#no I won’t shut up about wrestling.

[malewifehenrycooldown]

Unfortunately for everyone and my f/os, I am still thinking about cm punk

[roanniom]

I wanna say best friend Steve, who doesn’t get why you’re insecure and wants to hype you up…

Reflections

Best Friend!Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, friends to lovers, light angst from body image issues but it resolves, PIV sex / mirror sex, praise, groping, a LOT of fluff

You’re getting ready for a party and he’s waiting for you but you’re taking foreeeeever and he’s so BORED. He’s flopped on your bed with an arm over his eyes moaning about how late you two will be. But then he realizes you’ve been in your closet for a long time and you’re really quiet.

“Babe? C’mon, what’s going on? Get outta there.”

When you finally do, Steve’s eyes go wide. He’s never seen you in something so form fitting. Something that hugs every delicious curve and exposes the hills and valleys of you. His mouth goes dry and suddenly he’s feeling all hot and clammy like a fucking teenager again.

Keep it together, Harrington. You used to run shit and now you’re getting stiff over your best friend? He swallows thickly at the thought and wrenches his gaze up to your face, startled to find you frowning.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and you throw your arms up into the air.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you huff, walking over to the mirror. Steve steps up behind you, doing his best to maintain a respectful distance. Your hands grab meanly at the rounded parts of you and your frown deepens. “This doesn’t fit how I wanted it to and I look awful and -,”

You’re cut off suddenly by the massive snort of a laugh Steve let’s out behind you. You glare daggers at him over your shoulder through the mirror.

“What the fuck, Harrington?!”

Steve continues chuckling but puts his hands heavy on your shoulders, good natured and soothing.

“I’m sorry but you’re fucking crazy if you think you look awful. You’ve gotta be pulling my leg here, babe.”

Your jaw tenses as it does every time he calls you ‘babe.’ Reminding yourself that he’s your friend and nothing more, regardless of the way his fingers are digging into your muscles, you shake your head petulantly.

“I look like bag of lumps,” you argue.

“Nah, you look like one of those paintings we saw on that field trip to that museum in Indianapolis,” he says wistfully, no longer pretending to not be appraising you in the mirror. Despite your lingering trepidations you can’t lie to yourself. You like the feeling of his eyes on your body.

“You calling me Rubenesque?” you ask, finally quirking a smile. Steve’s answer grin is huge, glad you’re no longer frowning.

“Look, I have no idea what that means but if it’s good, then yeah.” He shrugs and takes you in again, scanning your figure with eyes that finally settle on your ass, no longer looking in the mirror. You feel heat spread through you while he licks his lips unconsciously. “But really I’m calling you sexy.”

“Sexy?” you groan, ruffling with discomfort and squeezing your eyes shut against embarrassment. “Shut up, Harrington!”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What?”

“Just shut up, will you?”

“Why? Because I called you sexy?” he asks defensively.

You curl in on yourself covering your ears.

“Stop fucking saying that word.”

“No. I won’t, you weirdo,” Steve laughs, grabbing you by the waist and wrestling you back to full height. You fight against him weakly by wriggling in his arms but his grip is firm. He locks eyes with you in the mirror and forces you to hold the contact. “You’re fucking hot, okay? Deal with it.”

“Ok fine, hot is a word that, while an exaggeration, I can maybe live with,” you respond, rolling your eyes. Steve shakes his head. It’s not lost on you that his grip tightens on your waist.

“But you’re also sexy,” he continues to insist. When you loll your head to the side in discomfort he has to steel himself so he doesn’t lean down and inhale the scent of your perfume on your exposed neck. He shakes you a bit and your head lolls to the other side. “What’s your problem with that word.”

“Because, Steve,” you harumph, slapping your hands over your eyes to hide your face. “Calling someone ‘sexy’ implies that people would willingly have sex with them.”

Steve is momentarily silent but the puff of air that you feel on your neck from his sudden and harsh exhale makes goosebumps erupt on your skin. It’s his turn to frown darkly at you.

“Is that a joke?”

“The idea of people willing to have sex with me?” you ask, reaching to dig and elbow back into his ribs. “Yeah. A big joke. Haha Ho Ho. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Steve’s mouth flattens into a tight line.

“Lots of people want to have sex with you.” He says it bluntly. It’s not an argument. He’s not trying to convince you. Just stating it as if it’s fact.

And now it’s your turn to snort.

“As the sexual object in question, who has been so celibate it’s like her virginity has been reinstated, I’m gonna have to beg to differ with you, buddy.”

Steve stiffens behind you. You’re best friends. He knew about your dry spell, but he hadn’t realized the extent to which it had messed with your confidence. It makes him almost shake with a sudden rage he doesn’t understand. Not at you, of course. But at the situation. At the male population of Hawkins who clearly don’t have fucking eyeballs let alone brains to comprehend what a catch you are.

He’d been nursing his own pathetic crush on you since that first day you’d waltzed into Scoops Ahoy and immediately turned down his over the top advances. You’d laughed him off as completely unserious and the two of you began an unlikely friendship born of teasing, complaining, and messing with Dustin and Robin. Steve had swallowed his attraction to you, letting it surface only in moments when he could appreciate you without you noticing. Which means “appreciating” your ass when you bend over to pick something up. Or “appreciating” your tits when you bend over to pick something else up. The fact that you haven’t noticed how consistently Steve drops shit is honestly concerning.

Steve’s not a particularly eloquent guy. He can be smooth when he wants to be, but if his current season of striking out constantly has taught him anything, it’s the fact that he isn’t getting any better at speaking. All he knows is he’s desperate to change the look on your face that says you don’t believe in your own looks.

He doesn’t think. He just pulls you against the front of his body roughly, closing the gap he had been maintaining.

“Steve, what - oh!” you gasp when you feel it. Him. Hard against you, his fingers digging into your sides to keep you pressed to him. Steve lowers his head to speak in your ear, all the while maintaining eye contact with you in the mirror.

“You’re more than a sexual object,” he says roughly. Then his hands drop to the sides of your thighs, applying pressure as he slides them up to map the slopes of your curves. “But if that’s what you wanna be, believe me. You’ve got takers, babe.”

“Steve…” you mumble under your breath. Your eyes are wide and fixed on him. Lips wetted and parted as you inhale shallowly.

Well. At least he’d managed to get the frown off your face.

Steve does his best to analyze the look in your eyes through the mirror. He doesn’t want to make you more upset accidentally. You gape for a second, remaining silent, and his hands follow the same path back down your curves, sliding around to press into the roundness of your lower belly to push you more securely against his erection.

“You’re…you’re just trying to make me feel better…” you finally say weakly. Steve’s hands slide back up to hold your hips, pressing into the dip of your waist to savor in a supple roundedness present there as well. Your eyelids flutter for a second at the touch.

“So are you saying this is making you feel better?” He asks. You don’t respond so he rolls his eyes. “You think I got hard just to make you feel better? Seriously?”

“Well I don’t know how it works…” you sputter indignantly. Steve laughs into your hair.

“Yeah I don’t believe that for a second. I think you know exactly how it works and that’s why you find it so fun to mess with me all the damn time.”

Your brow furrows and Steve shakes his head.

“Cut the crap. You do shit to turn me on every single day. It has to be intentional at this point.”

Your mouth opens and you struggle to respond.

“I don’t know what you’re…I’m not doing anything.” Then your face screws up in frustration. “If you’re making fun of me, I swear to god, Steve, I’ll -,”

“Does this feel like I’m making fun of you?!” Steve says abruptly, grinding against you. Your dress is so short that this time it rides up with the pressure, making it so that his clothed cock presses between the plush of the backs of your thighs.

You want to protest, but the moan that rips from your throat doesn’t sound much like a protest. Steve groans in your ear and your eyes whip up from where they’d rested on his hands to find his face. The hunger in his expression steals your breath.

“You cant…you can’t really want this,” you mutter. You can’t want me, is what you mean. It makes a lump form in Steve’s throat. Makes him want to hold you even closer, so he does.

“I do,” he contradicts, rocking himself against you consistently now. He’s encouraged by the way you shiver and grip at his wrists. Not pulling him off you but anchoring him to you instead. Steve brings his face to the side of yours, staring till you turn your head to look at him. In real life this time and not through the mirror. He’s disconcertingly close and your breath stutters in your chest. His eyelids are half mast as he takes you in. “The question is…do you want this?”

You kiss him before you can think any deeper about what’s going on. You kiss him before you can convince yourself that this is a prank or a pity kiss or anything else other than an attractive man you care about lavishing you with physical affection. Steve’s eyes slam shut easily and he holds you close in this awkward position. Craning your neck around as his front is pressed still to your back. His lips are insistent and hot and wet and quickly he’s forcing yours open so his tongue can slip in.

You practically swoon over the combination of his hands and his lips and his tongue. His dick presses more insistently against you and you find yourself pressing back. Shimmying your was a bit to create more friction. Triumph shooting through you when Steve let’s out a quiet, low “Fuck” in response.

When you finally pull away for a oxygen, you straighten up and look at Steve and yourself in the mirror again. You look absolutely debauched out of no where. Eyes hazy, lids low, hair and dress askew, chest rising and falling in a restless pant. Steve ignores the opportunity to breathe, instead using the pause to start kissing your neck.

You watch him work at your skin. His jaw moving and throat tensing and releasing. His hair wild and disheveled in a way that makes him look even more sinfully delicious than normal. It really isn’t fair.

You’ve always been attracted to Steve Harrington. You have eyes and a healthy libido after all. But you’d never believed someone like him could want someone like you. You did believe, however, that you were a perfect match in every respect other than aesthetic. He needed someone to challenge him. Someone to keep him humble while also supporting him and building him up. You had plenty of confidence in your humor, intelligence, and overall personality, so him becoming your best friend made sense when you both fell into it.

But with his body against yours now, it’s the first time you’ve ever even considered the meaning behind his flirtatiousness. The intent behind the hands he places comfortingly on your shoulders or thighs. Hope bloomed hot and hesitant in your core as you watched his hands begin to roam and grope at parts he’d never dared touch before.

“This…this okay?” he asks into your skin as he tentatively cups one of your breasts. He cracks an eye open to look at you in the mirror and when you nod, he allows his hand to close tighter around you. You swallow another moan.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” he whispers back, not looking up from your tits which he’s begun massaging through your dress. You grasp at his wrist and shake him to get his attention.

“Steve.”

The strain in your voice has his eyes snapping up to yours and his hands stopping immediately. He looks sheepish.

“Do you not like that? I can stop -,”

He goes to remove his hands from your chest but you slam your hands down over the backs of his to keep him fondling you.

“No!” you say hastily. Steve seems confused so you continue. “Remember what you said about there being ‘takers’ for me?”

Steve bites his lip, not enjoying the thought of how many other guys would find you thoroughly fuckable. But he nods.

“Yeah?”

“Well…” you say before you can overthink and ruin this. Your mind is reeling and your body is aching. The signs are too clear to question and even if this wasn’t what it seemed to be, you didn’t feel strong enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. You bite your own lip. “Would you…would you take me?”

Steve stops breathing. You can tell because his breaths were coming in heavy before and now suddenly his chest is still against your back. You don’t let yourself question it. Instead you widen your stance and lean over, flattening your palms against the wall on either side of the mirror. In the reflection of the glass Steve gets a good look down your dress into the cleavage below. Looking behind you he gets a good look up your dress where it’s ridden up, revealing a pair of dainty lace panties.

The groan that rips through him seems to restart his lungs because suddenly he’s practically hyperventilating behind you. His hands land heavy on your hips and he grinds against you with even more purpose. Steve’s instinct is to ask again if you’re sure, but you hum a low “yess” and drop your head to hand between your arched shoulders. 

You’re into this. Maybe even as much as he is. It’s time to man the fuck up and take what he wants. What you want to give him. 

So Steve places his hand on the dip of your lower back to encourage a deeper arch. You oblige him, sticking your ass out further in the process, and he groans. 

“I’ll show you how you should be treated, babe, don’t you worry,” Steve says hoarsely. A thrill runs through you at his words but he continues. “But you have to do one thing for me.”

“Anything,” you answer breathlessly. You’re surprised by your own enthusiasm but you can’t help it, visions running through your mind of what he could ask of you. You mentally prepared yourself to drop to your knees, mouth already prematurely watering. 

“Acknowledge how sexy you are,” he says, suddenly wrenching you upwards so you can see yourself more fully in the mirror again. Your back is once more flush with his chest and you moan at the sight of his hand wrapping lightly, delicately around the base of your throat. 

“That....I’m...” you struggle with the words and then shake your head. Steve’s hand slides down and pulls at one strap and then the other, letting gravity do the work of exposing your breasts to the air and him. Steve’s eyes roll back and he bites his fist. 

“I mean come on,” he moans. He gestures to your chest. “What the fuck is this? You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You can barely meet his intense gaze in the mirror but try your best. 

“You...wouldn’t have dated me in high school.”

Steve blinks. Completely taken back by the juxtaposition of your sudden vulnerability and the absolute fantasy of having your body against him, tits out and ready to be fucked. It takes a second for his brain to work through it but then he’s laughing.

“We wouldn’t have even been friends in high school. I would have made fun you and Robin if we’d ever crossed paths. Probably would have beaten the shit out of Dustin if he’d been old enough. And you know why?” he asks. You’re confused by his laughter so you shake your head and he continues. “Because I was an absolute asshole. It’s a me problem. High school Steve was a dick and honestly you’re better off not even knowing him.”

His tone is flippant but you can see the strain in his features. He feels guilt about his past and you know that. You suddenly feel guilty for letting your insecurities drag up an ancient history that you know he’s more than happy to move past. Comforted, you squeeze one of his hands that now rests on your hip and smile.

“And these days you’re only sometimes a dick,” you tease. Steve’s smile becomes more genuine, but his features screw up when you catch him off guard and bend over again, grinding against his still present erection. His fingers dig into your hips harshly.

“I’ll show you a dick,” he hisses, pressing into you in a shallow thrust. It’s absurd and it makes you laugh, finally free of the tension that had coated everything up to this point.

“Please do, Harrington. You’ve kept me waiting,” you respond, impatiently wiggling your hips. Steve abruptly pushes the bottom of your dress up, exposing your ass and leaving all of the material bunched around your middle. He lands a slap against your right ass cheek that has you squealing, finding his eyes in the mirror. They glint with mischief.

“I know you liked that. You forget you’ve told me what gets you hot,” he says simply. You flashback to the weed fueled honesty session in the Family Video parking lot you both had had one night and tingles erupt at the thought of what else he might remember. But then you remember what he’d said.

“Yeah well you like it when a girl touches herself, right?” you say cockily, lifting one hand from the wall and brining it to slide from your jaw, down your neck, to cup your breast and play with your nipple. While doing so you accentuate the curve in your back. Steve watches, swallowing audibly, but then fast as lightning rips your hand away from yourself and presses it back to the wall. His full body doubles over yours. You gasp.

“Usually I do, yeah. But I’ve waited so long that right now only I get to touch this body, understand?” You’re nodding before you can even think about it. When he trusts that you’ll leave both your hands pressed to the wall, Steve let’s his hands return to you. He slides up from your knees to grip fully at your inner thighs. He manhandles your hips, moving them side to side in order to grind your ass against his tented jeans. He palms up your soft stomach beneath the bunched dress. And then he cups your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, making you gasp again. His chuckle is low.

“See this is better. I’m the one who appreciates this body anyway. I should give her what she deserves.”

Your eyes are heavy lidded as they hold one another in the reflection. There’s hunger there that you’ve never known in your short lived sexual experience and suddenly you know for a goddamn fact that if this man is not inside you soon you will combust.

“Steve can you…can we just…?” You move against him impatiently and he leans in to kiss your neck with a chuckle.

“I’ve got you, babe. No need to beg.” The cockiness makes you roll your eyes but you hate that a fresh wave of wetness coats the tops of your inner thighs.

“I wasn’t gonna beg.”

“You weren’t gonna beg?” Steve asks, feigning shock. Your hands ball into fists against the wall.

“Pull your fucking pants down, Harrington.”

“Can do,” Steve says with a big grin. He unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans swiftly, in spit of how tight they are, leaving them and his underwear bunched at his thighs. He pushes you down farther and you have to strain to look up and watch him.

Over the curve of your ass you are treated to the sight of Steve Harrington stroking his massive cock. He hadn’t been called King Steve for nothing, that was for sure. His fist moves over it smoothly and with a familiarity that has you jealous of his fucking hand. Your eyes are wide and he seems pleased by your reaction.

“This work for you?” he teases. You bite your lip and consider your response.

“You’re sexy, Steve Harrington.”

A flush spreads across his face and down your neck and you’ve never been so smug in your entire life. But to his credit Steve clears his throat and grins.

“Thank you, babe,” he says before leaning over your body and rutting his cock against your core, leaving you gasping. He chuckles in your ear. “See, that’s how you take a compliment.”

“It’s not a compliment when it’s a fact, Steve,” you argue. But then he’s pulling down your panties and your legs begin to shake in anticipation.

“I don’t know because this is both a compliment and a fact - you’re fucking soaked!” he groans, running two fingers through your folds to collect the slick there. He flashes you a smile in the mirror that you can’t return because he suddenly sinks two fingers into you, causing your jaw to drop. “Which sexy thing in the mirror did this to you - you or me.”

“Shut - fuck. Shut up, Harrington,” you grit out.

He laughs and starts kissing your neck in tandem to his thrusting fingers. You bite back a moan, especially when his free hand lifts to play with your nipple. As someone who’d never been afforded much foreplay, you probably could have taken him two minutes into your argument, but Steve Harrington is warming you up. Getting you ready for him. And the realization makes you want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

When he adds a third finger and your hips work overtime, practically riding his hand, Steve finally pulls away, pressing a swirl into your clit that has you spasming as he takes his hand from between your legs.

“I think you’re good and ready,” he mutters, almost to himself. You nod feverishly up at him, swiveling your neck to try and see him directly. He shakes his head and nudges you back to the mirror. “No you’re gonna watch. You’re gonna watch me fuck you and see how well you take it.”

His words almost have your eyes rolling back in your head, but you hum an affirmative and go back to watching him in the mirror. Steve rubs the head of his cock through your folds and the way his face crumbles in pleasure has you absolutely preening. Then a sudden thought has your back rigid.

“Steve. Condom,” you say softly but urgent. His eyes snap open and he’s nodding immediately.

“Yeah sorry. Sorry!” He leans down and nips at the swell of your ass playfully and you yelp at the casual intimacy of it, heating up further as he reaches into the pocket of his bunched up jeans and pulls a foil packet from his wallet.

“How old is that?” you challenge with a cocked brow. He studies the packet for a second before looking up at you grinning.

“New enough that it’s not expired but old enough to have been collecting dust in there for a while,” he says, ripping it open and rolling the condom over his length. You bite your lip at the subtle confirmation that he hasn’t been with anyone else for a long time, trying to tamp down how good that makes you feel. Steve notices. “You like that? The fact that you’re the only one?”

You roll your eyes and repeat the refrain of the night.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

Steve pushes forward, one hand wrapped around the base of his dick, the other hand grounding on your hip. He spreads your folds with the head to cover himself in your slick. You sigh at the feeling.

“You’re not the only one whose been in a dry spell,” he says with a chuckle. You groan, letting your eyes slide closed while the hand that’s on your hip slips between your thighs to rub circles into your clit. He’s making you wetter. Prepping you further to accommodate his size. Again you feel overwhelmed by his attentiveness and how different this is from all your previous experiences. “You know the difference between us though, right?”

“Hm?” you ask, fully distracted by the pressure of his cock at your entrance and his finger on your bud.

“The difference is my dry spell is cuz I was waiting for you.” He says it simply. As if he’s not dropping a bomb on you in an incredibly intimate moment. Your eyes fly open and find his in the mirror and he’s grinning but this isn’t a joke. Your mouth opens to respond but the only thing that comes out is a moan when he chooses that exact moment to push all the way into you.

The feeling is otherworldly. It’s a stretch you’ve never felt and it’s got your legs turning to jelly and your face crumpling just on the line between pleasure and pain. You search for Steve’s face again in the mirror like a tether in a storm and he looks as overwhelmed as you feel. His eyes are screwed shut and he’s biting his lip so hard you’re worried because you sure as fuck want to kiss those plush lips again.

“St-Steve…” you all but whimper. He finds you in the mirror and looks almost distraught.

“Sorry yeah I’ll move it’s just…fuck.”

The desperation in his tone is such a boost to your ego that it’s got you rocking back into him.

“Feels good, Steve.” It comes out in practically a slur, but it seems music to his ears with the way he leans forward, gripping your waist and pulling out inch by inch.

“Feels incredible,” he contradicts before slamming back in. The suddenness of the movement has you clenching around him with surprise and he groans, fingers digging into your soft flesh. “Baby. Baby.”

Baby.

Not babe. Baby.

You hear the word ringing in your ears and your entire body reacts, letting him drive in even deeper somehow. It punches the air out of your lungs and you don’t let yourself think before responding.

“I like that.” It comes out in a rush. Steve huffs a laugh and starts finding a regular pace.

“You like that, huh? That the spot?”

“No,” you try responding but cut yourself off with a gasp. “I mean yeah, but no. I mean I…like you calling me baby.”

Steve’s eyes melt watching you. Saying sweet shit like that while taking his cock so well.

“Good. I wanna keep calling you baby,” he says quietly. 

Your gazes connect and you could swear your hearing cuts out. Time stops and everything in your view fades into fuzzy blurriness, leaving only room for him. Steve had slowed his thrusts, but as you focus on one another he renews his efforts. Not going faster, per se, but harder. Deeper. Your hands do what they can to keep you propped up against the wall, but soon your cheek is mashed against the mirror. You’re completely unable to stop the momentum of his thrusts from driving you forward with each upswing. 

“Defeats the purpose - fuck! Of the mirror if you’re not watching the show, baby,” Steve grunts out after a few minutes. Sweat has begun beading on his forehead and he’s losing patience with the distance between you. He’s enjoying fucking you from behind - it’s usually his favorite way of fucking - but there’s something missing. Before long he’s pulling out, much to your vocal protestation, and hauling you over to your long empty bed. 

“Wanna do this now,” he says as explanation. You don’t care. All you care about is the relief you feel when he sinks back into you. He has you on your back now, knees pushed up to your ribs. But you do care when everything comes into focus and you realize his face is right there. And the weight of his body is on you and around you and suddenly you need nothing more on this earth than to kiss him. 

So you do.

Steve hums into your mouth when you lurch up to press it to his. Your tongues fight for dominance and a line of saliva connects you when you finally part enough to pant for much needed air.

“Holy shit, Steve. Fuck!” You slam your head back down against the pillow, doing your best to lift your hips to meet each of his thrusts.

“I’m kinda mad we haven’t been doing this all along,” Steve admits with a grunting laugh.

“We were friends,” you reason, bucking against him when his fingers find your clit again. with the way he has you folded in half, the added stimulation has you rocketing towards orgasm at a breakneck pace.

“Aha, ‘were?’ So we’re not friends anymore?” Steve asks.

“How many friends have you been inside?” you ask, but then your eyes widen. “Never mind, I don’t want to know the answer to that.”

Steve barks out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Only you, baby,” he says good-naturedly. “Don’t think I can settle for just friends now, though.”

“No?” you ask absently. You’re beginning to ascend and losing yourself in the feeling. He can tell by the way you’re beginning to spasm irregularly around him.

“No, I need the whole sexy package,” he teases. You hear even more than before at the implication. That he might want all of you, and for more than just this, in this moment. You bite your lip and don’t say anything but his lips find your throat and you whimper. Steve sounds impatient when he speaks again. “Tell me you want me, too.”

You blink up at the ceiling and sputter.

“Wh-what?”

Steve pulls back, his thrusts slowing to a roll. He looks a little more tense. A little more vulnerable.

“You’re not the only one who needs to hear it, you know.”

You almost laugh at that but swallow it when you see he’s serious.

“Of course I want you,” you respond firmly. “Obviously.”

“It’s not obvious to me…” he mutters, dropping eye contact. You crane your neck to follow him.

“Steve, you’re hot as fuck - ,”

“That’s not -,” he tries to cut you off dismissively but you continue over him.

“AND you’re my best friend. I love being with you. In any way.” You roll your pelvis and look shyly up at him when he meets your gaze again. “But I’ve been wanting this way the most.”

Steve perks up, his hand grabbing yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted this?”

“Since that first time we spoke at Scoops Ahoy,” you confess. Steve’s thrusts come in faster now so your breathing picks up again. He snorts indignantly.

“I asked you out that day! You turned me down!”

“Well yeah, cuz I thought you were still a dick back then, Steve,” you reply with a massive smile. “We’ve been over this. Oh god…”

“You like this dick now, though, don’t you baby,” he intones, nothing but smooth Harrington charm. You don’t have it in you anymore to laugh or disagree.

“Mmmmhm…”

“You know you’re beautiful, right?” You seem just fucked out enough at this point that you finally won’t protest and he’s right. Your head lolls around on the pillow and you blink up at him dumbly. Steve takes in the bouncing of your breasts and the way your curves jiggle with each impact and he swears under his breath. “Gonna remind you how beautiful you are till you believe me, baby.”

He drives himself in all the way to hilt, holding himself there deep inside you till you’re clawing at him and clinging to him, moaning around gasps. Steve’s huge, but even better than that is the fact that he knows what to do with it. You ache with the supreme stretch of him. Pulse around his throbbing length in a way that makes you dizzy while you look up at him with glassy eyes that show you’re at least kind of understanding the depth of what he’s saying to you.

Steve can’t even begin to comprehend how he was lucky enough to finally find himself in this position. With you beneath him, staring up at him as if he hung the moon and the stars rather than simply stating plain, painfully obvious facts. He sees the crease in your brow as you wrestle with all the emotion he’s making you feel, however, and he wants to ease it. There’s been enough agony tonight. Right now, all he wants you to feel is pleasure.

“Hey,” he whispers suddenly, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against yours as his thrusts start up again. A hazy smile lights up your features.

“Hey,” you respond weakly.

“Still worried you’re not fuckable?” he teases. You huff a laugh that barely sounds like one because Steve chooses that moment to return his fingers to your clit, making you whimper.

“You seem to…mmm. You like…oh fuck…”

“Easy for you to say,” Steve chuckles, but the heat’s not lost on him either at this point. His face is screwed up in pleasure and the arm holding him up beside you is beginning to shake. He’s so fucking close, he just needs you to cum first because no matter the growth he’s gone through, he’s still King Steve and he’s gotta break you first for his ego, damn it.

Finally you whimper the magic words.

“Steve! Oh…’m so close…there…”

Steve knows what that means, so he changes nothing about what he’s doing, just focuses on doing it better. A deeper push against your sweet spot. A harder swirl against your clit.

“Come on, baby, c’mon,” he talks you through it and then you’re crashing over the edge. Seizing in his arms and clamping down on him in every way possible. Constricting your arms and legs around him. Pussy spasming and locking him in, making it hard to continue to steadily pull in and out.

The sudden onslaught of pressure has Steve toppling over soon after. He lets out a guttural grown and buries his face in your neck, his hips stuttering into yours as he spills into the condom. Though it accepts none of his cum, your pussy milks his pulsing cock for all its worth. His shuddering breath matches your own and you gasp and cling to one another as you slowly come back to earth.

It’s quiet for a few minutes in the aftermath. Aside from your combined slowing pants, of course. Steve’s face is still buried in your neck and it takes a while for you to regain feeling enough to recognize that he’s administering soft kisses to the skin there.

It all floods back into focus. The fact that you had been getting ready for a party (one that you were now astronomically late to). The insecurities you had exposed to your best friend. The insecurities your best friend had exposed to you.

You want to be worried about it. You want to feel stressed about what this will do to your friendship and about how he will look at you when he finally pulls back and sees you sweaty and disheveled and…and…and…

And Steve pulls back to give you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. And he’s sweaty. And disheveled. And luminous. Before you even realize it you’re stretching out your hand to touch his cheek. His eyes slide closed as he leans into your touch. Turns to press a kiss into your palm.

Your lip quivers and you do your best to swallow any of the negative self talk that had tried to bubble to the surface. When Steve’s eyelids float open again he sighs.

“I know you were thinking about it, but we’re not making it to that fucking party. I don’t care what you say.”

The laugh you let out is strangled. Rocketed right back to old times and the root of your teasing friendship. You go to swat at him and he grabs your wrist, nipping at the back of your hand.

“Hey, it’s your fault for being so sexy. Think I got my fill fucking you once? Not a chance, baby.”

His grin lights up the room. You manage to match it.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

~*~

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Late night surprise

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 12

Prompt: Only one bed

Rated: G

CW: Aftermath of trauma

Tags: Fuff; Humor; Post Vecna; Established relationship; Platonic Stobin supremacy; There may be several beds, but only one of them has Steve in it

Notes: Another collab with the incredible @house-of-the-moving-image, the art is here! They're all so cute and scrungly and eepy, look at them!!!

The neon letters of the alarm clock read 01:57 when Eddie is startled by the sound of frustrated tossing and turning.

“Grmph?” he makes and sluggishly turns over. 

“Hey,” Steve interrupts his wrestling match with the pillow and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie mutters, scooting closer into Steve’s warmth, linking their fingers. Steve lets him in willingly, sighs when Eddie kisses his knuckles. “Have you slept at all?” 

Steve shrugs, even though it ends up as more of a weird, one-shouldered twitch, all mushed together under the covers as they are. Eddie frowns, squeezes his fingers a little tighter. 

“Bad night?” 

“Not really,” Steve smiles. “Just … y’know when you’re real tired, but your brain won’t shut the fuck up?” 

Eddie huffs. “Sure do.” 

They just lie for a while, exploring the shape of each other’s hands, the rise and fall of each other’s chests. 

“You ever tried warm milk with honey?” Eddie asks. In the dim glow of the alarm clock, Steve’s brow furrows. “Wayne used to make it for me when I was a kid. Call it the placebo effect, but it always knocked me right out. I can fix you one?” 

Even in the dark, he can see how Steve’s eyes light up. “You would?” 

Eddie softly kisses the tip of his nose before peeling himself from the sheets. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Anything for you.” 

*

Nothing will ever quite make up for your home being cleft in half by an interdimensional rift, but Eddie must admit that the house that came with the government hush money has its perks. One of them being two bedrooms, so he doesn’t have to worry about waking up Wayne as he bustles around in the kitchen. 

He stirs the milk in its pot to keep it from burning and watches the little bubbles rising to the top. 

Nights used to be terrifying, right after … everything. For the longest time, he thought he'd never be able to sleep without nightmares again. It was only after weeks, when he passed out against Steve's shoulder during a movie, that Steve told him it was the same for him. For Buckley and Wheeler and most of the others, too. That he didn’t have to suffer through this alone. (“You’re one of us now, Eds. And we take care of each other.”) 

This is how it started. Late night calls after nightmares. Eddie sneaking into Steve’s house in the dark to crawl into bed with him - more often than not to find Robin or one of the kids already there. Steve coming over to Eddie’s if he was too shaken to drive. Holding the memories and the monsters at bay through shared warmth and touch, the feeling of a familiar body close by, the rise and fall of another chest. 

At some point, they stopped going to their separate houses to sleep. At some point, the touches became intentional rather than fleeting, turned into entwined fingers, into hands carding softly through hair, into lingering kisses and whispered confessions. Even the nightmares are slowly starting to fade.

They've come a long way, he guesses. 

He hums to himself while he stirs a generous amount of honey into the mug of warm milk, then pops the spoon into his mouth while he shuffles back to his room. 

“Voilà, ‘ere iz your order, monsieur,” he announces, pushing the door open and slipping into the silly French chef persona that always makes Steve roll his eyes and giggle adorably. “One cup of our finest ‘omemade- what the fuck?” 

The room is still dark. 

Steve is still in bed. 

Only now he's fast asleep. 

He also isn't alone.

There's another person sprawled half on top of him in a heap of gangly limbs. A person with a bird's nest of dirty blonde hair, wearing a checkered pair of boxers and Steve's faded swim team shirt.

“What the hell, Buckley?” Eddie mutters. 

Robin snores. 

“Aw, c'mon,” Eddie grouses. He sets the mug down on the nightstand and crouches down so that he can poke her. “I was gone for what? Five minutes? When did you even- ow, son of a …” 

Because Robin has thrown out a flailing arm, and he just caught an elbow to the face. Eddie cradles his stinging nose and watches how she snuggles closer to Steve with a satisfied huff. Steve sighs and smiles in his sleep. 

“Seriously now,” Eddie grunts, tries to wiggle into what little space is still unoccupied on the mattress. “That's my boyfriend, Bucks. Not to mention my bed. At least lemme- woah!” 

A bony knee hits him in the stomach. He slips and lands square on his ass on the cold floor, taking the comforter with him.

“Eds,” Steve grumbles. “Don't steal the covers.” 

Eddie flies to his feet, snarky remark ready on his tongue-

-and stops.

Because Steve and Robin look … well, they look funking adorable, okay? What kind of guy would he be to wake them? It would be like frightening a cuddle pile of cute little puppies, and contrary to what the general public may think, Eddie isn't the type who harms puppies. Or tears pretty boys who have finally fallen asleep apart from their platonic soulmates. 

Eddie sighs and drapes the comforter back over the pair, leaning over Robin's limp form so that he can drop an awkwardly angled kiss to Steve’s temple. 

“Sleep well, you dumbasses. See ya tomorrow.” 

He grabs an afghan from the desk chair, makes for the door, then turns back and takes the mug of warm milk with him. If he's gonna sleep on the couch, he might as well get cozy. 

He may have to invest in a larger bed.

All my holiday drabbles

[angelofsmalldeaath]

in the woods somewhere — a.h.b.

cw: being sick, fevers

“go away, you’re not supposed to be in here,” i groan from under the mountain of blankets, struggling to fully breathe. 

the room is somehow boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time. i take a peek and his frowning face, and shut my eyes again. 

“you were calling my name,” his voice floats in on the breeze, garbled as if i’m under water and he’s trying to reach me. “you sounded quite weak and pathetic if i’m being honest—”

“oi!”

“—scared me a bit.”

i sigh into the pillow and grimace when a sweat-soaked tissue touches my nose. i shouldn’t be this disgusted by it. every inch of my skin feels the same—sweat-soaked and grimy and icky. 

a moment later, a cold hand touches my forehead. then i hear a wince. 

“oh, you’re not doing so well are you?”

“miserable. but you should go. i’ll be just fine—” and then, just to drive home the point, my body breaks into a coughing fit. 

the cold hand moves to my back, stroking down my spine until i can finally catch a breath, get some air in my lungs. it burns, of course. it burns like i’ve swallowed the river styx. 

“quit being so stubborn, will you? don’t make me wrestle you into being a good patient.”

“oooh kinky,” i tease, my voice hoarse and barely even audible. another coughing fit threatens to take over me but he holds a glass of water in front of me before that can happen. 

i take one look at his unimpressed face and take the glass dutifully. 

“i don’t remember calling your name.” i set the glass aside and try to prop myself up. he immediately moves to prop up a few pillows behind me. 

“well you would if your brain wasn't so fever addled. i reckon it’s melting. because you refuse to listen to me.”

“i’ve listened to you all day!”

“and did you eat when i brought you that bowl of soup in bed or did you make a face?”

“right,” i pout, pull out the last arrow from my arsenal, “are we really gonna do this when i’m on my death bed?”

a laugh tumbles out of him, surprising us both. he presses a hand over his mouth to stop it, pretends to run a hand through his beard to cover it up. “oh now you’re too sick, are you? i thought you were ‘just fine’.”

“schrödinger’s sickness,” i shrug and silently celebrate when he has to fight another smile.

“alright, how about we make a deal,” he says and extends his hand towards me, all business-like and serious. “you have some of that soup, let me help you with a quick shower, and then i’ll stay away from you. you won’t get me sick.”

“if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.” i giggle behind my hands like a child. maybe he's right, maybe the delirium's really getting to me.

he huffs, close to defeated. “you’re impossible. why won’t you let me baby you, hmm? is it really so bad to lean on someone else?”

“okay,” i hold my hands up weakly, defensively, “fine. deal.” and even though his peeved expression is highly entertaining, i keep my laugh to myself. “how could i ever say no to you?”

“you have,” he points out, “multiple times, if i may add! and quit flirting. it’s time to let me do my job.”

“and what job is that?”

“nursing you back to health. making sure you don’t waste away like you so obviously want to.”

“and will you be by my bedside in a slutty nurse costume?” i snort, “you have the legs for it.”

rapidly, he mutters the words “delirious” and “impossible” among others under his breath but i don’t miss the way his face splits into a smile. how he shakes his head. especially not the fondness in his eyes when he pulls the blankets off me and holds my shivering body closer. 

without hesitating, i curl into him, into the crook of his neck, trying to fit myself into any cavities of his body that will have me. anything for his warmth. 

“i’m going to give you so much grief the next time i’m sick,” he declares, then picks me up into his arms. 

i kiss the exposed part of his neck, resting my head in the crook. “is that a threat, sweet boy? because i know how much you love being babied—”

“shush, aren’t you supposed to have a sore throat?”

i hum noncommittally.

a moment later he sets me down on the lid of the toilet, and flits around the bathroom gathering things. i watch him—i watch the crease between his brows and the stray hair falling out of his bun. i watch where his t-shirt slides off his shoulder to expose a collarbone and the was he licks his lips when he’s thinking. 

and when my sweat-soaked skin breaks out into goosebumps once more, i know it’s not the fever. 

[solefae]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 “𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑“ ☆ 𝐉𝐞𝐲 𝐔𝐬𝐨

pairings; jey uso x fem!internent personality!reader

faceclaim; scotlynd ryan

summary; Scotlynd's life turns upside down when wrestling star Jey Uso starts liking her posts. Fans are quick to judge, branding her a homewrecker. Little do they know, Jey's marriage ended months ago-a truth hidden from the public eye.

notes: this is my first post everrr so this might be trash 😒 and yess imma use her real name fa this bcuz I couldn’t think of a fake name 😭 + I love scotty y’all so I hope some of y’all don’t take these “insults”? a lil TOO seriously 🫣

scotlyndryan

liked by trinity_fatu, uceyjucey, and 798,578 others

scotlyndryan Gave em the blues over this Aqua 🪼🌊🥶💙🩵

view all 57,358 comments

trinity_fatu 😍😍

scotlyndryan all u trin😘

jonathanfatu mane all this flirting with my wife gotta stop

scotlyndryan boy shut up 😒

user 😍😍

user the baddest

themercedesvarnado ugh u too perfect 😫

scotlyndryan girl pls u too perfect

user scotty with the body 😍

scotlyndryan liked this comment!

user NOW why tf did jey like this? 🤨

user SAME THING I SAID 😂

user ain’t he married ?

user YES

user y’all always do this 😒 just be putting dating allegations on anybody, they prolly just friends

user I hope I’m not the only one seeing that jey liked 😳

user jey liking this knowing he married is CRAZYY

user jey WILDINNN😂😂

user onm 😂

user he hitting that on tha low 😂😂😂

user they js friends

user how yk?? u friends wit em??

user why jey liking my girl post? 🤨

user she do NOT know you bro 😂

user these comments weird asfc…

user right

user frl tryna start rumors 🙄

user ain’t she already messing around with that one married dude that made baddies ?

user chile she don’t want lemon pepper, she want some of that samoan d 😭😭

ilovepostingdrama

liked by user, baddieseasttea, and 789,246 others

ilovepostingdrama girl js can’t leave the married men alone huh? 😂😂

view all 600 comments

user she’s a homewrecker. period.

user this man is married to his high school sweetheart and she wanna come in and ruin that?? 🤦🏽‍♀️

user THE ARIANA GRANDE 2.0 tweet got me crying 😭😭

user FRL 😂

user 😂😂

user are they wrong? 👀

user rumor. IT’S A RUMOR SO THAT MEANS IT’S PROBABLY NOT TRUE 😒

user girl this is most definitely true she slept with lemon pepper, who is also married 😂

user and he got kids omgg🤦🏽‍♀️

user she got no respect

user THE ARIANA TWEET IS TAKING ME OUT😭😭

user RIGHT LIKE THEY AIN’T HAVE TO GO THAT FAR😂😂

gossippagee

liked by user, baddieseasttea, and 378,356 others

gossippagee Baddies East Scotlynd Ryan sleeping with WWE Superstar Jey Uso? Rumor started back in December of 2023 when Scotlynd started liking and commenting on Jey’s posts and since then, the rumor keeps spreading more. 😳

view all 348 comments

user so based off her liking his pictures and commenting, they dating automatically? 🤨 GOODBYE this ain’t true, he’s happily married 😘

user you might not wanna say that…

user girl she literally messed with a married man before, what makes you think she won’t mess with a another one? 🤨

user jey too loyal to mess with a homewrecker, he know better

user ur delusions is getting the best of u, homegirl is definitely messing with him

user so married men is her type? 🤨

user WITH KIDS TOO!!

user ig so 🤷🏽‍♀️

user right like why can’t she find someone who’s single ?? 😒

user WHY ARE YA’LL NOT WORRYING ABT THIS MF AGE GAP!? she’s 27 and he’s 38, UHM HELLO!? 😳

user she prolly like older men 🤷🏽‍♀️

user RIGHT LIKE HE’S ALMOST 40!!

user age ain’t nothing but a number

user jey too fine to be messing around with her

user DAMN 😂😂

user I’m not calling her ugly but she’s too young and she’s a homewrecker 😂😂

user RIGHT

user don’t do scotty, she fine asfc

a/n: thank you for reading! lemme know what y’all think about this series start off 🤍✨

[viixen01]

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘.

you stood over the stove as you stirred the pot of ramen. swaying your hips to the music you had playin through the kitchen, patiently waiting for your husband and baby boy to arrive back home.

since megumi developing his technique, toji has been taking him on missions with him. you trusted your husband to keep your little boy safe, as you’ve experienced first hand what toji is capable of. but that didn’t stop the worrying in the back of your mind of your boys getting hurt. when he took little megumi out the first time, you called a total of 15 times within 2 hours to make sure he was ok, toji reassured you that you were overthinking it and he was safe. you’ve calmed yourself a little over the last few missions, but you had to fight back the urge with all your might not to call him ever second. because if something were to happen to your baby, the world would burn in flames.

just as you turned the stove off, you heard the front door open. you smiled as you reached behind your back and undid your apron, placing it on the counter. you fixed your long maxi dress that you wear around the house. as you turned around, you see tojis big frame walk through the kitchen, with megumi behind you. “hello my boys” you beam as you lean on your tippy toes to kiss him. he returned it placing his hands on your hips and pecking your lips.

“hey sexy, what you cooking in here? smells good” he said with a cheeky smile. but you knew all too well, he was hiding something behind that devious smile. your smile dropped, “toji, what did you do” you scowl at him as you leaned back. your eyes avert to megumi but toji stood in front of him before you could get to him. you frown looking at your husband, “what are you doing? move i wanna see my son” you say trying to go around him. he moved in front of you again. this time you started getting irritated.

“toji move the hell out the way” you say as you size him up and down. he knew all too well to not piss you off. he’d never hear the end of it. he sighed as he slowly moved out the way. “hey momma” megumi said with a smile as he looked up at you. your mouth fell open as you stare at his black eye, and his shirt kinda torn. you slowly looked at toji then back at megumi who still had that adorable smile, as if his eye wasn’t purple and black.

you rushed over to him grabbing his shoulders as you bring him into your embrace. “baby what happened to your eye” you say as you inspect his face, squishing his jaw in your hands making his chubby cheeks squeeze together.

“nothing happened to his eye” toji said as he walked over and crouched on side of you. you snapped your head in his direction, “no you shut up”

“megumi, what happened to your eye” you asked him.

“uncle gojo accidentally hit me in my face when he was wrestling with daddy, when they defeated to curse” he said. tojis head fell, already knowing you were about to blow a fuse.

“hey megumi, go to your room and play with your toys, i’ll be up in a second to put some medicine on your eye ok, then we can eat dinner” you smile.

“ok! can we have chocolate cake for dessert” he asked as he jumped in place. “of course sweetheart, anything you want” you said as you placed multiple kisses on his face. he giggled loudly, “mommy stop it, i get it” he said. you smiled as you watched him run upstairs.

once he was out of view you turned around and looked at toji. “i should bust your ass toji fushiguro. you had one job. one fucking job, and that was to keep my baby, OUR baby safe and you bring him back here with a black eye? and a curse ?? you told me you would take him to jujustu high and he’d do small missions with you? it taking everything in me not to break your goddamn neck” you say with venom laced in your voice as you grab the big first aid kit in the cabinet.

“i know i know babe, i’m sorry it really was an accident, i swear it won’t happen again” he said as he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, fearful to even look at your eyes right now. you sighed as you leaned on the counter looking down and then at the ceiling.

“MOMMY HURRY UP! i wanna show you what daddy taught me” you heard megumi yell. you finished getting the first aid and closed the cabinet.

“i’m coming baby!” you scream back to him.

you begin walking toward the stairs as you look at toji who could just feel the angry aura radiating off of you.

“we not done talking about this, you lucky he saved your ass” you say as you walk away with anger in each step.

“oh and tell gojo i’m gonna break my foot off in his fucking ass”

[cerise-on-top]

How would arm wrestling go with TF141+Alejandro and rudy?? just a random thought i had and you're a great writer keep at it hun :))

Hello! I only write for four characters at a time, so I chose the first four you mentioned! I hope that's alright! But feel free to send the same request in again with Alejandro and Rodolfo, I don't mind :-) And thank you, I appreciate it! I'll keep going for a while! Probably for at least another half year or so ^^

Arm Wrestling with the TF141

Price: He doesn’t have time for something as childish as this, so he’ll likely dismiss you when you ask him to. It’s not that he’s afraid to lose, quite the opposite he’s proud when his soldiers are stronger than him, whether that be physically or mentally. But he’s too busy for something like this, he either has to be in a meeting sometime soon or has an ungodly amount of work to do. You’d need to either rope Soap and or Gaz into this as well for him to actually consider arm wrestling you. Plus the two or three of you need to be very annoying about this as well. If you promise to shut up about it, he’ll allow it and fight you, but not for long. Truth be told: You’d need to be very strong in order to win against him. Out of the TF141, he’s the second strongest and doesn’t relent easily either. He does have some pride as well. Try as you might, without some good amount of muscles you likely won’t win. If you do win he’ll sigh and ask you if you’re finally happy, if you’ll finally leave him alone after this. Do that, you have enough to brag about like this as it is. However, if you lose he’ll give you a look that screams “I told you so”. Despite him knowing that that will only spur you on to do better, to finally beat him, he will give you some advice on how you have a better chance at beating him. After all, he needs his soldiers to be at their best, physically and mentally. He won’t train with you, but if you’re really determined to beat him then you can train with either Soap or Gaz. They’re not as strong as him but it’s better than nothing.

Gaz: Oh, he’s down for any challenge. However, unlike Price, he’ll be a little shit about it if you lose, giving you some sarcastic comments about how strong he is. He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, but he does like the accomplished feeling of beating someone at something many people are better at than you. Gaz isn’t among the physically strongest soldiers out there, but he can use his noggin better than most of them, so it’s not uncommon for him to lose against Soap in an arm wrestling match. It gathers quite a crowd from time to time as well since the two of them can be at it for more than ten minutes at a time. Gaz usually loses, which hurts his pride a bit, but he doesn’t sulk too long about it. So you losing to him feels good to him, but if he goes overboard with his comments he’ll apologize and make it up to you somehow. However, if you do win, then please don’t make too much fun of him, he hates it enough as it is. He’s not mad at you if you do win, he’s far too mature for that sort of thing, but you don’t need to rub salt into the wound. But you can be certain that as soon as you’ve asked him twice for a match that he’ll come to you from time to time and demand a rematch as well. He’s just that eager to finally score another win against one of the soldiers on base. He’ll be annoying, but it’s kind of endearing just how ambitious he is, you gotta give him that. Once he finally does win against you he’ll give you a big smile and shake your hand. If you’ve had many matches before then you can be certain he’ll feel something bittersweet, like a rivalry that just ended. But don’t worry, he’ll continue to challenge you.

Ghost: Doesn’t want to arm wrestle with you, doesn’t care about it either, you can annoy him all you want. Unless you rope Soap into this again, he won’t even consider it. You both need to be very annoying about it, with both of you calling him a chicken for refusing you. Cluck at him as well and he’ll give in eventually. He’s quiet the entire time, the only thing showing he finally accepted your match would be him waiting at the nearest table for you. The two of you would gather quite the crowd, with lots and lots of people coming to watch you. After all, who wouldn’t want to see that? The Ghost potentially getting his ass kicked at an arm wrestling match. Again, you’d need to be exceptionally strong to beat Ghost, he’s the strongest out of the four. If it’s obvious to him that you’re struggling to keep him at bay, he’ll toy a bit with you. Nothing like some harmless fun. He might seemingly give in for a moment, only to take it away from you and then beat you properly. In fact, you could try to get his hand down with both of your hands and you would likely struggle, if you win in the first place. Ghost is a force to be reckoned with. Besides, he likely won’t accept another challenge, so you better make this one count. If you win he’ll be pleasantly surprised, he was confident you wouldn’t. There won’t be anything fancy going on, aside from the cheers from everyone on base and their congratulations. Ghost will congratulate you as well. If you lose then he’ll tell you that he told you so, but won’t take it further than that. Might give you a pat on the shoulder if you did well against him, but that’s about all there is to it.

Soap: I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one to challenge you first, actually. This guy is as competitive as it gets, so there’s a chance he’s challenged everyone on base to at least one arm wrestling match. It’s a friendly and harmless way for him to show others what he’s made of, that they better not push him around, regardless of who they might be. However, he never turns down a request like that, everyone’s beloved sergeant needs to be there for his subordinates. Plus he’s a fun guy as well, who loves a good challenge. He’ll wish you good luck against him with a confident grin. It’s not that easy to beat him either since he is very muscular, but he’s no Ghost when it comes to physical strength, so it likely won’t be impossible to score a win. Harder to beat than Gaz, but easier to beat than Price. But I reckon you should do your best to beat him since he can be quite annoying when he does win. He references the two of you having a match, which he oh so graciously won. He’s a bastard like that, who will make fun of you for a bit. He’s not above rubbing salt into your wound when you’re making yourself out to be more important than you actually are. However, he’s just as annoying when he does lose, always wanting to fight you again and again until you’ve finally lost. He has his pride and he will make a fuss about it as well when he does win. Not above cheating to get what he wants either, so he might invite you for a strong drink afterwards, intoxicate you and then have another match. But he’ll do that exactly once since winning like this doesn’t feel nearly as good to him.

[itsbeeble]

and they were roommates!

Summary: Yunho doesn’t know how much longer he can hold back

Genre: Smut, a little plot, fluff

WC: 4.1k

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem! reader (though no specific pronouns are used)

Warnings: smut, reader is kind of a tease, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), spanking (idk man), dry humping, pet names (baby, pretty, pretty girl), marking, a bit of a size kink, big dick yunho

Notes: this is not proofread yall so pls let me know if I missed anything!

Yunho didn’t know how long he could keep this up. He didn’t know how long he could hold back from pinning you against the counter every time you brushed by him. Fleeting touches of your hand against his own, your body brushing up against his as you passed him in the hall on your way to the shared bathroom. That adorable pout on your lips every time you ask him to help you with something

He didn’t know if you were intentionally teasing him or not, but he was about to snap.

This leads him to where he is now, in his bedroom with the lights off and door locked. His pants and underwear have been kicked away, somewhere at the foot of his bed and he’s slamming his hips up and into his tight fist. He’s moving erratically, twisting his hand and squeezing the tip of his erect cock. His breath is coming out fast, his heart pounding behind his ribs. 

Yunho can’t help but imagine that it’s your sweet little pussy engulfing him rather than his hand. Can’t help but imagine the feel of you as you bounce up and down on him, chasing your release over and over because it’s never enough for you. He can practically feel you clawing at his shoulders, begging him to let you cum, to send you over the edge one more time. He screws his eyes shut, gripping the pillow next to his head with his free hand to ground himself.

There’s a knot forming in his stomach. He can feel it winding but it isn’t enough. He whines desperately, squeezing his hand tighter around his cock and thrusting harder, faster—  

“Yunho?” His eyes fly open and he practically flies off of his bed, shoving his pants and underwear on. “Yunho, you awake?” 

“Just—” His voice cracks as he wrestle to get his dick comfortable in his pants again, grimacing as the fabric scrapes against the sensitive tip of his cock. “Just a second!” He nearly trips as he rushes to unlock the door. You’re blinking up at him when the door flies open, your hands locked behind your back as you rock back and forth on your feet. There’s a smile on your face, your eyes practically glittering. Just the sight of you makes Yunho’s dick twitch and he clears his throat, smiling back at you. “What’s up, pretty?” The blush that forms on your cheeks causes his smile to grow even wider. 

He tries to ignore the fact that if he looks down just a little bit, he can see straight down your shirt. 

“I just wanted to ask if you could help me with one of my assignments?” Your head tilts and you pout a bit. “I know you’re probably busy but—”

“NO!” His voice comes out louder than he wants it to and he cringes when you flinch. “No, sorry, I’m not busy at all.” You beam at him, skipping into his room as soon as he steps to the side. Yunho watches your ass bounce in your leggings with every step you take, swallowing hard and squeezing his eyes shut to gain some semblance of willpower. Just help them with this assignment. That’s all you gotta do. He’s trying to stay calm but he can’t help the fact that he’s still rock hard under his jeans. 

Maybe if he had been paying attention to you instead of trying to will his erection away, he would have noticed you removing your bra from under your shirt and tossing it into your closet.

Maybe he didn’t notice you doing it, but when he saw your nipples poking against the thin material of your crop top, he couldn’t force his cock down anymore. His jaw is partially dropped when you sit on your bed, your legs tucked under you as you stare up at him. Now Yunho sees you rubbing your thighs together, sees the redness in your cheeks that won’t go away. 

“What— what assignments did you need help with, pretty?” He knows there’s no assignments the moment he sits on your desk chair, watching you scoot closer to him. The smile on your lips grows and you lean towards him on the edge of your bed. 

“I’m not stupid, Yunnie.” He flinches and you giggle, hopping off your bed and making your way toward him. 

“What are you— what— I don’t know—” He can feel your breath on his face. You’re eye-level with him, even when he’s sitting and you’re standing. 

“I heard you.” You lean back and dig your toe into your carpet. “A few minutes ago. Moaning my name, trying to keep yourself quiet. Saw you last night too, with my panties stuffed into your mouth.” he chokes on his own spit and sits straight up. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I know it’s so disgusting of me to do—” your giggle cuts him off. 

“Don’t be sorry. I left them out on purpose.” 

That does it for him.

Yunho yanks you toward him by your waist, dragging you onto his lap. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and try to get your legs comfortable on either side of his hips. He’s hesitating, his lips brushing against yours and you’re so close to him. You make the first move, leaning forward and biting on his bottom lip, pulling on it as you pull your head back, your eyes meeting his own. Yunho groans, his grip on your waist tightening. 

He chases your lips, and he can feel you begin to smirk against him. It’s messy, erratic, sloppy. His tongue pushes at your bottom lip and you open your mouth immediately, allowing him to explore with free reign. Your hips are grinding down into his own, shuddering at the feeling of his clothed cock against your pussy. Loud moans escape you, but are muffled by Yunho’s tongue halfway down your throat. You push him back, whining when he comes right back to kiss you again. He’s addicted to the taste of you, unwilling to let you go. 

You take it upon yourself to force him back, your hand at the base of his throat to hold him back. His eyes flutter open, and you can see the confusion in them before you duck your head, suckling at the skin on his neck and running over the pink marks with your tongue to sooth them. 

“Y/n,” Yunho breathes out, his eyes squeezing shut while you suck hickeys into his neck. His hips are rutting upwards, meeting yours with harsh thrusts that have you moaning loudly into his neck. The smirk that plays on his lips, though you can’t see it, would tell you that your fun is almost over. His hand trails up the back of your spine and to the back of your head, his fingers tightening around the strands of your hair. You gasp at the sudden contact, crying out when he yanks you back and tilts your head so you meet his eyes. 

“My pretty little baby.” Yunho coos and you whine. “So pretty.” Your eyes are wide when he pushes you back to tug his t-shirt over his head. His toned body gleams in the light of your room, tanned skin with a thin sheen of sweat that makes his torso glow. His chest rises and falls shallowly and you trail your hands down. Your nails rake gently against his shoulders, down to his pecs and he gasps when your nails graze over his nipples. Your smile and trail your hands further south, stopping at the button of his jeans.

“Yunnie,” You look at him with the prettiest doe eyes, dripping with innocence that the large man knows is practically nonexistent. 

“What, pretty?” 

“Can you fuck my mouth?” Yunho chokes on his spit his dick twitching in his pants. “Please, Yunnie.” You haven’t even given him time to answer, your fingers already working the button and zipper. 

“Okay, baby.” He breathes. “Stand up.” You do so immediately, watching him rise from the chair with your thighs rubbing together. “Take off your clothes, pretty.” He almost cums on the spot from how fast you follow his instructions, your hands shoving your leggings and panties down and tearing your shirt over your head to let your breasts spill free. He forgets about your request for a moment, drool forming in his mouth while he stares at you. He watches you massage your boobs, pinching and twisting your nipples with soft moans and cries of his name to egg him on. His jeans hit the ground for the second time that day, and you’re on your knees in front of him before he can blink.

He’s huge, to say the least. Larger than any you’ve ever had and that thought alone has arousal pooling between your thighs and slipping down your legs. Yunho shifts where he stands, slowly jerking himself off to entice you a bit. It works rather easily, and you practically leap forward, your tongue laving at his tip. He groans loudly, fingers lacing in your hair while you lick at his cock, running your tongue up and down the length of it, swirling around the tip and digging into the slit. Your hands wrap around his balls, rubbing and squeezing lightly. You run your tongue along them, sucking on them and his hips jump, his large cock hitting your cheek. 

When you finally take him into your mouth, his eyes roll back and his body shudders. He’d been hard for so long, his orgasm held off for even longer, that he’s almost ready to cum as soon as you begin to suck on him. He can feel the drool in your mouth spilling out the sides of your lips, sliding down the side of his cock and you use that a lubricant to jerk off everything you can’t reach with your mouth. Your free hand slips between your thighs, rubbing frantically at your clit to relieve some of the pressure. Your moans vibrate down Yunho’s cock and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. 

He's panting and moaning and now he’s thrusting rapidly into your mouth. He can see the tears pooling in his eyes, see your body shuddering the more you rub your clit and he thrusts harder. 

“C’mon pretty,” he chokes out between moans. “Take it. Take it all.” His cock is slamming into your mouth and you try so hard to keep up with him, sucking and licking as best you can with how hard he’s fucking your face. Your throat is beginning to ache, but the feeling of him in your mouth has you moaning and shuddering and fuck you’re so close. 

“Stop touching yourself,” Yunho hisses out and your eyes flutter open. You can’t see through the tears, but you whine and keep rubbing at yourself. He wants to force you to stop, but he can feel his dick twitching, feel the coil in his stomach winding tighter and tighter—

He’s cumming before he can stop himself, and from the way you’re moaning and whining around his dick he knows you did the same. He growls, jerking you closer to him and forcing his cock further down your throat while he cums. You try to push away from him, nails digging into his leg, but his hold is too strong and you have no other option but to swallow every last drop of his cum. 

He’s breathless when he finally finishes, and you’re coughing and sputtering in front of him, your cheeks soaked with your tears. He kneels down, runs a hand down your cheek, and smiles. For a moment, you think he’s going to help you. And, for a moment, he does. He pulls you too your feet, caressing you gently. Your legs feel like jello due to the force of your orgasm. 

But, the moment you get your bearings, Yunho is pushing you onto the bed with an evil glint in his eye. You scramble backwards, eyes wide as his tall figure looms over you. 

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” He growls. Your stomach flutters. From anticipation, from nerves. Maybe a combination of bot, but even you’re not sure as he forces your legs open and stares at your dripping cunt. 

“Personally,” your voice is trembling and you try to scoot away from him but he just pulls you back and tightens his grip on your thighs. The action has your core clenching around nothing. “I think I’m adorable.” Yunho scoffs at that, but he smiles. He doesn’t smirk. He just smiles and releases you.

“Okay.” He gets off the bed and you sit up, eyebrows furrowing together. He’s just leaving? What the fuck?

“Hey— wait, Yu where are you going?” He doesn’t say anything, but he leaves the door to your room open and disappears into his own. “This fucker—” You rise to your feet and have barely taken a step before Yunho is back in your room and shoving you back down onto the bed. “Oh—” He’s holding a black ribbon in his hands. You squirm in your spots, your thighs rubbing together as he flips you onto your stomach and ties your hands behind your back before you can even try to push yourself up onto all fours. 

“You just can’t listen, can you?” Yunho pushes you down by your shoulders when you try to get onto your knees, raising your hips up immediately after. A loud smack rings through the room and you yelp. He rubs the stinging skin and smacks you again.

“Yunho,” You whine. His hand collides with your ass again and again. More and more arousal pools between your legs, the pain causing more pleasure than you ever imagined it would.

“This is what you get,” His hand collides with your ass cheek one more time but he doesn’t pull away right after. Instead, his hand slips down between your thighs and prods at your dripping pussy. Your whole body shudders the moment he touches you, and you wiggle your hips back to try and push his finges inside of you. 

A strangled moan leaves your lips when his hand strikes your pussy. “Don’t fucking move.” You listen this time, your chest heaving and body shuddering. His hands spread your cheeks and your pussy clenches when you feel his breath against you. 

When his tongue takes its first swipe, you know you’re done for. 

He eats you out like it’s his last meal on Earth. His tongue is everywhere, licking and sucking and gently biting at you. You don’t think he’s breathing anymore with how he has has face shoved into your pussy. He’s slurping up every last drop of your wetness, his tongue prodding at your clit. His eyes flutter shut and he moans into you. Your taste is so sweet on his tongue and he knows he’ll never get enough of you. He shove his face as close as he can get, his tongue slipping inside of you, licking anywhere and everywhere that he can reach and his hand slips around your hips to pull you closer (if that was even possible) and rub at your clit. When you clench down on his tongue, he feels his cock starting to twitch again and he smirks. Almost, pretty, he thinks, we’re almost there.

He wants you to scream. He wants you scream his name out for your neighbors to hear. Wants you to writhe underneath him, crying and moaning and gasping, cumming until all you can think of is him and his tongue inside of you and the pleasure he makes you feel. So far? It’s a success.

There are no thoughts in your head. All you can think or feel is him. Tears are leaving your eyes and soaking into the pillow below your head. The moans that leave your lips are loud, and you know you’re going to get a noise complaint but you don’t care. Not when you’re so close to cumming against him. Not when he shows no signs of ever stepping away from you.

“Yunnie,” You cry out, your legs shaking and hands struggling against the ribbon that binds them. “Yunnie please, please make me cum.” Your words fade into helpless babbles and you know he knows you’re close. You know it when he pulls his tongue away from you and your orgasm slips away into nothing. “No. No no no no please Yunnie please.” You can’t even see him. Not when you’re on your stomach and can barely see with the tears that keep springing up in your eyes.

“Do you really think I’d let you cum?” He coos, his fingers prodding at your entrance once more. You whine and he laughs a bit. “So desperate, pretty girl.” When he finally slips his finger in, he can hold himself back from adding another. Fuck, the way your pussy feels around his fingers drives him insane and he can only imagine how you’ll feel around his cock. 

His finger slips in and out of you, curling to catch against that spongy spot inside of you every time he pulls back. You’re clenching so tightly around his finger, moaning so loudly for him, and when he looks down at you, he can see the puddle of drool forming under your open mouth. He slips another finger in, scissoring them to stretch you out. Your moans are rising in pitch, and he knows you’re close again so he tears his fingers out of you the moment you start to clench down on him. 

Yunho has to take a deep breath to calm himself before he unties you. You’re flipping yourself over in an instant, launching yourself at him at full force which, to your surprise, barely even budges him in his spot. You latch onto him, straddling you as your lips clash with his in a sloppy kiss. You’re yanking at his hair strands, grinding down on his cock that’s begun to rise again and twitch against your core. He groans into your kiss, pulling away from you and moving his lips down your neck to suck dark marks into your silky skin. Yunho is holding you by the waist with one hand, the other tangled in your hair for what seems like the thousandth time in order to tug your head back and get better access to you. 

“Condom,” He mumbles against your neck. “Need a condom, baby—”

“No,” you plead. He pulls away from your neck, stopping all motions for a moment to examine your face. Your eyes are wide and filled with pure unadulterated lust. “On the pill, and I’m clean. Please baby please—”

“Okay,” his cock twitches again at your desperation and he nods with a shaky inhale. “Okay, baby. I’m clean too.” You whine again and resume your movements with new fervor, lining his cock up to your pussy and dipping the tip into yourself. Yunho sucks in a sharp breath as you lower yourself and raise yourself moments later, teasing his tip with your warmth. 

When you finally begin to sink down on his cock, he has to use every fiber in his being to not cum right there. His teeth sink into your neck again, and he sucks harshly while you moan and cry at the feel of him stretching you out. 

“Oh baby,” His voice is shaky but he does his best to coo at your reaction. You’ve barely taken a quarter of him into you but you’re shaking against him and he can feel the fluttering of your pussy against him. “Am I too big for you? Do you need to stop?” You whine and arch into him.

“N-No!” You plead. “Don’t wan- don’t wanna stop Yunnie please don’t wanna stop!” He rubs your hips a bit as you continue to slowly inch your way down his cock and presses gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones and the tops of your breasts. 

“I don’t know pretty girl,” He traces his thumb across your hip bone and frowns mocking at you. “I think I’m too big—” At that moment, you press down harder, sinking in as much of him as you could. His eyes roll into the back of his skull and he can’t stop his hips from jumping, thrusting into you and making you bounce in his lap. A loud moan slips past your lips at the motion. “Fuck you feel so good around me, pretty girl.”

It’s not long before you’re bouncing on his lap, your hands glued to his shoulders as leverage as you grind against him and roll your hips. You’re moving so quickly, squeezing him so tightly and moaning so loudly that he swears that the only thing he can sense is you. He knows he won’t be able to stop you from chasing your release. Knows that you’re gonna take him for everything he has. So he lets you.

He murmurs praises into your skin, smiling when your walls flutter around him at each statement. Every good girl, and so so good for me, feel so good has you fucking yourself down onto him harder and faster, ignoring the burning in your legs. Ignoring how out of breath you are and how your thighs are cramping around him. 

He doesn’t, though. He picks up on it immediately and grips onto you tightly as he begins to meet you every time you drop yourself back onto his aching cock. You keen into him, your back arched back so your tits are pressed against his face and he takes advantage of that, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth for a brief moment. You begin to seize up on him, your moans becoming louder and higher as your hips stutter. Yunho takes over for you, leaning his body back so he’s flat on your bed. He raises his knees up to support you and ruts his hips up. He’s going harder and faster than you had and he can feel your orgasm wracking through your body.

“F-Fuck Yunho,” your body falls forward, your walls pulsing through him while your arousal drips down his cock and serves as lubricant for him to keep going. “Fuck. Harder, baby. Harder.” 

“You’re insatiable, pretty girl.” He thrusts into you even harder, and he can hear the wet slapping of his hips against yours echoing in the room alongside his grunts and your moans. The moans that are muffled into his neck because you don’t have the strength or willpower to lift yourself up or move. He can feel you clenching down on him again, tighter and tighter, working you both towards another orgasm. “Fuck, where you want me pretty girl?” 

“Inside,” you breathe out. “Please, inside, please baby please.” 

That sentence. That single sentence is what throws him over the edge, his vision going a blinding white as you clench down and cum with him with a final cry of his name. His hips stutter and stop as he releases everything he has into you.

“Pretty girl?” Yunho strokes the back of your head, his chest still rising and falling somewhat rapidly. You’re still on top of him, your body shuddering every now and then as his dick softens in you and the mixture of both of your cum seeps out of you. “Y/n, c’mon baby. Gotta get you cleaned up.” You whine and cling to him as he starts to lift you up and off of him.

“Don’ wanna,” You mumble. “Wanna stay here for a bit.” 

“No, baby.” Yunho lifts your chin with his finger and smiles down at you. “We can’t leave you here all sticky and gross.” You groan and lower your face into his chest. 

“Fine…”

You let him carry you to the bathroom and sit you on the counter while he heats up the water for the shower. He works surprisingly fast, gathering towels and clothes for you both, removing the blankets from your bed to be washed in the morning before returning to your side and bringing you into the shower. 

“You know,” you’re facing away from him while he washes your body, his hands brushing over the bruises he left on your skin. “You’re a very gullible man.” Yunho scoffs.

“I’m not gullible!”

“Really?” You turn to face him with a tired smile on your face. “You actually thought I had an assignment for you to help me with?” 

“Well— I mean—”

“Yunho, we’re completely different majors baby.”

“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t help you!” He pouts down at you and you laugh at him. His behavior is so different from before. 

This is the Yunho you’re used to. 

This is the Yunho you fell for, though the other side of him is just as good.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xv

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Richie pays R a visit.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: god bless hd scream vi Tara gifs and you all for being patient for this chapter ;)))

It’s a mad struggle down the staircase. You kick. Bite. Try to scramble for your whistle but it’s no use. Richie’s too strong. 

He wrestles you down through the kitchen. Kicks open the back door and it’s there you take your chance. Kick up between his legs. Hard. 

Then scream for help. 

“Tara! Dad! Tara!”

The grass is cool against your bare feet. You scuffle through it, trying to fling your way back into the house. 

But Richie recovers too quickly. 

He launches forward, his eyes wild, his hand snapping back over your mouth. 

“Shut up.” He says, urgently. Takes you back in his arms, roughly. It hurts. His grip is unforgiving. You can already feel the bruises start to form. Your mouth aches with the weight of his hand. But it’s the last thing on your mind. 

You struggle once more, harder. 

“Shh.” He says, eyes wild, “I’m not going to hurt you. I told you, I just want to talk.” 

You try to bite down on his hand. Face soaked in tears. He doesn’t even flinch. Stares back at you with wide eyes. 

“I’m going to remove my hand.” He says, voice slow, “And you’re not going to scream. Okay?” 

You give up the struggle, slightly. Nod. 

He removes his hand. 

Immediately, you scream. 

“Tara!”

“Stop!” He hisses. He grabs you by the shoulders, shakes you hard, “Stop yelling. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk about Sam.” 

At this you blink. Tilt your head. Your ears ring, body aflame. Heartbeat still in your throat. 

“What?”

Suddenly, your mind runs wild. 

“What’s wrong with Sam? Did you hurt her?” 

“She kicked me out.” He says, eyes wide, mournful, “She thinks I did it. Tried to kill you or whatever. But I didn’t. You know I didn’t.”

You stare back at him a moment, disbelief flooding through your face. 

This is what he wanted to talk about? 

“Most people pick up the phone when they want to talk,” You snarl. You step back from him,  “They don’t break into people’s homes and drag them outside kicking and screaming.”

“I’m sorry,” He says, mournfully, and he sounds like he means it, “I’ve had too much to drink. I just saw you and panicked-”

He looks terrible. Unshaven. Dark circles under his eyes. You don’t see a weapon in his hand. You swallow. 

“Let me go inside.” You say, trying to reason with him, “Let me go get Tara and then we can talk-”

Richie shakes his head, violently. 

“Tara won’t believe me. She’s the one who started this whole thing. She’s the one who poisoned Sam against me.  But you and me, we’re friends right? We sometimes talk. Like that time in the kitchen.”

“Richie-”

“I didn’t do it. I swear to you. I’m not Ghostface. I’m not a killer. I could have killed you right now, but I didn’t.” His eyes are wide, earnest. 

“You just kidnapped me instead?” You hiss. 

“No one’s kidnapped, we’re talking. Like civilized adults.” He says as if he actually believes it. 

“Richie, you broke into my house.” 

“I didn’t break into your house,” He says, gesturing wildly to the backdoor, “The door was wide open! I just walked inside.”

At this you pause. Turn to look at the backdoor. You’d locked it yourself. Triple checked. No doubt Tara had done the same. Your Dad had attached pad-locks for extra security.

You see it now, tossed away in one of the flowerbeds, broken in two. Your chest seizes. 

“Then what do you call that?” You hiss. 

Richie blinks. As if it just occurred to him it wasn’t broken on purpose. He stares back at you. 

“It wasn’t me.” He says, “I promise it wasn’t me. Why would I lie? If I’m Ghostface why not just kill you right there on the spot? If I’m Ghostface, why am I trying to reason with you?” 

You stare at him, heartbeat in your throat. He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Eyes wide, pleading, begging you to believe him. It occurs to you suddenly you’d never heard of a Ghostface attack without the costume. It occurs to you Ghostface definitely didn’t drag his victims outside and ask you to phone up his girlfriend for him. 

The realization sends a shockwave like ice water down your spine. 

You’d called out to Tara. Not once, not twice, but three times.

Tara who insisted you carry a rape whistle. Tara who followed you into the bathroom because she was scared someone would attack you mid-pee. Tara who hadn’t let you out of her sight since that first attack. 

Tara comes when you call. But there’s no sign of her now.

“Tara.” You murmur, eyes ablaze. 

Shock flushes through your body. Adrenaline follows it. Before your brain can even register what you’re doing, you’re shoving Richie out of the way with all the force of a star quarterback and rushing back into the house. 

You fumble for the whistle, blow it hard as you race up the staircase. 

“Tara!” You scream. 

It attracts the attention of your Father. He’s opening his door, eyes wild, shotgun in hand when you reach the top. Your Mom peeks out behind his frame, bleary-eyed. 

“YN?” Your Dad asks, panic surging through his face. 

“My bedroom! Tara!” Is all you’re able to get out as you try and sprint past him. He catches you, grips your waist. 

“Let me go.” He insists. 

He all but throws you back, shotgun cocked. And then moves faster than you’ve ever seen him move in your life. Richie’s behind you, red-faced as you follow your Dad down the hall. 

The bedroom door is closed. Your Dad kicks it open, his shotgun raised. 

And you almost bawl at the sight in front of you. 

Tara’s there. Standing only in your nightshirt. Face flushed red with anger, her eyes wild as she struggles against her attacker. 

The Ghostface mask stares back at you. He has Tara in a vice-grip, his arm around her throat, knife tilted to meet the skin of her neck. He tilts his mask like he dares you to come closer. 

Tara’s eyes lock with yours. You watch as the anger drains, instead replaced with fear. Desperation.  

“Stay back, baby.” She insists, her eyes pleading, “Don’t come any closer.” 

Your lip quivers. A fresh wave of tears flood down your face. Your mother gasps, hand tight on your arm. 

Then, Tara looks at your Dad, “Shoot the fucker.” 

“No!” You cry out. You launch yourself forward. No thought in your head but to stop the pellet from leaving the barrel. To stop him from shooting that awful thing anywhere near Tara. 

Richie grabs at you, pulling you back.  

Ghostface tuts. Then that awful, hair-raising voice speaks out, “Shoot me and you shoot her. Is that really what you want, Dad? You really want to take YN’s darling girlfriend away from her?”

You sob. Struggle in Richie’s arms but his grip is too tight. 

“Let her go,” Your Dad says. He’s eerily calm, his grip steady, “Let her go and we can talk. You can tell us whatever it is you need to say.” 

Ghostface’s grip tightens. The knife grazes Tara’s throat. Close enough to break skin if he pushed down any harder. You watch helpess. 

“You mean they haven’t already told you?” 

Ghostface’s mask tilts. He’s smiling behind it, you can’t see it but you know.  

Tara moves in his arms, trying to break free. 

But Ghostface is stronger. He’s bigger. She looks so small in his arms, so fragile. He’s holding her up so high she’s on her tip-toes. He tilts his knife to her neck. 

“Move again and I’ll slit your throat ear to ear,” Ghostface growls, “And then who will protect her?” 

Tara stills, almost immediately. Her chest heaves. A fresh wave of tears spills from your eyes. 

“Dad, do something.” You beg. It’s no use. You know he can’t. The shotgun pellets will hit Tara too. 

“Do it,” Ghostface eggs him on, “It’s the least she deserves. Do you want to tell him, YN? Or should I?”

“Let’s everyone just calm down,” Richie interlopes as if he’s the voice of reason. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, his words slightly slurred,  “We can talk about this. Mister Ghostface - I’m sure whatever Tara did to you, it can be resolved-” 

“Shut up, Richie.” You and Tara hiss at the same time. He shirks back. Loosens his grip on you. 

“I called the police,” Your mom pipes up, her voice wavering, “They’ll be here any second. You best let the young lady go or they’ll catch you red-handed.” 

“The police?” Ghostface sneers, “You think the police are of any use? Seven murders in this town and not a suspect on the board. Seven murders and-”

He doesn’t finish. 

Your Mom’s interjection gives Tara the opening she needs. 

With all her might, you watch as she slams her body back, tilting Ghostface off guard. His grip on her loosens, but only for a moment. Then his grip on the knife tightens as he tilts his hand and plunges the knife into her stomach. 

You scream. 

Tara slumps to the floor, knife inside her buried to the hilt. 

Richie’s strong grip around you is suddenly weightless. You pry him off, ignore your mother’s screams as you surge forward. Ghostface has abandoned her, his weapon gone. He charges for the open window in a mad sprint. 

The drum of the shotgun deafens you as it rings out. Your Mom’s screaming doesn’t subside. The shatter of the glass of the window. You don’t see as Ghostface rushes out through the opening, knife abandoned. You’re at Tara’s side, prying her off the floor and into your arms. 

Sobbing as you stare at the flow of blood oozing out of her stomach. 

You don’t feel your Dad’s hands on you, desperately trying to pull you up. 

You feel her. You feel the weight of her body against yours. Her chest heaving. You feel the spill of blood against your hands, feel her fall limp against your side. 

Every sense you have; sight, touch, smell, sound is on Tara. 

“Baby,” You murmur, voice thick. Her breathing is steady. Blood gushes from the wound in her stomach, “Baby, stay with me. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” 

Tara tries to open her eyes. They’re hooded. She’s far-away, barely there. In pain. 

You sob. 

“Tara?” Your Dad’s voice booms. He tries to shuffle you out of the way, “YN, let me see.” 

But you only clutch onto her tighter. 

He abandons the cause, not long after. 

He’s speaking to your mother, instructions, maybe, but you don’t hear him. You grasp Tara’s face with your bloodied hands, try to bring her back to you. 

“Tara, baby, stay with me please-”

-

You don’t remember much else. 

You remember the flash of police bursting into your bedroom, guns drawn. You remember the hands on you, trying to pry you away as Tara slips into unconsciousness. 

You remember your own screams. 

But then it’s nothing. Blank. The night a total blur. 

And now there’s nothing but the quiet beep of Tara’s heartbeat monitor.

She’s clean now, not a drop of blood in sight. Tubes wrapped around her arms, in her nose. 

She looks almost peaceful, if not pale, her eyes still closed in her hospital bed. 

It’s you who looks like a mess. Eyes red, still wet with tears. Her blood all over your hands, your shirt, your face. But you won’t move. Plastered to her side. 

“YN-” Says your Dad but you cut him off. 

“I’m not leaving until she wakes up.” You say, voice shaky, but firm. 

He sighs. 

“The doctor said she’s going to be fine-”

“Does she look fine?” Your voice trembles, a little. He rubs your shoulder. 

“Alright.” He says, sinking back down into his seat, “I’m just saying when she wakes up, I doubt she’ll want to see you here covered in blood.” 

“She’ll want me here,” You murmur. Brush her hair out of her eyes, “Doesn’t matter what I’m covered in.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Richie hovering in the hallway. Hands pressed against the glass as he peers in. He's still drunk. A wave of irritation floods through you. 

“Can’t you get rid of him?” You ask. 

Your Dad growls. Stands and marches to the door, “I’ve got rid of him four times already, that boy is like a gnat-” 

He doesn’t finish. 

Sam’s barrelling through the doorway, Richie hot on her heel. She all but rushes to Tara’s side, eyes wide and mournful. 

“Oh my god, Tara.” 

“She’s going to be okay,” Your Dad says preemptively, “She lost a lot of blood, but the ambulance got there on time.”

If Sam hears him, she doesn’t acknowledge him. She dips down, takes Tara’s cheek in her palm. 

“Oh, Tara.” Her voice shakes. She leans in, presses the softest kiss to Tara’s forehead. 

Then she rounds on Richie. 

“What the hell happened?” 

“It was Ghostface, Sam, and it wasn’t me.” He looks to you, wildly, “Tell her it wasn’t me-”

“And what the hell were you doing then?” Sam asks. Her voice shakes again, but this time it’s out of anger. She smacks him, hard.

Then again. 

“What the hell were you doing while he was carving up my sister?” 

Your Dad intervenes, pries them apart. You don’t take your eyes off Tara. Press your nose to the side of her face, willing her to open her eyes. 

“Everybody needs to calm down!” Your Dad’s voice booms out, “This is a hospital. Tara needs rest. She doesn’t need to wake up to find you two screaming at each other.” 

Sam abandons the fight. Her lip trembles. She walks back over to Tara’s side and sinks down next to her. 

“What happened?” Sam asks you, softer. Her eyes are round, she’s desperate for answers. You rub Tara’s limp hand with your thumb. 

“He got into the house somehow,” You begin. You can see Richie out of the corner of your eye. His face is pleading. Pleading you not to tell the truth, “Richie came to um- talk to me. We were on the lawn and I saw someone broke the lock to the backdoor. And then I realized he was in the house.” 

“Ghostface?” Sam asks, eyebrows knit. 

“He had a knife to her neck by the time we got there,” You say, taking a shaky breath, “He must have taken her by surprise. She had a gun, but she didn’t use it. God, I don't know how she didn't see him coming-” 

“Unless she wasn’t expecting it.” A new voice sounds out. 

Your head snaps up. 

It’s Mindy, leaning against the door, looking serious. 

“Unless it was someone she knew.”

Chad and Liv are with her. They don’t hover, move to Tara’s bedside. Liv squeezes your shoulders, drops down into the seat next to you. Chad hovers at the end of her bed, looking mournful. 

“Is she going to be okay?” He asks, eyes wide. 

You nod. 

“The doctor said she’ll be awake soon. Anytime now.” 

You bring the back of her hand to your lips. Hope your words will awaken her. 

“See their face?” Mindy questions, eyes squirting. 

“Obviously not,” You snap. You’re not in the mood to play Nancy Drew. 

Mindy hums as she takes a seat next to Sam. She doesn’t waste any time. 

“Okay. Updated suspect list. We know it wasn’t YN. We know it wasn’t her parents-”

“Why would it be my parents?’ You interject, eyebrows furrowed but Mindy waves you off. 

“We know it wasn’t Richie. We know it wasn’t me-”

“Hold on.” Chad says, “We don’t know that.” 

Mindy gawps. 

“Chad. I’m your twin sister-” 

“You weren’t with me, I don’t know what you do in your spare time.” 

Mindy stares a moment. Then shrugs. 

“Valid point. I know it wasn’t me. Liv and Chad-”

“We were having sex.” Liv pipes up, “It wasn’t us.” 

Mindy wrinkles her nose. 

“Convenient. And also gross. But if they’re vouching for each other that leaves one.” 

She turns to Sam. Sparkle in her eye. Sam stares back at her. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Mindy raises her hands. 

“Everyone’s a suspect. Even family. Especially family.”

“You think I’d hurt my own sister?” Sam says, voice raised, “My baby sister?” 

“Your anger is making you a little suspicious.” Chad admits, quietly. 

“Sam would never hurt Tara, it wasn’t her.” Richie says from his spot by the door. 

“Shut up, Richie.” Sam snaps, “I don’t have time for this. Where are the police? I want to talk to them.” 

“By the coffee machine,” You say, voice gravelly, “Same ones that were posted outside the house.” 

“Fat lot of good they did,” You Dad sneers. Sam stands, makes her way to the door, “I’m coming with you. I want a word with that so-called Sheriff.” 

Richie trails behind them like a lost puppy. Your rub your eyes, trying to quell the rainfall of tears behind them. Tara looks so small like this. Not two hours ago you’d been wrapped up in her arms and now she’s here. Unconscious with a three inch stab-wound in her stomach. You kiss her hand once more and take a deep breath. 

If she needs you to be anything now, it’s to be strong for her. 

Mindy reaches into her bag, slaps down a folder and opens the first page. It’s a spider-web of names, dates and pictures. Like an information board at a police station. You stare down at it, then blink up at Mindy. 

“What’s that?” Asks Liv, peering over. 

“Dude.” Chad says, as he slips into Sam’s empty seat, “You really need a girlfriend.” 

“Do you want to hear what I’ve found or what?” Mindy asks. Chad peers down at the folder. 

“Sadie. Aaron. Chase. Dan. Amber-”

The back of your neck prickles. A familiar wave of anxiety flooding through you. You’ve been here before. With Wes. 

You interject before she can go any further. 

“Yes, congratulations Mindy. You've worked out the people who were murdered.” You snap.

“Let me finish.” Mindy says, sounding impatient, “They’re linked. I promise they’re linked.” 

“They all went to the same school.” Liv nods, helpfully. 

Mindy shoots her a look, “No, dumbass. I mean yeah, but that’s not it. Think about it. What do they all have in common?”

Your heartbeat speeds up. 

More than ever, you will Tara to wake up. She’d know what to say, what to do. If the three of them work it out right now, Tara will wake up handcuffed to her bed and you’ll be long gone. Locked away in some far away jail cell. 

Chad furrows his brow. 

“They’re all teenagers?” 

Mindy sighs. Points to an underlined name in the center of her folder. 

“Sam babysat them. All of them.” 

You’d laugh, but it’s not really that funny. You’d cry, if you had anymore tears left in you. You let out the quietest of sighs. For all her diagrams, Mindy's nowhere close. 

Chad and Liv look dubious. 

“Come on,” Mindy says, gesturing to her folder as if she’s just solved the mystery of a century, “Think about it. It makes sense. Sam’s always been- angry, and maybe this was her endgame all along. She’s been building to kill Tara. Like the grand prize. Seek revenge on all the brats who made her teenage years hell. Tara was maybe the brattiest of all of them.” 

“I don’t know, Mindy,” Chad says, “It seems a little far-fetched.”

“It seems a lot far-fetched.” Says Tara, voice groggy. 

Her voice jumpstarts your system. 

You sit up, clutch her hand a little tighter. Her eyes are a little hazy, her voice tired. But she’s awake. Your stomach flips. Relief floods through you. You lean in close, press your lips to her forehead. 

“Baby,” You say, closing your eyes as you breathe her in, “Are you alright? How are you feeling?” 

You pull back, clutch her face in your hands. 

“I’m fine.” She says, though she doesn't sound it, “What happened? Did you get him? Ghostface?” 

You shake your head. Sink back into your seat, take her hand with you as you press your lips to the back of it. 

“He got away.” 

“Did you see anything?” Mindy asks, voice urgent, “Anything at all. Ghostface was in the bedroom, they can’t have snuck up on you-” 

Tara tries to sit, her face betraying the amount of pain she’s in. You climb into the bed to sit a little closer, wrapping your arm around her shoulder. 

“You were gone too long,” Tara says, looking up at you, “I left the bedroom to come find you and then he grabbed me. He was already in the house.” 

“How did he get in?” Chad asks, looking confused, “YN, you said your Dad bought alarms. And extra locks. Not to mention the police outside-”

“The lock was broken when I went outside,” You say, chewing your lip, “And the alarms? I don’t know. Maybe we forgot to set them?”

“We didn’t.” Says Tara, voice firm, “I triple-checked them.” 

Then she frowns. 

“What were you doing outside?”

You pause, wonder if you should tell her the truth. She’s already hurt, and the last thing you want to do is spike her heartbeat monitor and send her back into another mini-coma. You swallow. 

“Richie wanted to talk. So we went outside.” 

Tara stares at you. You’re blinking too much, one of your giveaway signs. She knows them by heart. 

“Richie wanted to talk?” She asks. Her eyes on you scanning, surveying, “And how did Richie get ahold of you? You left your phone in your room.” 

Damn it. 

“He was already in the house.” You say, biting your lip, “He asked me to come outside and talk.” 

It’s not a lie, not totally. But Tara sees right through it. 

“He asked you?” Tara says, “He asked you to come outside alone with him when Ghostface is running around trying to kill you?” 

“He-” You sigh. You don’t care enough about him to try and protect him. You squeeze her hand, try to preempt the anger, “He sort of- took me outside.”

“He took you outside?” Tara sits up at this, her voice raising, “He took you how?”  

You pause.

“He put his hand over my mouth and dragged me outside.” 

Tara’s up in a flash. Her face awash with fury. The four of you jump up in mutual protest as she’s climbing halfway out of her hospital bed. The heartbeat monitor sings out as her heartbeat spikes. Chad’s arms on her are firm as he pushes her back down into the bed. 

Her hospital gown seeps red with fresh blood. 

“Tara, your stomach.” You gasp, “Baby, lay down, please.” 

Tara groans as the pain catches up with her. She slumps, slightly, chest heaving. She’s furious, you can tell by the way she’s gripping your hand, eyes ablaze.

Then she looks up at Chad, a dangerous look in her eye. 

“Tell Richie to come here right now,” She growls, “Tell him I’m about to kill him with my bare hands-”

“As tempting as I’m sure he’ll find that offer,” Interjects Mindy, sounding a little too excited, “Doesn’t this just prove my theory? It’s Sam. She asked her boyfriend to lure YN away and then when you least expected it. Bam!” 

She slaps down on her folder. 

“She had you exactly where she wanted you.” 

Tara moans. Presses her hand against her wound. 

“Baby, I need more painkillers,” She says, voice high. Sweat on her brow, “Tell the nurse I need something. Anything. Tell her I want to be up and walking and killing Richie in the next ten minutes-”

“You’re not walking anywhere. And you’re certainly not killing anyone.” You say, smoothing her hair out of her face, “Mindy go get the nurse. And can you stop with your stupid folder. As if she’s not worked up enough.” 

Mindy rolls her eyes. Presses her folder back into her backpack. 

“You’ll all see,” She promises as she goes off to find the nurse, “I’m right about this.”

She hovers in the doorway. 

“Just don’t either of you be alone with Sam. Promise me.” 

“Mindy.” Tara growls, “If you don’t-”

Mindy raises her hands, “Fine. Fine. I’m going.” 

-

You spend the rest of the night by Tara’s side. Anxiously watching as the nurse changes her bandages. You hold her hand as they pump her with meds, try to still some of the pain from ripping her own stitches. 

Chad, Liv and Mindy peter out, one by one. Promise they’ll return in the morning. You wouldn’t mind if they didn’t: the Scooby Doo act is getting a little old, Mindy’s questions starting to grate on you. You’re no closer to figuring out who Ghostface is and now Tara has a three inch gash in her stomach to prove it. 

Your Dad returns a little later. Sits just outside the door, watching over the room like a posted guard. Sam sits a little closer, near the end of the bed. Her hand touching Tara’s foot every now and then as if to remind herself she’s still there.  

Tara's eyes droop, loopy on pain medication. She’s shivering a little. You pull the bedsheets a little higher, settle into her side, careful of her wound. Press a kiss to her forehead. 

You watch as she desperately tries to keep her eyes open. 

“Go to sleep, babe.” You insist for what must be the sixth time, “You’re safe. We’re in a hospital with tons of people. I’m here, Dad’s here. Sam’s here. He’s not going to touch you.” 

“What if he gets you?” She says, voice drowsy. She blinks, trying to fight off her exhaustion, “I need to stay awake. I need to protect you, baby.” 

She’s not protecting anyone like this. 

“It’s my turn to protect you.” You murmur. Lean in close to press the softest of kisses to her lips. Her eyes flutter closed. 

“You can sleep, Tara, I won’t let anyone touch her.” Sam says from her spot near the end of the bed. Sam’s tired too, you can see it in her eyes. But there’s something else. Determination. Her shoulders are tense. You get it. This is the second time in under a month Tara’s been here like this. Looking so small in her hospital bed, failed by her mother. Failed by Sam. Failed by you.

She wants to protect her, that you can understand. You want to protect her too.

Tara looks at her, really looks at her. Her eyebrows knit, like she’s appraising her. Then she nods, a little slow. She pulls you closer, nestles her head against your shoulder. 

“Wake me if you hear anything,” She says, a little sleepy. Curls a little closer into your side. You nod, kiss her once more. 

“I promise.” 

And then her eyes flutter closed as she drifts off to sleep.

Next part

[sakusaur]

first time?

rin itoshi x fem! reader

a/n: first piece of rin! hope you guys like it :) will definitely continue from this piece

you are part of blue lock’s logistic team and your role at the facility was to make sure BLUE LOCK MAN was operating perfectly, ensuring the players have enough equipment and to make sure the whole logistics was taken care of.

sometimes you bump into the players in the hallways as they head to the different training rooms and they throw you a shy smile, as its been a long time since they’ve seen a girl. you bow slightly at them as a polite greeting but never strike conversations with them until one day, where you accidentally bumped into two players as you were heading out of a training room.

“oh sorry!” he says, and you quickly apologise too. you quickly stepped out of their way and turned into the hallway until the boy calls out again.

“hello! you’re one of the staff here aren’t you?”

you paused and did not turn around as you weren’t supposed to be having conversations with the players as it might cause a distraction as stated clearly on the contract you signed.

“stop bothering her. she’s clearly busy.” the other player said grumpily.

“oh sorry,” he apologises again,”i didn’t mean to bother you but i just wanted to thank you for your help! i’ve seen you going around checking the equipments.”

that was such a nice thing to say and it’s the first time someone has thanked you so sincerely in the past few months, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. so you turned back around and bowed slightly.

“thank you, i’m glad you are using them well.”

you recognised the both of them from the screens they broadcast in the viewing room where ego usually camps in. isagi yoichi was the one who thanked you while rin itoshi was the one who told him off.

and you’re blown away by how rin itoshi looks like up close (he doesnt look this pretty on screen). though his hair is slightly sticking with sweat to his forehead and covering his eyes, you can still see his bottom lashes peeking out and he looks absolutely adorable with semi-flushed cheeks.

“yeah we definitely appreciate it….” isagi runs off, waiting for you to fill up the blank with your name.

“y/n, i’m on the logistics team,” you say.

“well thanks, y/n!” isagi says again and knudges rin, “c’mon say something to her.”

you fidget with your finger nervously as you look at rin who looks like he has a scowl on his face but at the same time he looks embarrassed? after a few awkward moments, isagi nudges him harder and almost glares at him till he decides to speak up.

“thanks, y/n”, rin glances at you and quickly walks away when he noticed you were staring at him. isagi starts grinning ear to ear and says goodbye to you before he catches up with rin who has already speed walked a few hundred metres away.

what a weird interaction with the best player in blue lock, and it certainly won’t be your last.

moments before…..

isagi was about to ask rin what on earth was he doing standing outside the training room and peeking behind the door and when he called out rin’s name, rin immediately jumped and shut the door behind him, running up to isagi to put a hand over his mouth.

“what are you doing!” isagi struggles to say that while rin tries to silence him.

“can you shut up for a moment you big mouth?” rin shushes him and lets him go when he’s sure that isagi is able to keep his mouth shut.

“okay so what are you doing standing outside the door?” isagi whispers and tries to peek behind the door. this is the first time he’s seen rin acting all suspicious and- oh he sees you behind the door, checking on BLUE LOCK MAN.

isagi is really smart so he pieces everything together, its either rin is afraid to talk and chase someone out or he has a crush. it is obviously the former because why would rin not chase anyone out of the field when he really wants to practice.

“oh! oh you-!” isagi tries to say it out and rin knows he’s screwed so he tries to wrestle isagi down but isagi lost his balance which led him to bump into you as you opened the door behind them.

[moonstruckme]

IN a week - what I’ve never seen in a Steve 80’s pop star AU!!! his hair? joes actual voice? THE FACE? He’s always giving pop star to me

Yessss thanks sm for requesting honey!

join the party

popstar!Steve x fem!reader ♡ 705 words

“Oh wow.” You swipe a magazine from the rack by the checkout. “The sexual exploits of heartthrob Steve Harringon? Inside source tells all?” You raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend. “Stevie, is there anything you’d like to tell me? Has Robin sold you out?” 

“She would,” Steve allows, not even looking at the magazine as he sets your groceries on the conveyor belt. Nancy has told him a million times to not risk being out in public like this, but he says he misses the mundanity of it. I just want to go to the mall and shit like that with my girlfriend, that shouldn’t be a big ask. So they’d compromised; Steve sacrifices the volume of his hair every time he goes out by squishing it under a baseball cap, and Nancy gets the peace of mind knowing that there’s no chance of her most big-time client being recognized while his hair (practically trademarked, at this point) is covered. “But she has even more fun with feeding them ridiculous stories. She says my real life is too boring.” He wraps his arm around you, drawing you away from the magazine rack. “Monogamy, you know?”

“Such a drag,” you agree, gratified when he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Wanna see what she told them?”

Steve makes a noncommittal humming sound, but he leans over to watch as you leaf through to find his page. “Ooh, this is a good picture of you, babe.” Steve winks at you from the page, skin glossy and laminate. “Okay, so you slept with every single girl at Hawkins High while you were there, you…apparently had a very passionate fling with an heiress on vacation in Bora Bora, and you were found in a closet, completely naked with two girls at a party…in uptown?” You gawp at him, feigning betrayal. “Stevie, was that the party last week? When did you slip away?”

He jostles you by the shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“You’re so sweet to me. Hey, look—” you pick up another magazine, reading off the cover, “The seven-step regiment Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington doesn’t want you to know.” 

“You’re joking.” He scrambles to see over your shoulder, and you laugh, showing it to him.

“I am,” you confess, and Steve actually sighs in relief. “It says five steps.” 

“Suckers,” he scoffs. “Don’t fuck with me like that, babe, that’s my income you’re joking about.” 

You laugh again, reaching up to take his hand where it’s slung over your shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short,” you say, intertwining your fingers. “It’s only like, ninety percent of your income. You’ve got some talent.” 

Steve looks at you, eyebrows rising nearly to the brim of his hat. “Oh yeah? Changing our tune from the car this morning, are we?”

You scoff, but he only wrestles you closer, pulling you tight against his side. “I didn’t say you were a bad singer, I said you couldn’t hit the same notes as Madonna.” 

“But I did,” he says smugly, taking out his wallet as you approach the checkout. 

“Well, you tried.” 

Steve hums disappointedly. “M’gonna have to rethink all these free, private concerts if my audience doesn’t appreciate them,” he says. 

You smother a laugh, pressing a hand to your chest in a show of dismay. “What? No, please, Mr. Harrington, you can’t do that. I’m your biggest fan!”

“Harrington?” The cashier, a man not much older than you or Steve, looks up from the groceries. “Like, Steve Harrington?”

Steve tenses, and you feel instantly guilty for your dramatics. “Yup,” you say quickly. “I’m a big fan of his.” 

The man nods. “Me too. Heard he’s back in town for a bit.” 

“You don’t say.” 

“Yeah, but I mean, we probably won’t be seeing him around much,” he says matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. Steve looks down as subtly as he can, hiding his face under the brim of his cap. “When you get that famous, you can’t just be going out in public like the rest of us. Poor dude would probably get mobbed.” 

“Probably,” you agree, smiling as you squeeze Steve’s hand in your grip. He sneaks his other hand to your waist where the cashier can’t see, pinching scoldingly at your side. “Wouldn’t want that.”

[zootopiathingz]

Mario/Daisy friendship headcanons I promised to provide!

A popular headcanon for Luigi/Peach is them baking together and it’s usually a very calm activity for them. For Mario and Daisy, however, it would be the exact opposite. It starts out with a simple idea to bake a cake for Peach and Lu to show their appreciation and they go to the kitchen and get supplies, and as they start they both realize that they don’t have any idea how to bake. “It’s fine! There’s cookbooks all over the place that tell you exactly what to do!” Insists Mario, and so they try that at first but since they’re both stubborn asf at times they end up deciding “screw it we don’t need these useless instructions! This looks too easy!” And then they start messing up with the measuring and how long things stay in the oven and long story short a fire starts and everything slowly descends into madness.

They often tease each other about their crushes on Peach and Luigi. Peach will say something sweet to Mario which makes him blush, and after she walks away Daisy leans over with a mischievous smirk, probably commenting on how his face is blending in with his red hat. He covers his face and tells her to shut up (respectfully)

Or when Daisy gives Luigi a kiss on the cheek, Mario childishly goes “ooooooh!” and she pushes him to the ground.

Video games are a battle to the death for these two. If Daisy is in the movie verse I imagine he would introduce games to her which she quickly gains a lot of skill. But of course they’re both super competitive. So whenever someone sees them with controllers in their hands they know to leave the room cuz it won’t take long for the loud screams of pure rage to fill the air.

They also take that completion outside video games. They often have other types of matches such as arm wrestling, checkers, anything that involves an opponent really. It gets tiring to watch at times.

(This is specifically for Wonder) Mario gets the elephant fruit and transforms. He’s mildly confused at first but snaps out of it when he hears Daisy burst out laughing, bending over and holding her stomach. “You look so dumb!!” She shouts through her cackling. Later on in the adventure she gets the fruit as well and looks at her elephant-appearance. Mario folds his arms with a smirk, suppressing some laughter. “You were saying?”

One day Luigi comes home wiping away tears. Both Mario and Daisy go over to him asking what’s wrong. He tries to shrug it off saying someone pushed him on the street earlier, but insists he’s not upset so he tells them not to worry. They both give each other a look. Later that day, after somehow getting some more information, they ring the doorbell of someone’s house. The person opens the door to be greeted by Mario crackling his knuckles while Daisy wields a bat in her hand.

Classic sibling moments where one of them sees a random animal/creature and will point at it and go “that’s you”

After a long day of their absence, Mario and Daisy return home looking absolutely wrecked and disheveled. Their hair’s a mess, their clothes are dirty and ripped, scratches and burn marks on their arms and faces. Everyone else is concerned, but Luigi and Peach immediately scold them and ask what the hell they’ve been up to. They both smile awkwardly and reply “nothing!” in perfect unison. (*cue loud explosion in the background*)

Feel free to add onto this

[darsynia]

Hand(s) Off | Ch 2: Ecstasy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: Steve's loved hearing about you from Bucky. He doesn't want anything to derail the progress his best friend has made toward being a whole person again, which is why he's going to use every ounce of his slowly-deteriorating willpower to resist touching you, tasting you, taking you. After all, he's just met you, and his own integrity, not to mention Bucky's trust, is important to him.

Neither of you are prepared for the catch.

Length | Warnings: 2,841 | Explicit sexual situations (they don't succeed in resisting, folks), MINORS DNI

Note: I want to make clear that I’m treating the issues of consent with sensitivity, as you'll hopefully see in this chapter!

Fill: Adoptable 'Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan

Excerpt:

“I’m-- wow, this is intense,” you say next. 

There’s a little cry to the last word. You are clearly affected by Mistress too, and Steve feels both grateful and guilty about how relieved he is about that. This is a moral catastrophe, but you’re in this mess together, sort of. Anything less and Bucky would demand the right to kick his ass.

Hell, he probably still will.

“Take--” He stops himself. “Why don’t you take it off?” 

“Nice catch,” you praise, leading him to buck his hips up. “Only if you take your shorts off, too. Fair’s fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” he growls out, getting up. Steve takes everything off because, fuck yes, access is what he needs right now. It’s a testament to how ruled he is by the drug in his system that it doesn’t even feel wrong to be wearing just a shirt in the room with you.

Ecstasy

Steve had known about you for a while now. He had been picturing you as a gorgeous pin-up, a dream woman, someone who could bridge the gap between 1940’s Bucky and the shadowed self his best friend had become. With everything Bucky’s told him about you, that impression had been reinforced.

Now he’s looking at you, your eyes wide, body a shapeless mass under the blanket, and he can’t help but wonder what you’ve heard from Bucky’s stories, from the footage of the attack on New York, from interviews since. Do you think he stands for integrity, kindness, justice? Can any of that possibly survive the unbearable need he’s feeling right now?

“I’m going to cover my face with this blanket, okay? Two layers of it.” You do that, waving a hand in front of your own face to check that it’s fully opaque. “You came here to change out of those wet clothes, don’t let me stop you!” You’re right, but Steve simply cannot picture that. Not with you in the room. “I tell you what: I’ll-- I’ll hum one of the songs I’ve been practicing for this weekend’s set, okay? That way I won’t be able to hear you.”

You’d said ‘hum,’ but the sultry notes resonating from under your blanket shouldn’t be described that way. Steve wrestles himself out of the soaked button-down and undershirt and chooses a white tank top for comfort. His temperature has to be in actual fever territory, and without any… relief, that’s hardly going to change.

When he unzips his pants, the humming gets louder, and Steve can’t help it, he rubs himself with the heel of his hand. He wonders if you’re sitting under that blanket with your eyes shut, picturing him undressing. Recognizing his own lowered inhibitions, he hurries up, stripping down completely in favor of getting every ounce of the drug away from body contact.

He’s pulling on a pair of shorts when you stop.

“Oh, I wanted to say, Cap--”

“Use ‘Steve,’” he says quickly. “I don’t want memories of--”

“Oh, God, you’re right. Sorry,” you groan in interruption.

It takes all his self-discipline not to respond to the need in that groan, squeezing his wet clothes so tightly they drip onto the carpet. You can’t see him, so you’re already continuing. 

“I was going to say, you should bury those clothes in the hamper or a drawer or something, because I’m, uh, getting the equivalent of secondhand smoke, here.”

Steve distracts himself from that worrisome development by burying the clothes in his basket as if it were a mission. When he turns around, you’re standing, the blanket draped around you like a shield.

“Is this stuff dangerous at your dose? Should we break you out of here?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Breaking out would kill you.” He’d thought of that already. “The next level of security is enough nerve gas to incapacitate a super soldier. Today’s testing was to find out what’s safe.”

“At least they’ll get some data,” you muse. “Fuck, this blanket is getting hot-- I have an idea of how to survive this, but in case that fails, I’m sure Bucky already told you about my fifteen-minute adoring rave about your ass?” 

He cannot fathom why you would say that. “Uh…”

“Never mind,” you say, wiping sweat off of your chin with the back of a hand. It looks like you’re right about being affected by the drug; Banner had said it was capable of being aerosolized. “So, we’re trapped here, yes?”

“Yes, but I have no intentions of touching you,” Steve says, using his Command voice, as much as he hates the cross-contamination. To his surprise, your eyes grow fierce.

“Well, I have no intentions of being the bitch so unappealing that Captain America would rather die than touch her with Mistress in his system, so why don’t you hear me out?”

Stunned and slightly impressed, Steve puts his hands up. “I didn’t think of that. Go on.”

You pull the blanket closer around yourself. You’d said you were too hot, so this is vulnerability, and it makes him feel protective. That’s some cross-contamination too, but it can’t be helped.

“Okay, if we’re not touching each other then we’ll have to touch ourselves, and we’re in this tiny room.” You walk over to the bed and point to the floor on either side of it, saying, “I suggest we each pick a side, flip the light off, and talk each other through it. It’ll be less intimate without the visuals, and maybe we can each pretend it’s a phone conversation on speaker?”

“With the bed as a natural barrier?” 

“Yeah.”

Steve can already picture you seated on that blanket on the floor, head thrown back against the mattress, hands moving out of sight. It’s a compelling image. He clenches his jaw, pulling in too much air to give himself a different discomfort to distract himself with.

“Good thought. You stay on the door side. I’ll head over to the other side and stay there.”

“I don’t think you want to ‘soldier’ this, Steve,” you say, your voice softening to a whisper on his name like you have to force yourself to say it.

“Not sure I can stop,” Steve admits, propelling himself over to the wall on ‘his side.’ “Better get the light. This is…” he stops, needing to slow his breathing. All he can see when he closes his eyes is you slowly pulling the fabric of your dress up--

The light clicks off, plunging the room in darkness.

“Wow. I was expecting the darkness to feel comforting, but…” you say.

“Just sit down, shut your eyes,” Steve says-- and it’s all wrong. His voice is harsh, almost annoyed. He is annoyed. He should be better than this, but… “I’m sorry,” he says aloud. He’s apologizing to himself as much as to you.

“Me too,” you whisper, adding a little grateful noise that has Steve setting his forehead on the back wall. “Besides being very glad I can drop that blanket, I have no idea what I’m doing. Do we talk about ourselves? Each other?”

The taboo of the situation combined with the desire running through Steve’s body like wildfire weakens him to a kneel. This is the best outcome of a terrible situation, he tries to tell himself, but it doesn’t feel like that. Not with the prospect of that sultry tone of yours talking him through it.

“Steve?” You sound worried, alone.

“I’m here,” Steve hurries to say. “Got… distracted. Tell me what you’re doing, what you’re feeling? I still have to work on the command tone thing.” He moves to slump back against the side of the bed.

“You realize you’re still taking charge by not taking charge, yeah?” you say, more confident now, thank God.

“Would it help if you pretend we’ll die if one of us stops talking?”

“Spoken like a true Avenger,” you laugh. It’s throaty, affected, and Steve rests his hand on his lap, presses down. Yes. “Okay, I’m burning up. Inside and out. Even with short sleeves and a skirt.”

Steve makes a ‘Mmm’ noise without even meaning to, his palm rocking against his crotch.

“I’m-- wow, this is intense,” you say next. 

There’s a little cry to the last word. You are clearly affected by Mistress too, and Steve feels both grateful and guilty about how relieved he is about that. This is a moral catastrophe, but you’re in this mess together, sort of. Anything less and Bucky would demand the right to kick his ass.

Hell, he probably still will.

“Take--” He stops himself. “Why don’t you take it off?” 

“Nice catch,” you praise, leading him to buck his hips up. “Only if you take your shorts off, too. Fair’s fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair,” he growls out, getting up. Steve takes his underwear off too because, fuck yes, access is what he needs right now. It’s a testament to how ruled he is by the drug in his system that it doesn’t even feel wrong to be wearing just a shirt in the room with you. With some of the last logical coherence he has left, he grabs a tube of lube out of his bedside drawer.

There are condoms there too, but he won’t be needing them.

“No touching yet!” you call out, right as Steve slides a slick fist along his own length. It feels like the first time he’s ever done it right.

“Who’s giving the orders?”

“You don’t want to leave me behind, do you?”

“I don’t, I promise,” Steve groans. 

He collapses onto his knees at the bed, practically praying for release. The mattress shakes, and he can see the whole scene in his mind; you’re scrambling to pull the dress off over your head. He almost doesn’t recognize himself in his own thoughts, but that doesn’t stop them. Do your bra or panties have any lace? What color are they? 

“What color?” he rasps aloud, before he can stop himself. Despite what you said, his hand falls back to his cock, gripping but not moving. Even that is intensely pleasurable, but it’s the best he can do.

“Are you asking about what I took off or what I’m still wearing?” you ask.

Playful. Steve’s lost. He’s lost, because you sound joyful despite the situation. This is working, your plan, but he can’t help but feel like he’s trespassing. He should know so much more about you before getting to talk about your underclothes. That thought spirals, predictably, to the kinds of things women used to wear in his own time: hidden garter ribbons, the proliferation of skirts, the--

“Steve, if you’re going to ask questions like that, you ought to listen to the answers. It’s only polite.”

“You answered?”

“I described them. What were you doing?”

His hips jerk forward into his waiting fist, and it’s so sweet and hot and not enough that Steve gasps. “I think you know.”

“God, your voice is rough right now, do you know that?” you ask in a voice that’s rough too. “I’m sliding down the straps of my black lace bra so they pull on my arms.”

“Where are your hands?” One of his is moving slowly, deliberately.

“I’m--” The bedframe shakes slightly, and when you speak again, your voice is muffled like you’d thrown yourself face-first onto the bed. “I’m in flames, but it just hit me where I am and who you are!”

It strikes him that no woman will ever forget who he is ever again, not even in the throes of a mind-altering chemical.

“I’m just a guy, Dee,” he says, turning to sit on the floor again. “I always was. Just a guy who wants to help, to do good.” He’s not doing good right now, saying these kinds of things to someone he cannot drive away from Bucky, but those qualms are fuzzy and indistinct.

“I think I need you to talk now.”

Most of what leaps to mind is filthy, for all that his thoughts move as slow as molasses. “If you slide your hand inside your panties and cup yourself, will both sides of your hand be wet?”

“Fuck, what a question!” Your low groan makes him really want to taste its resonance on the outside of your throat. The mattress moves slightly, just enough to signal to Steve that you’re reaching down. “Y-yes.”

His own hand is moving faster, twisting, the heat of the drug in his system setting fire to every inhibition and replacing the ash with pleasure. “How do you like to be touched?” he manages to ask.

The words hang between the two of you for awhile. Finally, you tell him, using a breathy moan that makes clear that you’re acting out the actions as you speak. His orgasm strikes not long after, and Steve doubles over with the force of it, vocalizing in ways he usually never allows himself to do.

“I loved listening to that.” Your voice has a whine to it, a desperation he totally recognizes.

“It’s your turn,” he says, reaching over and grabbing his pillow to remove the case and wipe himself off with it.

“It smells like-- fuck, that’s so intimate, I--”

“I wish I could smell you,” Steve blurts out, feeling himself harden again. He’d expected that, maybe not quite so quickly, but he's a super soldier overdosing on Mistress.

You let out a gasp, and he leans back against the mattress to feel that it’s shaking, shaking with the rhythmic movements of your arm. You’re right, this is almost unbearably intimate, but right now that’s the best thing ever, with all the possible objections lost behind a haze of hot desire and the smell of sex.

Steve shifts so he’s kneeling at the bed again, his chest and one arm anchored to the mattress so he can enjoy the sensations as you stimulate yourself. “I can feel you move,” he says lowly-- and that’s it, he can hear the change in your breathing.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh,” you wail, the sound changing as you close your lips on the sound to change it to a ‘Mmmm.’ 

It’s almost enough to send Steve over again, but he’s greedy for every hitched gasp, every translated shove against the bed as you rock through it. Something tells him that reminding you he’s here will make you self conscious, so though each noise burns from his ears all the way across his body, he suppresses the need to vocalize his own resulting pleasure-pain.

Your next words take the edge off.

“You have to be kidding me!” you snap, sounding frustrated. “That felt great, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no relief! I am still using every single brain cell not to climb you like a tree.”

Steve unabashedly humps against the mattress a bit, at that.

“Yeah, see? You know what I’m going through,” you grumble.

“I never expected camaraderie,” Steve coughs out on a laugh. The levity lifts the musky pall of desperate need, but only for a moment. “I have no idea how long this will--”

“I figured,” you whisper. “That AI, does it have --ahh, I am just so warm and so, god, hang on-- night vision?”

It takes an annoyingly long time for Steve to figure out what you’re asking. “I don’t think so. It monitors everyone, so if one of us gets so hot we need medical attention--”

“Excuse me, but you’ve been that hot since the 40’s!” you interrupt, adding, “You mean you don’t have an override that comes with your rank, or…”

It’s absurd, the way he’s jacking himself off and holding a conversation. “I, ah, turned it off. In case I asked for something inappropriate while my thinking was impaired.”

You sound affectionately amused as you say, “Oh no! Steve, your thinking was already impaired!”

“Yeah, I’m seeing that now.”

“Oh.”

This new tone of yours goes straight to his cock, and Steve just leans over and thrusts into his hand a few times, the ecstasy from each squeeze washing over him in waves. It seems even better than before, but somehow not painfully so.

He recovers enough coherence to say, “What is it?”

“This is-- oh. We might have some data for your other Avengers, here.”

“It’s better now, isn’t it?” Steve pants out.

“Yes!”  

Your voice throbs with approval, and he throws out his free hand, grabbing at the sheet to hold on as another orgasm rocks through him. 

“Wow, did that send you over?” you ask, sounding impressed.

“It’s dark, but I still see fireworks,” he jokes, immediately wishing he his need-fuzzed brain hadn’t chosen that word. The number of ‘Captain America’ fireworks jokes he’s heard over the past year…

“You know the way to a woman’s ego, telling her you’re seeing stars and she hasn’t even touched you!” you say in an affected, sultry tone. “That’s, god, I’m such a mess. That’s my ‘lounge singer’ voice after I’ve had a few drinks. Don’t get to use it much.”

“So both of us have a not-so-secret identity?”

The bed shakes, presumably with your laughter, and that both sharpens and magnifies Steve’s arousal in the oddest way, more similar to the beginning, when he’d wanted to protect you as much as he’d wanted to touch.

“I hope you don’t mind, but my back is killing me,” you say. Steve doesn’t understand what you mean until your bare leg sweeps across his outstretched arm.

Immediately, instinctively, he clasps it, and both of you suck in a breath. The all-consuming pleasure he’d felt touching himself was nothing compared to this. Before he can realize what he’s doing, what it means, Steve’s climbing up onto the bed, following the contour of your naked leg up as he goes.

“ Steve,” you groan out, and the hint of hesitation in your voice fists his hand against your hip.

“Do you want me to stop?” he forces out through clenched teeth.

“Absolutely not,” you moan, your hand finding his and tugging.

Next chapter...

[sugarmouchie]

hello,could you write kafka with a fem reader in this scenario: she meets her gfs friends for tje firts time and her gf is usually shy and reserved but more less with her friends. her friends dont know that she got a gf yet so they flirt with her as usual(they always do that)and rest is up to your imagination? like yn being awkward and trying to explain herself lol sorry this is a bit messy but i hpe you undertand! have a nice day and take care <3

I WON’T STEAL HER ! ft. kafka

a/n. apologies that the requests i’m getting are nearly taking a long time to fulfill, it’s partially because of storage and partially because of my mental health, but i’m back i think lawl, and thank you for the request anon! 🤍

cw. fem!reader, kafka gets a lil jealous, ooc himeko, a little ooc kafka? idk lol, tbh idrk what i’m yapping about in some of this i just woke up, i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything 🤍

your girlfriend’s mind was slowly turning into mush because of how much she was overthinking the moment you told her that you were going a little too far away from her to visit your friends.

“kafka, relax, it’s only gonna be for a few hours,” you explained to her, your voice as reassuring as possible, “it should only be for four hours, just like my usual night-shift,” you finish.

“that’s not the only issue, dear,” she contemplates at you, her eyes practically glued onto your frowned expression, “you know i get jealous easily.” she whispers, which you somehow didn’t catch onto.

after enough convincing, here you were with your now stubborn girlfriend.

the magenta-haired woman’s brows furrowed in confusion ever since she noticed how much longer it was taking just to see your friends.

she did pay attention to you telling her that it would take a long time to see your friends, but she didn’t think it would take this long.

not to mention, she’s an impatient woman.

…

after a couple minutes, you turned your view to the darkened screen of your phone, turning up your brightness a little bit.

noticing that kafka was still driving, you texted your friends that you were almost there.

kafka paused her driving.

“who are you texting?”

oh.

as soon as you both finally got to the somewhat big cabin that your friends were in, you noticed kafka’s now calm facade, which you quickly got confused by.

however, not thinking much of it, you creaked the old cabin’s door open and finally met eyes with your overly-enthusiastic friends.

kafka slowly walked in, as if she was accidentally going to break all the wood keeping the cabin up.

you signed and turned your head towards her, to which you were met with her smirking, which you were even more confused by.

“kaf?” you whispered over to her, to which she gasped, then let out a small chuckle.

“sorry, darling, i’m coming,” she emphasized the word ‘darling’ louder than usual to alert your friends of knowing you were hers.

you playfully rolled your eyes at her as she let out another chuckle as soon as she noticed.

knowing kafka was not a stoic woman whatsoever, you had an opportunity to finally introduce her to your somewhat big friend group.

first, there was luka.

luka was practically the dad of the friend group, his outgoing personality making everyone feel as if the atmosphere was warmer than usual in dangerous situations most of the time.

for example, you and everyone else went into the woods and he kept going on and on about how his last wrestling match went, while… winking at you, to emphasize that you were the one that gave him the best luck in that match.

furthermore, you were the only one in your friend group that was excited to go to luka’s matches, that was most likely why.

then, there was serval, the charming rockstar who would never shut up in her room up in the attic of her and gepard’s shared cabin.

…which gepard would usually wake up, breathing heavily as if he was running laps, when in reality serval was practicing for her next concert.

third, jingliu.

she didn’t really do much, she just wandered around and occasionally came to hang out with the rest of your friend group.

as much as you wished she hang out with the rest of you more, she wasn’t really one to have any opportunities to engage in fun activities, her “duties came first” is what her only excuse was.

lastly, himeko.

himeko was never quiet about you, always trying to help you whenever you needed help with relationship advice with kafka.

however, she was more of the playful type than the rest of the friend group.

she always blew fake kisses to you as a joke, and she always had her ways with you, whether it was if you refused to go to the store with her, she would practically beg you either way.

kafka didn’t think much of your friends, she was just trying to get comfortable, to which it took more than a while.

…

and finally, after hours of convincing her to go to the fair with you and your friend group, she finally agreed.

the next couple hours consisted of himeko clinging to your side to what felt like 24/7, even though it was only a day.

kafka quickly noticed, and quickly got uncomfortable.

“…himeko, please,” you begged, “my girlfriend is here,” you continued, your heart beat racing out of nervousness, sighing, to which you were clearly uncomfortable with.

“GIRLFRIEND!?” himeko yelled, probably louder than the screams of the people on roller coasters at this point.

kafka quickly flinched, luka turned around, jingliu who surprisingly came with, blinked a few times, and serval screamed back in agony, a rush of fear quickly flowing through her body for a split second, but then realized it was just himeko screaming.

kafka smirked, walking slowly towards himeko with a menacing gaze and you rolled your eyes at her playfully.

“relax,” you spoke to your magenta-haired girlfriend, who rose her brows and quickly pulled you away.

…

“who is that?” she questioned you, her voice a little shaky, despite trying her best to keep her somewhat seductive demeanor towards you.

“a girl from my friend group,” you replied, raising a brow in confusion.

what kafka didn’t know is that himeko was not interested in you whatsoever, and that himeko was one to be the flirty type of woman.

“ah,” kafka replied, “tell me more about her.”

“[name]!” serval and luka yelled, luka lifting up his mechanical arm in an attempt to wave at you.

you chuckled, your shy demeanor coming back into view.

they both came rushing towards you, eager to ask you if you wanted to go on the highest roller coaster with them after they finish their funnel cake.

“[name]~” luka taunted, walking towards you with a smirk on his face, “luka, go away she’s mine,” serval elbowed him playfully.

kafka’s breath hitched in her throat.

…

nonetheless, she didn’t want to mention anything for now, so she decided to think back on your friends’ question.

kafka, still standing right next to you, raised her brows in confusion because she knew you were not one for roller coasters at all.

“erm-“ kafka interrupted you, to which you gasped, “she doesn’t like going on those,” finishing for you.

you whipped your head to look at her and sighed in relief, tapping her shoulder twice as if letting her know you were okay.

“thank you,” you whispered to her.

little did you know, the only reason why she did that was because she wanted to stay with you for the entire day.

“you can see your friends another day,” was her excuse.

“kaf-“

“shhh,” she interrupted once more, “come home and comfort me, sweetie, will you?” she faked a frown.

“miss, i am not intending to steal your girlfriend, don’t worry,” himeko apologized to the practically frozen-in-place stellaron hunter.

@sugarmouchie do not copy/translate/repost on other platforms, thank you 🤍

[angelofsmalldeaath]

you'll always find me in the kitchen at parties — a.h.b.

a/n: this is based on one of the songs mentioned in this interview. the prompt is "a song for when you're getting ready to go out, but you actually want to stay in"

cw: suggestive, kissing and making out

“red or pink?” i hold up two tubes of lipstick in front of him. he frowns. 

“neither,” he takes them out of my hands one after the other and hides them behind his back. “i’d rather you stayed.”

i click my tongue and look at him, exasperated once again. he’s been on our bed for the past twenty minutes now, watching me ritualistically put on my makeup, once step after the other like i’ve done for years. 

“baby, don’t be like this,” i get off the chair and stand in front of him, between his legs. then i cradle his face. “it’s a work thing. i have to be there…”

truth is i’d rather be anywhere but at the work thing. i know it’s going to be one of those events that goes on and on and on until every last person is sleepy and bored out of their minds. then there is shitty food. 

“will you return my lipsticks, please?”

“and what if i said no?” he puts his arms around me and rests his chin on my sternum, effectively trapping me in place. 

“i’d have to wrestle you for them,” i smirk, indulging him.

“you’d never win against me,” he declares, his voice all confident until i scratch his scalp with my nails. whatever words he was about to say dissolve on his tongue as he sighs, practically melting in place. 

“you sure about that?” i tease and drag my nails through hair once again. 

once his eyes flutter shut, he shifts, squishing his face in my boobs, tightening his arms around me some more. 

“i’ve got you now,” his voice is muffled, i feel the vibrations in my chest, “where will you go?”

the clock on the wall ticks, inching closer and closer to when i have to leave. the more the seconds tick by the more my feet feel frozen in place, my body rooted in his arms, my brain unwilling to do the ‘right thing’. i should untangle myself from his embrace and step away. instead i climb onto his lap. 

“oh?” he looks at me with renewed interest, mouth curving into a smug smile. 

i take my chance and reach behind him, closing my fist around one of the lipsticks. quickly i yank my arm back and hold it up in front of him. it’s the pink one, the one i didn’t want. “gotcha!”

he looks at the bullet then back at me, moving his hands from my hips to my waist. a confused frown makes its way onto my face. “what are you—”

i yelp before i can finish my question. in an instance i’m off his lap and somehow under him on the bed as he flips us both, faster than i could have imagined. the lipstick goes flying halfway across the room.

“gotcha…” he whispers, close enough that our breaths mix together. “do you still want to leave?”

no. no no no. i haven’t wanted to leave all evening, not when he looks at me with so much longing and want and love. not when he looks like that…

the other lipstick tube rolls against my thigh, within my reach now. instead, i place my hand on his cheek, crane my neck until i can press my lips against his.

barely a second passes before he deepens the kiss, moves his hand from my waist to my ribs. 

his familiar weight on top of me is comfortable, safe. i fist his t-shirt and giggle when he does the same to my dress, wrinkling it instantly. 

“you won’t let me go, will you?”

he clicks his tongue, kissing my jaw, “not a chance.”

“i should just tell them i got food poisoning, shouldn’t i?”

“absolutely. oh, you are deathly ill right now.”

i giggle again, letting him slide away the straps off my dress and kiss the bare skin of my shoulder. 

“for the record,” he murmurs, “i would have picked red.”

“yeah?”

he nods, pulling away slightly so he can look at me properly. “looks the best on you. looks the best on me when you kiss me…”

“and pink doesn’t?” i tease. 

this time it’s his turn to thread his fingers through my scalp. i sigh and almost close my eyes. “well now that you’ve decided to stay…” he swoops down and captures my lips in another lingering kiss, “we could test out all the shades.”

“i think that’s a good use of our time,” i laugh, and kiss him once again. 

[vulture115]

Engineer!Jaune (Based on my ask to @howlingday) Ruby: YOU WHAT?!

Jaune: Yeah, just like my Uncle Dell Conagher-Arc said: “Hey look, buddy. I'm an engineer — that means I solve problems. Not problems like 'What is beauty?' because that would fall within the purview of your conundrums of philosophy. I solve practical problems.”

Ruby: BUT YOU DELIBERATELY CUT YOUR OWN ARM!!!

Jaune: Yeah? So did my uncle

Ruby: JAUNE!!!

Jaune: What?! It’s the only way to make sure Nora or you fires my Plasma guns!!!

Ruby: But you didn’t need to cut your own arm!!!

Yang: I heard screaming, what’s wrong?

Ruby: JAUNE CUT HIS OWN ARM!!!

Yang: WTF JAUNE?! I KNOW YOU’RE CRAZY AFTER ALL OF THIS 3 YEARS, BUT THIS IS TOO FAR!!!

Blake: Yang, honey, please don’t scream *Sees Jaune’s arm* What happened to your arm

Ruby: HE CUT HIS OWN ARM OFF!!!

Blake: WHAT?! PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING

Ruby: I’M NOT!!!

Weiss: WOULD ALL OF YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?! PLEASE STOP SCREAMING!!! *Spots Jaune’s arm* What happened to your arm?

Blake: He cut it himself

Weiss: YOU WHAT?! THAT IS PREPOSTEROUS!!!

Jaune: I did.

Weiss: ….

*Knocks on the door*

Jaune: Who is it? *Opens the door and sees Uncle Dell*

Ruby: Who is it Jaune?

Jaune: *Excited* It’s my uncle! Uncle Dell? What’s up!!!

Uncle Dell: Hey kid, heard you cut your own arm. Is it true?

Jaune:*In a slight Texan accent* I did

Uncle Dell: As i expected from a 10Y/O kid who obtained 11 PhDs

RWBY: He’s what?!

Uncle Dell: Yup, he sure did. *Speaks back to Jaune* Hey kid, who’s these fine ladies? Is one of them is your girlfriend?

Jaune: *Still in the same accent* No uncle, all of them are girlfriends and girlfriends. And one of them is in a polyamorous relationship. *Points to Ruby* That’s Ruby *Points to Weiss* Her girlfriend Weiss *Points to Blake and Yang* The emo one (Blake: HEY!) is Blake and the Yellow one is Yang. They’re the one whose on a polyamorous relationship.

Uncle Dell: With who?

Pyrrha: *In the door* Blake! Yang! Can you help me with my groceries please? *Sees Jaune* Jaune!!! *Proceed to run at full speed to hug Jaune*

Jaune: Whoa! *falls into his own back

Pyrrha: We’ve missed you so much!!!*Felt something metallic*… What happened to your arm Jaune?

Yang: *Helping Pyrrha with the groceries* He cut his own arm

Pyrrha: HE’S WHAT?!

Yang: That’s not even the most shocking part, he also got 11 PhDs.

Pyrrha: *Staring at Jaune and Dell talking to each other and seeing him gives an Australium to Jaune*…. No wonder he’s always the top in every class except combat.

*After helping the girls with the groceries, maybe around 5-10 minutes*

Jaune: Welp, We’ll talk later Uncle Dell, we’re going to have a cookout and those groceries won’t lift by themselves.

Uncle Dell: Yeah, we’ll talk later about the sentry improvements. Got a call from work. Y’know, the usual RED and BLU stuff.

Jaune: No problem uncle, how about we meet at our usual bar?

Uncle Dell: Sure thing bud, say the time and date and i’m on my way. With the rest of the crew ofcourse.

Jaune: Heavy still pissed at me for beating him in an arm wrestling huh?

Uncle Dell: I mean, you’d rarely sees a 15 Y/O kid beating a 6’5 400 Pounds man with Aura in arm wrestling contests. *Chuckle* Well i gotta go *Gets in his 1966 Chevy Pickup*

Jaune: Sure Uncle Dell. Be sure to not be dead

Uncle Dell: The machine’ll revive me kiddo *Dabs Jaune perfectly* Bye kid. *Drives off*

Jaune: *Chuckles* Bye uncle Dell! *Waves his metallic arm*

The girls: *Speaking together in a dark tone* You got some explaining to do. Jaune~.

Jaune: Oh… shit….