his tip is pressed up against your pussy. you pause before you sink back down. you see the almost animalistic need in steve's eyes as he gazes up at you through his lashes, eyes following the clenching of his jaw.

the wet sound of your pussy being filled over and over echoes, the air that had held a chill seemingly warming at your shared activity. you can barely hear his groans, your heartbeat thrumming so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can probably feel it thudding in your walls.

your eyebrows arch in bliss as the ridge of his head catches up against something so incredible that you’re drowning in pleasure, a light that must surely be heaven flooding your eyesight.

but it's not heaven no, it's a sight far better : your husband, mouth agape and head thrown back fucking into you like your life depended on it.

what you didn't expect was the harsh smack to your ass, his big hand smacking the sensitive skin of your ass and you let out an "oh!" skin stinging and pussy dripping, before the longing for more fills you.

"you like that, my pretty girl?" he asks, pinching the fat of your hips.

you merely moan in response, mind melting at the pleasure. a second smack to the ass follows, and a large vein-y hand grips your throat and forces you to look at him.

"words doll, words" he chides, and you stutter out a shaky "yes" your movements are stuttering at the way a familiar simmering feeling begins deep inside your abdomen, but steve doesn’t want you to stop. his hands take a firm grip of your hips, forcing them down as he begins to thrust up and into you in that same desperate pace.

he continued to brush against that part of you that just obliterated any coherent thought, your mind melting into sludge as pleasure overtook every nerve in your body.

his hands traced over your ass, still hovering between the edge of good boy steve and bad boy steve, but all it took for him to slip was your whimper of "spank me harder daddy" and he was gone.

your sweet gentle steve was replaced by an animal, hands delivering harsh smack after smack to the sensitive skin of your ass, feeling it burn red hot as his large lands landed on your ass with a harsh unoact.

the filthy sound of his hand slapping the jiggly surface of your ass and the sloppy, wet sound of his dick pounding into your pussy echoed around the room, and you had never been more glad for the fact that your floor was completely soundproofed.

you’re not exactly sure what part of his body you’re holding onto, the muscles canvas all melting into one, so far away from comprehension, but you know you’re holding it in a bruising grip, one that leaves a perfect impression of each of your fingertips that would most definitely remain imprinted on his skin.

sweat beaded and dripped down his forehead, as he continued thrusting and pounding into you as if his life depended on it.

your mewls and whimpers perfectly complimented his grunts and groans as his hips snapped further into yours.

your back arched off of the bed as he let your leg rest on his shoulder, pushing the other one away from you so you were perfectly spread out, pushing one leg far away enough so that it was almost touching your ear

the smirk on his lips told you that it was gonna be a long night and that steve wasn't done with you just yet. he grabbed your face, fingers lacking their usual gentility, digging into your cheekbones, before pushing your face sideways into the silky pillow, making you close your eyes at the contrasting sensation of your hot cheeks against the cold pillow, the feelings setting your body on fire.

the sensation of you digging your nails into his back, had his hips falterring and stuttering slightly as he let out another lke growl into his ear, as he allowed himself a moment to bask in the burn of the sting before regaining his pace and thrusting back "you're so, so fucking good, just squeezing me so well hmm?" he growled, grunting as your pussy squeezed him harder and your eyes shut.

you only raked your nails down harder, although your moans were slightly muffled, and the desperate whines leaving your lips fuelled, him, as he continued snapping his hips into you, nails digging into your thigh, the pleasurable sting sending you spiraling. you could feel ths tight muscles rippling in his back, and you scratched down the bare expanse of his back, knowing it always drove him crazy.

the red hot pleasure in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, making you pant. he started guiding his cock deeper into you, which you didn't think was possible, and placed your hand in the outline of his cock in your tummy, and the filthy sound of your wetness and the sounds of your skin slapping together echoed across the hotel room.

the bed began to knock against the wall, the thumping sounding sweeter than the sweetest symphony you had ever heard.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head once again, mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. for a second, you thought you had floated into another dimension, a low hum filling your ears, and your body convulsing in pleasure.

you heard steve moan your name, before letting out a low grunt, feeling him release his chokehold on your throat and hips, watching as you squirted all over him.

your cum splattered him all over, and your vision almost went black from how hard you had just squirted on him.

he reached out to collect your cum on his fingers, licking it, moaning at your sweet taste. the sight had you blushing.

you thought you were done, but just as you began to come to terms with the force of your orgasm, you felt his thumb on your clit, making you jerk your hips away, shaking your head. "daddy please, no more, i can't, not anymore" you whined out, feeling your pussy throb.

"yes you can, one more my doll, just give me one more" he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again harshly, in a rough, dirty, demanding kiss.

you could feel his hips stuttering, his cock beginning to pulse inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy, signalling he was close to his own orgasm.

you moaned into his mouth, taking the opportunity to suck his tongue. "come on captain, cum for me, wont you? you work so hard and I'm so fucking proud of all your hard work" you whispered into his ears, licking at the shell of his ear

at your words, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue poking out to lick patterns on the skin there, and you could hear his low, soft grunts as he chased his release, making the veins in his neck pop.

you could see his body glistening in the layer of sweat that had covered him, he continued to thrust into you for a second or two more, before a deep groan left his swollen lips, and an even deeper moan of your name echoed in your ear, as he spurted his cum into your warm pussy with a groan, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice, milking his cock

your body shuddered at the warm liquid dripping into you in hot spurts, covering your pussy in his cum, moaning in pleasure as the warmth of his release spread through you, enveloping you in a warm daze. panting softly, he stayed enveloped in your warm walls.

the both of you cuddled into the silk sheets, the aur conditioning doing little to cook your overhead bodies. steve pressed tender kisses to your face and body, whispers of "my beautiful girl, my angel, my doll, i adore you" leaving his lips like a mantra.

his hands, now no longer rough with want, traced soft patterns on your flushed skin.

"was that too rough for you?" he asked, concern etched in his eyes and worry lines appearing on his face.

"not at all" you said, quickly quelling his fears.

"you should do that again" you smirked, giggling when he blushed red. "thank you for that my love" he said, raising your knuckles to his lips to press a soft kiss to them.

"you don't have to thank me, steve. I'm always here for you no matter what" you murmured.

you were slowly sinking into a daze, but you registered him pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and heading to the bathroom

"I'll be back in just a second honey, I'm just getting some towels to clean us up" he explained, grinning at the pout adorning your bruised lips.

sure enough he came back, with cold towels to wipe you up with and a fresh set of pyjamas (his shirt and your shorts) to slip into, gently tugging you into the clothes and cleaning up the sticky mess on your thighs and cleaning you up.

he brushed the stray strands of your hair away from your face, pressing a soft kiss to your nose then your forehead, and then your lips.

he fed you a glass of cold water, and a piece of chocolate for a little bit of energy in the morning. cleaning himself up, he slipped into bed with you, his large arms wrapping you up, his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as you snored softly beside him.

in the warmth of your embrace, he felt an unspoken reassurance. as he held you close, the rhythmic beating of your heart echoed a comforting melody

in that tender moment, he realized that in your arms, he was not just physically close, but emotionally anchored. the world outside ceased to matter as he embraced the profound sense of safety and love that enveloped the both of you, creating a sanctuary where worries melted away, leaving only the simple joy of being together.

[hyunverse]

boyfriend activities ♡⊹ stray kids

stray kids ot8 x reader.

genre — fluff, headcanons.

note — requests are open!! feedback is highly appreciated & this is a collab with user @ariesfiey and by collab i mean we giggled about this in our dorm room. also u can kind of see who's my bias frm this. . . lol

BANG CHAN . . . is the type of boyfriend who'd love late night drives. life in the dorm could be hectic, adding on his work load too. . . ? so much stress. there are times when he needs quiet time, resulting to you receiving a text from him — saying something along the lines of: "pick you up in ten, feeling like going on a late night drive right now." the air-conditioner would be at the right temperature, music at the right volume. in case it gets a little too cold for you, do not fret, he always has an extra jacket hung on the seat for you. he has a playlist specially for late night drives with you, filled with sensual songs that remind him of you. lots of the neighbourhood and cigarettes after sex in the playlist. as chan drives, you could hear the tapping of his pointer against the steering. he'd go for a drive-thru at mcdonalds as well, for nuggets and ice cream. you don't have to worry about a thing, just sit still and pretty beside him and sing along with him. on nights when the stars are exceptionally bright, he'd park at a field and drag you to lay down on grass. stargazing with him is always nice — simply laying in silence as cicadas sing, basking in the warmth of his body beside yours. he's a sucker for holding hands as well, so you'll never feel your hands get cold.

LEE KNOW. . . would take you cafe-hunting. it's a known fact that minho's the kind to be eager to visit famous cafes. he's not a fan of tiktok but ever since you mentioned the abundance of cafe content on tiktok, he downloaded it solely to look at cafe reviews. he'd even go to the lengths of reading articles too. if you ever look at his google bookmarks, it's filled with articles of cafes he'd love to take you someday. while you're at it, check his notes app too — there's a folder entitled "y/n," full of places to visit with you and even your interests. if he wants to visit a particular place with you, he'd have to check if the place fulfills your likes and dislikes, wouldn't he? he wouldn't just take you to any trendy place, he'd double-check to ensure that the cafe serves the types of food you like, the scenery you enjoy. a lot of the cafes he takes you to have pretty backgrounds so he could snap beautiful pictures of you. minho's also the type of boyfriend to hold your doors and drag a chair out for you. a total gentleman. you wouldn't have to lift a finger with him — he'll plan the date, he'll do the reserving, he'll open the doors, hell, he's the one to swipe his credit card against the merchant. one of the cafes he'd take you to would definitely be a cat cafe. you and cats? heaven in earth for him. minho has special places he never shows anyone but you're an exception. he'd happily show you the spots he'd go to everytime life gets a little tough.

CHANGBIN. . . is a family person. the moment your relationship gets serious, don't be shocked to find out that he constantly talks about you to his family. changbin's family is everything to him, so he'd definitely let them know about the person he's currently dating. just three months in, and he's already inviting you to his family gatherings. (only if you're comfortable, of course!) if you get nervous, he'd gladly give you tips to win over his family's heart. when you help his mother out in the kitchen, he'd lean against the door frame in awe, watching his two favourite people work together. extra points if you bring a fruits basket for his family — you could visibly see him swoon even more for you. on the dinner table, you'll be shocked to hear his mother ask you questions about work, saying things like, "so i heard you just started a new job, how's it going?" it really shows that he truly talks about you to his family a lot. his mother even has a couple pictures of you two together in her phone, for her to show it off to other relatives.

HYUNJIN. . . thinks picnics is the most intimate activity ever. the thought and the care you'd have to put into having a picnic is a lot. he loves the process of having a picnic — from choosing a spot, preparing the food down to having it itself. he'd happily drive around to look for spots to have a picnic at, would save the location in his phone. usually, hyunjin would choose a spot with colorful flowers scattered across green grass. he's not one to wake up early in the morning but if you suggest a picnic at dawn then he's totally down. would be glad to be waken up early solely to help you prepare the food for the picnic. he's half-asleep on the kitchen counter seat while you make sandwiches but hey, the little snores he lets out is adorable. he thinks it's cheesy that you cut the sandwiches into heart shapes but you know he secretly adores it. if he hates it so much, he wouldn't take pictures of them to upload on bubble, would he? on days when hyunjin feels particularly fancy, he'd help you make a charcuterie board. he'd wake up early in the morning to take you grocery shopping, an airpod in his ear and the other in yours as you stroll down the aisles hand in hand in search of ingredients. he'd look for seedless grapes and the best tasting cheese. i can see him being excited to organize the ingredients onto a wooden platter, would even request you to pop the grapes into his mouth like he's some sort of king. hyunjin would also pack his sketch book and art supplies. he'd make you pose and paint a portrait of you. the reward you'll get is kisses in between the painting session. if you're the artsy type, he'd definitely ask you to paint him too, wants to see how you perceive him. he finds you so pretty when he slips a flower in your hair (or your hijab!) homeboy would take a gazillion pictures of you on his camera. when neither of you feel like painting, he'd write love poems. he'd write the most endearing verses about you — how he thinks you're the most enchanting person he's ever met. sometimes, he'd take kkami along too! you'd end up laughing while watching him and his beloved puppy play fetch, it's like your own little family. picnics with hyunjin are always intimate, you could lay down on the blanket with him for hours.

HAN. . . is a homebody. lounging around in his room with you is sufficient for him. jisung doesn't mind repetitive routine, so much that it has become an unspoken routine for you to pop up by his door every wednesday only in his sweatshirt and his sweatpants which you stole ages ago. despite expecting your visit, he always has the biggest grin ever at the sight of your darling face. the automatic question you'll get everytime you show up is: "wanna order takeout?" the two of you already have your favourite restaurants' numbers in favourites. even the servers would already remember your names and usual orders. he loves holding you on the couch, bodies entangled while watching a tv show or a movie. jisung would totally try to get you into anime — would make you watch his favourite ones. i feel like he'd enjoy animes like jujutsu kaisen and attack on titan — you can't tell me his favourite character wouldn't be itadori yuji. don't fret, he'd take into account your suggestions as well. he had written the shows you and him plan to watch somewhere in his notes app. days when felix happen to be baking would be the best, he'd steal brownies from the younger, earning groans. oh! and if he finds out you watched a latest episode of a show without him, he'd turn all whiny. series of "you don't love me anymore," "you're a traitor!" would slip past his lips.

FELIX. . . is a baker through and through! everybody knows this boy unwinds by baking, and he'd happily bake with you! you never not have a good time with this boy, he's so passionate when it comes to baking. would send you recipes he wants to try, is even generous enough to share his brownies recipe with you. he'd stand behind you, one hand on your waist and the other on your hand as you mix the ingredients in a bowl. occasional flour fights, no doubt about it — so much fun that sometimes seungmin and jeongin would join in. you can send a recipe video on tiktok and he'd immediately reply by saying, "let's go!" the next thing you know, he sends you a picture of a grocery cart full of the ingredients required. loves baking cookies with you, to the point where he'd make ones with fun shapes. on days when you're stressed at work, you'll find a container of heart-shaped cookies along with a note on your office desk. isn't he the most precious angel? he'd suggest to bake extra too, to send to your family and friends :(( near the holidays, you two would have a gingerbread house competition. loser has to do the winner's laundry for a week! he'd get so competitive. expect him to be so focused, tongue poking out at the side of his mouth, piping bag tightly held in hand. so focused that even when you swipe some batter onto his cheek, he wouldn't notice. he'd decorate his gingerbread house so prettily, full of m&ms as festive lights and icing sugar as snow. he claims that it's your future house with him. felix would be such a darling boyfriend.

SEUNGMIN. . . is your typical english major. his love for books would infect you as well. an ideal date for him would be to bask in each other's company, a book in each one's hands. at times you'd read in his room, at a cafe or at a library. . . any peaceful place you can find. you'd be seated on his lap, head buried in his chest. he would be holding the book over your head, legs wrapped around your waist. reading dates become so often that you'd have a designated spot at your local library. it's a spot by a window sill, overlooking a lake, with two bean bags (though you usually share one) and a marble coffee table. even the librarian knows the two of you! coos everytime you walk in with him, hand wrapped around his pinky. after your reading sessions you'd walk to a cafe nearby to get donuts and coffees. i believe seungmin is one to dog-ear his pages and open the book as wide as he could. you can lecture him and get him bookmarks yet he wouldn't listen — in his opinion, how destroyed a book gets mirror how much he enjoyed reading it. this boy annotates his book too — thoughts scribbled onto pages, some words circled. the cutest thing is when you find certain scenes underlined, with "reminds me of y/n" written at the side. seungmin pretends to be unbothered but he's actually such a pining boyfriend at heart. he remembers your favourite genres, so it's not a shocker if he gifts you a book out of nowhere, without any special occasion. i also think that he would want to annotate one book together with you! your annotations would be in blue, his in black. it's nice to reread and see the annotations, they make him smile.

I.N. . . is a sucker for matching outfits! so much that he literally plans to match an outfit with you three days ahead of the planned date. some of the matching outfits you'd do is him in a green sweatshirt, while your skirt is the same colour. it's not the exact same outfit, it matches in a subtle yet obvious way. he gets so into matching outfits with you that he has a whole pinterest board dedicated to matching outfits inspiration. the name of the pinterest board would be some corny shit he would never admit to you. this man would quite literally lay out the clothes for you on your bed. all you'd have to do is to put them on. would want to do your make-up as well! you'd sit in front of him on the floor, legs criss-crossed as he dabs blusher onto your cheeks. puckers up his lips in order to make you pucker up yours, then would put on lipstick carefully. after you're done, be ready to twirl in front of him about a billion times. he just can't get enough of you! can't get enough of how beautiful you look in an outfit matching his, can't get over the pretty smile youd have plastered on your face. he's also the type to take mirror selfies with you. it's a must for him to have at least one mirror selfie with you everytime you coordinate clothes. would change his lockscreen to a different mirror selfie every week too. it's to the point where the boys would notice — jeongin gets teased for being damn whipped but he doesn't care. he enjoys doing it with you, anyway. also! sneaky pictures! jeongin would 100% sneakily take candid photos of you, for the times when he misses you. he'd adoringly stare at those photos. everytime he comes home from tour, he'd buy you clothes or souveniers that he thinks you'd like. he never takes off the matching rings he has with you either — it's embedded on his skin like a tattoo. jeongin's big on matching things and giving gifts — and he's not shy to let it be known.

taglist (send an ask to be added!) — @ariesfiey , @zoe8stay , @starlostseungmin , @hwajin , @bakugossanity

[bookshelf-dust]

a little lovin’

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 600

warnings: none

a/n: it’s late. i’m emotional. this is a little baby something that i wrote very fast. i don’t know. i just need a billy hug.

————

You creep down the hallway, socked feet making nary a noise. You avoid the floorboard that you know squeaks, leaving your approach totally silent. Your hands are even squeezing the sleeves of your sweater, emotion filling your ever vein. You’re almost bursting with it.

Billy is bent over the dresser you share, one of the top drawers pulled open. He’s rifling through it, maybe looking for socks of his own. You pause in the doorway, notice the jeans and shirt stacked on the bed behind him. He’s got work tomorrow. 

He pulls out a belt and tosses it over his shoulder, the metal buckle clinking as it hits the soft of the mattress. 

You inhale and move towards him, watching the way his arms move, catch that sliver of tummy exposed because the arm holes in his tank top are much too big. 

You wrap your arms around Billy’s waist and give him a little squeeze. Just enough to let him know that you’re there. 

Billy doesn’t jump or flinch. He isn’t startled. You’re a quiet person, and he’s learned to expect soundless appearances from you. It’s the contact that pulls at his heartstrings.

It’s not as though you never touch him, it’s only that it took you so long to get to this point. He knows it’s taking a lot for you to do it now. 

Billy glances over his shoulder, a huff of a laugh leaving his mouth. “Hey, baby.”

He shuts the drawer and spins around, your arms still encircling him as he turns. Your face settles against his chest, just as it had between his shoulder blades. 

He rubs up and down your spine, squeezes at your hips, lets his thumbs drag softly across the nape of your neck. 

You let up a little and look up at him. The second his eyes lock with yours, you start to tear up, and suddenly Billy has gone blurry.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asks, brow furrowing out of concern.

You’re quick to shake your head and blink away the tears before they can spill out. 

“I love you. Just wanted to tell you.”

Billy’s lips tip down at the corners. You’re being so sweet to him. 

“I love you too.”

Though he’s not sure what brought this on, Billy doesn’t ask questions. 

Really you’re not sure either. You were on the couch, staring off into space, waiting for Billy to come and sit with you awhile. Your gaze had fallen on a picture frame settled on top of the tv, next to the antenna. 

The image stuck inside was one of the two of you from your senior year, leaning against the Camaro. Max had taken it. 

You started thinking about what Billy had been going through at the time, how strong he is, how much he deserves. 

You felt overcome with love for your boy.

You lift your hands up and he immediately presses his palms to yours, knowing where this is going. “Too cold?” 

Billy grins. “They’re fine.” 

He always whines that your fingers are like ice, so you like to check. You don’t want to hurt him.

With his okay, you slip your hands underneath the thin and worn cotton of his shirt, fingers splaying out across his back. 

“I love you,” you say again. “You’re my whole world, Billy.”

“Shit.” He holds onto you tighter and blinks hard. You’re making him emotional now. “I love you, baby. You’re everything.” 

You kiss him on both cheeks and keep your eyes on his. You just wanted to tell him, to make sure he knew. And he does.

[loveephia]

:¨ ·.· ¨: osamu miya's valentine special.

`· . ꔫ sypnosis: in which you ask osamu how to bake a cake for your crush. osamu, heartbroken, willingly teaches you without him knowing that he was your crush all along.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, minor hurt with comfort, osamu thinking his love was unrequited, reader is a cheeky one, inaccurate recipe.

⚠ warning/s: none.

my HQ masterlist. (valentine's edition)

"i need help." was the first thing you said to osamu today. "wow, not even a "good mornin'"?" he jokes. you only continued to look at him with a serious expression, which meant that you weren't in a joking mood. osamu gulped. you could be really intimidating sometimes..

"..what do you need my help fer?"

"i need you to teach me how to bake a cake for valentine's day." you admitted. now, atsumu, the elder twin who happened to be sitting right next to osamu, was intrigued. "a cake?" atsumu chuckles, "you gonna give that to yer li'l crush, or what?"

the way your eyes widened with the innocent pair of your red cheeks broke osamu's heart. atsumu's eyes, too, were widened at the unexpected reaction from you. he looked over at the younger twin with sympathy, knowing how he's been madly in love with you ever since middle school. yeah, they fight like tyranical pigs, but at the end of the day, they're still family.

osamu coughed, trying to clear the sudden dryness in his throat. "oh— yeah. okay. sure, i'll teach ya." he assures you, and the way your face lit up was just adorable. but the aching fact that you were this ecstatic to bake a cake for someone that wasn't him was just painful.

"is after school alright?" you asked, and osamu nodded. once you left to go to your own classroom, osamu looked over at atsumu with a wounded expression.

"told ya she didn't like me." he mumbles, "i'd like the three pudding packs we bet on, please."

"..got it."

time skip.

you walked home with the miya twins. since osamu would be teaching you how to bake, atsumu wanted to tag along "just for the fun of it." he claims.

but atsumu had a plan.

it's called:

"make-y/n-fall-for-osamu-by-being-extra-annoying."

he thinks it's a brilliant name. spot on.

you unlocked the door to your house and showed the twins where the shoe rack was. once they took their shoes off, you dropped two pairs of house slippers, letting them switch shoes and rest on the couch. "wait here, i'll just go and change." you excused yourself from the twins to put on some more comfortable clothes.

the house was tidy. there was a wall of framed pictures that caught osamu's eye. most of them were of you when you were younger. there was one of you with a pet, one of you smiling with a missing tooth, another with you eating ice cream, and plenty more. it made osamu unknowingly smile.

atsumu cringed.

sure, he's trying to make you fall for osamu, but that doesn't mean he's magically immune from the lovesick glances of his brother.

"okay, i'm back!" you returned in a nice set of pajamas and your hair tied into low pigtails. "so cute!" both the twins thought as they clenched their chests.

"i want to bake a heart-shaped red velvet cake so that it fits in with the theme of valentine's. do you think he'd like something like that?" you asked osamu with a cheeky little smile, hinting toward your crush.

"it'll be from you. of course he'd like it." osamu thought out loud, and your jaw drops momentarily. "o- oh! you think so?" you said, bashfully rubbing the back of your head. "yes. i'm sure of it." he replied.

silence. it was so overbearing that atsumu had to hold in his own cough.

"d- do you have any cream cheese? it'd be good for the frostin'." he asked, trying to clear the tension in the air. you looked inside your fridge and found two blocks of cream cheese. "mhm!"

"okay. let's wash our hands, then i'll tell you what to do." he said. you went to the kitchen, and osamu looks over at atsumu, who was watching the two interact before him with a smirk. "don't do anythin' stupid." osamu said before following you into the kitchen. "ha?! like i'd do anythin' stupid, stupid!" atsumu exclaimed in offense.

time skip.

you held a white, clean, apron in front of you with a gleeful little smile. "y'know it's not really necessary to wear one, right? especially since we're just doin' this at home." osamu says.

you nod it off, "yes, i know, but i've always wanted to wear one of these!" you tie the laces comfortably around your nape and you then reach for the ones near your waist next.

osamu reaches over and ties it for you. "is this okay?" he asks. you nod, your heart beating erratically against your chest at the kind gesture.

"you two gotta knock it off with the lovey-doveyness, it's givin' me a headache." atsumu says, and osamu snaps his head at the older twin with an exasperated expression "nevermind, i think my head is fine." atsumu quickly replies.

time skip.

you laid all of the ingredients, needed utensils, measuring cups, bowls, and appliances out on your kitchen table gracefully. now, you were just staring at osamu for his instructions. unbeknownst to you, osamu found your expression right now very cute.

"so.. what now?" you asked.

"right— okay."

"focus, 'samu. i get that y/n is cute & all, but y'gotta teach her sooner or later." atsumu said from the dining table. he just wanted to watch, and.. perhaps commentate.

what atsumu said brought both your faces aflame. "shut yer trap, 'tsumu. if you're just here to watch us, go home." osamu scolded. "no way! m'definitely helpin'." atsumu raised his own hands as if he's been caught, "just not in the way you think." atsumu says under his breath.

time skip.

you're trying, keyword: trying, to whisk the egg whites together, but it's not getting to the meringue texture you're aiming for. osamu sees you struggling and decides to help you. he stands closely behind you and puts his large palm over your own hand that's holding the whisk. "like this." he mutters lowly as he demonstrates, using your hand to whisk the egg whites. soon enough, you notice that the texture is finally changing!

"woah! osamu, you're a genius!" you cheered, your eyes sparkling at the clear difference.

osamu smiles softly. this feels oddly domestic..

"if you both keep standin' close like that, i'm gonna start thinkin' you're husband and wife." atsumu interrupts your sweet moment with a fact, and osamu is quick to distance himself from you. "will you be quiet for just once in yer damned life..?" osamu murmured, ignoring the sudden rise in the temperature.

atsumu shrugs, "m'just sayin'!"

time skip.

the cake is finally finished. osamu let you deal with the designs as you wanted it to be special and from the heart. it ended up being prim and perfect, a cake that screamed you. just like how you wanted.

"thank you for helping me, 'samu. and thank you 'tsumu for.. coming over?" you expressed your gratitude in a mildly uncertain way. "it was nothin'." atsumu grinned as if he had just accomplished something great.

he didn't even know if his plan worked, but he did enjoy watching you and osamu interact today.

"see ya tomorrow, y/n!" atsumu bids his goodbyes, and he's out of sight. now, you're left with osamu. "i— uhm.. see you tomorrow, 'samu!" you squeaked, and before osamu could reply, you closed the door on him.

osamu sighs. his twin was probably being too pushy with the teasing today, and he must've made things weird between you two.

which is what he thinks.

thanks to atsumu, you're rolling around on the floor like a child, giggling over the number of comments he made earlier about you and osamu looking all cute together.

while you couldn't wait for valentine's, osamu was practically dreading it.

time skip.

you can tell that osamu has been avoiding you. the way he dodged your attempts of hugging him or the way he didn't answer when you called out his name.

you didn't know exactly why he was doing this, but you had a small idea.

it was the end of the day, and you saw osamu walking home alone. you asked atsumu to stay behind for a bit so as not to ruin the moment.

"boo!" you attempted to spook osamu, and since he looked like he was deep in thought, you succeeded. he flinched and looked behind him to see the one and only culprit. you.

"oh, y/n." he recognizes your cute face, "did you give the cake to yer crush yet? how'd it go?" he asked one question after another, even though he really didn't want to know the answer.

"nope. he kept avoiding me for some reason." you said. osamu only hummed in sympathy.

"but.. now that i have him here, alone, i was thinking that he'd stop avoiding me now?" you brought the boxed cake to osamu's view, and his eyes widened.

"wh—"

"osamu miya, i like you." you finally confess, "actually, i've.. loved you since middle school."

osamu mentally facepalms. his feelings were requited since middle school?! he wasted so many years holding himself back from intertwining fingers, kissing you, and most importantly, showering you in all the affection you deserve. what an idiot!

but this time, he doesn't waste any more of his given seconds.

he cups your cheek and kisses you.

the moment atsumu hears about this, he's going to be boasting about the fact that he brought you two together in your wedding ceremony. even though he most absolutely did not.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Already Gone || MV1 {7}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After the attack in your home, Max is serious about learning to fight. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, sparring, mentions of illegal activities WC: 1.8k

F1 Masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

���Are you sure you should be drinking? You might have a concussion,” Max worried as you sipped the gin and tonic Christian had made. 

“Relax, the lady’s earned a drink or two,” Christian said as he sat down with his own. “Nice job.”

You clinked your glass with your bosses before drinking half of the strong beverage in one gulp and sighing happily. “Thank you. Dare I ask where Brett’s taking them?”

Christian chuckled and shook his head. “Best to have deniability.”

Max looked uncomfortable at the conversation as he shifted in his seat beside you, his fingers massaging your shoulder that his arm draped across.

“I know you don’t like it, babe, but this is the reality of the situation,” you said softly as you took his hand and traced the lines that cut across his palm, not that you believed in the life line or the love line crap. “They wanted to break your hands. They weren’t here to have a pretty conversation that magically convinced you to lose your races. They wanted to make sure you could never race again.”

“I’ve increased the security on Checo but they seem to be focusing their energy on you.”

“Of course, Max is the bigger threat,” you stated obviously. “Anyone who can read the standings knows that.” Tilting your head towards the principal you cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You don’t happen to have half a billion hidden in your mattress?”

Christian scoffed as he swirled his drink, clinking the ice against the glass. “I’m not Pablo Escabar, and I don’t think my wife would sleep comfortably on the lumps.”

“That’s a shame, his personal army could’ve been helpful.”

“What do you want half a billion dollars for anyway?”

“Euros, actually.” You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and opened the app for the stock exchange, scrolling through the companies of interest you had saved before tossing it on his lap. “They wouldn’t sell the majority of their shares but there is a sizable chunk up for grabs. Certainly enough to get a seat on the chairboard.”

Christian looked at the trading name and chuffed at the thought of being a board member at Scuderia Ferrari before he took a sip of his drink. “Let me see what I can move about.”

“Wait, you’re not serious?” Max baulked at the idea before helping himself to your drink at the look you gave him. “Fuck, you are serious.”

“If you need a shell company I have a few old ones to spare.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Christian chuckled as he finished his drink and started to head to the door. “I’d get that fixed pronto if I were you.”

You gave him the thumbs up as he left while Max walked him to the gaping hole where the broken door used to be. “See you next week, boss.”

Walking back to your side, Max scratched his short beard and said, “I think we should go to a hotel tonight, liefje.”

A gust of wind blew through the open door and swayed the picture frames on the wall to accentuate his words. “I think you’re right, preferably one with a spa.”

He smiled as he kissed your temple, careful to avoid the swelling on your forehead. “I’m sure I can find something for you.”

Two Months Later “Shit,” Max grunted as the wind was knocked from him. 

“Please don’t hurt my star driver before his final race,” Christian said as he walked into the gym and found Max bent over his knees panting. 

“I haven’t touched him,” you defended yourself while you rubbed Max’s back. “The speedball took him out.”

“If anyone asks, it was Rico Verhoeven.”

You snorted a laugh. “He loves you too much to hurt you. He would probably let you take him down.”

“Probably,” Max groaned as he straightened up and cocked a brow at his boss who held a file in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Just some paperwork for you to sign,” he said to you as he held it out. “Our lovely Director here will be heading to Italy next week for her first board meeting.”

You hadn’t really missed your old line of work but you couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill to stepping into the lion’s den. Max wasn’t too happy about it, but you had convinced him not to worry, or at least accept it. Christian had been able to shift some money around to make the investment feasible and it had been collectively decided that you would be the best person to take the seat.

Now that the seat was filled you would be able to give the go ahead to your contacts and Scuderia Ferrari stocks would rise once again over the winter break, lining Red Bull’s pockets with profits. It was a win-win. 

“What I wouldn’t give to see the faces of those smarmy old bastards when you walk in the boardroom,” Christian mused as you signed the last of the documents. “Benedetto doesn’t know what he started.”

Max had recovered from his winded state and pulled his boxing gloves off to have a drink, taking a seat next to Christian on a weight bench. “You are lucky I am so charming. I should get a bonus for saving the team with my good looks and wonderful personality.”

“Greedy bastard, isn’t the €55 million I am paying you each year enough?” Christian said with a burst of laughter.

“My girlfriend has expensive taste.”

“Hey, I had no problem affording my own lifestyle before I met you,” you pointed out as you stole his drink bottle and pointed to the heavy sandbag. “And I didn’t say you could have a break. Gloves back on, Prince Charming.”

“I’ll leave you love birds to it. Don’t forget dinner tonight,” Christian said as he made his way back to the door. “Oh, and try not to be beaten by a bag, Max. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Max held his gloved hand up and you knew he was trying to pull the finger inside of it. “Very menacing,” you teased as you grabbed your own set of gloves and joined him in the ring. “Shall we dance, pretty boy?”

“Do I get a reward if I take you down?”

You blew a kiss to your boyfriend and raised your hands. “How about you focus on just trying to land a punch?”

“I’m competitive, liefje, I respond best to incentives.”

“Is that right...well, in that case, how about this?” You closed the distance between you and brushed your lips along his jaw until you reached his ear. “You take me down, and you can take me down.”

His athletic stamina that kept him strong for the races showed no sign of weakening as he followed you around the ring, relentlessly trying to take you to the mat. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you ducked and spun out of his reach, and you saw his cheeks flush with the same exertion of his effort. 

Deciding he had pushed himself hard enough for one day, you planted your foot and deflected the throw he made. He overextended past you, leaving his side open for you to wrap yourself around, dragging him to the thin padding on the ground and rolling until you straddled his hips.

“Good work, but it’s time to rest. You have qualifying soon.”

“I’ve already won the championship, plus I could start last on the grid and still get points,” he said with a cocky smile before he stole your signature move. He used your own momentum against you, twisting his hips as he reached across your body. The room spun as you were flipped onto your back and suddenly you were looking up at him. “I just can’t help winning, see.”

“Go on then,” you dared as he hungrily eyed your body pinned beneath his. “Take your reward.”

“We could get caught,” Max groaned as he glanced at the door Christian had left through, knowing it was unlocked. 

“You’re not scared are you?” 

All his blood rushed south of his brain and he found no reason to deny you both. “Fuck it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair with just the team and their families. The real party would come after the race, but you were quite content as you were when the group broke up at the end of the evening. 

Geri had taken the children off to bed while the mechanics went to a nightclub nearby for a ‘nightcap’. Christian wished them a good evening and a polite suggestion to not stay out too late. It left you, Max and Christian moving to your fully stocked bar in the presidential suite and sinking into the plush seats. 

“What a fucking year it’s been,” Christian laughed as he rubbed his beard. 

You snorted a laugh and kicked your feet up onto Max’s lap. “It’s been exciting though, you have to admit that.”

You smiled as the two recounted their favourite parts of the season while you browsed the NASDAQ Dubai journal you had started reading before dinner.

“It’s a shame George is still sick, he can’t catch a break.”

“You think George being sick is a coincidence?” you commented as you turned the page and chuckled. “Tell me you are not that-“ you fell silent at the look Christian gave you and just shrugged. “It’s quite easy to replicate illnesses with certain substances is all I’m saying…”

“Why go after George?” Max pondered aloud while Christian sat still processing what you had inferred.

Your boss’s eyes lit up with realisation and he grabbed his phone to open the F1 app to confirm his thoughts. “Because if George scores anything above fourth place tomorrow Mercedes will beat Ferrari in the constructors championship. That’s worth a few million euros, at least.”

“Bingo.”

“Do we do anything with this information?” Max asked as he began to massage your ankle. Though he had almost come to accept the dark underbelly of the sport, he still didn’t like it and it made him nervous.

“We can’t prove it,” you said with a shake of your head as his massage glided up your calf muscle, like a cat that kneaded a spot for self-comfort. “It’s not exactly a bad thing too, Ferrari coming second. It will make for great telly seeing Toto throw a bitch fit.”

Christian nearly spilled his drink with the belly laugh that filled the suite. “I’ll cheers to that,” he toasted as he held his drink forward. “To the end of an exciting season.”

You leaned in with yours and tapped it with his and Max’s. “And to another one next year.” They both cut you a side eye and you bit your lip to suppress the smile. “Or not.”

Click here for the next part.

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | part. 18

Pairing: mick schumacher x hamilton!reader (she/her)

Warnings: curse words, mentions of food and alcohol, tooth-rotting fluff, angsty, mentions of anxiety and break up, not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI!

word count: 3.3k

part. 17 | series masterlist | part 19 | taglist

Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he threw caution carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

A/n: Thank you so so much for all the love and support! I see you, and I appreciate you! *mwah* I hope you guys like this chapter, I may have shed some tears while writing it hehe I'll release the next one TOMORROW so you better get readyyy!

When Yn knocked at Lewis’ door he wasn’t expecting to see her with a running nose and teary eyes. In fact, he wasn’t expecting to see her. She was supposed to be at her apartment getting ahead with some work because she had dinner plans with Mick, that’s what the German had told Lewis earlier that day. 

“Hey, bitsy, what happened?” the Brit asked, confusion and worry lacing his tone. 

Yn could only crash into her brother’s frame, being engulfed in a tight hug and letting out some of the pain and anxiety she had been holding back. He knew how hard it was for her to let herself be vulnerable, which meant she reached her breaking point.

“I broke up with Mick,” she sobbed into his shirt, and Lewis took a step back to look into her eyes, holding her face between his hands.

“What did he do?” 

And though Mick had come to be a close friend of his with the shared routine in the Mercedes team, Lewis wouldn’t think twice before distancing himself if he had done something to hurt his little sister. Mick knew it. Everyone knew it. That’s the reason he was so taken back the second he noticed the lingering touches and secret stares. It wouldn’t be hard taking sides, but it would certainly hurt doing so. 

Yn shook her head, more tears doting her black skin, “Nothing, he did nothing wrong-” a hiccup passed between her lips. “Someone posted about me and Mason, and suddenly the whole internet is talking about the two, and me, and our personal lives and- Lew, they have pictures! There are pictures of me and Mason around the internet.”

Lewis closed the door behind her and guided his sister to his couch. Roscoe came running to her too and it wasn’t long before the three were cuddled in silence, the only sounds being Yn’s sniffs and sighs. 

He knew not to pressure her too much, knowing that she needed some time to breathe before finally speaking about everything, or most things, that were going through her head. Lewis was worried about Mick too, but he would check on his friend later, for now, his sister was his priority and she needed him, all his love and attention.

It was an hour or so before the sniffs stopped and Lewis noticed that Yn had fallen asleep, she was probably tired from all the crying and stress she had been dealing with lately, and the outing of her past relationship with soccer player Mason Mount was the icing on the cake. Lewis peeled his body off of hers with caution not to disturb her peace and reached for his phone seeing tons of messages from a worried Mick asking if he knew something about Yn’s whereabouts. He quickly answered reassuring the German that she was safe and with him, and added for him to be patient with her. Yn loved Mick, it was a fact.

Lewis ordered from their favorite place and got some of her favorite clothes his for her to wear after a long and much-needed relaxing shower. He gave Roscoe his food, and while the dog ate everything eagerly, he opened Twitter and Instagram seeing how the internet was indeed going crazy about Yn, Mick, and Mason. It was crazy how people felt entitled to someone else’s personal life. 

Assuming that Yn probably didn’t have the time and the energy to do something, Lew stepped onto his terrace, closing the door behind him and calling the family’s lawyer. He had no idea how those pictures ended up on the internet, or how his sister’s past relationship got exposed, but he was gonna make sure whoever did it would be held accountable for it. He wanted to call Mason too, to ask if he had any idea about anything, how he would handle it from his side, but that was too personal, that was something only Yn should do. 

After the food arrived, and Yn showered, the siblings sat on the living room’s floor to eat, a ritual they used to share whenever they could since their early teen years. Yn nibbled on her food, not eating the way she would when her favorite was on the table, she felt a lump in her throat, it was like she was trying to swallow back her own heart and by doing so she couldn’t try and put anything else there. Lewis noticed and used the moment to try and make her open up a bit, and share her burden with him. And that she did. She poured her heart out, cried again, sobbed again, and confessed to him how stressed she was ever since everyone discovered she was his sister, to which she was quick to apologize too because that wasn’t a problem, but rather how people started treating her was the real issue. Yn loved being a Hamilton, loved sharing the same blood as Lewis, loved having him around as her best friend, loved to share her happy and sad days with him, but she hated how everyone seemed to compare them now, how Yn wasn’t Yn anymore but “Lewis Hamilton’s younger sister” or even “Mick Schumacher’s supposed girlfriend” and not in a contextual way, but rather derogatory, like trying to diminish her and who she was, to resume her to two men. And fair enough, she loved them, she loved them both so much, but she was her own person, she loved herself before loving them. And maybe, Yn thought, she just needed to get used to having her brother mentioned every time, just like her relationship with Mick, but adding Mason to it? Adding Mason to it was cruel. 

She confided in her brother all the things that had been plaguing her mind, and Lewis listened attentively, catching a tear from her here and there with his thumb, and nodding attentively. He was a good listener. He was the best brother, Yn told him. 

That night they watched TV until falling asleep on the couch with Roscoe by their feet. Something they used to do when they were kids and the days were so packed that they didn’t have much time together, Yn would sneak into his room, they would make a tent with Lewis’ comforter, and turn on the TV on the low volume so that their parents wouldn’t wake up, and they would watch Disney movies until both passed out. Life used to be easier at the time. 

When Lewis had to start the hectic schedule for Silverstone weekend Yn went to her parents. She spent a week sleeping in her old bedroom, having every possible meal with her parents, and enjoying the hugs, kisses, and pampering from them. They couldn’t mend their heart back together, but while there it felt like they could glue it for some minutes. It would fall to pieces in the ground when she lay awake in bed at night, but when the sun shined through the windows and her dad woke her up so they could cook pancakes together while The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill played as background sound some of the pieces of her heart would flutter closer. 

The second week was about to start when she got a call from Corinna. She cried when she heard the woman’s voice. The accent is so like Mick’s. The sweet and warm tone. Corinan asked Yn if she wanted to spend some time in Switzerland with her. It was a calm place, she wouldn’t be bothered by too many paparazzi, she could go off from social media, they would have tons of activities to do if she felt like it, and Gina would even fly there for the weekend. So Yn packed her bags, and by Monday afternoon she was in Switzerland. 

Yn cried again when Corinna hugged her, told her how sorry she was for hurting Mick, and tried to explain everything, but the older woman just shook her head and hugged Yn together, assuring her that she wouldn’t judge, that she did not blame Yn. Life was complicated, but Corinna seemed to be sure that Yn and Mick would find a way out of the storm they were facing, and she made sure to tell Yn that. Without pressure, of course. In fact, they agreed on not talking a lot about Mick or her relationship, but it turned out that was a hard subject to avoid because Corinna made her feel safe and comfortable enough to want to talk, and everything at that house screamed his name. So much so, that Yn wandered around on her first night and ended up in his childhood bedroom, watching some of his trophies, posters, books, and toys. Yn fell asleep curled on his bed, hugging his pillow.

The coming days were good. Corinna distracted her the same way her parents would. Yn taught the German some of her vegan recipes, and Corinna seemed to like them. They would cook breakfast together, share tea by the garden, feed the horses, and solve crosswords while eating dinner. 

After two weeks in Switzerland Yn went back to her apartment in London. She wasn’t exactly ready for the remainder of Mick at her home, yet she needed to work through whatever was plaguing her mind, she needed to recenter so that she could face him again. She knew the way they broke up wasn’t fair to him, knew that they would have to talk again eventually, either for closure or to get back together. 

At the door, his slides were the first thing to greet her, then his smell that plagued the whole apartment. By her couch, there was one of Angie’s toys, in her room his shirt she used to sleep with, some of his clothes inside her closet, his toothbrush beside hers, his shampoo, little things that got there gradually. Some of them she still remembers the exact moment. The feeling of tranquility coming home with him and knowing his things were there too. 

Yn kept everything intact: all his things inside her house. All the feelings inside her chest. 

She went back to her routine, working, seeing her friends, trying to enjoy a bit of the privacy that was still left after she deactivated most of her socials. Except, now she wasn’t joining and cheering for her brother in person during the weekends, but rather watching everything from her couch. Sometimes, those weekends would be shared with Lewis’ friends and her friends as well, the ones that couldn’t make it to the GPs too. 

When September Yn was ready for the launch of her winter collection. She was also ready to be in the same room as Mick, or so she thought, she had to be especially because her team had sent invitations for the whole Schumacher family and she had a feeling he wouldn’t miss it. 

Sure enough there he was, and though they couldn’t exchange more than a longing stare and a friendly wave, Yn felt everything she kept tamed inside burst out in the open. She busied herself with the parade and all the little details that needed her attention, and because she was the main name tonight she wasn’t able to speak to everyone. Though, what would she say to the Schumachers? “Thank you for coming! And, Mick, I miss you, maybe I owe you an apology”, well maybe that’s exactly what she should have said, but the rush didn’t let her. Maybe that’s why Yn was surprised when everything was over and someone from the staff came with a bouquet of tulips. 

It wasn’t anything new, she usually gets a ton of flowers during parades, and events in general, from fans to the crew she’s working with, but she never got tulips, and her heart skipped a beat, hands slightly trembling when she reached for it, and opened the envelope between the beautiful flowers. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a proper congratulations and hug. I’m really proud of you – today, and always. I’ll be here when you’re ready. - Your Mickey”

Yn knew exactly what ready meant. 

And she also knew how meaningful it was of him to sign as her Mick. Not Mick Schumacher, or simply Mick, or anything, but “your Mick”. The version of him only she knew. A pair of tears rolled down her cheeks just when Lewis reached the door of her dressing room.

Yn looked at her brother silently, and he gave her one of his small smiles. 

“You should text him,” the Brit suggests.

“How do you know I’m thinking about him?” 

Lewis shrugs, draping his body on the blue couch, “You two went to see a field of tulips in Switzerland, right?” She nodded, and before she could joke about his memory Lewis added, “But that’s not how I know, he actually told me he would do it. Even asked me if I thought it was ok for him to show up.”

“Oh-” she utters. “I’m- I- I exposed him, put him in the spot. Mick is a super private guy, Lew, and I kind of blew everything up,” she sighs, knowing damn well she’s repeating the vent session they had back the other month. 

“He told you he doesn’t care, didn’t he?” Lewis asks and Yn nods, biting her lips. “I think that’s proof enough that he’s ready to compromise if it means having you. That’s huge, Yn. He’s ready to give up part of his private life to stay with you, and not as in sacrificing himself and all this red flag thing, but as in: he thinks you’re more important. He loves you, can’t you see?” 

“I’m still scared,” she confesses.

“Fuck being afraid, bitsy, do it anyways. If you let fear stop you, you’ll never fully live,” it’s his older brother's advice. “Besides,” Lewis adds, “You think he isn’t? He’s probably scared shit too, and that’s yet another reason why you should talk, dot it together because if you have one another the burden gets lighter – if there’s even one.”

She rolls her eyes, they’re full of tears ready to fall, and they do the second she smiles dropping her shoulders. Yn nods to Lewis, and when everything is packed and they’re walking on the parking lot to their respective cars parked side by side, her phone pings. 

Lewis winks her way with a smile when she turns the screen to him. It’s Mick. 

“Good luck, bitsy. I’ll be at home if you need me, and I’ll back you up on whatever you choose to do,” he takes off some of the weight from her shoulders. 

Yn hugs him tight and whispers how much she loves him and how lucky she is to be a Hamilton. She listened to her heart and only her heart, trying to ignore whatever her mind wanted to rationalize, and whatever others would think, while she typed away on her phone. 

After indirectly inviting him to dinner, she drives all the way to her apartment with a grin on her face and feeling all warm and fuzzy after feeling cold and sad for so long.  

The second her doorbell rang, Yn stopped pacing around her living room and ran to the entrance, already feeling her hands shaking slightly. 

“Hey,” Mick breathed with a small smile on his face when Yn showed up behind the wooden door. He was holding another bouquet, this time red carnations. Yn’s greetings got stuck in her throat. Mick looked just so good wearing blue jeans paired with a dark green hoodie. His eyes did not leave her, quite the contrary, he drank her in, blue orbs roaming around each small detail. For him, Yn looked just perfect. 

“I-” Mick started to fill the silence after a minute, but before he could keep going Yn crashed into him, taking a deep breath and lacing her hands around his neck. He held her closer by the waist and inhaled her perfume, feeling his heart speed so fast it felt like he was racing around his favorite circuit. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. Sorry, I made you wait. Sorry-,” Yn whispered with a voice so small he could only hear because her face was between his neck and shoulder. He detached their bodies just enough to hold her by the jaw, eyes scanning the tears slowly descending her cheeks. 

Mick shook his head, “I should have come after you before. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Yn sobbed, letting her forehead hit his solid chest, and trying to take deep breaths to control her own heart, “No, babe, you gave me my time, you gave me space, and I love you for that.” 

It was his turn to let some tears fall. Mick was a smart guy, he knew how to be rational, but it did not mean that he knew how to control each emotion of his. Quite the opposite, from time to time he let his feelings lead the way. He can feel insecure and overthink just like any human being. The thing is, that while they were away, he took his time to work on it. Work on himself. Look in the mirror and understand he was doing the right thing by kicking the ball to her court. There was nothing he could do but wait. And waiting he did. 

Now, looking into her eyes, he wonders why he waited so long, how he spent every day for over two months without her. But the second those three little words passed between her plump lips he knew it hadn’t been for nothing. Knew that life was gifting his patient.

“Can you find it in you to forgive me?” she asked, still glued to his body.

He chuckled, “Schatzi, there’s nothing to forgive. And even if there was, you know I would. I would do anything for you because I love you. I love you in every language, the ones I know and the ones I don’t. I love you like my best friend, my favorite person, my lover. I love you like I never did before.”

It was the first time she heard him say those three little words, and they hit her like a truck, rearranging every organ in her body, and making her heart grow ten times bigger. Making her flutter, and come down at the same time. But for the first time, she wasn’t worried about falling, he would be there to catch her. Or they would fall together. Always together. Either way, she chose him. She chose to give love a chance. To give herself a chance at happiness. And when his lips found hers after so long it felt like everything came together. It was sweet, and salty with their tears. It was soft, and hungry, demanding attention and trying to make up for the lost time. It was like a king coming back from war for his queen. Stating that he was more alive than ever. That he wouldn’t leave. That his promise to come back was true. Burning cheeks, sweaty palms, warm chest, tingly stomach, it was like meeting each other for the first time all over again. 

When Yn’s hands sneaked under Mick’s hoodie, brushing over his bare skin, he smiled into the kiss, taking the seconds to breathe in some air.

“We still have to talk. I still have so much explaining to do,” Yn started.

“And you have to tell me about your time in Switzerland without me, mama said you rode the horses with G and even planted a new three.” 

She grinned. A bright expression doting her whole face.

“I’ll do it over dinner. Come, the food is getting cold,” Yn laced their fingers bringing him inside, and Mick enjoyed the feeling of truly crossing the line of her heart. He knew that this time entering her house meant so much more. It meant a green card for entering her heart and staying. And he would do it. 

They would make a home out of each other. What they were not yet aware of was that the home was already there. All they had to do was get inside. 

And they had just done it. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: We're so close to reaching the ending, I'm getting emotional ugh!! I hope you guys liked this chapter, I opted to let some details out of the plate, so let me know if you want them (like their dinner conversation and all) and I'll see if I can write an extra <3 make sure to reblog this chapter if you like it. I'll be releasing the next one tomorrow, and all I want to say is to make sure your seatbelts are on. *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @shhhchriss @smiithys @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris @heelariously @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @minkyungseokie @nichmeddar @itsmaytimetosaygoodbye

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[eddiemunsonbignaturals]

just a pinch

summer ends way too fast; you and Eddie surprise each other.

includes smut, as in 18+ 6k words somehow lmao? most of it fluff  best friends to lovers, and it gets a little gross in an arguably unsexy but very intimate way. you're not supposed to put anyone's mouth on your new piercing until at least two weeks out don't be dumb listen to your piercer

content: boob fondling, dry humping, jean nutting, some mild threats of violence, mentions of piercings but not piercing play to my understanding

reader is described as fat, dark skinned, and referred to gender neutrally, mostly (tough guy, man, angel, sweetheart).

comments (yes, even short ones,) reblogs all v much appreciated, take care :*

So, the heatwave had been a fake-out. 

You had both expected more swim-days. Just a few more sweaty, sticky nights— sat too close and tangled together sharing a bowl of Moose Tracks by moonlight, in as little fabric as you could manage and with as much ice as one freezer bucket could hold.

But alas, the fall sneaks in one cloudy morning and makes you regret ever even thinking the word “winter.” 

You’re shivering as you shock awake and roll clumsily to the nightstand. Reaching blind for the blaring landline, your hand cringes away from too-cold plastic, and you groan long and low in mourning— it's definitely over.  While you were asleep, Summer had packed up her bag and ducked off in the dark before you could send her off properly. Goodbye, dog days.

Hello, caller. You know it’s Eddie before you pick up; he knows it's you before you speak.

“Can you believe this? Shit fuckin’ sucks,” he croaks, right off the bat and into the receiver.

“And blows—“ you sigh back, punching one satin-covered pillow and your headscarf off the bed. “We couldn’t even get, a like, temperate couple of days? It had to go straight to freeze-my-dick-off immediately?”

“ha! Please. The end is nigh, sweetheart. You know it better than I,” he almost sings. His sleepy lilt catches on the pet name, and that gravelly morning timbre gees up your morning wood like nothing else can. You kiss your teeth, honestly annoyed at how he affects you this early, and when Ed’s answering chuckle rumbles through your ears and down your jaw, it's like you can feel his breath through the phone. 

God, he sounds good. You hum into a long sigh as he talks. It warms you, everywhere, hearing his voice first thing, and if your non-phone hand drags down your chest and reaches lower to rearrange the pillow between your legs, he doesn’t need to know.

You hear Eddie fidget, as he does, and he switches the phone to his other ear. Then, there’s the rattle of the earrings against plastic– a few chunky hoops he got at your suggestion, and one with your first initial that he definitely plucked off of your desk, though he had lazily denied it. You feel a smile fight its way to your face, suddenly giddy about him, about his call. 

A snapshot of him talking himself awake is as clear in your head as the grey in the sky: a grumpy Munson, emerging from the mess of gifted homemade blankets and ancient, flat pillows. Just a pair of doe eyes, framed by a cluster of chocolate curls and a scowl. Picture-perfect.

You’ve been nursing this damn crush forever, and with the effort of punching it off the bed and out of sight with that headscarf, you’re long past exhaustion. But, in the safety of your chilly room, and with the comfort of his voice in your ear, maybe you’ve enough strength for now to entertain a butterfly, or ten.

You had worn his ring to bed— a little bat hugging your ring finger the way it had been hugging his before you’d snatched it off as payment for a dare gone unfulfilled–and you’re twirling it now, like some lovesick sap. You’re written all over each other, and you’ve been itching to do something about it. But, that’s not the issue right now.

Right now,

“I know, life is over, the globe is warming, there are only a few summers left, et cetera. We’ll still have fun.”

(the dare? you had challenged him to snatch some Hawkins PD pig or another’s goofy little ranger hat as he had passed the two of you on the street. Eddie had suggested maybe he couldn’t float past an arrest on boyish charm this deep into his twenties, and acquiesced without a word when you had held out your hand for his own. 

You’d pretended not to notice the blush creeping up his neck; he had let you hold his hand a bit longer than necessary. It had been an even trade, as always.)

Across the line, Eddie’s still snickering at you, voice fathoms deep– all crackly– when he speaks again. 

“Hold on to your dick, angel, I'm pretty sure there’s options. Like, uh, maybe clothes? Clothes usually work for me.”

“Don’t get cute! I'm fat, you clown, I sweat-- I don’t need clothes. And, I belong in the water, Munson. Its beyond fun, its—“

He cuts you off completely, ignores your scoff, and finishes for you.

“—fulfilling, healing, its what and where you were in every past life, the brain sludge is already building back up as we speak, and ‘I’ll die, I'll just about fuckin’ die, Munson,’ once it drops below 40, I know, stop bitching,” he laughs. His tone? Pure fond; your stomach somersaults. 

You hear the smile widen when he goes on to remind you, “but I guess it's fall now. IE, your favourite.”

“Say ‘bitch’ to me again, I’ll shave your peanut head.”

He takes it back, giggling something about his favourite tough guy, but you know he’s got you there. You definitely are bitching, and—

Halloween month, cider season, big soft sweater weather, rain? It is the best, but it's never too early to argue. 

“You’ll love it, angel.”

You give up, melting again at his affection verbalized. You’re humming assent as he keeps the ball rolling, asking what you’d like to do today instead of going for a swim. Come over and take turns reading the new discount novel he found? Start that mead recipe you made last year? Drive over to Stobin’s—see who can sneak in and scare the shit out of them first? 

All great ideas, you assure him, but you decided long ago that the End of Swim also marked the beginning of piercing season. Your safety moratorium on body mods of all kinds has been lifted, now that you can’t dip your fresh wounds into scummy lake water. 

You've been planning a particular pair for some time. You also decided that it would be a surprise. Your Eddie is observant, dialed in, and sure, maybe you like to play the odd game here and there. He notices you, and you notice right back.  How long, do you think, will it take for him to note a new set of nipple piercings if you don’t warn him first? You figure it’s time to test it.

So, you break his heart a little, and decline to hang out today after all. You’ll see him on your next day off, you promise, and make plans for “four days hence, Munson, quit bitching. I just remembered something else I need to do,” before hanging up on his protests and pulling on your first pair of sweats in 4 months. 

ID, water bottle, and a sweet breakfast in tow, you head for the best (note: only) tat shop you know, braced and ready for a world of pain, going boldly into the cold.

—---------

And there had been almost no pain, at first. You had yelped girlishly before the first needle went in, then felt embarrassed about how easy and quick it had been. Before you had even realized, it was over, and you grinned big at the unique beads framing each pert, dark nipple. You loved them. You loved the piercings, and more than ever, loved your tits. Couldn’t wait to go home and check them out from every angle, actually. 

Then, a malicious towel snag, a careless door-jamb bump, and a hateful sweater-thread later, you were fearing for your life. Over the last few days, you had taken to crouching around them a bit, arms wrapped loose around your stomach as a reminder and for protection. Your nipples were insanely sensitive, now more than ever, and you had never understood ‘til now how often you simply walked through and into things instead of just around.  

But, they were calming down, and with each prescribed saltwater soak you breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of visible irritation. The standard piercing boogers notwithstanding, they looked hot, you felt hot, but found yourself nervous for the big reveal. You thought you would hide them well, your mission made easier by the cool weather and baggier shirts it allowed. 

You’re in his room now. Eddie’s ideas had been good, but you had both decided on the usual– you, rocking up to his trailer and spending the day with him throwing food and trading theories, hours whiled away in artistic pursuits and cat-naps, never too far from one another. It’s been a good day– you’re doing such a good job with the piercings, you forget to hide how entranced you are by Eddie's hands. 

“Aren’t you hot?” 

You count the veins and tendons as they flip pencils and drum against whatever surface they encounter, try to guess how long he can go before he bites that right pinky nail too short again, wonder if he’s running hot today. He’s tactile, your Eddie, but you’re sitting on the floor, legs sprawled, and yeah, a little too warm in the hoodie you came in as he lounges on the bed– too far for his idle touches to distract you into admitting anything. 

You love those hands. You want to taste them one day. He’s looking at you.

Fuck, wait, he’s looking, and you haven’t answered him. You cut your eyes away, to the floor, to your nails, like an idiot. That wasn’t at all suspicious, sure. You’re reasonably sure Eddie hadn’t noticed the piercings themselves yet until, as you snack and he chats again about his sketch, he suddenly drops the pink eraser you’ve been watching his square fingers systematically tear apart.

“N...Noooooo.” He takes in your belated answer and eyes you for a second, then starts talking again. You tug your hands gingerly into the hoodie you’re in and slide the thing over your unwrapped cloud of hair without snagging anything, then toss it away, wiping the light sheen of sweat you realize is cooling on your nose.

 Fuck, here we go. You hadn’t considered you’d have to hide in conversation, just that you had to keep him from seeing. You try to keep your cool, but answer too quickly. This wouldn’t last long.

“Have you been eating weird shit again?” Eddie asks, cutting himself off from explaining the lore of his latest campaign villain. He’s sitting up more since you last looked at him– leaning back on one elbow as the other arm drapes comfy across his belly– and watching you fidget in that weird posture you’ve adopted since the piercings. 

“Eat– We–, me? Weird? What’s– What?” Nailed it. Smooth, like butter. Too player. You thank God or Dolly or whoever’s watching that your blush isn’t visible, because you can already feel your face heating up.

He stares, eyes squinted. You watch your plate, then look back at his lovely hands, fingers pale and impatient, thr-r-r-rumming in sequence against his now-closed notebook.

“What’s with the air-head act? And why are you clutching your tummy and moving like you fell down the stairs?” Okay, that one’s easy.

“Cramps.” Your reply is stiff, but reflexive. The pink in his fingertips as he drums is entrancing. Maybe you’ve saved it– you think you sound sure. He’s silent for beat, and you pick up a cracker and look out the window. Maybe you’re a genius. The fuck’s he gonna do? Argue?

“Hm. Bullshit?” You look up to challenge that, and catch him peering behind you to the stuffed possum you had gifted him when his favourite, real, live, wild possum friend stopped her brief shuffle through the fire pit behind his trailer one drizzly day. 

(Eddie had called it the best week of his life, then declared that he’d never love again.)

After another beat, as if the scruffy thing has read the room and confirmed its answer, Eddie nods once, curls bouncing, then swings his neck dramatically back to you to assert, “bullshit.” 

It's panic creeping up your throat now, because he’s going to see you,  see them, this isn’t– well– it is– but you didn’t think it through, and you aren’t a good enough liar to dodge the impending question. You hem for another moment, hands hovering over your torso, and he looks between them and your face before snapping his bulk upright so fast that the bits of pink littering his lap and thin muscle shirt fly up in the flurry.

“What’re you hiding?”

A frown tugs your lips down before you can stop it. You watch Eddie toss the notebook and, with a loud thump, collapse off the bed boneless into your nest of blankets and towards you like a mad slinky before you can finish saying, “nothing! I’m not– hiding–, wait a second!” 

In that second, Eddie has slithered the 4 feet between him and you, kind of flinging himself on top, landing more gently than you expected in a straddle and pinning your now-closed thighs under his seat before you can wiggle back and away in time. 

“Did you get a tattoo without me? You fucking did, didn’t you?” He might be verging on genuinely hurt, by the sound of it. You’d promised after he’d started his stick-n-poke journey that he’d be your first, (tattooer, that is), once he got some training together. Had swore to him–

“Le’me see– what, is it that shitty? Who the hell did you go to? You can’t be–”

“Ow, Eddie, stop!” Your screeching protest belies real pain this time, curling in on yourself and to the side as much as possible. He bumped a piercing in the shuffle, the pain expected but still shocking, and he backs off a bit and coos in sympathy, all his next words coming out in a frantic rush.

“Fuck, oh no, I’m sorry. I’msosorry, Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, breathing deep through the stinging. As it subsides, he ducks his head to meet your eyeline, his paint-stained palms up, promising no contact. He’s still straddling you, most of his weight on his heels. Still locking you under him, where its very warm.

If you looked down and saw your heart itself beating its way out of your chest, you wouldn’t be shocked. You’re almost choking on it, and plotting how to get him off you without knocking the new piercings again. Its enough to spin your head, to think you’ve been found out this soon, that the bravado in your spirit has fled so quickly at the reality, not just the idea, the real life prospect of showing Munson your tits. 

But it's thrilling, him on top of you. It's always thrilling, a dream fulfilling itself, isn't it? Even if the context is off. This isn't the first time a bout of “weird” from one of you or the other has ended up in a fact-finding mission– sometimes wrestling match, or pillow fight, or wild, short chase through the woods. 

But every time he gets this close, it's like the path between your head brain to the other brain is cleared– heat is flooding the thin cotton that separates you from his well-worn denim faster than ever. He has to get up, right now. You have to keep him there forever. 

You relax as the sting subsides, uncurling and groaning a bit as those strong, clever hands fall to bracket your head on either side. Eddie leans down, sounding the creak of floor beneath you,  and scowls, bathing you in his radiating heat. Studying you, taking in your full lips pressed into a thin, nervous line, your brows turned up where they’d meet, betraying distress. 

“What is going on in there, man?" He's really worried now. When did you start keeping secrets?

“It’s…not a tattoo?” You purse your lips and scrunch your nose, and the sweet smile that flows like syrup across his face seems involuntary.

“Then what else– huh?” Eddie is trying to keep eye contact, but the wheels are turning, and his lovely smile drops. He glances at your arms crossed over your chest, and his jaw falls open, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Not a tattoo. Not ‘a’ anything, actually. Two things.”

“No, you didn’t. No way, not a chance.” Eddie seizes your wrists and ignores your protests, pinning each arm by your ears where his once were, and tries to x-ray inspect you through your shirt. It's dark, but not thick enough to weather this kind of scrutiny. Those telltale bumps are right there in front of him, the middle of each trio hardening as he inspects. So, you give up trying to argue, and shrug, suppressing a smile. 

“With— wha?” Eddie’s looney-tunes double-take makes you hoot a laugh as he swings his head and bouncy curls up and down, looking at you, glancing back at your chest, and up again as he processes what he’s hearing. What the fuck is he hearing? 

Your eyes stay low but your brows arch together as you scoff at him, dork. “You’re really telling me you hadn’t seen them?”

“I’ve– not–wha– I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean–”

But, you had been talking shit. He couldn’t have seen anything in the dark shirt you had been wearing all day unless he’d been staring when you weren’t looking– had he been staring at your tits anyway?

 Did he do that often? Your jaw doesn’t drop so much as glide mischievously open. Surprise dawns and Eddie realizes he has, in fact, given himself away too quickly. Coolest dudes in Hawkins, you two.

He changes tack, slapping the floor by your head, still a little shocked.

“You got your nipples pierced? I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you! You’re full of shit.” His voice is almost petulant in its disbelief, high and tinny.

Your eyeroll is audible, “I mean. I can prove it, Munson.” 

“When?” He gasps, indignant, and slaps the floor with the other hand. 

“You barely have your ears pierced-“ he exaggerates. “Who the hell did ‘em? Was it a guy? You let some guy–”

“Please, some professional? Can you be serious?”

“You can’t take the pain, angel, not without my moral support, there’s no way. You’d have been whining about them being sore all fuckin’ week if you’d gotten your—“ 

He looks at your tits again, jaw slack, but in his shifting sends them undulating with the movement. His whole body goes still, except to inhale very slowly.

You’ve maybe never been this self conscious in your life, but his distraction emboldens you.  

“The idea was ‘surprise’, not ‘ambush’. But,” you drawl, smirking as you twist a wrist easily out of his now slack grip and push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Do you—well.” Your eyes falter when your voice does. You want to offer proof. You’re not that bold yet, but you’re working up to it. 

He gives you room to sit up completely, hovering over your calves, back almost on his haunches. His heat leeches into your legs, swells in your chest and behind your eyes.

You want to touch him, like you always do. Eddie's deep brown eyes are wider, his mouth slack. His breathing is a little harder too, and you wonder for a second— do you want to un-ring this bell while there’s time?

“No,” he answers. “I mean, yeah, I—“ He rolls his plush lips into his mouth and then parts them, trying to work out how to ask. It’s not a dare anymore, and you feel a shyness completely unfamiliar, laid out in front of your best friend in the world. 

You wilt a little; Eddie finds his courage.

He swallows, and you watch his throat work while he figures out what to say, maybe as nervous as you are.

“Can I see?” He sounds hopeful, gentle, but to soothe you or himself, you can’t tell.

You dont quite answer with, “I’ll have you know, they didn’t hurt. At all, actually. It was...cold. Uncomfy, totally, but not painful— just a bit of a pinch? The last week has been worse than the actual needles were.” 

Eddie seems to realize he’s really staring, and cuts his eyes to the left, almost shy, and he seems to wipe sweat from his palms down the length of his strong thighs.

Your own hands pick at the hem of your shirt, and his gaze is split between your mouth and chest. Then, he shifts his weight, leans back like he’s about to give you space, when you reach for his warm, toned tricep, his skin shifting over muscle as he fidgets, and you’re ready to tell him the rest of the story. You can’t bear to miss his warmth on top of you, you realize. Now or never, you think. 

“I…” you croak, “I thought of you.”

 You hear him choke, like actually choke on his spit, then watch him shake his head like he’s rattling himself out of a haze. Eddie’s locked in on your eyes, searching for even the hint of a joke as you lift the shirt up just your stomach, exposing all the graceful cresting hills of your soft middle to his hungry gaze.

“When I picked them out, I mean.”

“Youf, you– fuc– You did this for me?” He sounds so absolutely incredulous, and breathless, all bravado bled out, or rushing to his reddening cheeks. It's like Eddie opened the next Discworld and found a dedication in his name, like the heavens have opened above him. For him? For him?

“Not for you, you clown, of course not. But like, maybe I wondered which ones you’d say I should get. And maybe... I thought you’d appreciate my pick.” Your crooked smile feels small, and you feel like offering something more substantial. 

So, you do.

“Appreciate..? I. Oh, god, Jesus, I.” You had been lifting your shirt so casually as you spoke, palms sliding up across your skin and dragging cotton with them, a caress so careless it seemed incidental. But you avoid hitting the new bars through each hardening nip, chills putting a mild tremble in your hands that he first catches, and is then distracted from. You watch Eddie’s short-circuit for a bit, feel his thighs tense around yours. You decide then that boldness is the only path forward. 

At the last rounding, you let them hem of the shirt catch on the underside of your bust, and just before its dangerous, lift them up by the hem and then drop them a bit, so they bounce for him, putting on a little show, posture straighter than before in presentation.

You’ve killed him. His plush lips try and fail to form a word, any word, as he lets out another shakey breath and leans back in to you by centimeters.  

“Eddie?” you prompt at his silence, voice quieter now. He’s still a little wide-eyed when he gasps out,

“What. Appreciate? Fuck, you’re beautiful. So, so beautiful. Jesus Christ, I never thought— Are those bats?” He’s moon-eyed and gaping like a dry fish, and you’re too keyed up to even tease him about it. You didn't just think of him, you conspired to match with him, to carry a little bit of him with you.

You know he wants to see you, more than just the piercings, and that teasing smirk is a distant memory, much like your patience. 

“So you hate them, huh?” He’s shocked into laughing before you can finish the question, restoring the quiet to something like normal as he raises his ringed hands to frame the low curve of your breasts. But he takes them in only with his eyes, flitting back and forth between them.

“They look, so so good, so good, god. The color you picked, even,” a warm gold that picks up the warmth in the soft creamy brown of your skin, “it glows, like, perfect. Gold’s your color, Sweetheart. It's all your color.” 

Bravado is fickle. You order him through barely parted lips, like you didn’t mean to say it out loud, then almost slur the hasty backtrack, “touch them. If-you-want, I-mean, if-you—.” 

In Eddie’s mind’s eye, gold falls from the sky; from his mouth tumbles a bewildered, “'If i want?' Are you insane?” 

As he reaches, you nod and sit up a bit straighter, feel heat rise in your cheeks, and take his confession with a crooked smile.

“I dreamt this.”

Here’s you, insufferably coy through a giggle: “Yeah? How’d it go?”

 His own knowing smirk is back, and you shiver, wanting fathoms deep as Eddie's hot hands envelope the heavy mounds of your breasts from below, cupped in the way he had threatened before you granted permission. Eddie seems to weigh them as he holds you, committing to memory how the plush fat of them sits in his palms, how they pebble across with gooseflesh at his very gentle fondling. 

You’re so soft, and warm, and he’s touching you; his mind splits in two. Some of him prays to any god for escalation, the rest could die happy right here.

On contact, you sigh together. Heavy, whispering things— you were both holding your breath— and inhale together, too. Your eyes flutter closed at the the drag of each body-warm ring as they poke into you. His calluses are almost sharp against you where they glide, some of the time ghosting over your skin, but mostly kneading you warmer.

It's your soft little hum of pleasure, how you arch, helpless, into his touch— the indiscreet rub of your knees together, and your thighs into his seat, the way you fight the smile back— these bring him back to himself,  and he checks your face again, watching the small smile grow as your eyes flick up to his. 

“Different,” Eddie intones, low and slow. “We’re out of order.”

You’re watching his pretty mouth again while he feigns serious, but as he moves just one hand to the floor behind you and leans in close, warm Cheez-It-breath tickling your face, setting alight every nerve that wasn’t already screaming for deeper contact. You meet his penetrating gaze and gasp at the pleasure-pain of that ringed thumb finally, finally, swiping up along one pert nipple. 

It's a shocked moan, not a gasp, that opens your mouth as he collides with it, timed perfectly with the upward jolt of your hips into his hardening cock. It's Eddie’s turn to gasp— his rushes out hot and quick, as if from a gut-punch. 

He's fighting for his life trying to steady his voice, act casual. “Usually, I get my mouth on your first.”

With that, he closes the gap again, but this time pulls away with a wet smack, a kiss so brief you’re compelled to chase him and get your licks in.

“Then, my hands,” he says, as he closes his fingers around as much of you as he can grasp with each hand to squeeze. Its at once electrifying and comforting, leaning into him and running from the cold. You want him pressed against you completely, but he's focused on the pillows of supple skin and heat in his hands.

“Promise,” he chokes, “ahhh, promise to tell me if it hurts, angel?”

“Eddie, touch me— I promise— touch me,” you positively beg, and your Eddie, egged on by your fingers now pulling deliciously at the hair on his sensitive nape, recovers fast. He’s on you before he can take his next breath in, and bites down around your bottom lip, pushing you with him gently as he leans forward, mashing your noses together.  

And you kiss Eddie back, hard, sucking his trembling lip between yours and earning yourself a groan that sends a lovely buzz through your jaw where you meet. That fucking noise, and his hand still on you, now not as gentle, sending little shocks of pleasure as he swipes gently along the outer dark ring crowning your nipple. The skin there is tightening, growing impossibly sensitive, and each brush and nudge shocks you between your clamped thighs, makes your body rock a little, sending kinetic energy across you that has him enthralled. So much evidence of his effect on you, the movement anchors him to reality.

"Good?"

"Really good, Eddie, yeah." You squirm under him as he massages one side, then both, then rests his forehead against yours to gaze down, intent on his project. 

“You feel good too, angel,” Eddie groans again, enjoying himself in earnest, crowding you gently together, then letting each breast roll in his hands, rough digits brushing in tandem against beads so taut it almost hurts, so intense its almost too much, but you need more.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” You ask him in a pant, breathless and focused– you need him between your legs too, and desperately, so you nudge one of his, asking to widen so you can rearrange. Eddie obliges, planting one solid knee right against your aching core and letting you fall back, propped up on both elbows. 

Neither of you wastes a second. This kiss is a hot, wet collision of sighs and spit, grinding sloppily into each other through just too many layers of sweet, stiff friction, whining into each other’s open mouths. 

While you nearly lift your hips off the floor, chasing the worn denim between your legs, tension in your lower gut building faster than it ever has alone, Eddie rides your linen-covered thigh just above your bent knee, murmuring between love-bites to your chin, the chubby apple of your grinning cheek, then the crook of your neck, where he finds and then latches onto a spot that makes you seize under his weight, clamping your thighs around the one at the very center of your focus. 

You clasp a hand at the back of his head again, scratching a bit at his neck and forcing a long shaky sigh out of his mouth as the rhythm of his swirling hips grows rough, devolves into a stuttering staccatto race to the finish, and he’s talking himself through it into your shoulder as you barrel him down.

Ed's heaving whines are gorgeous, ragged, as he sighs into your neck about how good you feel under him. He can’t finish a sentence as he groans into your shoulder, all about how good you smell, how he can’t believe you did this for him, how badly he wants to taste them. 

“Taste? I,” you cut yourself off with a near-panicked whine when his leg slinks heavily down, the relief of his wet but still straining crotch-tent another brief sliding kiss against your now soaking cunt, and you resist seizing him by the scalp, to keep him up with you, but only just. You’re both so close; he’s stalling?

No, tasting.

Through your horny fog, your mind starts to process his goal. Eddie works his body down yours urgently, never really breaking contact, and as he slips away all you can do is watch him watch you.

In a thrall, as he draws a scalding trail of open-mouth kisses down the heaving swell of your exposed breasts. The wet kisses cool fast in the chilly air of his room, and it feels so good you don’t care how needy your sighs sound, how obscene and high your breaths echo in your own ears. Then he pauses in his descent to admire you again, breaking eye contact for a few awe-struck moments, dropping a chaste peck just left of the left nip, then resting his forehead on your sternum. When he fully squishes your tits into his cheeks it makes you laugh out loud, and you feel his smile and then chuckle against your stomach.

He seems to paise there for a few moments, content to nuzzle, and your high whine-sigh takes even you off guard. Eddie looks up at the sound but stops himself saying whatevers on his mind. Instead, he double-takes between your mouth and chest once, and again, then and finally asks, “sweetheart?”

He’s got that look like he’s up to something, and you can’t say you mind it. 

Eddie drags his lovely nose across the wide valley between your bust, your shoulders cave a bit with the shiver, and he continues, “can I?”

Taste. Yes, “please, Eddie, yeah,” and he closes his hot mouth over one hard bead, swirling that devilish tongue around and over, knocking it roughly enough to pull a harsh hiss from between your clamped teeth. Your hands are both in his hair again, and in a little pain you pull at his sensitive scalp and feel the buzz of his moaning around you, closing the little pleasure circuit between you.

You feel every wet swipe of tongue like a brand, on your sensitive chest and melting, shocks of heat driving down in your sex, chasing the pressure and pushing your body into his chest where he lays against you. 

One of his hot hands mimics his mouth’s rhythm on the other tit, and the lewd sounds of his deep moans around you are only matched by the obscene slick of his hand finding the soaked core of you under his torso, his fingers tingling over the used cotton.

You nod assent before he can even ask, catching his eyes as he pulls away from your chest to check on you. He finds your open pant, you low lidded attention on only him, and smiles. Then, he grinds his own hips into your leg where he straddles it, lower than before, moaning again around your mound and sucking this time, a new kind of pressure that pulls the neediest cries from you yet. His fingers finally breach your underwear from the side, and the calloused contact jolts you to the precipice, climax just within reach now that your clit has direct, emphatic attention. 

His tongue swirls faster, and Eddie matches that pace with his slick fingers between your cunt lips, circling the trigger and nudging just the top of your gasping hole, pace quickening, just what you're begging him for. Your free leg hitches around his back and pulls him into you, then you clamp up and pull hard at the hair in your grasp, gasping his name over and over as you come shaking, curling around his head, pussy drooling on his rings and wrist, hips frantic in their desperate chase for friction. 

Eddie’s not far behind, rhythm incomprehensible as he’s distracted by his own big finish. He bites down almost too hard around your breast and fucks down onto your trapped leg, groans buzzing through you as he drools and sputters and comes a warm wet mess into the washed-out black. 

The grey light is blinding, you can’t open your eyes at first. But you start to collect yourself when you feel him pull off, sliding his hand slowly out of your panties. You open your eyes to him watching you again, eyes half closed, to him catching his breath, and with no regard for the mess on his hand he gathers your collar in his fist and hauls you forward for another kiss, other hand tucked in the soft folds of your waist, grasping, clutching, pulling you in.

“Ouch.” You say, with no heat at all. 

As he scoffs, Eddie slinks back down again to kiss it better, another gentle peck just to the side of the most sensitive bud of your breast where he sucked and nibbled hard enough to bruise. Just a pinch, indeed.

“Aw, I’m sorry, angel,” he promises, only a little sarcastic, and finally rounds his mouth around your right nipple, which he had neglected until now. 

Then, you hear the slightest crunch. Like crumbs rubbing together.

Eddie smacks his lips a couple times, tasting, considering.

"Salty," he says. No way.

Oh, god, no. No fucking way. He still licking you clean but you freeze, then he does, but Eddie, knowing exactly what he just set you up for, loses it. He buries the cackle in your tummy as it dawns on you, and you do some quick math– you last showered this morning, which means you last soaked your piercing this morning, maybe 10 hours ago.

Eddie crawls back up your body as you wail, “ohhh, my God, Munson, why would you—? I cannot–” and lands eye-level, with you spent and boneless on your back, him in a table-top pose, arms propped by your shoulders. 

He hadn't been neglecting your other side, he had been saving it.

10 hours. More than enough time for new “crusties” to form, so more than enough time to build your own nightmare from natural scratch. And he didn’t hesitate, or mention it at all, that your piercings were clearly crusted over as part of the usual healing process, he just sucked them off anyway like they were in the way.

“You– absolute– freak! Eddie what the fuck! Did you fucking eat it? Are you insane?”

“What? I helped! And it’s probably, like, I don’t know, nutritious somehow. Protein?” He shrugs, smirking in the face of your horror, your embarrassment. You hadn’t thought to look at your own tits when the idea of his eyes on you had been more than enough to deal with.

You punctuate every few words with sharp shoves, which barely register as nudges to him from your angle, still under him, fighting his weight and gravity itself. Little by little, he sinks against them, and you tire yourself out before his chest traps your arms between the two of you.

“You– sicko, I didn’t– give you permission– to snack on me.”

“You even said ‘please,’ sweet heart, no take backs. I believe they’re my boogers now.” His smile is just content now, mischief subsumed by all the love in his eyes. You were in his mouth; now you’re on your way through his system. He thinks its romantic.

He ate it. Like a weird pet left unattended too long, he saw something new and simply put his mouth on it. Your-- friend? hardly, you think-- Eddie Munson just ate the new piercing boogers off you, straight from the source as he came in his jeans. You don’t even know what to do, so bewildered you shove his shoulders and chest as rough as he’ll allow before he seizes your wrists and pins you again, only this time, your tits are still out. 

“Without full knowledge, that’s twisted– you’re sick.” Your smile betrays you. What a weirdo, sure, but who else would full-send like that? You can’t think of anyone you’ve dated– anyone you’ve let touch you– that has ever been so close, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet. 

God, what a freak– your freak, you think with a thrill.

“Yeah yeah, heard it before."

Its quiet for a bit as you stare at each other, smiles crooked and soft.

"Well. Cat’s out of the bag?”

“Seems that way.” So, there's your "what are we" convo' all sorted.

“Good. So you know— " Eddie ducks his head to tap his nose against yours, then pulls back again to hover a little closer than before, "clothes are no longer an option.”

“What. The hell are you saying.”

“I'm saying,” he whispers, suddenly against your ear, dragging out each syllable, and slides his thumb and it's cool bat ring now poking out of a soft fist across your collarbone and up your shoulder, just to see you shiver again, just to watch you shake.

“hu-.. what, Munson, spit it out!” Now, you grab him by both wrists, and the quick movement brings his eyes to your tits again, gold titanium winking in the gray light. The soft wave of your body warms his core. He's half-hard already just watching you move.

“Too late, ha.” You groan, still grossed out, and anticipating this, he groans with you, mocking. You feel it through your own chest, feel it down your pinned leg.

Then, Eddie’s voice is soft too, at once dreamy and deadly serious, when he says, “You,” drops a kiss on one shoulder, “were so, so right,” and another on the other, “you won't need clothes ever again.” 

—--------------—

Its only days later, your next day off, when your favorite metalhead greets you at your front door. You don’t even have time to say hello before he’s flashing you; Eddie yanks his shirt up, fast as he can, to show off two glinting barbells, twin gold angel wings framing each nipple, still red and a little swollen from the piercing.

He beams at you, proud of the shock written all over your face, and before you can recover, cradles your face with one ringed hand and swoops in to plant one on your open mouth, grinning all the while.