#reference is from the movie 'girl shy' no i have not seen it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ratcash-wasgud · 24 days

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MR. KRABS, I HAVE AN IDEAA! (I'm so sorry, I hope you get this reference...) Modern!Mizu x Shy Reader who absolutely adores sketching in their free time, but specifically loves drawing Mizu?

Mizu is unaware for a long time but finds a sketchbook filled with beautiful sketches of her, with little notes by them that the reader made such as 'I love my girlfriend' , 'Her nose is so pretty' , 'I like how well I captured her jawline, it encompasses just how pretty she is.' Every page is filled with little side-note compliments/notes to self (That the reader didn't expect her to see) and Mizu just fawns and falls in love with the shy reader even more. Maybe Mizu will bring it up and reader gets flustered and eventually they spend their free time doing little drawing contests of each other? I thought it was a cute idea, I hope you are doing well and have a great day! :)

DAAAAAMN

love this idea. i'm probably gonna turn this into loser!mizu propaganda tho muhahaha

btw I'M SO SORRY I'M ABSENT and i'm very behind on requests too and everything. i'll try to post more <3

AN: this didn't turn out exactly how the request asked, BUT PLS I had to add a little smut, sue me.

also, there are some audios at the end

Mizu.

The shine in her eyes.

The way her eyelashes curl.

The curve of her chin.

The way her cheeks move when she talks.

You loved everything about your girlfriend.

But she was just too grumpy sometimes, and when you gave her complimetns, she just got a little red and told you to stop. And you didn't have the confidence in you to try after that. But she was so pretty! You had to get your thoughts out somehow. So what can a girl do? Draw.

You secretly took candid pictures of Mizu, and used them as references. You drew her in every possible pose and with a lot of facial expressions.

You loved drawing her smile especially. Mizu never liked her own smile, she says it's dumb looking and it doesn't fit her, but it can't be further from the truth. Her smile was beautiful.

You could never show her the drawings tho, you'd die of embarassement. One day tho, Mizu was at your place, watching a movie on your bed.

But you were foolish enough to go to the bathroom, and leave her alone with your stuff for five whole minutes. Mizu stopped the movie when you left, because in her opinion, watching your reactions is more interesting than the movie, so watching alone is unnecessary.

But she quickly got bored, so she stood up and started looking around your room again, looking at the little trinkets you have everywhere, and the posters she had seen a hundred times before. Then she found something she hasn't seen before. It was a small, slim sketchbook.

On the cover, there were old receipts from your dates, candy wrappers you ate while watching her matches and a kiss mark in the middle you made with her favorite shade of lipstick.

You usually show her everything you draw, so having a sketchbook she never seen before was unusual. Maybe it's new? Her fingers glide along the back of the sketchbook before she decides to pry and open it.

On the first page, there was a whole page, colored marker drawing of...Mizu. She was a wide smile in the drawing, her hair let down, falling down her back and into her face, her eyes narrowed as he skin creased from how wide her smile was. It was obvious you spent a lot of time on it. But Mizu's eyes quickly dart to the little notes scattered all over the page.

"My girl's smile is too pretty"

"Her nose wrinkles up when she laughs."

"Her eyes shine so much."

"So beautiful. "

And many more. It had her blushing. She covered her mouth as she got more and more flustered the more notes she read. It was like you noticed everything and loved everything. It was so strange. You complimented even the slightest, most basic stuff. Did you count her pores too or something?

But damn...

It made all of her body flutter. She flipped the page, and the drawing just didn't stop, and so didn't the notes. It kind of overwhelmed Mizu. Slowly, the drawings got more and more...clotheless.

At first, it was her collarbones.

"Her skin is so smooth, and the bones cast such a pretty shadow."

Then her back.

"A canvas better than any other."

Then her full chest.

"Pillows of the gods."

Then her...

The clack of the door was heard and you stepped inside, looking mortified.

"Oh you uhm...saw everything?" *You murmur, looking at the sketchbook in your girlfriend's hand.

"Yeah." Mizu answers without hesitation, and puts it down, taking a step towards you. Her heart thumped loud in her chest, as if fire started burning her whole body. She just witnessed the most flattering thing ever but also...it made her want you so much. "You like drawing me?"

"Yes...sorry, I know it's pretty cringe, I...what are you doing?" Your eyes widen as Mizu's fingers grab the hem of her shirt and start lifting it.

"You never drew a full body picture. I'm giving you an opportunity. " She says casually, but her ears burn in a deep shade of red as she tosses it to the side, her sports bra following suit.

"I...but, are you sure? I swear you don't have to, it was just a silly hobby of mine, I..."

"Get your drawing stuff out." Mizu orders, pushing down her sweats, leaving herself only in boxers. You just nod quickly and clumsily gather your things, your face looking rather similar to a tomato.

Mizu throws away her boxers, finally releasing all of her skin and she is sculped like a goddess.

She has a toned body, muscles showing from under her skin, abs almost winking at you and her perky tits being decorated with her hard ripples were just the cherry on top. She has a pretty happy trail leading to her bush, that is guarding her lips.

You swallow thickly as she settles in the chair, looking directly on the bed where you sat down to draw. She spreads her legs, leaning back and her elbows resting on the armrests of the chair.

She looks better than ever.

You can't look into her eyes as you start sketching her body, hands slightly shaking.

"I can't read your notes now, so say them out loud." She breaks the silence, her voice low and breathy. "Tell me what you think."

You bite on the inside of your cheek, glancing up and meeting her gaze.

"Her uhm...her body is...something to die for." You murmur as your hand moves the pencil quickly.

Mizu's eyes never leave you. Her chest starts moving up and down visibly, and she feels her insides twitch everything you glance either at her tits or her pussy.

"Is your view okay?" She asks and before you could answer, she reaches down, spreading her lips, showing you her light peach colored skin that is now slowly dripping out slick.

Your mouth almost falls open, and you quickly start sketching a close up of her entrance on the side of the page, almost not even looking at the paper, but only at Mizu's skin.

"You're enjoying this, huh?" Mizu murmurs, her own lips forming a small smile. "Perv."

"...sorry." You murmur, and look down.

"Want an even better view?" She asks, spreading her legs even more. "Come here then."

You jump at the opportunity and kneel between her legs. You just stare at her pretty pussy as it pumps out her juices. But before you know, Mizu's legs wrap around your head, pulling you right into her. You don't hesitate, and start slurping up her slick right away, your tongue eager to please.

"You taste so good...the best." You murmur into her as groans of pleasure start leaving her lips.

"Yeah? Fuck...keep going...tell me more." She breathes out heavily, sliding deeper into the chair's back. "My pussy is the best, isn't it? You love it..."

"Yes, the best..." You whimper out pathetically, eyes staring up at her as you start slightly making out with her hole, your nose pushing into her bush. "So good, so pretty..."

"Oh fuck...just like that, mhm..." She moans as her hips start moving up and down, rubbing herself against your face...and you love it. You'd rather suffocate right now than stop. You moan into her, pleasing her giving you equally as much pleasure.

"Please...please cum...please give it to me, please please..." You chant between thrust of your tongue.

"Yeah...fuck...want me to come? You want it so bad, huh?" Mizu moans, her hand slowly finding her own breast and starts playing with her nipple. You nod eagerly as you suck on her clit, making her squeeze her thighs so hard around your head, they almost crushed your skull.

After a couple of moment, you felt her soft and warm release drip down your throat, and you happily swallowed all of it. "Fuuuck...yeah, drink it...all, okay? Mhm...yeah you love it..."

Mizu relished in the powertrip as her legs slowly let you go, and watched your head emerge from her pussy, soaked but with dreamy eyes.

"Next time, when you wanna draw me," She whispers, grabbing your chin. "Just ask."

#blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu x reader #bes x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu fanfic #fanfiction #bes smut #smut

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creative-heart · 2 months

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"My thoughts will echo your name" | Esteban Kukuriczka

CHAPTER I: “There I was again tonight”

Chapter’s playlist:

The night we met- Lord Huron

Enchanted- Taylor Swift

Chapter's T.W: Social drinking, mention to smoking, light reference to smut.

W.C: 2.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N sat down at her vanity doing her makeup for tonight’s party, to which she had agreed to go just trying to share something with Lucas again. They had been together for almost 5 years now -living together for 3 out of those-, and even though nothing specific had happened, she could feel how the two of them had slowly drifted apart; that complicity and friendship once shared long lost and gone. The blonde looked at him through the reflection in the mirror as he walked around the room getting ready as well. All she knew was one of Lucas childhood friends was coming back home from Spain after filming a movie for over a year, you had never met him, as you hadn’t any of them in fact. Maybe that was one of the things that caused her to slowly pull away from him; it almost felt as if their relationship were some kind of secret he didn’t want seen by part of his world. She slept next to the man every night and yet felt so alone most of the time. “Are you almost ready?” he barked out at the girl “don’t wanna be late yet again because of you” you heard him say as he was already halfway down the hallway of the apartment the both of them shared.

“Coming” Y/N sighed softly, getting up after putting her boots on and taking one last look in the body length mirror in the master bedroom, she had decided to wear the outfit that was once Lucas’ favorite on you, still desperate to regain that spark that had long blown out- black leather pencil mini skirt, black crop top, beige overzised corderoy shirt and knee high black suede boots- although this time around, he didn’t even seem to notice. Hastily making her way to the door grabbing her purse going straight to the car as Lucas already waited there. On the way to the party Y/N glanced at him in more than one occasion to see if he would look at her and bit the inside of her lip, seeing his eyes always glued to the road and so she grabbed her phone going through it. “Where are we going? what should I expect? who’s gonna be there?” the petite woman looked at Lucas once again seeing his eyes fall on her for a bit “can I at least know that?” he sighed and nodded.

“My childhood friends will be there, the party’s for my friend Esteban, you know he just came home after spending over a year in Spain shooting some film, as to who’ll be there, that you know, Amelia will surely be.” Lucas stated matter of factly and a smile spread across the girl's face knowing his sister would be at the party, they got along quite well. After all, being an only child, Y/N liked having a sisterlike figure in her life. Y/N picked up her phone texting Amelia. “Meme! I just heard you’ll be at the party, please tell me you are in the mood for drinks, I know no one but you and your brother there, you know how I get 🥺” she smiled seeing the typing immediately coming onto the screen. “Y/N/N my babe! OF COURSE I’M UP FOR SOME DRINKS! who you think you talking to? oh you’ll love the guys, don’t worry” the smile stayed on as she read her friend's text. When the car finally haltered to a stop, she grabbed her purse and walked out waiting for Lucas, to walk in with him by her side. As soon as the pair crossed the door into the house Amelia jumped at Y/N engulfing her in a tight hug.

“Com’ere babe, let’s ditch my boring bro, I’ll introduce you to the gang” she linked their arms together walking over. Amelia and Y/N were a few years younger than Lucas, both of them shy of 25 and him and presumably his friends all around their 30s, yet she had always- much to Lucas demise- tagged along with the group. As the girls approached a group of guys all chatting away, beers in hand; Y/N's eyes felt immediately drawn to one of them in particular, messy light brown hair, sweet looking face, big brown eyes and a shaggy beard that looked like it kinda didn’t belong on there. When she looked his way, he was already intently looking at her, as if he were trying to take a glance into her soul, something about him made Y/N's insides flutter, like a million butterflies had erupted in her gut. She could kinda hear Amelia going around the group making introductions and had to remind herself to smile and greet them as she said their names, trying not to come off as rude, she finally looked at her firend “and this is Esteban, no one calls him that though, well…only his mom when she's mad at him” she chuckled. “Kuku” he interceded “everyone calls me kuku” he shot a glance at his friend that read I’m gonna kill you before turning back to the new addition to the conversation with the sweetest smile you had ever seen a grown man produce. Y/N reciprocated the gesture, not being able to stop it even if she had wanted to, with a quirked brow at the strange nickname, taking a mental note as to ask about it later on.

“Y/N, everyone calls me Y/N/N tho, nice to meet you all” the smaller girl forced herself to take her eyes away from Kuku and look at the rest “I’m Lucas’ girlfriend” she smiled softly, stating the so called title more out of duty than pleasure. Out of the corner of her eye she caught what thought was the wavy haired man slightly drop his smile. “I think I’ll go grab myself a drink” she stated before walking away to the table where all the bottles and drinks were.

~~~~~

Kuku’s POV

He had missed being around his friends so much that when Amelia proposed throwing him a welcome home get together, and said she would be in charge of inviting the gang if he invited his cast friends, Kuku thought it was a brilliant idea. They had both decided to do it at his parents place, they weren’t in town that weekend, so that was fine, and it was bigger than the two bedroom apartment he owned, also, for old times sake -parties were always at his parents place-. As they both got the place ready the eldest looked at Amelia “What do you mean Lucas’ girlfriend is coming? he has a girlfriend now? is this new?” he chuckled as he had no idea his friend was seeing someone. Lucas could be quite reserved when it came to his private life, he had learnt to accept that in the over twenty years of friendship they shared.

“Oh, this isn’t new boo, they’ve been together for 5 years-ish I think, they live together” Amelia looked up from the red solo cups she was placing on the table by the wall, “he hasn’t told you guys? he can be a turd sometimes, I swear… he’s lucky that Y/N even agreed to go out with him back then, and that she’s still next to him”. She rolled her eyes, as much as she loved her brother, she knew he was an idiot most of the times. “She’s waayy too out of his league if you ask me..she’s my age, dirty blonde hair, stunning body, sharp witty mind, gorgeous face, she’s an artist too, she’s a photographer, you tell me what she’s doing with someone as boring as Lucas, deadass serious lawyer, always doing what he must” she rolled her eyes huffing. Kuku laughed shaking his head softly in amusement.

But Amelia’s description did Y/N no justice if he was being honest; from the moment she walked into that room half a step behind Lucas, he could see her-only her- it was as if the rest of the people in the room had disappeared from the face of the earth. The woman was absolutely breathtaking, the petite frame half hiding behind his friend, looking down at the floor, he could tell she was nervous. And when Amelia brought her friend over to introduce them to her, and he got a glimpse of those hazel eyes, that looked like the most exquisit honey he knew, he was fucked, she smelled like a mixture of coconut an vanilla, absolutely intoxicating. He was lost in the youngest's face, so much so that he hadn’t even heard Amelia making introductions and cleared his throat gently when he heard his name being spoken. “Kuku” he could just get out “everyone calls me kuku” and by the look on Y/N’s face, she thought it was a strange nickname to say the least. He couldn’t blame her tho, if you didn’t know where it came from. When she walked away he just kept his eyes glued to her, he just hoped he was being sneakier than he thought he was, it was his friend’s girlfriend after all.

~~~~~

Y/N made her way to the drinks table, completely aware of the guy’s eyes stuck to her back and she couldn’t help but like the newfound attention for a change, plus, he was really hot, she had to admit that much. The girl made herself a drink before walking around the place taking a look at it and making her way outside seeing Amelia out at the backyard. Y/N took a sip of the drink in her hand and came up to her friend, “so…those are the childhood friends huh?” an innocent smile on her lips, not wanting to let it be known that she couldn’t care less about all but one of them, the relationship might be as good as dead, but they were still technically together and she wasn't one to disrespect the vow that it implied.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself naturally falling into the groups where Kuku was more than once; conversation just flowed so naturally between the two, it was easy, fun, it made her feel less anxious being around him. Even if she had just met him a few hours ago, and maybe giving its due credit to the alcohol running in their bloodstream, but it was familiar. “so…Kuku, where does it come from? it’s quite an unusual nickname if do say so myself, and they called me bubbles when I was little” the blonde chuckled sitting at a bench out on the yard with him, they had ended up alone not long ago while he joined her as she had a smoke.

Esteban chuckled running his hand through his unruly hair looking at the girl, and there it was again, that spark of electricity in the air between them that Y/N had felt earlier when shecame into the house “it’s short for Kukuriczka, my last name, teachers would always mispronounce it and kinda repeated themselves on the first bit, and so Lucas started calling me that and it stuck” he shrugged his shoulders lightly. Mentioning him in that conversion felt wrong, not that the two were doing anything bad, but it just felt that way. Shelet out a small laugh at the story of the birth of his nickname, finding it quite endearing. When he heard the girl's laugh, melodious and unique he had to hold himself back from kissing her, it had been tugging at the edges of his mind all night, the way she licked her lips before she spoke; or how she bit at her lower lip when she started feeling anxious, and now, the way those plump rosy lips curled around the cigarette as she smoked, he could only think of how they would look curled around other things; and each time one of those dark thoughts came across his mind, he had to remind himself she was his best friend’s girlfriend, and it was utterly and completely wrong to be thinking what he was.

As the night came to an end, and Y/N were to leave with Lucas, saying their goodbyes to the group and Kuku, he stopped her, gently placing one of his hands on the girl's arm; “Y/N, could I have your number? I’ve been kinda getting into photography myself lately, and I would like to pick your brain some more about it” he smiled as she nodded holding her hand out for his phone so that she could add her contact in it for him. Y/N could feel Lucas’ glare stuck to the back of her neck, not that she cared all that much about it now, any excuse to get to see the chocolate eyed man again was good enough. As she walked back to the car, she could feel it in her gut, this wasn’t going to end up well, the chemistry was palpable in the air with kuku, and he made Y/N feel seen for the first time in what felt like forever. This was either going to be the change her life needed, or the end of the world as she knew it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm really sorry if your name is the same as Lucas' sister, feel free to change it 🤗. Ok, it's been edited a bit, sorry, can't leave it alone 🤭

If you wanna be tagged into the upcoming parts, or in any of my other work, just leave a coment down below and I'll make sure to do so.

I really hope you all enjoyed this first part.

@madame-fear @espinasrubi @cyliarys-starlight @lastflowrr @castawaycherry @koiibiito @luceracastro @candycanes19

#lsdln cast #fanfiction #esteban kukuriczca fanfic #esteban kukuriczka fic #kuku #kuku fic #esteban kukuriczka x reader #lsdln x reader #fluff #slow burn #new work

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visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

Peaches & Strawberries

Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

5.1k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Smut & fluff, age gap, dad's best friend, semi-public sex, Daddy kink, fingering, dirty talk & praise, soft orgasm denial, very mild alcohol use by Bo, reader is referred to as darlin', baby girl, pretty, and wears a skirt

Bo takes you to the farmer's market and definitely behaves the whole time.

Your weekends at Bo’s house became a regular occurrence. You made up all kinds of excuses for your parents – some friends from school were visiting the area, you heard about a cool museum exhibit a couple towns over, you were going camping. Finally your mother confronted you after a convoluted story about a rodeo, a car show, and a movie premiere all apparently taking place in one weekend.

“Sweetheart, did you meet someone?”

You felt your face heat up. “I mean…yeah, I did.”

“Well that’s wonderful! You can just tell us, you know, you’re an adult.”

“Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

“Where did you two meet, at work?”

“Yes, actually. He…came in the shop a few times.” He certainly had. More than a few. And he wasn’t the only one.

“Well when do we get to meet him?”

“Um, I don’t know. Probably not for a while. He’s…shy? And I don’t want to…freak him out.”

“I get it, honey, you don’t want him to think it’s too serious too soon.”

You had spent the majority of your waking hours and a significant portion of the sleeping ones with him for the past month. “Exactly. Nothing serious.”

“Well, whenever you’re ready, we’d love to meet him!”

“I’m sure you’ll think he’s…really something.”

She smiled. “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours, sweetheart.”

Bo choked on his coffee as you recounted this exchange. “She did not say that,” he coughed.

“She absolutely did, I was horrified,” you said.

“You’re makin’ things up to impress me.”

“I would never do that.”

“Mmm, you ‘member that time you said you knew what a catalytic converter was?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“And what did you bring me?”

“I don’t even know what it was.”

“Y’see my point.”

He kissed you, and you kissed him back. “You taste like coffee.”

“Gimme ten minutes and I’ll taste like you, baby girl.”

That smirk made you weak in the knees. “I knew there was a reason I put up with you.”

“You got some kinda attitude today, someone oughta fuck that outta you.”

“Are you offering?”

Bo smiled. “Beggin’ on bended knee, darlin’.”

“You’re gonna have to wait until we get back from the farmer’s market, I’m afraid.”

“With you dressed like this?” He gestured to your short, flouncy skirt. “You’re gonna get me kicked outta the farmer’s market.”

You gave him a look. “You better behave yourself.”

He held out a hand. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Bo. I’ve never behaved a day in my life. ‘Specially not with you around showin’ all that skin.”

You laughed and hooked your fingers in his belt loops. “Repeat after me. We are not fucking at the farmer’s market.”

“You’re gonna have to forgive me, I’m hard o’ hearing. Sounded like you said we are not fucking at the farmer’s market.”

“That is what I said.”

“Well then why are we even goin’.”

“Because it’s fun and we need fruit.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling, and kissed your forehead. “I have never seen you eat a fruit in my life.”

“Bo, I want to go!”

“We’re goin’! Your wish is my command, baby girl.”

Together you climbed in his truck and drove thirty minutes to the next town over, where your faces were not immediately recognizable. Bo pushed your skirt up to rest his hand in its customary place on your thigh. The sky was clear and the air was still cool and he looked so damn good in a trucker hat and sneakers. You felt such immense contentment ballooning in your chest it was almost too much to handle.

He was murmuring along with the song on the radio, fingers tapping in time on your leg. He looked over and caught you smiling at him. “Y’like what you see, darlin’?”

“Sure do.” You rubbed his thigh.

He scowled. “If I gotta be on my best behavior so do you.”

“I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Oho no you ain’t, you little liar.”

“I am!”

“No no no, you’re a goddamn temptress with that body.”

“I am not!”

“Battin’ those eyes, switchin’ them hips.”

“I do not do that.”

“Flirtin’ with customers, makin’ me jealous.”

You squeezed his knee. “I make you jealous?”

“Unbearably, darlin’.”

You leaned against his shoulder, looked up at him through your lashes, eased your hand up his inner thigh. “C’mon, Bo, you don’t have to be jealous.”

“Quiiit.” He took your wrist and placed it back in your lap. “I will pull this truck over right now.”

“And do what?”

He smirked. “You know what, baby.”

You grinned. “Okay, okay.” You leaned back in your own seat. “I’ll be good.”

He winked at you. “You sure will.”

This particular farmer’s market was hosted by a historical farm that now operated a petting zoo and a community garden. The property boasted a barn, a stable, and fields turned to grassy picnic space. The market today was busy, seething with couples, children, dogs.

Bo took your hand and led you down the first row of stands. You wandered all the way through every aisle once to get a feel for the various offerings before looping back to the beginning. People sold produce of all sorts, other foodstuffs like jam and honey and salsa, and a wide variety of non-edible wares including pottery, jewelry, clothing, and art.

Bo rested his hands on your hips from behind as you surveyed the happy chaos. “Alright, baby girl, what d’you want?”

“Peaches, strawberries, probably salsa, maybe bread.”

“How ‘bout you get peaches while I grab us lemonade from over there?” He gestured with his head.

“That sounds good. Don’t get lost, old man.”

“Don’t talk to any strangers, y’damn child,” he muttered, pinching your ass before he walked off.

The line for peaches was longer than it had any right to be. You scuffed your sneaker against the pavement, checked your shoulders for the early signs of sunburn.

“Hey, excuse me,” came a voice from behind you. You turned to find a man about your age, wearing reflective sunglasses and chewing gum with his mouth open. He could’ve been cute, but it was hard to tell. “This is the line for peaches, right?” You nodded politely. “Cool. You’re really pretty, by the way.”

You did the universal half-turn away from him that meant you were done interacting. “Thank you.”

Sunglasses had apparently never heard of this turn. “You got a boyfriend?”

You made a herculean effort to avoid rolling your eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh. Could I get your number though?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you here by yourself?”

You caught a glimpse of Bo approaching with a look on his face like he hadn’t decided yet whether he was going to assault this kid verbally or physically or both. “No, I’m with him.” You gestured with your head.

Sunglasses looked at Bo, then back at you. “Is that your dad?”

You barely bit back your laughter. The opportunity was too good to pass up. “Yeah, definitely.” You smiled at Bo as he sidled up next to you. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey baby.” Unfazed, he bent and kissed you, open-mouthed, all tongue. Sunglasses choked on his gum.

Bo pulled away from you to address your admirer. His arm was around your waist, immovable, possessive. There was a smirk on his face but his eyes were steel. “Y’stand there any longer and I’m gonna have to charge you admission.” His tone was icy. “Pick your jaw up and walk away.”

Sunglasses did just that, couldn’t put distance between him and you fast enough. Bo watched him go with barely disguised contempt. When he shifted his attention back to you, his expression softened immediately. He shook his head in mock disbelief. “I leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes.”

You gazed up at him with admiration. “You scared the shit out of him.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to talk to strangers?”

“He talked to me.”

“‘S about to be the last mistake he ever makes.” His tone was light, didn’t match the hard set of his jaw.

“I’m okay, Bo, really.”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ve told you before, anyone gives you trouble, darlin’, I’ll make sure they get what’s comin’ to ‘em.”

You smiled, gave him a squeeze. “I believe it, baby.”

“Oh no, it’s Daddy now.” He handed you your lemonade. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

You faced forward in the line, chewing your lip. “We are not fucking at the farmer’s market,” you said under your breath.

Bo chuckled, put his hand on your lower back, his pinkie creeping below the waistband of your skirt. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, baby girl. Your lips on that straw are givin’ me other ideas.”

You finally reached the start of the line for peaches without further incident. Bo, a true Southern gentleman, gladly agreed to hold the bag for you.

Together you made your way to the rest of the stands you wanted to hit, managing to get sidetracked only by a booth with fancy soap. This proved to be a distraction in more ways than one when Bo whispered in your ear something about you, him, and a bath while you were in the process of paying the lady behind the table.

“Repeat after me,” you hissed under your breath as you walked away from the booth. “We are – “

“Not fuckin’ at the farmer’s market, I know. I was clearly talkin’ about afterwards. If you can’t keep your head right that ain’t my problem.”

Never had you wanted to kiss and slap someone at the same time.

At the strawberry stand, they gave you a little container of freshly whipped cream to go with the basket of berries. You were delighted and practically dragged Bo to an open space in the field by the barn. A big tree cast shade over couples and families picnicking in the heat.

He sat cross-legged on the grass and you sprawled with your head in his lap. You held the cream and he dipped strawberries, eating every other one himself and feeding the rest to you with the utmost delicacy.

“You’re too much, you know,” you said, gazing up at him, absolutely infatuated.

“Nah,” he said around a strawberry. “Sometimes things are just this good, darlin’. Just let ‘em be.”

The light came through the leaves in dapples like confetti. The grass was slightly sticky in the heat. The strawberries were cold and so was the cream and if you got to create your own heaven, this would almost certainly be a part of it.

You ran your finger around the inside of the container when it was nearly empty and made eye contact with him as you sucked off the cream. Bo looked down at you with the poker face he pulled off so well. “You ready to go?” you asked him sweetly.

“No,” he said. “I wanna look around a little bit. Maybe see what’s inside that barn.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “What do you think is going to be inside the barn?”

“Well darlin’, I just don’t know. Why don’t you come with me and we can find out together?”

The grass left crosshatch lines imprinted all over your arms and legs when you sat up. “I know what’s not in that barn.”

“I don’t think you know anythin’ until you’ve seen for yourself.”

The two of you climbed to your feet, dusting yourselves off, and with your bag in one hand and your hand in the other, Bo led you down the path to the barn door. Chickens bobbed and wandered aimlessly in front of the door. “‘Scuse us, ladies,” Bo addressed them as you picked your way through.

The barn was extremely well kept, with a row of pens on the righthand side housing a small donkey and a few sheep. The left side was split between an enclosed storage room with a loft high above it and a big open space with hay bales stacked three and four high. Two families with a few small children were preoccupied with the sheep when you walked in. It smelled like fresh hay and animal sweat, a sweet, earthy, not unpleasant smell.

You nodded at the parents of the babbling children, followed Bo past the animals to the back of the barn. A ladder led up to the hayloft. It was hung with a bright yellow chain and a sign saying “Do Not Climb.” Bo set your bag behind a hay bale, stood with his hands in his pockets and an eye on the families nearby, the picture of nonchalance.

“Bo,” you said warily.

“Yes dear.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just enjoyin’ the ambiance.” He gazed up the ladder. “What d’you think is up there?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Hmm.” The kids scattered out of the barn, shrieking, their parents ten steps behind. Bo reached behind you, grabbed your ass. “Go ahead and scootch up that ladder, let’s find out.”

“Bo!”

“Go on, baby girl.”

“The sign says we can’t.”

“Sure does.”

He pushed you gently to the base of the ladder. You stepped over the chain and started up the first few rungs.

“Damn, what a view.”

You twisted to look over your shoulder. He was staring up under your skirt with a lascivious grin on his face.

“You’re the devil.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder and into the loft. It was filled with old farming equipment, dusty tools and bags of feed. Half a dozen hay bales were stacked on one end. Your footsteps echoed off the rafters as you moved away from the ladder.

Bo pulled himself up behind you. “See, there’s all kinds o’ stuff up here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure this shovel is exactly what you were hoping for.”

“I was hopin’ for a bed, actually. Knew it was a long shot.” He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, kissed your ear. “Y’know, this ain’t technically part o’ the farmer’s market.”

You tried to suppress a smile. “And what does that mean?”

“I think it means I’m gonna have my way with you right over there.” He inclined his head towards the hay bales. “Y’got any objections to that, baby girl?”

You tilted your head to one side, allowing him to kiss your neck. “We’re gonna have to be so quiet.”

“We’ve established you’re good at that.” He ran his hand up your ribs, over your breasts. His other hand fussed at your skirt. “Real well-behaved sometimes for such a naughty lil thing.”

“One of us has to be.”

He snickered and caressed your jaw with his thumb. “Makes it more fun to dirty you up, angel.”

You arched your back, pressed your ass against him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s a barn, Bo.”

“I’d fuck you anywhere. Lemme make things a little more comfortable, how ‘bout that?” He let go of you, took off his hat, stripped off his shirt and draped it over a hay bale, then put his hat back on.

You couldn’t help but grin at the way he looked at you for approval. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Quit flatterin’ me, c’mere.”

He sat on the hay, pulled you in to straddle his lap. His kiss was hungry and tasted like strawberries. You splayed your hands on his bare skin, combing your fingers through his chest hair. He put his hands on your thighs, slid them greedily up to the hem of your skirt, underneath it, up to your hips, around to your ass. You pressed yourself against him, exploring his mouth with your tongue.

“Can’t believe you were gonna make me wait for this til we got all the way home,” he murmured. “Would be downright cruel, darlin’.”

“Not all the way home,” you said breathlessly. “Just down the road a little.”

He laughed, kissed you, nipped at your lip. “Minx.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties. “Get these off.”

You tugged on his belt loops. “Get these off.”

“Don’t you boss me around. That ain’t no way to speak to Daddy.”

Your face heated up. “That does not need to catch on.”

“It’s caught, baby girl, now do as I say.”

You slid off him, worked your panties down your legs and stepped gingerly out of them. Simultaneously he undid his fly and adjusted his jeans to free his erection. You all but threw yourself back into his arms.

He supported your weight with his hands beneath your thighs as you started to grind against him. The way his lashes fluttered in response was unbearable, beautiful. He let out a quiet groan. The heat of him between your lips set you on fire.

“God, Bo, you can’t feel this good.”

He shook his head. “Darlin’, you can’t be sayin’ sweet things to me already or I’m gonna make a damn mess of this skirt.”

You bit your lips, smiling, and lolled your head back, digging your nails into his shoulders for extra leverage as you rocked back and forth. Bo pulled your top off over your head and kissed your breasts one at a time with something like reverence.

“You look mighty fine up there,” he said in a low voice.

You eased his hat off his head, put it on. “How ‘bout now?”

“Fuck. Even better.” He kissed the hollow of your throat, your collarbones, down the center of your chest. His cock was slick with precum and your arousal and you angled your hips to press him into your entrance.

“Ah-ah, not so fast, angel.” He pushed you back. “You gotta want it.”

You frowned down at him. “I do want it.”

He pinched his tongue between his teeth, smiled slyly. “Then ask nicely.”

You resumed sliding against him. “Please, can I have you inside me?”

“‘M not convinced, try again.”

“Please let me ride you, Bo.”

“Try again, darlin’.”

The sound of conversation below you made your stomach flip. You threw a glance over your shoulder and Bo took your chin, brought your gaze back to him.

“‘Scuse me, we were in the middle of somethin’,” he whispered.

“What if we get caught?”

“We ain’t gonna get caught.” He opened his knees, spreading your legs wider, and pressed himself against you. “Now ask me one more time.”

You met his pretty eyes. “Please, sir, will you fuck me?”

He pulled you onto his cock in answer, pushing halfway into you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and a loud squeak of surprise. You clapped a hand over your mouth.

Bo shushed you, laughing quietly. “That’s more like it.”

He let you sink all the way onto him. You moaned softly under your breath and rested your chin on his shoulder. He drew you close, stretching you pleasantly around him. You wrapped him in your arms, hyperfocused on the quiver of him inside you, the involuntary squeezing of your walls.

He groaned in your ear, a deep, throaty sound that made goosebumps erupt down your back. You felt his tongue on your skin, tasting the sunshine salt of your sweat. ”Not gonna fuck you yet,” he murmured. “Just wanna sit with you a while.”

“Bo,” you whimpered. He hmmed in response and grazed your neck with his teeth. His mouth moved down your shoulder, across your chest, worshipping you with lips, tongue, and teeth. You ached for friction, felt so full and yet wound so tightly with need. Cautiously you wiggled your hips, just once, and were rewarded with a jolt of pleasure to your nerve endings and the dig of his fingers in your flesh, a reprimand.

“Please, Bo.” You arched against him and he acquiesced, began to bounce you up and down on his cock, so slowly, the tendons in his wrists jumping with the intensity he was holding back. You choked off a moan, closed your eyes tight, forgot about everything in the world except for the way he slid so nicely in and out of you. Your toes curled. You held onto his shoulders for dear life, let out a shaky sigh, a soft whine.

“Fuck, baby girl.” His whisper was hoarse. “Y’know what you’re doin’ to me?”

It was hot outside, hot up in the loft, not too hot to want him on top of you, all over you, and like he could read your mind, he lifted you off his lap, laid you down on the hay, straddled your hips and thrust himself back into you even deeper than before. No sooner had your mouth fallen open to release an involuntary cry when he suppressed it with his big, rough hand.

“Easy, darlin’, be good.” You moaned into his palm. “I know, I know.” He was hitting some spot deep inside you that made your eyes roll back, caused you to clench around him like you couldn’t bear to let him go for even a second. He took his hand off your mouth. “Y’like it like this?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice was a frantic, tremulous whisper.

The rhythm of his hips was intoxicating. “I like you like this,” he breathed in your ear. “So pretty, all worked up. All mine.” You wrapped your legs around him, raked your nails down his back, bit your lip hard trying to hold it all in.

You could tell he was close as his thrusts became rougher. He nipped at your earlobe, hand squeezing your breast. “Call me Daddy, baby.”

Your whole abdomen snapped taut. “Daddy,” you gasped.

He growled, ramped up his pace. The friction between you was magnetic, a force. “You want it, darlin’?”

“Yes, please Daddy, please, god - “

He let out a gruff moan when he hit his peak, pushed his face against your cheek. You kissed him full on the mouth, lustful and needy, as he arched above you, muffling your desperate sounds on his lips as you came right behind him, clenching around his cock, pulling a ragged, overwhelmed gasp out of him.

The rafters came gradually back into focus up above as together you rode the waves of your ecstasy. Bo came down first, ran his thumb over your cheekbone, the corner of your jaw, watched the glaze over your eyes fade. The softest of smiles played on his lips.

“Anythin’ you want, darlin’, it’s yours. Move heaven ‘n earth if y’asked me to.”

You kissed him, kissed the scar on his chin. “How ‘bout you take me home and we get takeout on the way and then see about that bath?”

“Got a brain on ya too, huh?”

“Just a little bit left.”

“Hmm, we’ll have to fix that.” He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Get your clothes on, dammit, this is a public place.”

You dressed quickly and quietly. Bo’s shirt was cumstained and unwearable, so you provided him with a bonus from the peach vendor: a peach-colored t-shirt with “I eat 🍑” emblazoned on the front. It was slightly too small for his broad shoulders, the soft fabric tight across his chest, but he had no complaints.

It took forever for the crowd in the barn to wander out. You passed the time leaned against a mountain of bags of animal feed, kissing and giggling quietly like teenagers under the bleachers. Bo let you keep his hat on. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you. It rocked your world every time.

At long last the barn was empty and he let you climb down first. From the ground you looked up at the way his jeans hugged his ass.

“Damn. What a view,” you said with a grin.

Bo looked over his shoulder at you and smirked. “You’re lucky I like that mouth.”

He drove home holding your hand, made a quick stop at a Chinese restaurant you both loved. Together you ate on his couch and struggled through the worst game of chess that has ever been played.

While you put away the spoils of the farmer’s market, Bo ran a bath to wash off the sweat and dust of the day. The guest bathroom in the basement boasted a large jetted tub big enough for two. When you wandered downstairs, Bo was already in the water, reclining with his eyes closed and a glass of whiskey in hand. Almost every surface in the room was covered in flickering candles.

He opened his eyes and watched you undress wearing an expression of absolute serenity. You stepped into the water, settled in between his legs, laid your head back on his shoulder. When he wrapped his arms around you, you put your hands on his wrists and rubbed your thumb gently over his scars.

“Thanks for taking me out today. I had a good time.”

“Was a pleasure, darlin’.”

You gazed around the bathroom. “Where did you get all these candles?”

“Vince made ‘em.”

“He makes candles too? All of these?”

“Mmhm.”

“When do I get to meet him?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his tone was guarded. “I dunno, baby girl. He don’t come around too often.”

You laced your fingers through his. “Did something happen?”

“Since when’d you get so nosy?”

“Sorry, I just…you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to talk about it. I just want to know about you.”

“‘S just a sensitive subject, but it’s alright, I’ll tell you about it. We ran a family business together back in Louisiana, all three of us. Inherited it from our parents when they died. Unfortunately, after a while, we stopped seein’ eye-to-eye on the direction to take things. It took a lot outta us, became our whole lives.

“Les and I were in favor of packin’ it in, movin’ on. Vin didn’t want to. He was outvoted. The whole operation meant a lot to him – meant a lot to all of us, but him especially – and he resented us for shuttin’ it down. Felt like we were abandonin’ him.” There was a strain to his voice. “We weren’t, least we weren’t tryin’ to, but…at some point you gotta live your own life the way you wanna live it. He had to accept it was time to let it go, no matter how much it hurt.”

“And you don’t talk anymore?”

“He sends me stuff, his art. All those sketches. The candles. But no. I ain’t seen his face for some years, except in the mirror.”

He sounded wistful, like he was trying to resign himself to the situation but couldn’t quite manage it. You squeezed his hands, nuzzled into his neck. You had a thousand more questions but didn’t want to hear him answer them in that hollow voice. “I’m sorry. It sounds like you were really close.”

“Close as you can be to another person, matter o’ fact. We were born conjoined.”

This shocked you. “Really?”

“Mmhm. Separated a few months after birth. Inseparable after that.” He traced shapes on your skin absently. “There ain’t words for losin’ somethin’ like that.”

No wonder he sounded gutted. You felt guilty for not knowing, guilty for asking, guilty there was nothing you could do to take away that hurt. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

His hand stilled and he gave you a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry yourself none. I don’t mind talkin’ to you about him. I hope you get to meet him someday. I always kinda thought he was my better half.”

“Better than you?”

“Oh yes, darlin’.” He kissed the back of your head. “I ain’t nothin’ special.”

“Well that’s not true.” You traced the back of his fingers. “What about Lester? Do you see him ever?”

“Les and I meet up a couple times a year. He’s up north, works for the forest service. He has a hunting cabin I stay at sometimes. Maybe I’ll take you up there.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too, baby girl.” He chuckled softly. “You’ll like Lester. He’s weird.”

“Weirder than you?”

“You can’t imagine.”

His hand dipped beneath the water, fingertips trailing over your stomach, your thighs. Your muscles twitched with practiced anticipation when he brushed your clit. “Greedy, darlin’,” he murmured in your ear. “Can’t get enough o’ me, huh?”

“Never.”

“Good.”

He touched you casually, with practiced restraint, circling your clit and slipping his digits inside you with no sense of urgency.

In a matter of minutes you were putty in his hands. Each time you were close he withdrew, stroked your legs, kissed your neck, cupped his hand over your sex and held it there, warm and possessive. No amount of begging, pleading, or use of nicknames got you anywhere. Every time he touched you again it brought a wave of bitter relief but no satisfaction. He sipped his drink and watched you squirm.

You were all but weeping when he finally let you cum on his fingers, the exhilaration when he didn’t stop matched only by the euphoria when you hit your release at last. The candlelight was hazy, the water cooling, your entire body hot and tingling. Bo swallowed his last mouthful of whiskey and you could taste it on his tongue.

“Y’got any brains left?” You shook your head, dumbfounded. “Perfect. Let’s get you to bed, baby girl.”

He wrapped you in a fluffy towel, drained the tub, blew out the candles, and led you up to his bedroom.

“I know you always bring your own stuff, but I picked you up a few things.”

In his bathroom you found a toothbrush and toiletries, all the brands you preferred, neatly organized in the cupboards and drawers. Your heart nearly tumbled out of your chest.

“I cleared out half the dresser too, just so y’know,” he called from the next room. “Left side’s yours if y’want it.”

You thought you might just melt onto the floor. You padded back into the bedroom where he was pulling on a pair of pajama pants. He furrowed his brow when he caught you staring at him. “What?”

“You…remembered the things I like. Bo…that’s so thoughtful.”

To your surprise and delight, he flushed red. “It ain’t hard,” he said. “Thought it would make you comfortable.”

“It does.” Your smile was radiant. “And you made space for my clothes, too?”

He put his hands on his hips. “I’m not proposin’ or nothin’, just sick o’ you leavin’ your shit all over my house every weekend.”

“Sure.” You beamed at him. “Thank you so much.”

Bo huffed. “You’re welcome I guess. Would y’get in bed already? It’s so damn late.”

You settled in, pulled him close, hitched your leg over his hip. He rested his chin on your head and you felt him relax as he loosed a sigh. The sound of his heartbeat was low and comforting, your body blissed out and your mind at ease.

“I’m all yours, Bo,” you said into his chest.

“Don’t you forget it.”

“And you’re mine.”

His lips found yours in the darkness and he kissed you sweetly.

“If you’ll have me.”

Taglist at the bottom bc this is a monster post already: @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon, @cypressnmarigolds, @slasherlouvre , @g0thl3zz, @frankiethedarkangel . If you'd like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #slasher x reader #dilf bo sinclair #my writing

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latenightsimping · 2 years

Text

Love is engraved in your heart

Summary: It’s your first anniversary, and Eddie has a special gift for you.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Words: 3,609

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, drug usage mention, gift giving is reader’s love language, pet names, they kiss a lot, sexual undertones at the end but nothing graphic mentioned, not beta read

AN: I want a guitar pick necklace so badly man. But I already wear a very similar version of the ring he wears on his ring finger, got bangs cut in my hair and have a tattoo appointment to have his guitar permanently on my skin so like I’m already on thin ice when it comes to being OTT about it lmao. But I do use the same colour and pattern of his pick necklace when I play guitar, so that’s a happy medium. Fun fact: I was writing this while hanging out with some friends (we call it writing club but it’s more of a chill out, maybe some writing but mostly watching movies and maybe doing other stuff) and I was looking up shirts for reference. Friend looked over and mentioned it, another buddy knew exactly what it was for when I mentioned I was writing a fic and I got roasted for it lmao. Anyway this has gone on too long, hope you like it!!

Eddie was one of the most perceptive people that you ever knew. He could tell just by a small quiver of your bottom lip that you were upset about something, or a slight furrow of your brow meaning you were deep in thought. It was what you loved about him; he was always checking in on you, making sure you were okay or simply pulling you into his lap so he could press kisses into your neck and make you smile.

Today, something was catching your attention from across the diner. Your eyes slightly widened, relaxing your chin on your palm as you leaned on the tabletop. Following your eyeline, he noticed that you were passing glances towards a couple that seemed to also be on a date, the girl giggling as her fingers twirled the gold necklace around her neck. He quirked a brow as he gently tapped your foot underneath the booth, smiling softly as he tilted his head. “Everything okay, pretty girl?”

The small blush that dusted the apples of your cheeks whenever he called you that pet name never failed to make his heart flip. Your head snapped back towards him, a shy smile gracing your features as you pulled your milkshake closer to you. “Yeah, all fine,” you answered, your fingertips playing with the straw. “Just thinking.”

“Oh? Mind filling me in?” He was curious now, head tilted as his honey brown eyes took in your features from his place opposite you. Noticing how your eyes flickered back to the girl, before back to him.

“Just admiring her necklace. I think it’s pretty.”

He turned his head, finally noticing the detailing of the gold charm around her neck. In delicate cursive, the name ‘Scott’ rested on her sternum, his mind instantly being transported to his girl wearing one with his name. How pretty she would look wearing it, letting the whole town know that she was proud to be with him. When you both first started dating, he found himself slightly apprehensive about being seen with you in public. Not because he was ashamed or embarrassed; far from it. He was practically beside himself with joy when you first held his hand as you walked the streets together. But he knew his reputation, and knew that it would most likely tarnish yours too. Not that you ever cared. It was yet another reason he fell hard for you.

He grinned as he leaned forward, his hand coming out to tuck an errant hair behind your ear. “Yeah? Think you finally found what you want for our anniversary?”

You giggled, taking a sip of your milkshake as you shrugged. “They’re probably real expensive. Maybe one day.”

His brows furrowed a little at your sheepish expression. You knew that he struggled for money, considering he insisted on helping Wayne out with the bills and the fact that he was saving up as much as he possibly could, so he could hopefully move out of the trailer and find a place to live with you after he graduated like you’d talked about. But if it meant making you happy, he would skip meals just to get you what you wanted. Knowing full well that you’d probably hit the roof if he did.

He crinkled his nose as he gently caught the underside of your chin with his knuckles, making you look at him as he grinned. “Hey, if my girl wants a gold necklace, then a gold necklace she will have.”

You narrowed his eyes as you swatted his hand away, pointing a finger towards him as you mocked a scowl. “You know the rules. Twenty dollar maximum, Munson. I mean it.”

He huffed air out of his nose in amusement as he took your hand in his, pressing soft kisses to the back of it. “Alright, alright. Twenty dollar maximum,” he said with a roll of his eyes, feigning annoyance as he pulled away to reach for his wallet. “How about me and you get outta here, pretty girl? Come back to my trailer and cuddle?”

“You ask as if I’d say no,” you said with a smile, getting out of your seat as you finished up your drink, swaying on the spot as you waited for him to sort out the bill. He smiled as his arm came around your waist, pulling you close as you set your glass on the table and leaning your head on his shoulder as he walked you out. Already knowing full well that it wasn’t just cuddling that Eddie had his mind set on, and not minding one bit.

True to his word, Eddie didn’t exceed the limit you’d made him promise not to go over. A quick visit to the music shop across town to put in a custom order, then over to the jewellery store so he could find the right chain and grab a small flocked box. Wrapped in a pale lilac ribbon, the present was nestled behind some old amps in his wardrobe so you wouldn’t accidentally stumble across it before the date of your first anniversary.

He picked you up in the early afternoon when the day finally arrived, a massive bouquet of flowers held in his hand and his lopsided grin greeting you as you answered the door. Your eyes widened as you gasped, bouncing on your heels as you squealed in delight. “Oh, Eddie,” you cooed, taking them in your hands and inhaling the sweet scent of roses. “Thank you. I love them.”

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he smiled, pulling you into his arms and mindful not to crush the petals as he pressed your side into his chest. “Do you like them?”

You nodded, giggling as you leaned up and pressed a loving kiss into his lips. “I love them,” you assured him, kissing him again before pulling away to make your way into the kitchen. “Just lemme get these into some water and we can head out.”

With the flowers proudly displayed on your bedside table, you skipped down the stairs and headed outside, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and locking the door behind you before looping your arms around his neck. “So what’s the plan for today?”

He hummed in thought as his hands found your waist, looking down at you as he tilted his head to the side. “Well, I thought we could recreate our first date,” he offered, swaying you softly.

You giggled, the sound never failing to make his heart warm. “So eating burgers and watching horror movies on your couch?”

He nodded, his tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip. A little habit he had whenever he was slightly nervous. “I know it’s not the height of romance, but…”

You shook your head, your smile never leaving your lips as you pressed that little bit closer to him. “It sounds absolutely perfect, baby. Would take that over going to any fancy restaurant any day.”

“Christ, you’re so perfect,” he murmured, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss before you softly squealed and pulled away.

“Eddie! I have neighbours you know,” you whispered, mocking scandal and making him laugh.

“Let ‘em watch,” he answered as he kissed you again, a hand coming down to playfully squeeze your ass. He felt your laugh against his lips as you pulled away, swatting his hand as you descended the steps to your porch and holding out your hand.

“You comin’ or what, Munson?” you asked, nodding your head towards the van as your nose crinkled with delight.

He fell into step beside you, taking your hand in his and smoothing circles into the back of it with his thumb. “I’d follow you into Mordor, babe.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, though you were smitten with his unabashed nerdiness. Opening the passenger door for you, he waited until you were settled before closing it behind you and sprinting over to the driver’s side. He let you choose the music as he drove, tapping the metal of his rings on the steering wheel as he enjoyed the sound of you singing along as your feet tapped out the rhythm from the place on his dashboard.

You were pleasantly surprised that he’d made an effort into cleaning up the living room in his trailer, blankets and pillows on the couch so you both could make a cosy little nest to cuddle in. With plenty of snacks and drinks ready on the floor so you wouldn’t have to get up, you settled down as he pressed play on the remote, head on his chest and legs draped over his lap as his arms wrapped around you.

Balmy afternoon eventually became a chilly evening, his body heat and the blankets keeping you cosy as you let yourself completely relax. You and Eddie had shared a few joints throughout the day, your mind slightly hazy and giving you a floaty feeling all through your body as you enjoyed the feeling of your boyfriend smoothing his hand up and down your spine. When the credits rolled on the movie you’d barely paid attention to considering you dozed off halfway through, you let out a small yawn as you stretched out your muscles and looked up to Eddie with a content smile.

“Doing okay there, princess?” he asked, looking just as relaxed and blissed out as you were.

You hummed in agreement as you nodded, sitting up a little as a grin spread across your face as you became a little more awake. “Thinking this is a good time to give you your anniversary present?”

His eyes crinkled with the sheer joy that overtook his face, pulling you closer to kiss you. “Baby, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he murmured, a hand coming up to run his fingers through your hair.

“Don’t be silly,” you huffed in mock annoyance, pulling yourself away to grab your backpack and unzip the main compartment.

His eyes never left you, watching like a hawk as you pulled the item out and padded back towards him to join him on the couch. You placed the wrapped gift in his lap, the pale blue wrapping paper and matching ribbon tied in a bow having been meticulously added the night before.

You pulled your knees to your chest, chin resting on them as you watched his features flit from happiness to excitement, his fingers carefully running over the paper as if he was apprehensive to ruin the work you’d put into it. “Go on,” you urged with a grin, wanting to see his reaction to what you’d decided on.

He chuckled at your insistence as he carefully unwrapped the bow, setting the ribbon to the side before flipping over the present and pulling at the tape to not rip the paper. You knew that Eddie hadn’t really had the same experiences you had when it came to celebrations, being from a background where money was tight and his father too preoccupied with things other than his son. Wayne had tried his hardest when Eddie came to live with him, always making sure there was something on birthdays and Christmases, but it had left him never expecting much so he couldn’t be disappointed. But when he met you, things had changed. You were always giving him little gifts; not much monetary value to them, but things that made you think of him. Some guitar picks that you thought he’d like the pattern of. A poster that you’d found at the mall of his favourite band. A new ashtray when the last one got knocked off his bedside table and broke. Every single thing you ever got him were his treasured possessions, meaning more to him that you could possibly ever know.

Stroking the soft material of the shirt you’d got him with his fingertips, his face lit up as he recognised the design on the front. He remembered the day he’d seen it, when he’d taken you to the mall to spend the day window shopping. Heading into one of the small music stores to peruse the cassette tapes and records. He didn’t know that you noticed his longing stare at the Motörhead shirt that was hanging up on one of the racks, knowing full well that he couldn’t really afford to spend the money on it. But the next Thursday when he was running a campaign with his Hellfire group, you’d went back to the store to pick one up in his size.

You picked up on his stunned silence, letting out a small nervous laugh as you bit your bottom lip. “If you don’t like it, we can go back and exchange it-”

A squeal escaped your chest as he pounced on you, sending you flying back onto the cushions of the couch with your folded legs now trapped between his chest and your own with his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. You couldn’t help but smile as his lips found your own, peppering soft kisses that travelled to your cheek and down the side of your jaw.

“Thank you baby, I love it,” he whispered into the shell of your ear, your knees parting to allow him to slot himself between your legs. The way he looked at you when he came back up to face you never failed to make you feel warm inside. Those glossy brown eyes staring down at you like you hung the moon just for him, adoration and fondness evident in the way his eyes crinkled with his lopsided grin.

Giving you one last kiss, he sat back up again and helped you up, pulling at the shirt he was wearing and taking it off, allowing you to get a good look at the pale expanse of his chest littered with black ink. He noticed you staring at him, taking his time on putting on his gift with a knowing wink that made a blush warm your cheeks. Smoothing down the front, he turned to you with outstretched arms. “What’dya think?”

“Looks real good on you,” you nodded, grinning as you reached out and felt the fabric between your fingers with a small hum and a tilt of your head, as if you were deep in thought. When he gave you a questioning look, you barely held back your laughter at your own joke as you smirked. “Feels like boyfriend material to me.”

His head fell back as he laughed in earnest, pulling you into his arms as he nuzzled the top of your head. “Such a dork.”

“Yeah. But I’m you’re dork,” you countered, looking up at him as you bit your lower lip, smile still evident in your face.

“That you are,” he nodded, tapping your thigh as he let go. “Alright, time for your present.”

You blinked owlishly, confusion plain on your face as he stood up and started to walk towards his bedroom. “But you already gave me my present, right? The flowers?”

“Well yes, but they’re not your actual anniversary gift,” he answered, stopping to look back at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Your eyes narrowed a little as you pouted. “I thought we agreed on a twenty dollar maximum.”

“That we did,” he answered with a smug look. “But you didn’t say anything about multiple gifts. I spent under twenty dollars on both. Therefore, I’m off the hook.”

Damn him. You knew he was good at finding loopholes, no doubt years of practice as a DM not wanting his players to pull any fast ones and get out of the traps and plots he set. He laughed as he took a look at your slightly annoyed face, heading into his bedroom and coming back a couple of minutes later with a small box. He gently handed it to you, sitting back down and his hand finding it’s place on your thigh, rubbing soft circles into your skin.

You weren’t actually mad at him, not by a long shot. You let him know that by letting your face brighten, carefully tugging at the ribbon and letting it join the one that you’d added to his gift between you.

You lifted the lid, and you let out a soft gasp at the contents. Beautifully presented was a guitar pick; the same deep red tortoise shell design as the one that he wore on a chain of his own and had a small pile of in his room, the ones that he pretty much exclusively used whenever he played. A small hole had been added to the top, a silver ring connecting it to a delicate chain of the same shade. Your eyes became blurry with tears as you noted the extra detail. Engraved on the pick were your initials and a cross, the letters E.M underneath and the whole thing encapsulated with a heart. It reminded you of the time he’d proudly carved the same thing on the old table in the woods where you went to smoke during lunch breaks at school, the one that you always traced the lines of whenever you went there.

“Eddie,” you whispered, heart beating that little bit faster as you brushed away the tears that threatened to fall as you let out a stuttered breath.

“Aw hey, c’mon no tears,” he said softly, his grip on your thigh gently squeezing you as his free hand came up to brush the pad of his thumb over the apples of your cheeks. “I really do that bad?” he asked, a small nervous laugh escaping him.

“They’re happy tears,” you assured him with a smile, carefully taking the necklace out of the box and setting the packaging aside as you offered it to him. “Help me put it on?”

He nodded, and you brushed your hair up and away from you neck as you turned away so he could see the clasp. The pick rested on your sternum, proudly displaying the engraving as his nimble fingers made quick work of fastening the chain. You felt his hands gently brush over your shoulder blades when he was done, and you turned back, looking down as you run your fingertip over the makeshift charm.

“I love it,” you enthused, looking back up at him and looping your arms around his neck to kiss him. You could feel his smile against you, his hands finding your hips as he gently pulled you towards him as he deepened the kiss. You took the hint, sliding into his lap until you straddled him, moaning softly as you felt his tongue swipe against your lips. You parted them for him, enjoying how he flicked his tongue against your own in the way that always made you softly mewl against him.

You stayed like this for what felt like a blissful eternity, regretfully having to pull away when you remembered that breathing was a necessity. His head only pulled away a few inches, enough for his eyes to dart down towards your chest as a lopsided grin spread across his face. “It’s no gold necklace with my name on it, but I thought you’d like something a bit more unique.”

He knew he would adore the sight of you wearing it, but something snapped in him when it was finally around your neck. That small, feral part in the back of his brain feeling a sense of ownership, of putting his mark on you so everyone could see that you wanted to be with him. It was a similar feeling he had whenever he draped his coat over your shoulders when the weather took a cold turn, or borrowed one of his T-shirts to sleep in when you stayed over. The feeling of heady adoration that made his heart skip a beat and caused his jeans to tighten.

“It’s better than anything I could have possibly dreamed of,” you murmured, pressing your forehead against his. “Lots of girls have those designs. I have something completely one of a kind.”

He let out a small hum of happiness as he wrapped his arms around your lower back. “So I did good?”

“You did good,” you echoed, kissing him as you relaxed against his chest. “Thank you baby.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Long gone was the apprehension that he felt about you not liking the gift. That small paranoid voice in his head, telling him you mind find it tacky or not your style. Or even worse, that he missed the mark entirely and you found it creepy. Now that you were making contented sighs as your head rested on his shoulder, he finally allowed himself to feel pride that he’d managed to make you this happy. Both of you sharing the comfortable silence that filled the room.

You were the first one to speak. With a small smile, one of your hands came up to touch the chain around your neck. “You know I’m never taking this off, right?”

He chuckled, looking down at you as he rubbed the skin at the small of your back. “No? Not ever?”

“Never ever,” you nodded, sitting up to look at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Wanna see how it looks when it’s the only thing I’m wearing?”

You let out a yelp as his grip fell to your ass, picking you up as he stood and making you quickly clamp your legs around his waist so he didn’t drop you. You heard the soft growl of want that rumbled in his chest as he carried you towards the bedroom, his teeth grazing your neck as he walked.

“Thought you’d never ask, angel.”

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you

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deadpool15 · 6 months

Text

Our life

"HI, my name is S-Sunny. Sorry, I'm a bit camera shy, unlike this one right here." I point in the direction of my husband sitting next to me. It always feels a bit crazy referring to him as my husband. I'm like, I'm married now. "And I'm Byeon woo seok, this is Mrs. Byeon." I stare at that big Ole lopsided smile on his beautiful plump lips. "Baby, I introduced myself already," "Yea, and you didn't say it right, honey, so I got you." To think I'm married to this cringe worthy guy is a wild thought.

Question 1. How did you two meet?

Adjusting myself in the seat, I hadn't noticed I'd moved slightly away from Woo seok until he pulled me right back under him. "Can you even remember this, I know I can right down to the smallest detail, but she has a very bad memory in general." I snicker at that comment. Of course, he wants to tell the public that. "I'll start, we met at a cafe. She was studying or technically finishing up some homework when I had just gotten my order and decided that instead of taking it to go, I would stay and have a seat. I saw her, sitting in the very corner of the café working away on her laptop while wearing a turtleneck with a big baby blue trench coart sitting on the side of her and her blue jeans She looked like something out of a Disney movie, I had never seen something so beautiful." I blushed hearing him recall the story. He always tells it as if he is falling in love all over again. "She didn't even notice when I asked if I could sit with her, so into her on little world." I fixed a hair on his forehead before grabbing his hand. "I did notice, though I thought it was weird. I mean, I grew up in a black neighborhood, though I went to schools in all white neighborhoods. So, no one ever took time to get to know me or wanted to even be next to me. I got used to my own company to the point where I became so introverted that when someone spoke to me, I would mumble and walk away or pretend to be mute. No one in that cafe sat next to me now I don't know if it was a racist thing or a simply just a rule of don't act next to someone when there are a lot of seats. I literally proceeded to look behind me, thinking he was speaking to someone else, but my seat was against the wall." We both sit there laughing at that memory.

Question 2. Who took interest first?

"I know for a fact it was me. She was the sweetest thing I had ever encountered in my life. She was an all shy, but once you got to know her, she was this amazing bubbly soul." I simply looked at the camera feeling aware of the people in the room until Woo seok squeezed my hand to let me know I wasn't alone. "When I first met, i was trying to figure out why this beautiful human wanted to be next to me. I was a college student at the time, like first year I'm on my last year now. I came to Korea to get a degree and a change of scenery. I grew up in Tennessee, U.S. I feel like it's obviously once I start speaking English. Though, all my life, the only thing I knew was farmland. Taking care of the animals and my papa."

Question 3. Is your height an issue?

I stared at the entire camera staff when I heard the question, with a poker face. "Really guys? We are adults here who wrote that in the first place, huh?" I stand up, causing the crew to laugh even harder than before. "I'm not answering the question, forget all of you. I thought we were friends." I sat there trying not to pout, knowing it would only make them embarrass me further. "Baby, your height is fine. You're just short, and that's ok." I blink my eyes up at him. Sadly, I still have to look up even though he is sitting down. "I'm not short. you're just really tall." I lie through my teeth. Well, it's not exactly a lie he is really tall, but I'm really short. Standing at 4'11, cursing my ancestors for not marrying any tall men down the line to help a girl out. When I met him, the first thing I noticed was his height, I mean, he was standing. While I was sitting, when I stood up, he simply laughed and told me I looked like something from a movie.

Question 4. Celebrity look-alike?

"I didn't really have one until I saw Bridgerton. There is a girl on there. She plays Lady Whistletown. I believe her name is Nicola Coughlan. While I was doing a shoot in LA, someone pointed out the fact that we looked so much alike, and I didn't believe them until I saw her. She is slightly taller than me and way older as well. Though it's nice to be compared to her." I stated while smiling, I remember when someone showed me her, and I was like, that's a white woman, until I started to see the similarities. Crazy right? "I don't believe I have one in general, Sunny claims I look like Niki from Enhypen. I don't really see that." I stare at the crew watching many people shake their heads in unison. "See, I told you, it's really the lips and the eyes that make them look similar. They both have pump Bratz doll lips." He chuckles when he hears the comparison, remembering on one of our first dates I had said he reminded me of a Bratz doll while he sat there confused I laughed. "You claim I remind you of that fairy, and we look nothing alike, so we are even, sir." He stops laughing to pull our phone, showing the crew what I'm talking about. "It's not necessarily their looks because besides the small stature and button nose, they don't look alike at all, but they sound so much alike. That's what I noticed when he spoke English, I told her she reminded me of a fairy. I just couldn't remember the movie. Turns out it was an American children's film, I had watched two nights before meeting her."

Question 5. Was marrying a sudden decision?

"In a way, it kinda was, I had never planned on getting married, not just in Korea, though, in general. The idea of marriage was so stupid to me like imagine someone saying I love you so much I'm gonna get the government involved so you never leave me and if you try to it will be a lot of paperwork and pain you have to go through." Woo seok laughed as he heard my explanation of marriage it was always a funny idea to him. He wanted marriage, so we were different in that way. "I met here when I was 31 at the time, so my mother, as well as the elders kn my life kept nagging me to marry someone, but my acting career was doing good and I didn't see myself settling foen until I met her. Though she told me one night she didn't have any intentions to marry me." I placed my head over his mouth and shushed him. "When you say it like that, it sounds bad. Be quiet. It's not like I didn't have intentions to marry him, I just didn't think about marriage in general with anyone. We had been dating for 6 months, and I was afraid to sleep in the bed with him, to be honest. No matter what, I've never been one to plan out my future, I simply live in the moment. Because the future scares me. I laughed, recalling the memory.

Flashback

We had just finished our fate at the amusement park. It was fun, though I was hungry and couldn't wait to get home and eat. Woo seok was driving when I noticed the sky had become blurry and soon rain started to pour, after a while of driving it was coming down hard and he suggested he pull over to his unit. I was completely ok with that until I realized that meant I would have to come inside his home. "It's too dangerous to be driving out in the rain, Sun, we can go up to my apartment and just spend the night." I timidly agreed, I had never spent the night over to a guy's house or anyone for that matter. We walked inside the building, greeting the front receptionist. Then, we made our way to the elevator. Knowing what was to come, I simply stared at the numbers on the elevator, hoping they would go slower.

The sound of the loud ding let me know my wishes remained in vain. We stepped inside the elevator, I'm pretty sure my boyfriend had taken notice of how distance I had become. It wasn't necessarily his fault, I mean, it was he made me nervous as shit. Omg I just swore it was in my head, so it doesn't really count. The elevator came to a stop, breaking me from my thoughts, I watched the tall man fish through his pocket while grabbing my hand with his other to unlock the door for us. He eventually found the key, letting us both inside his flat. While I took my shoes off, he let me know he would get me a change of clothes. I was so tired I didn't feel like showering, and I was glad I didn't wear any makeup today. "Here, baby, I got you some shorts and a shirt. Hopefully, you can fit into this." He stated while he motioned me towards the bathroom to change, letting me know he would be in the kitchen. I quickly took off my clothes and changed into the pair I was given. I walked out of the bathroom to notice he had changed as well, walking around in a pair of pajama pants and a rob on his shoulders, no shirt was seen. This man is trying to kill me, Lord.

I stared at her as she came out of the bathroom, and God, what did I do to deserve such a woman. She was walking around here, looking like sex. She was a beauty. Nothing could make me think differently. I thought those shorts wouldn't fit her, but I guess I forgot how thick she was. Her ass was looking so good in them. I wanted to take a bite fuck, I never knew I was an ass man until I met her. But I had to control myself for her she was my shy baby, after all. "Did you want something to eat, baby?" She nodded her head, and I went to fixing her favorite Ramen. I pulled her closer until I sat her on the counter. She was startled pushing my chest back while looking in the opposite direction for my modesty. How adorable. "Baby, we've been together for a while now. You can look at me without a shirt. I promise I won't get angry." She was thinking too hard anyone could see that, so I grabbed her by the chin, turning her in my direction and pulling her closer again. "I'm all yours."

Present

Question 6- What's sunny stand for?

I turned to her, letting myself get captured by all her beauty. Rubbing her back, I just liked being by her at all times. I had never been a clingy guy until I met Sunny. She brought out a completely different side kd me I didn't know existed. "It stands for like half of my name. It's Sunnybelle. Funny enough, my dad had a thing for fairy-tales as a kid and growing up as well. He made us read them to him, trying to make sure we could read. He claimed that when I was born, the sun was shining so bright like it was never of my birth. And everything fell into place in his life after, with no worries. Extremely exaggerated story thanks to my father, but that's my real government name. I say that because a lot of people think I'm lying when I tell them that." I blushed, realizing Woo seok was still staring at me.

Question 7- Are you excited for everyone to see your show?

We both were thinking about that one. I feel like Woo seok expected this question because he was used to the interviews, though I was working in the fashion industry. No one ever really was interested in questioning me unless it was about my race. "We are super happy that you all will get to see a little of our lives. I say a little because we won't be adding every detail on here. I mean, we must keep certain things private, you know." I nodded to his words agreeing. Certain fans took these types of shows as an invitation to stalk people or just crazy stuff in general. I myself am a very private person, to be honest, so this was a whole new process for me. Though I was ok with it as long as they didn't follow me into the bathrooms or something. I chuckle thinking about how stupid that would be before looking around the room, hoping no one saw me do that. I can literally hear the crazy talking to yourself comments. "He is correct. It will be a fun new experience for all of us. And I hope you all enjoy seeing us live together on this path." I hit Woo seok's arm since he was trying to tickle me on the slide with no one looking.

*Stay tuned for the next chapter*

#byeonwooseok x reader #byeon woo seok #oc #reality

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afatlotofchance · 7 months

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Kristoff's Full Year (commission)

This was a commission for a weight gain story involving Kristoff from Frozen. If I recall this was written when there was still just the Frozen movie, and not its sequel. Enjoy!

Kristoff felt really uncomfortable. He was starting to regret his decision. Anna had begged him to go live with her in the castle, and while he resisted the fifteen first times, he gave up at the sixteenth. This girl was certainly persistent, and darn cute. He thought to himself “Hey, why not? After all, living in a castle isn’t that bad.”

And it wasn’t that bad. At first. It was nice to sleep in a warm, soft, comfy bed. To be able to wear fancy, expensive, shiny clothes. To not be insulted or beaten up by angry merchants or bandits in the woods.

But then, there was… the rest. All those servants who kept being polite, formal and careful around him. All those weird rules he had sometimes trouble understanding, these strange etiquettes people kept referring to but that he could see nowhere. The domestics were patient and kind with him, yes, but it made him feel worse. They acted like that out of pity. They knew that he didn’t fit in, that he wasn’t made for this kind of life. It showed in their eyes.

And, on top of that, there was… well, the bigness.

Not the castle. Kristoff had grown accustomed to live in big, deserted places. The castle was like the forest, only with a roof on top, and less cold. And less wolves.

No, what really troubled him were… the meals.

Three different types of soups. Followed by five different meats, seven different fishes, eight different cheeses, and an incalculable amount of pastries. There were beasts on the royal table he had never heard of or seen in his life, like spider crabs or swans. He didn’t know how he liked his food cooked – medium, rare, blue, these terms meant nothing to him. For him, meat was cooked, burned raw, there was no in between or nuances. And the sauces! There were so many sauces! He never had sauces before, outside of Sven’s saliva, and even then, saliva wasn’t changing the taste of the food! Here, he had to be careful not asking too little or too much… And the sauces could be sweet, salty, yellow, green, sour, plain… His head was spinning after each meal. Hell, one time they asked him what kind of quarry he wanted: he thought they were speaking of stone-pits!

As a result, Kristoff took a shy approach to the food in the castle. He ate very little, always left a bit on the plates, sent back dishes to the kitchen. He was used to two, maybe even one snack a day, not five parades of dishes between sunrise and nightfall! The only thing reassuring in these meals was the bread. Plain, old bread, you can never go wrong with it.

Well, that’s what he thought. Until he discovered that the castle’s kitchen offered ten different types of bread.

Kristoff’s lack of eating worried the cooks. Kristoff feared that the servants would realize that he wasn’t a man of refined taste, but it ended up being the opposite: the staff thought that he couldn’t enjoy his cooking because it was too bad for him. So the chefs tried harder and harder to please him, commanding the finest, richest, rarest food, multiplying the spices, the herbs, the sauces, making each meal bigger, more complex, more extravagant… But still, nothing. Kristoff was eating like a bird. Only Sven was eating his heart’s fill, and that was because he only ate raw carrots! The cooks tried to include a lot of carrots in Kristoff’s menu, assuming that he would have the same preferences as his mount, but that was another failure.

Anna, noticing the state of despair in which the cooks were plunged, thought it was time to step in and talk to Kristoff.

“Kristoff, why are you vexing them like that?”

“Who?”

“The cooks! They are all working so hard to please you! And yet, you keep eating nothing of what they prepare! I saw the head cook crying in his apron this morning! Why don’t you try to be a bit more considerate? You know, food doesn’t appear magically on the table! There are people behind it, who make it with patience and love!”

“I’m not trying to be inconsiderate! It’s just that…”

Kristoff sighed.

“I don’t know how to act here, okay? I know I don’t belong here! You understand that, Anna? I was raised by trolls, in wild nature! I ate raw vegetables each day! I drank straight out of the brooks! I’m not used to all this… fancy food. And there are so many forks and knives and spoons, and things I don’t even know how to name! I don’t know what to use!”

“I prepared you a little guide to help you with the cutlery.”

“I know, but still! And, anyway, it’s all too much! I always fear I will not be able to finish the meal! I don’t want to get sick! It’s a wonder and your sister are so scrawny with eating so much!”

“I’m not scrawny!” Anna replied. “I’m a strong woman, with a perfect weight for her height and age! And we are used to these kinds of meals. Just like you can get used to them!”

“I don’t know if…”

“Have you learned nothing from what happened with Elsa? Stop fearing what people will think of you! Restraining yourself and hiding your feelings is not a good solution. Accept the gifts people want to make to you, alright? It’s all just good intention. They want to please you. So, eat your fill, eat what your heart desires, and the servants will be glad. You’ll show them you appreciate their work, and they’ll probably stop preparing so much food. Trust me, you can pig out a bit if you like, it will only do good for everyone.”

Kristoff agreed. Anna kissed him on the cheek as a reward.

The head cook never stopped preparing so much food. He was filled with joy at the mere sight of Kristoff cleaning his dishes and digging in his meals – and he thought that him regaining his appetite was because he had finally reached the perfect level of food quality and quantity. As a result, he kept working hard to provide rich, filling and nicely fattening food.

Kristoff actually ended up enjoying this journey on the culinary world. He discovered so much new things! He ate smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, prawns and crab, cod and herring, sardine and mackerel, mutton stew and pork chops. He was particularly amazed at the amount of seafood the cooks served him. There were so many weird things with weird names and weird looks and weird tastes. Oysters and clams, lobsters and mussels, scallops and cockles… And there were so many ways to cook them! Braised, boiled, roasted, raw, smoked, salted, pickled!

For the first time in his life, Kristoff went to bed with a full belly and without any fear of being hungry ever again.

And this new life took quite quickly a toll on him. After all, you couldn’t go from eating whatever berries and potatoes you could find in the woods to a full breakfast-brunch-lunch-afternoon snack-dinner routine without seeing some changes in your body.

Kristoff was living in the castle for roughly two months now. He was naked in his bathroom (that he tried to not use as much as the servants wanted him to). He looked at himself in the mirror and said:

“Yep. I’m fat.”

He wasn’t enormous, of course. But he still had his flab.

His belly was soft now, soft and fleshy. It was still quite flat, but thicker and plumper. He had grown love handles, which gave him the feeling that he was carrying a belt of fat around his waist. And his chest, that used to be stone-hard, felt more doughy and flaccid than usual.

“It would be a good time to work out a bit… Staying in the castle all day long and never going outside isn’t the best for a mountain man like me.”

It was true that his level of physical activity had drastically dropped. While the castle was big enough to make him walk several hours a day, it was nothing compared to the roads he had to take, the mountains he had to climb or the ice he had to harvest.

At this thought, he looked outside. One of the windows in his room was overlooked a small court, the one where his sled waited. The beautiful sled Ana gave him as a gift. The beautiful sled, with its cup holder. He tried it maybe once or twice, and then he put it there.

He should be getting out more, he thought. Doing his job.

Because, as it turned out, “Royal Ice Harvester” was a real job after all – but it consisted mostly of sending other men to work, and watch the team as they cut the ice, and making sure there wasn’t any accident. But he wasn’t supposed to cut the ice himself. He was there to oversee.

It was nice at first, to give orders around, to teach young men how to correctly cut the ice, to advice the team on what were the best times and places in order to have a good ice. But soon, he felt quite useless. They all knew their work and what they were supposed to do. They were good workers, with strong bodies and a zero-percent rate of accidents. They didn’t need a babysitter. So, he came back to the castle and left them be, only checking if the amount of ice supposed to be delivered each month was due.

Thinking so much of ice made his stomach growl. He wanted some ice cream. The castle’s cooks could make some wonderful ice creams, with flavors only Heaven could surpass. He salivated a bit, but then wiped the drool on his chin.

“Come on Kristoff, we said exercise!”

He got onto the floor and, still naked, started doing some push ups.

After a series of ten, he decided to take a pause. He was hot, sweaty, tired. He didn’t mind the hot and sweaty part – all those baths they forced him to take made him feel cleaner than a healthy man should be, and it grossed him out a bit. Not, it was the tired part that was bothering him. He used to do three series of ten each day, without pause.

Kristoff laid on his bed to rest a bit. His big, comfy, sweet bed. With good-smelling sheets. And soft pillows…

“You have a pillow on your belly already…” a voice whispered in his mind.

He got up once more to look at himself in the mirror again.

His belly wasn’t so big. It was just wider and thicker. If he kept his clothes on, no one could tell the difference. He still looked buff and muscular, and that’s all he needed.

“Yeah… your chest may be a bit bigger and your stomach more bloated, but you can still close your belt.”

To make sure, he got out of the closet his old ice harvester suit. He had stopped wearing it after setting in the castle – the place being very warm, the suit, with its lining of fur, kept making him too hot – and not in the good sense of the term.

He put it on and looked at his reflection.

“Yeah. No difference whatsoever. Don’t worry. It’s just some… some sympathy weight, as they say. Nothing to worry about.”

He took a new look at his sleigh, outside. He felt a bit guilty not using it – but, at the same time, he thought about what happened to his old one, right after he finished paying for it, and it was enough to cool him down.

“No, I won’t take that risk. This beauty will stay here. I’ll get out another day. Another, safer day.”

And thus Kristoff stayed indoor, enjoying the royalty’s life.

He did not worry one bit about his stomach getting bigger. He didn’t realize that his stomach expanding meant that he would get hungrier and be able to eat more food, which would only expand his stomach even more, leading him into a vicious circle of feasting and fattening. Kristoff had spent most of his life with trolls and reindeers, who had very different eating habits and seasonal diets than humans, resulting in him lacking a knowledge about how his body worked.

That’s why he went on gulping down fish, cream or mutton soup, wolfing down meatballs, meatcakes and beef with mustard, gobbling up liver pâtés, salted offal and braised pheasants, putting cheese on his buttered bread with a bit of cream on top, sometimes devouring entire roasted pigs! However, he couldn’t bring himself to eat moose – the cooks proposed some to him, many times, but it reminded him too much of Sven and made him really uncomfortable.

But what Kristoff fell for the most, out of everything that came out of the royal kitchen, were the pastries. The cakes. The desserts. As a child, he never knew the delightful bliss of eating sweets or biting into candies. So, when he discovered those at the palace, he went full sugar-crazy. He kept asking for more. More cherry pies, more apple pies, more rhubarb pies! More strawberry tarts, more bilberry tarts! More raspberry waffles, more cloudberry cakes! More meringue, more cardamom, more whipped cream! The cooks were happy to oblige.

Of course, sometimes he felt guilty. Guilty for not taking the sleigh out of the castle like he promised. Guilty for not supervising the workers at the ice harvest. Guilty for not getting out as much he used to, and for not being active anymore.

But he quickly found out that fried food was an excellent way to wipe your guilt out of your mind. With the amount of butter Arendelle produced, they tended to fry everything they could put their hands upon: onions, fishes, sausages… And fried sausages soon became Kristoff’s favorites. With a bit of gravy.

Of course, like we said earlier, all of this was a vicious circle of feasting and fattening. Kristoff’s belly started to get rounder and more prominent, while his pectorals grew and puffed out and his arms got flabby and tubby. But the young man never noticed how chubby he was actually getting. Partly because of his own lack of interest in his appearance, and disdain for mirrors, and partly because of Anna. She mentioned to the servants that Kristoff was starting to fill out his clothes, and that it wouldn’t be a good thing for him to stress over such little things. As a result, the servants started to offer the prince-to-be larger clothes, more fitting for his new castle-life-size, and Kristoff gladly accepted them, not thinking much about it. After all, royals must get new clothes every week, right? That’s how rich people did it.

There was nothing weird with that.

Months went by, and soon it was time to celebrate Kristoff’s first year at the castle.

Kristoff walked towards Elsa. He was munching on an Arendelle flute – a local candy he particularly enjoyed. It was a chocolate bar shaped like a small chain of mountains, filled with butter, biscuit, hazelnuts and caramel. He was mad about them, eating nearly one per hour. Absolutely delicious.

Kristoff had a little friendly chat with the young queen, nothing out of the ordinary. Except maybe for some… allusions Elsa kept making.

For example, how she called him “big guy”. Usually she nicknamed him “reindeer prince”. Or when she said he should lay down a bit on the Arendelle flute, “You know what they say. You are what you eat, and it shows that you’re snacking on little mountains”. Later, she even compared him to a “full-grown snowman”. Kristoff tried to imagine a human-sized Olaf and wondered why he would ever look like him.

Well, that’s until he later saw some kids in the court make a snowman. An actual, traditional snowball. A big, round, white snowman.

Tortured by the most horrific doubts, he rushed to his room, gulping what was left of the Arendelle flute, and got rid of his clothes before standing in front of the mirror.

His worst fear had come true.

He was fat.

And not just pleasantly plum, like before, no. He was really fat and pale. Just like a snowman.

His belly was a big round ball. His chest was all puffy, and falling down on his gut. His behind was enormous, his thighs double the size of what they used to be, his arms all chunky – even his face was round now, with two bloated cheeks! And was that a double chin? It was! He had a big, round, snowman face!

“But… I don’t feel different… I don’t feel heavier!” Kristoff lamented. “And my clothes still fit me perfectly!”

Well… the clothes of the castle still fitted him perfectly, he thought. But what about his original clothes? His ice-harvesting suit?

Kristoff took it out of the closet and tried to get in the pants.

It wasn’t easy. They were tight. Tight around everything! Around his calves, around his thighs, around his behind… He couldn’t bend over, out of fear of making the seams explode.

“Well, I may have gained a bit of weight, alright… But it’s not that much…”

He then put the sweater on. It was as tight as the pants. He couldn’t even make it past his belly button! Not wanting to admit his defeat so fast, Kristoff sucked his gut in, and took his belt. He tied it around his now-slimmed-down-but-still-flabby abdomen, hoping that it would help to hold his gut in. He then put the tunic and looked at himself in the mirror.

“See? Not bad. Yeah, your shoulders are puffier, and your arms bigger, and your face rounder… and maybe you have a hard time moving in your clothes but… you’re not as fat as you think!”

That’s when he made the mistake of releasing his gut. He had lost the habit of using his abdominal muscles – he couldn’t hold it back anymore. When he let it out, the beast went wild. His belt snapped, his tunic ripped off and his sweater was pulled back all the way to his stomach, revealing his belly-button once more.

Kristoff let out a whimper as he had to face the hard truth.

He was as big as a whale.

“You knew the whole time?”

“Well… yes. It was a bit hard to miss.” Anna answered.

“But then, why didn’t you tell me?”

“What should I have told you? You put on a little weight, and what? No big deal! And no, that wasn’t a joke at your expense. What I mean is… there’s a lot of tubby guys in Arendelle. It’s not something out of the ordinary. Everybody gain some pounds in winter… it’s their winter weight.”

“I am the double of my original weight! That’s not just a few winter pounds! Have you seen just how much I eat per day? I paid attention recently, you know, and guess what I realized? I eat more than anyone in this castle. Much more than you, than Elsa, than Sven, than Olaf – well it doesn’t count because he doesn’t eat – but still! I’m the biggest eater in this castle! I’m the one walking around, snacking on fried sausages like if they were carrots!”

Anna didn’t know what to answer.

“Hey… wait a minute.” Kristoff whispered. “I get it, now… That’s why I always had clothes that were fitting me perfectly, when I should have busted out of them! It was you! You kept replacing them!”

“Well, I didn’t want you to feel bad, or stressed. You said it yourself, you feared you wouldn’t fit in! And again, it’s not a joke on the fact you can’t fit in your old suit anymore. I just… I didn’t want to destroy your self-confidence. And the cook was so happy that you finally ate his meals and…”

“The cook? It was all about the cook?”

“No, not at all!”

Anna sighed.

“You were happy. For once, you stopped caring about what other people thought. You weren’t anxious anymore about what fork to use. You weren’t fearful of the other’s judgement. You weren’t hiding yourself in your shell. You were outgoing, funny, happy, always smiling… and I liked that. And I wanted to keep it that way.”

Kristoff sat on a chair. Anna sat right next to him and hugged his big frame.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of your look, or your weight.” she whispered in his ear. “It’s just how you are. And you are still strong, and cute, and I still love you. You’re still the same Kristoff.”

“No. You��re wrong on one thing, and that’s what bothers me the most. I’m not strong anymore. I’m lazy. Sluggish. Weak. This morning, I was wondering “Hey, shouldn’t I stay in the castle today? It’s a bit cold outside.” Do you realize what that means, Anna? Me, who spent my whole life in the snow, the mountains and the winter, me, for who ice was the purpose of existence… I feared that it would be a little cold outside! I’m not me anymore, Anna. I want to get back to my old self.”

Anna bowed her head.

“I understand.”

“Thanks.”

He kissed her on the forehead while stroking her hair.

“Alright. Then I’ll have to do some exercises. Ask the cooks to cut down on the butter. And the bread. And the cheese. But leave the pastries. One – or two – at each meal isn’t what’s going to make me fatter.”

First step of the “From Fatstoff to Fitstoff” program: get a new ice-harvesting suit. Kristoff went to buy one at Oaken’s place. He nearly died of humiliation when Oaken offered him one of his own suits, from when he was younger. Even worse, it fitted him perfectly.

Second step: Ice-harvest again. The good, old fashioned way, with big saws and giant tongs. Kristoff went to work with the guys of his team at least three times a week. He felt himself reliving, adrenaline rushing through his blood.

Third step: Races with Sven. Running was good for him. Of course, he failed every time – but at least, he was moving and sweating.

Talking of sweating, fourth step: spend time in Oaken’s sauna. Oaken’s family making remarks about Kristoff’s size and the children slapping hard his “jelly-belly”, asking if he was pregnant, was quite a trial on its own, but he endured it as the penance he rightfully earned for his gluttony.

Fifth step: stop eating those damned Arendelle flutes!

“Kristoff is back! Kristoff is back!”

The trolls all rushed towards him to welcome the boy back, taking his clothes off to wash them, pressing him with questions about his life in the castle.

“And you’ve grown quite well!”

“Yeah, you’re becoming more and more like a troll now!”

“All big!”

“And all round!”

“Yes, that’s one heavy, heavy Kristoff!” they all sang in a choir.

Kristoff didn’t mind their playful teasing. Besides, he knew very well that he had lost quite a weight. His chest, while still saggy, was now smaller. Same thing for his flabby arms. His face wasn’t round anymore, and he had lost the double chin (even though his cheeks were still a bit puffy). His belly had deflated – goodbye, ball gut – even though he still had to work on the lard that was hanging over his belt. And his butt was back to a roughly normal size.

He was even floating in his new ice-harvester suit! If this went on, he would have to get it fixed, or buy a new one!

He was fully confident that he would go back to his usual silhouette in no time.

He shouldn’t have been so confident.

It happened the day of his birthday.

“Tadaaa!”

Kristoff couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him, the biggest, largest, longest table he had ever seen. And on it… food. Lots and lots and lots of food. Piles of fishes, entire roasted menageries, mountains of cheese and bread, a sea of soup, a forest of pastries… And, in front of him, an enormous ice-cream cake with “Happy birthday Kristoff!” written on top.

“Where are the other guests?”

“It’s all for you, Kristoff!”

“But… but I can’t eat all of that!”

“You don’t have to, silly! But feel free to do if your gut can handle it.”

Anna sat beside him and took a slice of cake.

“It’s just that… I saw how hard you worked.” she said. “You lost so much weight, and you’re so often out there, and you restrain yourself at each meal… Don’t lie to me. I see how you devour the cheese with your eyes at lunch. Even yesterday you were drooling just by looking at my loaf of bread! And I know you’re dying to bite again in an Arendelle flute.”

The mere mention of the candy made Kristoff’s stomach swirl and rumble in hunger.

“But today is your birthday. Your day. Go on, it’s all for you! Go ahead, it’s your gift! You deserve a treat after all, for all your hard work.”

Kristoff hesitated, but the glorious glow of all the butter, the fat, the frying and the oil finally broke him. He had been dieting for too long and Anna was right, he could offer himself a little treat.

He started with the cake. Then he went on with the seafood soups, the creamy soups, the meaty soups… followed by the mashed potatoes, carrots purée, raw carrots, salads, beetroots, some lingonberries, stewed peas with bacon, boiled cabbage with potatoes… he gulped some fruit juices, before finishing the berries and attacking the meat. Big, salty, heavy meat. With a lot of mustard.

After finishing the roe’s liver, the boiled lamb, the braised pheasant, the roasted sheep and the brawn, Kristoff laid back on his chair, his shirt raised on his prominent abdomen, his big hands rubbing his distended stomach. He let out a burp that resonated throughout the empty dining room.

“Excuse me…”

“No offense taken.” Anna replied.

“I never ate so much before… I think I’m full. I don’t have room for more.”

“What do you mean? You can’t end now! There’s still the fishes, and the cheese, and the biscuits, and…”

“I don’t think I can… my gut won’t…” Kristoff whispered before letting out another, smaller burp.

Anna put a hand on Kristoff’s belly and started rubbing. Strangely, it made his cheeks and his ears feel hot.

“Come on, I’m sure you can do that… A big guy like you, afraid by a little meal? Plus, if you finish the rest… there’s a bunch of Arendelle flutes waiting for you.”

“Many?”

“Many.”

Kristoff looked at Anna, then at the half-emptied table. He sighed.

“Well, if I have to… Damn, what couldn’t I do for some Arendelle flutes… Pass me the gravy, would you?”

He poured it straight in his mouth, to help him wash down everything he had already eaten. He burped once more and attacked the fishes.

Poached, fried or braised, there was probably all of the inhabitants of the sea on the table. The trout and the cod, the halibut and the haddock, along with crabs and cockles. Sometimes, Anna would help him out, or by rubbing and massaging his belly or by handing the plates that were too far away – his now bloated and rock-hard belly making it harder for him to bend over the table.

Then, it was the turn of the five different cheese wheels, before the biscuits and cookies, with a bit of milk. He gulped the other, smaller birthday cakes, and rinsed his mouth with a bottle of apple cider.

Now, only the Arendelle flutes were left, several boxes of them.

Kristoff was panting, his head completely thrown back, his forehead sweaty. He wasn’t speaking, merely letting out small burps from time to time.

“If you can’t take the Arendelle flutes, it’s okay…” Anna said. “I can put them away for you. You’ll eat them tomorrow. We don’t want you to be sick.”

But Kristoff stopped her and gestured with his hands “Leave them here. I didn’t stuff myself with all of that just for missing the Arendelle flutes. Gosh, look at me, I’m like a Christmas goose.”

Yes, Kristoff’s hands were quite expressive.

Anna giggled and kissed him on the cheek, staying by his side as he slowly grabbed the first box of Arendelle flutes.

He purred when the sweet chocolate mountains melted on his tongue.

The following day, Kristoff couldn’t fit into his ice-harvesting suit. And he couldn’t fit into his latest royal garment. In fact, he couldn’t fit into any of his clothes! He spent several hours trying to find what to wear, only to result in a concert of pants ripping, belt snapping and button popping. Eventually, the royal tailor had to come to his room to make a new outfit for him on the spot.

And, as he stood in front of the mirror while a wide-eyed tailor took his measurements, Kristoff took a good look at himself.

He was bigger. Bigger than before he started to lose weight. Just so… big.

His belly was big. Wide, round, enormous, hanging in front of him like an enormous cauldron of flesh.

His chest was big, wide and large, falling into rolls of lard on his flanks, with fleshy nipples the size of mushroom caps.

His legs were big, his jumbo thighs pressed against each other, continuously rubbing – he had to outspread his feet so that his skin wouldn’t caught fire.

His hips were rolls of fat, his arms looked like over-stuffed sausages, and his behind – well, it was better not to talk about it. And his face! With these round, overgrown cheeks that fell on the side of his face like pork jowls, and this double chin that dropped from under his jaw like a little goiter, and his fat, bloated neck that drowned into a big bulge of meat…

He was all flesh and fat, and rolls and curves, bloated and overstuffed, with lots of lard and lots of gut. Fattened up like a hog for the winter.

And, strangely, he kind of liked it.

Yesterday. The banquet. The feast. Eating to the brim, until he was ready to burst, savors and flavors dancing on his tongue while his beautiful fiancée rubbed his belly and whispered in his ear… It was a weird… new… pleasing experience. Yes, it was a pleasure he had only rarely felt before, and usually in the middle of the woods, during long, lonely, cold, wintery nights.

And, looking at his reflection, he didn’t felt the same reluctance as before. He was even bigger, fatter and grotesque, yes, but he did not felt weak or sluggish. He felt strong, full of energy, ready to walk all the way to the mountain and harvest all of its ice. He didn’t know that it was mostly all of the sugar he had eaten the past day that was still affecting his body.

But, even outside of that, something, deep down, told him that this shape was a good shape. The instinct he had grown living in forests filled with woods. The inner beast he had opened himself to in order to speak to Sven. The wild man that was living in his heart. They were all pointing out how fat was useful to keep warm in the winter, and a good way to last for several days without eating, and a natural armor to prevent major wounds. They all said “You’re the perfect surviving machine. You’re the best, Kristoff, the coolest guy in the woods. You’re a super-man, baby.”

Kristoff, feeling for once proud of his fatness, ordered a servant to bring him both a fried sausage and an ice-cream. Hell, he even asked him to put the sausage inside the ice-cream.

“Let yourself go, let yourself go…” he sang. “Can’t hold back your gut anymore… let yourself go, let yourself go… Eating never bothered me anyway.”

#weight gain #man #overweight #fat #fiction #commission #weight gain story #my writing #my work

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rubyreduji · 2 years

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My Heart Has Gone to You | 02

pairing: lee jihoon x f!reader (minor kim namjoon x f!reader) genre: smut (minors dni!), college!au, fwb, f2l contents: alcohol consumption, return of jealous/territorial jihoon, use of bunny as pet name, smut [explicit unprotected sex, mean-hard-dom!jihoon, degration, impact play, one mention of spitting, orgasm delay, tit fucking, cum eating, fingering, oral (f. receiving), choking, overstimulation, dumbification, praise, creampie, jihoon aftercare king once again] w.c.: 6.4k a/n: this one is such a wild ride and its one of my favorite chapters so please be sure to show it lots of love

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When you bring up the idea of a couple’s costume to your group of friends the girls go crazy. Even though Sana is the only one who knows you’ve been regularly having sex with Jihoon, the other girls swear you guys are meant to be.

The idea of dating Jihoon has never really crossed your mind and even now as you guys have sex multiple times a week (maybe even multiple times a day), it doesn’t really pose much interest to you. It’s nothing against Jihoon, he is quite literally the perfect man, you just know that you don’t want a relationship and Jihoon isn’t really one for dating either. Even in high school Jihoon was known for not dating and after all of your failed relationships you were ready for a break from all of it. What you and Jihoon have works well and it works well because you guys are on the same page. Not to mention it started because you guys are both incredibly busy and being in a relationship is a lot more effort than either of you have time for.

It didn’t stop all of your girl friends from obsessing over the idea though. Which brings you to here, being overwhelmed with “cute yet sexy” couple costume ideas for you and Jihoon to wear to Seungcheol’s party.

“Playboy bunny and Hugh Hefner?” Momo suggests.

“Do you really think Jihoon would want to dress up as Hugh Hefner? Not to mention that costume is so overdone.” Jeongyeon retorts. “Which is why I am also already vetoing sexy devils, nurse and doctor, and any cringey movie references.”

“Who cares if it’s overdone? As long as they look sexy that’s all that should matter.” Chaeyoung pipes up.

You cover your face at the whole conversation. Sana is smirking at you across the room and you just want to curl up in a hole and die.

“You guys know that Jihoon isn’t going to agree to any of these,” you groan. “I’m not too partial myself.”

The Jihoon you know vs the Jihoon your friends know are two totally different people. To them Jihoon is more serious and hardworking and closed off. He comes off as blunt and even sometimes shy but he’s only like that with people he’s not close to. With you and a few of his guy friends he is a totally different person, he’s soft and sweet and silly. Sana gets to see it sometimes when Jihoon is around you but most of the time when he’s with the girls he’s more closed off which leads them to believe that you’re some special Jihoon whisperer and can convince him to do anything when in reality Jihoon is like that with all of his close friends. You’ve seen how he treats Soonyoung no matter how annoyed he gets at the older boy.

“Ooh what’s the one anime you guys are always watching together? The one with the invisible girl?” Sana brings up.

Despite the vague explanation you know she’s talking about Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai. She has caught you and Jihoon watching it on multiple occasions but never seems to have an interest in it herself.

“Jihoon can just be a normal school boy and you can be a cute bunny girl. Perfect compromise!” Sana smirks at you and you turn red. She’s definitely heard Jihoon calling you bunny in bed and this is not making the situation better.

The other girls voice their agreement and before you can protest they’ve moved onto a new conversation.

That’s how you find yourself the weekend later in sheer black stockings and a black satin corset leotard, adorned with white cuffs and a white collar that has a black bow tie attached to it. The look is topped off with a fluffy white cotton tail and black bunny ears that perch on top of your head.

You’re hovering by Jihoon who is in the school boy outfit Sakuta wears during the show. It’s a plain white button up, a thin red tie, a brown jacket, slacks, and a belt and matching shoes. You’re aware that they never wear these outfits at the same time but your friends insisted you wear the bunny costume.

You guys have already been at the party for about two hours. You had pregamed a bit with Sana before Jihoon came to pick you guys up and drive over to the small house Cheol and the two other senior males are renting near campus. You guys got to the party early when it was only your large friend group there. Everyone caught up with each other a bit and played a few games before the party really got started a little over an hour ago.

A cup of beer is in your hand and Jihoon’s arm is wrapped tightly around your waist as he talks with Minghao and Hansol. Your heels make you taller than him so you have your free arm draped around his shoulders as you lean into him for support. The heels you are wearing belong to Jihyo who’s feet are smaller than yours, so the shoes pinch your feet uncomfortably.

The support from your best friend is also needed due to the fact that you are plastered. From the pregaming, to the shots you and your girl friends did after getting to Cheol’s, to the cups of beer you drank while playing cup pong with Sana against Jihoon and Soonyoung, to the random mixed drink Seokmin had whipped up and wanted you try (“you’re a bartender so you can tell me if this is good right” it wasn’t), the list went on and on of the drinks you’ve had tonight.

Jihoon had gotten you to drink some water earlier but after a bit Jeonghan put another shot in your hand and you were right back to drinking. You waved Jihoon off whenever he worried about your alcohol consumption, claiming you were drinking for the both of you since he is the DD tonight and rarely drinks anyways. You are now nursing a nearly empty cup of beer under the strict supervision of Jihoon.

It’s not that Jihoon doesn’t want you to have any fun, and you can hold your alcohol well, but Jihoon knows that you are over your limit and he feels the need to look over you. He already had to push his friends away when they tried to get you to do keg stands with them. Drunk Y/N is very different from Sober Y/N and Jihoon doesn't want you getting carried away.

“Y/N! Jihoon! Smile!” You look over to see Mingyu pointing a disposable camera at you and your best friend. You tilt your head into Jihoon’s and smile as you feel his arm pull you into his side tighter. The flash goes off causing you to blink away the white spots and Mingyu gives you guys a thumbs up before going off to another group.

“Oh yeah, you guys look great by the way. Rascal Does Not Dream Of Bunny Girl Senpai, I love that anime,” Hansol tells you two and you grin at him.

Before you can respond you hear your name being called again and this time when you look it’s Nayeon calling you over to dance with her and the rest of your friends. You signal you’ll be over soon before turning to Jihoon.

“I’m gonna go dance, okay?” He only nods and you hand him your cup before heading over to where your friends are.

Jihoon’s eyes trail your figure as you rush over to your friends. Your run is a bit awkward in your heels but he finds it endearing nonetheless. He can’t peel his eyes from you as your body sways to the music and your movements get a bit sloppy as you dance provocatively with your friends. You were always a bit of a messy drunk which was one of the things that led to you guys sleeping together to begin with. Your costume tonight isn’t helping Jihoon’s less than pure thoughts.

Bunny was a nickname he gave you before you guys even started having sex. It was actually a nickname he gave you all the way back in high school when you were just a friend of a friend. You met in 10th grade when one of his friends started dating your cousin.

You crossed paths many times and you were always energetic and very sociable yet you were still gentle with Jihoon which reminded him of a bunny. It slipped out one day as more of a retort towards you with “what are you a bunny?” but you only laughed it off and said that maybe you were.

Once you guys got closer in college the nickname easily slipped out again but he never really called you it around your friends besides maybe Sana and his own roommates.

Now looking at you, with the only thing covering your thighs being skin tight, see through stockings, and your cleavage threatening to spill out from the top of your leotard, he wants to do nothing but drag you into one of the empty rooms of Seungcheol’s house and bend you over.

You catch his eye and beckon him to come dance with you but he only shakes his head. He wants you to have fun with your girl friends, not to mention Jihoon doesn’t love party dancing. Sure, he likes grinding against you and all of that, but he’s afraid if he dances with you right now he won’t be able to control himself in front of everyone which would only lead to everyone finding out that you two have been sleeping together.

“Jihoon!” The calling of his name finally drags his eyes away from you and back to his conversation with Minghao and Hansol. At some point Soonyoung and Seungcheol had joined the group and now all four boys are staring at him.

“You’re gonna burn a hole into her costume if you keep staring like that,” Seungcheol snickers and Jihoon glares at the older boy.

Like your friends, his aren’t much better at teasing him about his relationship with you. The boys constantly make jokes about his close nature with you and how “if you don’t date her Jihoonie, maybe I will”. Those jokes always make his blood boil and he ends up storming away and finding you to fuck, just to prove to himself that they will never have you like he does. None of the boys actually know you guys are sleeping together but it doesn’t stop them from making suggestive jokes.

“Shut up Cheol, I’m just making sure she does get hurt in those heels,” he lies.

“Hey Cheol, who’s the big guy over there?” Soonyoung points at a guy standing in the corner of the room, watching you and your friends dance. He’s dressed as a vampire and his predatory gaze gives Jihoon an unsettled feeling.

“Namjoon? He’s a friend from a couple of my classes, why?”

“He’s totally eyeing up Y/N,” Soonyoung responds as he looks over Jihoon’s shoulder at the girls. Jihoon spins around to see the man in question, Namjoon, stalking his way towards your group.

Namjoon stops by your side and his hand comes to tap on your shoulder. You turn, expecting to see Jihoon, and blink confused when you see a tall stranger looming over you instead of your short best friend. You were hoping he was coming over to ask you to dance (even though you know he doesn’t like party dancing) and you’re a bit disappointed when it’s not him.

The tall man’s hand comes down to rest on your waist and he leans down so his hot breath fans over your ear. “Hey baby girl, you just looked so good over here that I had to come introduce myself. That name’s Namjoom, care to dance?”

You ponder the question for a couple seconds before agreeing. You and Jihoon aren’t dating and he is okay with you dating other guys so you don’t see too much harm in dancing, especially when you know it’s not going to get farther than that. Worse case scenario it gets Jihoon riled up enough that he comes over here and dances with you like you want. You shout your name over the loud music and Namjoon flashes you a smile before telling you he likes your name. You know it’s a cheesy line but you have maybe a little too much alcohol running through your bloodstream so you hold off on rolling your eyes.

His hands grip your waist and you sway to the music, your own hands pressing against his chest. It’s definitely different than when you dance with Jihoon. Jihoon is more stiff and he lets you take the lead when dancing. Namjoon flows with you and you two move in sync. He spins you around at some point so your back is pressed against his front and his large hands lay across your stomach and hips. You reach up behind you to find purchase on his shoulders as you move to the music.

Namjoon moves his head back down towards yours and his breath tickles at your ear. “Do you wanna do a body shot with me?”

The smart part of your brain recognizes that maybe you shouldn't let a literal stranger have his mouth all over your body, but the fun part of your brain shoves that thought aside and you voice your compliance. You feel a bit bad for using the big guy for your own agenda but your guilt gets pushed aside by the giddiness you feel knowing that Jihoon will get jealous when he sees you with the other boy.

Namjoon grabs your hand and drags you over to the bar area. He picks you up easily and sets you down on the counter before sticking a lime slice in your mouth and licks a stripe up your collarbone before sprinkling the salt on the newly wetted area. He pours a shot into a glass before placing it snug into your cleavage.

You feel his hot tongue run along your collarbone and neck before his hot breath is hitting on your breasts. He buries his head into your tits as he takes the shot and tilts his head back. Soon his plush lips are against yours in a fleeting kiss as he pulls the lime out of your lips and into his own mouth. You giggle at the feeling and when Namjoon is done his hand is coming down onto the counter beside you and caging you in.

“You seem really cool Y/N, I’d like to take you home tonight. If not, I'd still like to see you again. Maybe on a date?”

Your movements stall for a moment. You haven’t had a date proposal in a while and you aren’t really sure you even want to be in a relationship right now but Namjoon seems cool and sweet and you’re more than a little drunk so you find yourself nodding at him and he smiles back. Jihoon always tells you you’re a little too nice for your own good and you wonder if this is what he means.

Once again the tall boy’s hand is in yours as he brings you back onto the dance floor. Your body feels hotter than before and you start to feel needy as his body rubs up against your own. Needy, but not needy for him. You try to push those feelings away though and focus on moving your body to the music blaring through the house.

While you guys are dancing you think for a moment you should probably give Namjoon your phone number if he wants to go on a date, but those thoughts are quickly lost when you hear your name being called.

“Y/N.” The voice is gruff but you still recognize it as your favorite voice and you look in front of you to see the person you have been waiting to dance with all night. He’s lost his jacket and his tie hangs loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone

“JIHOONIE!” You pull away from Namjoon’s grip to run over and throw your arms around your best friend. You stumble a bit in your heels and fall directly into his arms and he catches you, immune to your drunk antics. He reaches down to grab the back of your thighs and pull you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and you nuzzle your face into his.

Not that you can tell, but Jihoon is smirking at the tall boy who is glaring back at him. He’s smug that despite Namjoon thinking that he just scored one with you, you will always pick Jihoon first.

“Wanna get out of here bunny?” He murmurs into your ear and you nod into his neck. He grabs his jacket and starts to head towards the front door. He makes eye contact with Cheol and Soonyoung to indicate you guys are leaving. Soonyoung gives him a thumbs up to signal that he’ll take Sana home, considering Jihoon was her ride to the party.

Jihoon drops you into his passenger seat and drapes his jacket over your body before he walks around to the driver’s side. Now that you guys aren’t in the heat of the party he has time to huff over the fact that another guy was touching you, his mouth and hands all over you. He frowns and knows that part of it is his fault. He should have just gone and sucked it up and danced with you like he knew you really wanted. He also should have been looking over you better when he knew how drunk you were.

He thought how he would let you have your fun when Namjoon first approached you, not to mention he knew that Seungcheol and Soonyoung would have commented on his actions if he went and put on the “territorial act” when you guys were just dancing. So he stayed talking to his friends, his eyes flickering over to you every so often. It took all the control in his body not to storm over to the dance floor and tear him off you.

It was only a few minutes between when he last looked at you to when he realized you weren’t in his line of sight anymore. He was internally panicking but pure rage filled him when he heard Soonyoung whisper a small “oh shit”. He looked to where his friend’s eyes were trained. Sitting on the kitchen counter, there you were, getting a shot of what he assumed was tequila sucked out of your tits. He was about to go beat up the tall oaf when he saw his lips on yours but Cheol and Hansol’s hands both grabbed at him to stop him.

Jihoon knew that he shouldn’t be jealous, you guys aren’t even together, but he doesn’t care. If any of the guys give him shit he’ll just chalk it up to the protective best friend in him.

His breaking point was when you and Namjoon made your way back to dancing, this time even more raunchier than before. Jihoon broke away from his two friends’ grips and stormed over to where you were grinding against the tall boy. He didn’t care if he was being irrational and unfair, nobody else gets to touch you like that besides him.

When he pulls up to your apartment he parks and then opens your door. You fail to stand up properly so he squats down to throw you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He carries you all the way up to your apartment and to your bed where he tosses you down. You giggle and make grabby hands at him. He complies and crawls close to you and you pull him into you so his whole body rests on top of yours.

“You’re in a lot of trouble you know,” Jihoon grumbles as you press sloppy kisses into his cheek. “You let another man all over you babydoll. I thought you were all for me.”

“M’sorry Hoonie. I’ll be good now I promise. I just want you so bad,” you whine, your words slurring a bit. “So needy for you. Only you. Been thinking about you all night. Nobody else. Just wanted your attention.” Jihoon groans and wishes so badly that you aren’t nearly black out drunk. You’ve had drunk sex before but that was when you were equally inebriated and Jihoon doesn’t want to take advantage of your drunken state.

“Bunny, I wanna fuck you so bad, but you’re too drunk right now. I can’t do that to you while you’re in this state,” Jihoon explains as he rolls off you. “Let's get you ready for bed, and tomorrow when you’re sober, I’m gonna punish you okay?”

“Okay Hoonie. Sorry for being bad,” you mumble with sincerity and Jihoon laughs.

Jihoon helps you get out of your makeup and costume and gets you into more comfortable clothes before slipping out of his own clothes, leaving him in just his boxers, before slipping under the sheets with you. You cuddle into his warm body and he wraps his arms around your torso, kissing your forehead goodnight.

When you wake up your head is throbbing. On your nightstand is a bottle of painkillers, a glass of water, and your phone plugged in. On your side is a sleeping Jihoon. You sit up and take the painkillers and down the water before picking up your phone.

You have a few texts from the group chat and a few individual texts from a handful of friends. The most recent text is from Sana.

Sana: Have a fun night with Jihoonie~ spending the night at Cheol’s bc Soonyoung is also too drunk to drive me home lol. Stay safe! <3

You groan at the text from your roommate and place your phone back down. One thing you are glad for is that whenever you get drunk you still are able to retain your memories fairly well. Even if you don’t have much control over your actions when you’re drunk, you can always regretfully recall said actions the next day. You know that you and Jihoon didn’t even hook up last night so Sana really had no reason not to come home, not that she knew that.

Another thing that clues you to the fact you and Jihoon didn’t sleep together is the fact that you’re fully dressed. Most of the time if you guys hook up after a party you both fall asleep right after and you wake up in the morning naked, cuddled up to an equally naked Jihoon. Jihoon is wearing boxers though and you have on a pair of panties and one of Jihoon’s hoodies.

“Go back to sleep,” Jihoon grunts and pulls you back down into bed. You giggle and let Jihoon pull you back into his body.

You recall how last night Jihoon was upset with you because of your actions with the tall boy, what was his name? Namjoon, right.

If you’re being honest you don’t even think the tall guy is that great, sure he was nice and handsome, but you were mainly just trying to make Jihoon jealous, or at least get his attention. Which then led to you grinding against him and letting him take a body shot off of you. You silently curse yourself as you remember you agreed to go on a date with him.

Jihoon did say that he was going to punish you today for letting Namjoon all over you, though. You rub your thighs together at the thought but Jihoon brings his hand down to grip at your thigh, stopping the action.

“Stop being horny, it's too early.” Jihoon is not a morning person, which you are well aware of. “Go back to sleep and I’ll fuck you in a couple hours, okay?” You giggle and nod, snuggling back into the small boy.

You wake up again closer to noon this time and Jihoon also seems to be fully awake now. You’re thankful it’s the weekend and you can just stay in bed all day with your favorite boy.

“Good morning,” you giggle as you kiss at Jihoon’s face. Jihoon roughly grabs your chin and pulls you into a deep kiss, taking control.

“You were a very bad girl last night,” Jihoon tells you when you guys pull apart. “I told you I was gonna punish you so that’s what I’m going to do. You were being a little slut last night, letting another man touch you like that.”

“I know, I’m sorry Hoonie. I was bad and I shouldn’t have let him touch me. I’m only for you. I only want you.”

You hear him tut as he slaps your thigh. “Did I ask you to talk?” You shake your head at him with remorseful eyes. “That’s what I thought.” He pauses then after a moment he adds, “At least my pretty girl knows her mistake. I’m still going to have to punish you though, you understand, right baby?”

You only nod and Jihoon coos at your obedience. He pulls you into his lap and kisses you hard again. His lips move aggressively against yours and his grip is tight on your hips. You know that it will probably leave bruises in your skin but you don’t really care, as long as it’s Jihoon leaving them. His hand snakes up your (his) hoodie to pinch your nipples. You yelp as pain courses through your body but Jihoon doesn’t let up. You can feel your core start to dampen your panties.

Jihoon pulls away from you taps at your butt. “Lay down across my lap.” You comply quickly, knowing obedience is the best way to get your punishment over so Jihoon can treat you later. “Count each one bunny.”

He brings his hand down on your panty clad ass and you whimper before squeaking out a “one, thank you” to Jihoon. He hums in recognition of your gratitude towards him. He continues for nine more spanks and by the time he ends you can feel your panties sticking to you uncomfortably. Jihoon also notices and tuts at you.

“So wet and sloppy already. Getting wet like this for other men, slut?”

“No! I promise it’s just for you Hoon, only you!” You cry, and it’s true. Ever since you and Jihoon started hooking up you never think of other men anymore. Whenever you need to get off, even if Jihoon isn’t available, you think about him. When another man flirts with you or tries to touch you, you can only think of Jihoon. Even drunk last night, as Namjoon was on you, your mind was wandering to the short boy.

Jihoon reaches down and rubs at your clit in quick, tight circles brutally. You let out a high pitched keen at the stimulation, your hips bucking into Jihoon’s thigh as you’re still laid across his lap. Without much warning he’s pulling your soaked panties to the side and shoving two fingers into you. He scissors his fingers inside you harshly before thrusting into you. He fucks you hard, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a unrelenting pace. His fingers curl into you and he can tell you’re close to your climax by the way you clench down onto him.

Just as you’re about to cum Jihoon is pulling his fingers out of you and you whine loudly at the loss of his thick digits inside you. Your pussy throbs for him to fill you up again and you shift uncomfortably on the bed.

“Only good girls get to cum, and you haven’t shown that you’re a good girl yet,” Jihoon tells you.

Your mind is already fuzzy with need and you whimper and beg Jihoon to let you cum, that you promise to be a good girl. Jihoon tells you to be quiet and sits you up on the edge of the bed before standing in front of you so he hovers over you.

Jihoon grips your chin again. “Open.” You open your mouth and he spits into it, you close your mouth back up to swallow and Jihoon grins down at you. “There’s my good girl coming back. Let me fuck your sweet little chest and then maybe you can have your release, okay?” You nod frantically at the suggestion but Jihoon only tuts again. “I need to hear you say it doll.”

“Please fuck my tits Hoonie. I wanna make you feel good. Make up for being naughty.” You tell him and Jihoon groans at your words. He’s pushing you down on the bed and crawling on top of you.

His lips connect with yours once again, his teeth biting at your lips, making them red and swollen. His hand slides up under your sweatshirt again and kneads at your breasts. Your back arches up into his touch which forces him to press your hips into the mattress with his own.

“I thought you said you were going to be good,” he bites. You only apologize in a meek voice which he ignores in favor of tugging the sweatshirt off your body and moving his mouth down to suck at your nipples.

He rolls the bud between his tongue and your breath hitches at the action. Then he’s pulling away with a pop and straddling your torso with his thick thighs. You use your arms to push your tits together for him and he’s tugging his cock out from his boxers and lining it up to the valley between your breasts.

Slowly he pushes into them and groans at the feeling of the warm, plump flesh around his dick. He shallowly thrusts a couple times before speeding up and shoving his cock into your tits ruthless pace. You lean down to kitten lick at the tip as it appears at the top of your tits as he thrusts in and out. The sensation sends Jihoon over and he’s cumming all over your face and tits with a deep growl.

He rolls off of you and watches as you bring your fingers up to your chest, scooping up the white substance and then wrapping your mouth around your fingers, licking them clean. You hum at the taste and Jihoon can feel his cock already getting hard again.

“Gonna eat my pretty girl out, and then fuck her like the slut she is,” Jihoon says outloud to no one in particular but his words still have your pussy clenching around nothing.

Jihoon’s fingers are pulling your panties off and throwing them to the side as his mouth travels down your whole body. It stops every so often to suck and bite at a certain expanse of exposed skin. He stops at your hip bone and sucks a deep, purple mark into the skin there before he finally gets in between your thighs.

His hot breath ghosts over your soaked folds and sends shivers through your body. You want him inside you so bad but he’s hell bent on teasing you. His lips kiss at your inner thighs and he’s so close to where you want him to be but just not quite there.

Your fingers dig into the sheets below you to keep you from grabbing Jihoon’s hair. You just want some kind of pressure against your core and Jihoon is depriving you of your pleasure. You don’t have to wait too long though, because as much as he hates to admit it, Jihoon is just as needy for you, and soon he’s diving into your cunt like he hasn’t tasted it in years. His tongue laps at your bundle of nerves before he takes it between his lips and sucks on the bud.

You want to scream at the contact but you bite down on your lip to stop yourself. You really hope Sana hasn’t come home yet because you know once you fully lose yourself in your pleasure there is nothing stopping you from moaning out like a porn star.

Jihoon moves his tongue down to your core and starts to lick into your dripping cunt. His tongue laps in and out of your pussy as he brings his pointer and middle finger up to give attention to your clit. Your hips are lifting off the bed once again but instead of shoving them back down Jihoon wraps his arm around your hips to give them more leverage.

This time you don’t stop your hands from moving down to grip his hair. Jihoon doesn’t seem to mind though as he continues to eat you out. You feel pressure building up and just as you’re about to release, Jihoon fully pulls back, denying you of your orgasm for a second time. You know you’re being punished right now but you really want to cum, so much that you feel like crying.

Jihoon is crawling up your body again and aligning is cock up to your slit. “Gonna split you open on my cock. You can’t cum until I say so, got it pretty girl?” Jihoon murmurs against your skin. You can’t even respond at this point, too focused on your ruined orgasm.

You feel a harsh slap of Jihoon’s tip against your clit and you cry out. “Speak when spoken to, slut. Just when I thought you were being a good girl.”

You let out a choked out sob as you struggle to answer, “Y-yes Hoonie, will only c-cum when you say so. Please just fuck me.”

Jihoon grins but still slaps your clit again with his tip. Then, with one hard stroke, he fully bottoms out in you, and it takes all of your restraint not to cum right there, knowing that if you do you’ll only get punished harder.

You feel like you can barely breath as Jihoon starts to rut into you at a merciless pace. His hips snap into yours with expertise and he’s grabbing your ankles to push your legs up to your chest so his cock can brush against your walls at a different angle.

“So good as always, bunny. All for me, no one else.”

You nod your head, brainless, at Jihoon’s words. You start to babble your own nonsense. “Yes, of course. No one else, only you Hoonie. Nobody else is as good as you. Yes, yes, please, right there Hoonie, yes. So good. Thank you.”

You feel Jihoon’s fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you drop your head back against the bed. Your back arches a bit which only fuels Jihoon’s aggressive drilling into you. His tip keeps digging right in your sweet spot and you can’t even think properly, the only thing filling your mind is Jihoon, Jihoon, Jihoon.

For a third time you feel your impending orgasm approach and you want so badly to be able to cum. You’re whimpering under Jihoon as his free hand reaches between you two to harshly flick at your clit. You clench down around Jihoon’s cock and your fingers bury themselves into his arms. He brings his hand up to your mouth and you open it so he can stick his fingers down your throat. The only sensation you can feel now is just full as all of your senses are overtaken by Jihoon.

The only sound that fills the air is the lewd noise of your own whines that mix with Jihoon’s grunts and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. You can smell the cologne that still sticks to his skin from last night. Your eyes try to focus on his form above you, the sweat that makes his hair stick to his forehead. You can feel him all over your skin and the way his firm muscles move under your hands. You can taste the saltiness of his fingers that rest against your tongue as he continues to shove his fingers down your throat.

“Fuck,” the curse tumbles out of Jihoon’s lips, “you’re so fucking good for me baby. Shit. Never felt anyone this good before. Gonna cum inside of you, fill you up nice and full. Want your pretty little pussy to cream all over my cock as I do.”

Then Jihoon is filling up your cunt with his hot cum and your vision is whiting out as pleasure washes over you in waves. Your eyes squeeze shut as you scream out Jihoon’s name, your pussy fluttering around him as he’s still roughly plowing into you, overstimulating you to the fullest extent.

You lose yourself for a moment and when you come to Jihoon is there, holding you tight, kissing your lips gently and wiping the tears from your eyes. Your breathing is still shaky as your whole body trembles in Jihoon’s arms. He presses his forehead to yours, whispering soft apologies and praises to you.

“Hey there baby. You okay? I’m sorry I went so hard, should have calmed down. M’so sorry baby. Shouldn’t have let my anger get the best of me. You were so, so good for me. Such a pretty, good girl.” His voice has done a complete turn around and is now soft and sweet and filled with concern.

“I think I’m okay,” you finally find your voice enough to speak, “just tired now.”

“Let me clean you up and get you some water and then you rest baby. I promise.” Jihoon pulls away from you and you only nod slightly. You close your eyes again and bury into the covers as you hear Jihoon’s footsteps get farther away.

You’re being shaken lightly and you can hear Jihoon calling your name out. Your eyes flutter open slightly as you squint up at your best friend. He’s holding a glass of water and more painkillers. He coaxes you to swallow the pain killers down and drink the whole glass of water.

When he’s done, he’s running a warm, wet rag against your legs and then he’s climbing back into bed with you. His fingers dig into your muscles, working out all of the soreness. You feel your eyes closing again as you snuggle your bare body into his own warm, naked body, letting your exhaustion take you over.

taglist: @pandorashbox @calvinkleinhoon @leejihoonownsmyheart

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #woozi #lee jihoon #woozi smut #woozi fanfic #woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon fanfic #lee jihoon smut #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #rru.fics #rru.mhhgty #rru.writes #★ mdni

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dadsbongos · 2 years

Text

steve harrington loses his mojo

7.3K words

warnings - blink and you’ll miss it suicide reference, steve harrington is depressed

summary - Steve and you are both depressed kids working towards nothing specific. Maybe you should kiss (AKA a convoluted three times Steve watches his friends be in happy relationships and the one time he gets into one).

AO3 Link

~~~

Part 1 - king steve’s dead

It’s been a long, long time since Steve has been in a relationship. It’s been a long time since he’s had somebody to lay down next to at night and quietly eat with and wake up to. Since he could turn to the side and see a smile he’d die for - kissing it away just to create a bigger one. Since he could hear someone say they love them.

His big house feels like a pharaoh's tomb as of late. Big and luxurious and for one person to decay in.

In a weird way, crushes made Steve feel alive. The locking of eyes from across a party that neither of them really want to be at, the shy waves and smiles, the giggling and teasing - the giddiness was a rush. The heartache and hopeless pining was pain, but it also worked. Sleepless nights and desperately hoping nobody notices the way you lean into someone a little closer than you should. Daydreams that turn into nightmares. Humiliation when you’re rejected. Having to smile and grit your teeth when you know that person could never feel the same. It all reminded him of the heart that faithfully beat inside his chest. Reminded him he was human and capable of love and loss and adoration and aching. As long as he was human, he could be loved.

When he and Nancy started dating he was alive. The sneaking into her room and kissing in the bathroom during zero hour. The doe eyes and cuddles. That very first time together in his bed.

The brief crush he had on Carol after seeing Molly Ringwald in Tempest - endlessly painful to watch her and his (then) best friend, Tommy H., be happy and gross during that fall of ‘82.

When he and Nancy broke up. He spent a good few weeks holed up in his room and pretending he wasn’t crying. Then he had to get a job and found himself a new friend.

The crush on Robin and the subsequent heartbreak of finding out there’s no way she could like him back.

Then he moved on and it was fine.

But that’s how it remained.

Fine.

Nancy was dating Jonathon. He hadn’t seen Tommy and Carol since graduation. Robin had a crush on a girl that sounded nice. His ball and chain that took form in a group of children were even in healthy relationships.

Steve used to go on a new date every night.

Lately, the dates are decreasing in appeal and the girls in Hawkins, while very pretty and interesting in their own ways, don’t call to him. Not that it’s their fault or responsibility. His heart just can’t get into it the way it used to - which is bizarre because he’s always known himself to fall in love quickly.

A young lady maybe two years older than him is checking out The Tempest. She’s gorgeous - lips that he would’ve been begging to kiss if she came into the store just a few months ago, eyes he’d die to stare into under the moonlight if she came into the store just a few months ago, and hair he’d love to run his fingers through if she came into the store just a few months ago.

“I got a crush on Molly Ringwald from this movie,” he mutters, cataloging the checkout and handing the rental back to the woman.

“That’s…” she can’t even fake a smile, but she’s merciful enough to bring her tone up, “interesting.”

“Yeah,” he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed and maybe that’s a sign he’s dying. Looking up at the woman, Steve plasters on his golden boy grin and plainly says, “We here at Family Video hope you have an incredible day.”

She nods and rushes away and Steve doesn’t blame her for a second.

“What was that?” Robin groans, coming out from the backroom, “Steve! You cannot parade yourself around as the charmer of Hawkins and then bomb that hard!”

Steve presses his lips thinly and shrugs, “A dud.”

“Do not call that innocent woman a dud,” Robin smacks his arm, “Steven Harrington, what would Mr. Rogers say?”

“‘I’m not mad, just disappointed,’” he grimaces, leaning back so his elbows support him on the counter, “That feels worse than if he was just mad.”

“Good,” Robin bumps Steve over with her hip, “But really - you’re starting to worry me. What’s your problem?” before he can respond, she turns and points in his face, “And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I know that’s not true, you’re totally off. You don’t flirt, and when you do it’s awkward and bad and makes me look like Tom Cruise.”

“I make you look weird?”

“You make me look smooth.”

Steve’s head hangs back, then turns to stare at Robin, picking at her black nail polish, “What if I’m designed to be single?”

“Designed to be single?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not,” Robin pats his shoulder, but doesn’t look up from where her polish is chipping, “Nobody’s designed to be single unless they decide they are. What’s bringing this all up anyway? You’re not even twenty-two, it’s way too early for a life crisis right now.”

“I’m just saying, Rob,” Steve turns towards the double doors, though he still doesn’t stand upright, “I don’t feel good.”

“Like how?”

“Like I’m designed to be single.”

“Stop it,” she frowns now, though just one look at her face would tell him it’s downright mocking, “You’re Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, you could bag anybody.”

“Don’t say bag,” he huffs.

“Don’t say you’re meant to be single, ‘cuz you’re way too clingy to be by yourself for eternity,” Robin leans on her side to look at Steve.

They’ve always been teasing - sometimes even plain rude - towards one another, but that was just their friendship. They’re best friends and best friends are often more cruel than even an acquaintance, but it’s all out of love and comfort. This time, however, it’s different.

Steve’s responding and trying to joke, but she can see that he doesn’t have it in him right now.

His brows are furrowed and his lips carve a frown into his face. His arms cross over one another and he sighs.

The store is slow on this boring Tuesday afternoon, so Robin bites the bullet and lowers onto her elbows to be eye level with her suffering friend. She leans in and pouts.

“Wanna talk to Big Rob about it?” he doesn’t respond so she presses her thumb into his glabella and smoothens it, “If you keep scrunching your eyebrows like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“I use a great moisturizer.”

“Well, all the moisturizer in the world won’t listen to your problems like I will,” she knocks her elbow with his and can’t hold in her laugh when it tips his balance, “So spill. Where is this coming from?”

To be honest - it comes from Nancy Wheeler.

Turns out, being told that you’re bullshit and the entire relationship you’d been harboring was bullshit, and the girl you’d die for didn’t even love you was a real turn-off from relationships in the long run. Who knew that kind of stuff could cause a massive wave of insecurity?

But for the sake of keeping her name out of his mouth unless he’s tempted to vomit those insecurities, he keeps it light.

“I mean, I’m just watching all my friends be in happy relationships and I’m… stuck.”

“Well, tell me about it.”

Steve stands up straight, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms again, “Fucking Henderson.”

The night is cold and dark and Steve’s shivering because he lent his jacket to Dustin after specifically telling the shrimp to make sure he brought his own. Of course, Dustin was not an excellent listener when it came to anything outside of battling off monsters and left his jacket at home.

He’s left in a thin long sleeve, leaning against the hood of his BMW - he would be sitting inside with the heater on if it weren’t for the fact he was trying to save on gas. Dustin’s at the top of the hill he’d dedicated a makeshift radio tower to talking with Suzie.

Could Dustin just have used the powerful radio he and Suzie upgraded to following the summer of ‘85? Sure, but when Steve suggested that - Dustin shook his head.

“It’s about the nostalgia, Harrington. The old times.”

“I don’t get that at all.”

“And that’s why you don’t have a super genius, super babe, super girlfriend.”

“Shut up and get in the car, Henderson.”

Get in the car, he did, and now Steve was impatiently tapping his foot in wait like a child whose mom just ran into a friend at the grocery store.

It’s been twenty minutes and Steve grows sufficiently fed up (though if he’s being honest, waiting for Dustin isn’t that much of a chore) and climbs up the hill.

What he sees is almost enough to make him believe in young love again.

Dustin is grinning, broad and sweet, mindlessly plucking and twirling grass as he speaks and listens. He cracks a joke or tells a story and waits in earnest until Suzie’s giggles ring through the air and the way he buzzes at the sound is something straight out of a book. He pays utmost attention to whatever Suzie is saying and lights up at every syllable she spills.

Dustin’s eyes land on Steve and his posture shoots upright, “Do we have to go?”

His tone is dismal, almost heartbroken, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it.

Steve, against his desires for other things to do with his free time, shakes his head, “Just wanted to make sure you were still up here. Hurry up, though - your mom will kill me if you’re not tucked in for story time.”

“Haha,” Dustin sarcastically calls.

Steve makes his way back down the hill and slides down to a lonely sit in the grass. He can faintly hear Dustin speaking animatedly - laughing and teasing and all the things Steve used to do.

“Sounds rough,” Robin pats Steve’s back, “Sorry you got upstaged by a toddler and his girlfriend in Salt Lake City.”

“He’s fourteen, first of all,” Steve glares at the girl, “Second; I wasn’t upstaged.”

“You were jealous.”

“Not jealous,” he grumbles.

“Well, I am sorry that you had to go through that,” she’s not sure what exactly it was he went through in that story, but the words are what Steve needs right now so it’s what she says.

“It’s not just that,” his eyes flicker to Robin for just a second, “Last weekend, too.”

“I’m not a chauffeur, you know.”

“Right, you’re a clerk at Family Video,” Mike looks up at Steve and smiles sardonically, “That sounds a lot better.”

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t lower the lackluster sign Mike had made for his girlfriend. Not that he was holding it very high in the first place. Just raised as high as his chest, was a rectangle cut from cardboard with ‘EL’ written on it in Sharpie.

Hawkins wasn’t big enough to justify its own airport, so Eleven had to take a domestic flight from California to an Indianapolis airport. Forcing Mike to force Steve to make the hour drive.

Mike is in the ugliest get up Steve’s ever seen. A yellow and blue floral Hawaiian shirt with neon yellow swim trunks and blue sneakers. Dandelions and wild teasels found on the side of the road are bunched in Mike’s hand, fingers cut and bleeding from the prickly thorns of the teasel stems. He’s smiling as a flush of people come out of the terminal and Steve moves his eyes up to catch Eleven as she comes towards them.

One hand holding a yellow backpack, the other waving at them excitedly.

Steve returns the wave and pretends to not care when she skips past him to hug Mike. It isn’t like he’s the bestest of friends with Eleven, but he’d thought they were closer than her pretending he doesn’t exist.

For the first time since Steve met Mike, the boy actually gives a tight hug - practically squeezing Eleven’s body to his in their reunion.

“How was your flight?” Mike reaches down for his girlfriend’s hand when they pull apart, “Did you get to sleep at all?”

Eleven quietly hums and nods, “It was nice. I got to watch a movie.”

“Wow,” Mike’s actually smiling as he talks, “what movie?”

Steve doesn’t get to hear the answer because while he pops the trunk and takes Eleven’s backpack - the couple move to the backseats and climb in. He’s left alone in the front of his nice car and tries not to overhear whatever plans Mike and Eleven are conjuring.

“A new diner just opened up, actually,” Mike is watching as Eleven plays with his bony fingers, “I could take you, if you want.”

Eleven looks up at Mike, a shy smile peeks at her lips and reaches the eyes. She nods slowly, “I would want that.”

Then the awkward teenage hormones resurface and Mike chuckles, eyes falling to their thighs that are barely touching, “Nice.”

She giggles and leans into her boyfriend’s shoulder, “Nice.”

“I didn’t know Wheeler was capable of that kinda affection,” Robin shakes her head, “He doesn’t look like very good boyfriend material.”

Steve taps his fingers against the wooden counter, “I didn’t know either.”

Hopefully, he’s only taken example from the best parts of how Steve treated Nancy. If he’s taken Steve as an example at all.

God, he hopes not actually.

No colleges. No career endeavors. Just a clerk at Family Video with his best friend who’s still in high school. His other best friend is also still in high school and is currently replacing him with Eddie Munson. Ex-girlfriend basically left him for the guy that took pictures of her through a window while she was half-naked.

Destined for Hawkins. Designed to be a loser. The epitome of peaked in high school.

“Anything else?” Robin asks, tone much more careful than before.

Lucas and Max are on shaky ground, but they’re together. Beginning to get back together, anyway. He’s gentle and soft but still ribbing and acerbic when she needs him to be. Max is getting better slowly - sometimes she falls and curls into a ball, but Lucas is always holding out a hand to help her up (and when she refuses to take it, he sits down next to her and waits until she’s ready).

It’s enough to make a grown man cry.

“Movie’s up to you tonight,” Lucas settles his chin on Max’s head as they stand in front of the horror section.

Steve almost wants to call out how he has to stand on his tip-toes to do it.

Max narrows her eyes at the selections, “They all look bad.”

“Well, what about…” Lucas pauses and then lifts a movie from the shelf, “Halloween - you like Halloween, right?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “I don’t know - it’s kinda overplayed now, don’t you think?”

“No,” he steps back and to her side, brows furrowed, “I think it’s cool.”

“Really?” she looks at him like she doesn’t believe him, but her lips are already beginning to quirk up, “You wanna watch Halloween?”

“If you want to, then I’d love to,” he nods resolutely, “Like I said, ‘s all up to you.”

Max takes the movie in his hands and turns it in her own, her lips purse and she looks up at Steve. Then back to Lucas, “Yeah, let’s get this one.”

Steve wonders why he couldn’t be like that for Nancy. What genius did Lucas maintain inside that dense head that Steve was incapable of?

“Ouch,” Robin hisses, “stings for a high schooler to be better at relationships than you. Multiple high schoolers, actually. That sucks.”

“Thanks, Robin. Didn’t know that.”

“Clearly.”

Steve inhales deeply and sighs, “And then there’s you and your pining. With Vic.”

Vic - easy code name for Vickie so that nobody in public knew they were talking about a girl.

“Oh, that reminds me- “ Robin sparks up and claps, “not pining anymore. Dating.”

“What?!”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I kept forgetting.”

“How do you forget that?”

Robin shrugs, then smiles, “It’s cool though, right?”

“Very, Rob,” Steve musters up a grin and nods, “I’m happy for you. Really, I am.”

“I get it,” she punches his shoulder, “We’ll celebrate when you’re not feeling so…” she tosses up her hands, “bleh!”

“Yeah,” he looks at the clock and sees it’s almost closing time, “wait till the bleh era is over.”

Robin follows his lead and moves to the back room, “I’ll start cleaning, can you get the sign?”

“Yeah,” he knocks his knuckles against the counter.

There’s no customers left inside and Steve flips the sign at the door to read ‘closed’. It’s then he notices a familiar figure sitting right outside on the curb. His eyes widen and he throws the door open, “Holy shit, Birdie?”

Birdie - an easy (and cheap) nickname for the former captain of the Hawkins High golf team, infamous for her luck in making birdies.

You turn and see Steve Harrington hanging out of Family Video, “King Steve? I heard you worked here, didn’t know it was true.”

He pretends that doesn’t sting and moves to sit beside you, “What? Too unbelievable that I have to make a living?”

“No, I just…” you shrug, “I dunno, it didn’t sound like you.”

Steve tilts his head at that, “And what does sound like me?”

Your eyes flip to him and suddenly he’s remembering why he had a crush on you in high school. You crack a grin, “Male stripper.”

“I tried but I couldn’t bulk up enough,” he sighs disappointedly and bathes in your laughter, “What about you? What’re you up to?”

His eyes are strangely sincere, in a way you’d never seen back in school. You had a crush on him back then - who didn’t? With that hair and that smile and that charisma.

“Working at the movie theater,” you find it hard to look away from Steve, his face almost hypnotic.

“You, uh, disappeared towards the end of the year there,” he lays his legs out into the barren street, “What happened?”

“I…” you look away and then look back, waving your hands about dramatically, “dropped out.”

“What?” his jaw drops open.

“Yeah. Well, I just stopped going and then when I failed, I chose to drop out rather than repeat the year.”

“Why’d you stop going?” he moves closer, “Everyone thought you just moved or something, not that you… Nobody knew where you were.”

“Yeah,” you scratch at the back of your neck, “I just lost motivation and then paid for it.”

That was putting it lightly. You were like a candle that someone forgot to put out - burnt at the wick until the wax was too low to be used. Between golf (which you can’t say you even had much passion for by the time you were a senior) and grades and the social hierarchy and realizing how dismal the world of adulthood looked - the idea of even getting out of bed began to sicken you.

You were destined to Hawkins, now. Working easy jobs that would hire without a diploma and hope you made enough to move somewhere far from here.

“What’re you doing here anyway?” you tilt your head and bring your knees up, “I thought King Steve had big, fancy parents to pay for a big, fancy college.”

“King Steve’s dead and his parents didn’t pay for anything,” he sighs, “but I’m kinda glad they didn’t. I don’t think I would’ve learned to be better if they did.”

“Then I’m happy for you,” you nod.

Steve looks up at the swirling sunset sky, “What’re you doing sitting outside this dump?”

“Supposed to meet a guy here.”

Eddie Munson. Your dealer since junior year - turned genuine friend during that summer - then neighbor when you dropped out and your parents kicked you out.

“My car broke down on my way to work, so I’m getting a ride,” you further explain.

“I could give you a ride,” Steve stands when you do, his hands shove into his pockets and he hates the way he wants you in his car.

Guess that high school flame wasn’t as high school as he thought.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” you lean your head out and see Eddie’s van making its way down the road, “He’s already here.”

Steve looks between you and Eddie incredulously, “You’re riding with Munson.”

It’s a statement but the way his voice drags makes it clear he’s giving you room to deny.

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ and pat his shoulder, “See you around?”

“Actually,” Steve has no idea where he’s going but thankfully his brain managed to retain some of his flirting ability, “I’d like to catch up more, if that’s okay with you?”

“Catch up how?”

“However you want.”

“You can come over, if Forest Hills won’t infect you or anything.”

“The trailer park?” there must be an underlying tone that he doesn’t even catch because you’re suddenly pulling back and your hand is on the door.

“You don’t have to.”

“No,” Steve steps forward, trying to grin and ease whatever nerves his stupid tone caused, “I want to. I just - asking. I was just asking.”

“Yeah,” you’re quieter than before, “the trailer park.”

A peek at the suspiciously quiet Eddie reveals the disgust painted on his face and Steve has to ignore it if he wants to survive a conversation with the girl he thought was cooler than even him in school.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. When do you want me?”

“Whenever you can be there,” you shrug, “I’m not picky.”

“I just have to finish closing up,” he thumbs back to the store.

“Then when you’re finished closing up,” you open the passenger door and climb into the seat beside Eddie.

Steve turns back towards the front door of Family Video but before he can get inside, you’re calling back to him.

“Hey, Steve!” he turns, eyes stupidly wide and brows raised, “The king doesn’t die until he surrenders.”

What the fuck does that mean?

He doesn’t ask and you don’t explain. You two wave to one another and before Eddie’s even driving off, Steve can hear him talking shit from the driver’s seat. You laugh and Steve doesn’t waste his time on a pity party.

Steve returns to the store and Robin is standing in the romance section, jaw hanging and a few movies scattered at her feet.

“What was that?” she gestures towards the front windows.

“Just an old friend,” Steve shrugs.

“Old friends don’t look like they wanna kiss each other.”

“It was a conversation.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t wanna kiss her.”

When Steve doesn’t respond, Robin makes a proud ‘hmph’ and picks up the movies she dropped.

There’s an underlying numbness to Steve and while you’re a short burst of excitement, you don’t cure it. Something inside him worries this feeling is forever. Another thing inside him worries that he deserves it.

Part 2 - when birdie’s wings were clipped

Wake up. Eat. Get ready and go to school. Smile and pretend you don’t hate the popular kids that wouldn’t hesitate to tear you apart if you weren’t exactly as they wanted you to be. Go home. Eat. Sleep.

And the day repeats until the weekend pops up. Then you get the pleasure of going to whatever party the basketball team and your golf team members begged you to go to until you wind up at home at whatever hour in the morning. It became a dismal existence. Quickly so.

Towards the end of senior year, the four years came to a climax as you realized that everything you’d done had hardly been for yourself. You tried so hard to be popular and successful that now you were drowning in the anxieties of how you could live when you grew up.

It started small - dropping out of golf, intentionally not doing homework, smoking weed in the boys’ bathroom with Eddie, skipping classes. Then you stopped going altogether.

You felt cheated out of high school experiences you really wanted and with college - then careers - so close, one could say that you snapped. Well, if you bothered calling any of the friends you sort of hated and telling them, then they might have.

But you didn’t. Not even Chrissy Cunningham, who you genuinely did like. Eddie only knew you were alive because you still visited him (partially for weed, partially for a laugh when you felt like crying).

Your mom didn’t know you weren’t going every day. Only because you would delete the messages Ms. Kelly left the machine before your parents could come home. Sometimes you left them and would grit your teeth through the lectures and stares. You pretended that graduation wasn’t coming up and you acted as though you would be graduating.

And then, three days before graduation, Ms. Kelly called your mom to tell her that you wouldn’t be graduating in your senior year.

The call was early enough to where your mother hadn’t left for work yet and could answer before it even went to the machine. She was mad enough that you dropped out of golf after earning yourself that cutesy nickname “Birdie”, but now she was seething. You couldn’t even bring yourself to fight her on it.

“Do you even care?!” she threw her hands into the air and laughed humorlessly when you didn’t reply, “Of course, you don’t! Why would you? It’s not like you have to fucking pay for anything! You never even had to get a job because we loved you and wanted you home, and this is how you repay us?! How fucking dare you!”

An apology will get you nowhere and fighting it will get you killed (hyperbolically, at least). So, you keep your head down and stare down at the kitchen tiles.

“Get out,” your mother huffs and that makes your eyes snap to her.

You shake your head - then stand, “What?”

“Get out,” she’s straight-faced, “I’m not kidding. I want you out of my fucking house by the time I’m home from work.”

“Mom, I- I’m sorry, but don’t do this, I have no money and nowhere to go- "

Your mother turns, shaking her head as she charges for the front door, “I don’t give a shit. You wanna slack off and be like your little Munson freak? Go ahead. But you will not do that under my fucking roof.”

Eddie was failing senior year, too. He didn’t tell you, but judging by how unenthused he was for the end of the year, you already knew.

You weren’t even out of your pajamas but you were packing up your childhood possessions - blood boiling and brain set to fuck her mode. If she wanted you out, then fine.

By two in the afternoon, your belongings were packed and you were dialing Eddie’s number. With a tapping foot and two more hours until your mother came home, you were desperate for lodging.

“Hey, Ed? Is that empty lot still available at the park?”

To say you had no money would be a lie. Your money was all a secret, it was what you saved for emergencies when Eddie needed a little help selling or sorting and would pay you. Not enough for an apartment or house, but definitely enough for a trailer and the lot space.

Probably no electricity for a while, but you could live with candles.

By three in the afternoon, you were moved into Forest Hills Trailer Park. No note or call home to speak of and you’re sure that your mother didn’t bother calling your father about your impromptu eviction.

By seven the next morning, you had a job at the Hawkins movie theater (that quickly thrived following the fiery destruction of Starcourt mall) and that next month, you had electricity and water.

If you had an answering machine for your phone, it surely would’ve been out of commission from how many calls your parents left. Depending on which parent called, they were different - but ended the same.

MOTHER

“You knew I wasn’t being serious, you ungrateful brat. You’re making me look bad, now come home and get out of that disgusting park.”

“No.”

“I won’t stand for this, young lady. If you aren’t home by tomorrow morning, I’m sending the police and they will escort you back to me!”

There was nothing the police could do when you were eighteen, so the threat was incredibly empty. You never went home.

FATHER

“You knew your mom wasn’t being serious. Just come home and we’ll get past this.”

“No.”

Dads of the 80s weren’t known for their excessive emotional output, and your father wasn’t a superb exception. He loved you, but he wasn’t about to beg you to come home.

The days rolled by the same.

You got up at noon. Ate. Got ready for and subsequently went to work. Got home late. Ate. Went to bed. Smoke sessions with Eddie are sprinkled throughout the day at your leisure.

The numbness of high school didn’t fade and you were growing alarmed that the burning boredom was forever. Only split up by the momentary joys of sharing life with your friends. Well, lately, it’s only been the sophomores (and one elderly woman) you work with and Eddie that are qualifying as your friends. Not that you’re complaining much, but there’s a certain embarrassment that sparks when people recognize you and ask who you’re running with now.

You’ve heard a few stories about King Steve.

“A total deadbeat.”

“Hangs out with actual kids, now.”

“Best friends with his ex’s little brother.”

It’s never any of your business, so you can’t say that you pay all that much attention to it.

That’s a motto of yours. Sort of.

You keep your head down and stay in your lane. Life spins and Earth continues.

So when you’re heading to Family Video so Eddie can pick you up on his way home, you pretend to not see Steve Harrington - just in case he’s embarrassed to be recognized. Lord knows how much shame builds under your black uniform polo when kids see your Voted-Most-Likely-to-Succeed ass stuck behind the concession stand at the Hawkins theater.

You sit on the curb and act like you aren’t tempted to actually say hi. You had a crush on him in high school, after all. And who doesn’t daydream about rekindling that sort of romance?

Old flames that were only ever smoldering. A chance to start over.

It’s a nice daydream. But even if you did, it’d just be brief, right?

A bell chimes and a voice calls from behind, “Holy shit, Birdie?”

Part 3 - a cheesy line and fairy lights

There wasn’t much to catch up on. Steve knew that before asking you and he’s certain that you knew that before agreeing. Maybe you had enjoyed his presence like he had enjoyed yours. Maybe you were just lonely.

Your trailer is as tidy as the lack of storage space will allow. He gets first pick of the seats on the couch and decides on the one farthest from the door - a peculiar attempt to apologize for his slip of judgment. As if by showing you he has no problem being in your trailer, you’ll forget the sneer he didn’t even notice when he spoke.

Steve remembers you being a breath of fresh air and a sprinkle of sunlight at Hawkins High and he can see glimpses of that in your living room. The fairy lights strung up and the candles carefully set on your coffee table (“They’re prettier than the regular lamps, ya know?” you reasoned as soon as he stepped inside). Your offering of different teas as opposed to water.

Then - suddenly the lights flicker and Steve’s body freezes. They cut and inky black stretches through the room. Not even the streaming moonlight is enough to make up for the sudden blackout.

He’s been here before. In ‘83 and ‘84 and ‘85 and now it’s happening again - he’s been here before. At the Byers’ home and Starcourt - again and again.

His body is frozen and he feels useless, muscles clenching and lungs growing heavy. Memories like hallucinations flash before him in vivid detail. The Demogorgon and demodogs and the Mind Flayer stretch before him and he can imagine each spore and gaping maw that wishes to gnaw the flesh from his bones.

There’s no Nancy to give him orders and there’s no kids to watch and there’s no monster immediately in sight and he’s petrified where he sits.

“Stupid fucking electricity,” you, however, sound completely cool, “Sorry, Steve, this shit goes in and out sometimes.”

When he doesn’t respond, you listen carefully and pick up his labored breathing. It’s the overworked raggings of someone scared and now you really feel bad because you didn’t know he was scared of the dark.

“Here,” you call to him as tenderly as you can, your hand scrambles for his and he jumps - but takes the hand you offer, “You’re okay, Steve, you’re okay. ‘m right here, you’re safe. I promise.”

You have no idea why he’s stuck frozen - not the real reason, anyway, but he thinks it’s sweet of you to try.

Steve feels you crawl closer to him on the couch and his hand winds tighter around yours.

“I’m right here,” you reach out for his other hand and hold it, “You’re okay, Steve. Everything’s fine.”

The lights don’t flicker - they remain off. The scent of blood doesn’t sting his nose and there’s no screeching. No chills that creep over his skin.

It truly is a simple power outage.

He blinks himself into sobriety and clears his throat, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you release one of his hands but he keeps the one between you two in his hold.

You move back to sitting but now you’re closer than before. He can feel your body heat against his and something about that rekindles the life in him.

Not in a way that he couldn’t live if you suddenly walked away, but that by being next to you he could revive the King Steve that you liked. The nice one, from before his ego stepped in.

The nasty one Nancy killed and Robin burned. A little unrequited love was all Steve needed.

If it weren’t for the women in Steve’s life, he’d be nowhere and he’s grateful every day for them. But it makes him think about every girl from his past and woman of his future that he may wrong or has wronged. If there’s even women in his future.

“You’re quiet,” he feels you gently prod his side with a finger, “You didn’t die, right?”

“Thinking.”

“Uh oh.”

“Shut up,” he’s laughing, though. He doesn’t mean it. He never would.

“What’s on your mind, Stevie?”

“I feel like I’m supposed to be alone,” he admits.

It’s easier to be honest when you can’t see the person’s reaction to your truth. Right now, he’s pretending you’re shocked.

But you don’t sound shocked, “I don’t think anybody’s supposed to be alone, unless they want to be.”

“I’m not a… great guy.”

“Steve, just because you were a douchebag in high school does not mean you’re being punished by the universe with eternal loneliness.”

“But what if I am? I wasn’t a good guy.”

“You were a dick, yeah, but you weren’t a monster. Besides, you’re better - and getting better still. That’s something,” he can hear you sigh, “Besides, if one of us has to be punished, it should be me.”

“Because you stopped going to school? I don’t buy that.”

“I just stopped doing everything. I could barely bring myself to eat and ignored my friends. I feel like I’m just - a barnacle on a whale. Growing up was so terrifying because it was just working and working and working at a job you probably hate after going to college for a degree you probably won’t use and I was so scared of falling into that, that I let the last pieces of my childhood rot.”

“You’re still young… If it makes you feel better - I literally couldn’t get into any colleges without my dad’s money because I never actually did anything other than party and make out with the girl who would eventually say she didn’t love me.”

Yeah, trauma dumping is easier in the dark when you can’t see the other person’s reaction.

“That does. A little. Not that I’m happy you’re not in college or Wheeler screwed you over, it’s just nice to know I’m not crazy for feeling like this.”

He never thought that Nancy screwed him over, not really anyway. Sure, it wasn’t the right thing - to pretend and lie when you knew the other person loved you - but he deserved it, right?

“Yeah. It’s… nice,” his eyes close and he shakes his head, “This might sound dumb.”

“You usually do.”

“Hilarious,” he feels you poke his side again and he swats at the air between you, “I had a crush on you. Like, major crush.”

“No way,” he hears you mock gasp and heat crawls over his neck, “The Steve Harrington had a crush on me?” he nods before remembering you can’t see him, “I had a crush on you, too.”

“No shit?” his lips rise subconsciously, a smile creeping up so hard his cheeks hurt, “Since when?”

“Freshman year.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. You were cute in a nervous, football-playing dweeb-with-cool-hair kind of way.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“You were always dating, was I supposed to think that was a ploy to flirt with me?”

“Actually, yeah, you’re right. I sounded dumb.”

“Once again, you usually do. You’re not dating anybody right now, right?”

“Single as the small kid when they pick dodgeball teams.”

“Just say yes, dork.”

“Yes.”

You giggle at his lame jokes and there’s the sting of life at his heart, “Wanna sound dumb on a date sometime?”

“God, yes. I was worried you were just gonna rub it in.”

“I thought about it.”

You changed since high school. You’re more sarcastic. More willing to rib and pick at someone - though never in a hurtful way. You’re still down to earth and he thinks you’re even prettier since those days in the pale halls of Hawkins High.

“I’m glad you didn’t move away,” Steve turns his head in your direction.

Unbeknownst to him, you were looking in his direction this whole time. You nod curtly and squeeze his hand, “I’m glad King Steve changed for the better.”

“I’m not King Steve anymore.”

The lights flicker back on and you’re both swamped in the orange lamp light of your trailer. Steve notices how close your faces are, if he just leans forward a couple inches then his lips would be on yours. You don’t pull away.

The fairy lights are in strobe mode. A gentle twinkling that flutters and reflects off of Steve’s brown eyes.

You grin and press your face just a pinch closer, “Who are you then?”

He has no idea.

King Steve’s corpse is rotting in a big house with no parents. The Babysitter is useless until one of his kids that’s happier than he ever was in high school comes around. Mr. Popular hanged himself in the doorway of Scoops Ahoy and his ghost floats through the neon lights of Family Video. Prom King was dancing alone in the Hawkins High gym to the sound of illusioned cheers.

He peaked in high school and now he has a life he used to make fun of people for living.

“I like to think I’m pretty funny,” he shrugs and pushes back his hair, desperately hoping you can’t see through the false bravado.

He thinks you can, but you just think he’s pretty.

“You are funny,” you agree quietly, “but that’s not all you are. You’re nice, apparently.”

“Apparently?” he rears back, eyes wide, “Wow.”

“Well,” you laugh at his expression, “you hang around the kids, right? The D&D ones? They talk about you sometimes - they like you a lot.”

“Those brats better like me,” he scoffs, “I’m their ride to, like, everything.”

“Don’t tell them I told you,” you lower your voice as if they’re anywhere nearby, “but they wanna take you to see that Ferris Bueller movie.”

“Are you serious?” he sighs and tosses his head back.

“Hey,” you swat his shoulder and he looks back up at you, “they think you’ll like it. You should give it a shot.”

Those kids are a pain in Steve’s ass, but he can’t lie and say he doesn’t love them like his own siblings. Yeah, his best friends are all about six years younger than him, but they’ve gone to hell and war together and when it comes down to it - he’ll die for those little shits. And now he has to stop them from doing the same for him.

The realization thrums warmth through his veins. He smiles and relents, “Yeah, maybe I should,” but before you can tease and snark, he continues, “but if it’s bad, I’m giving them endless shit for it.”

You just roll your eyes, “I bet you will.”

“If you ever want a discount on movie rentals,” Steve jabs a thumb into his chest, “I’m your guy.”

“I’ll certainly rely on you. If you ever want movie theater discounts then you’re shit out of luck because their main goal is to make things as expensive as possible.”

“Damn, I was just foaming at the mouth for half-off popcorn.”

“I know, I know, everyone’s after me for it.”

You two stop talking and the silence is filled with zeal. Usually on dates, the quiet is awkward and bland - but now it’s almost kind. Almost welcomed.

There has never been a collar on his heart quite like the one you leashed him with. All within one blackout.

“I know a lot of people have a no-kissing rule on the first date,” Steve begins, “but technically this isn’t even a date. So…”

You gasp as though scandalized, “Steven Harrington, are you saying you want to kiss me?”

“I am,” he looks up at you through his lashes, “Do you want to kiss me?”

“I do,” you murmur, your free hand coming up to land in his soft hair, “I think a kiss would be nice. For the old high school romance that never happened.”

Steve chuckles and leans up, lips brushing yours as he whispers, “For the old high school romance that should have happened.”

Or maybe it shouldn’t have. Whatever. It was a cheesy line and it got you to giggle and that’s more than enough for him.

If you two were dating in high school then nothing would’ve changed. You probably would’ve crumbled to expectations and kept going to school to land in a college you hated and he never would’ve gotten a terminal case of ego death.

It’s weird, but he’s glad you two didn’t date.

He likes himself a little more than he did a few hours ago. He likes you more now than he did in high school. Past the pretty face and popularity, he likes the lines you spit and he wants to know every thought you harbor.

He didn’t peak in high school, Steve realizes as you tug softly on his hair, he was on the decline of progress - he’s making his way to a peak.

The numbness dies a little more and Steve’s excited to wake up tomorrow for the first time in a long time.

Not necessarily because of you, but he’d be lying if he said you didn’t help. Your words are comforting and eye-opening all at once.

The kids love him and he has a job that pays decently with his best friend as a coworker. He has a nice home and he has every good trait that he used to like about himself.

Steve Harrington is doing just fine - and now he might even be on his way to getting a girlfriend who uses fairy lights instead of proper light bulbs (not that he’d have you any other way).

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #st x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x you #steve.🥝

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