#rip off my skin and sick i feel sick i need something to happen to me and then i will be ok. goodnight

[thedevotionaltour]

forgot the reason im on mental illness medication is bc of how i deal with my mental illness

[berry-potchy]

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel part 2

Summary: Your dad shows up unannounced, interrupting your romantic dinner with Miguel. He plants seeds of doubt in your pretty little head that Miguel is more than happy to snip off

Tags: DBF!Miguel x F!Reader, age gap, college age reader, P in V sex, size difference (smaller reader), brief under the table footjob, spanking, insecurities, vague mention of Miguel’s past relationships, uncomfortable relationship talk with your dad who means well but ends up making you feel like shit anyway

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! The second part actually exists. It’s been almost a year since part one and I kept teasing part 2 but I couldn’t think of a way to end it. I considered just abruptly cutting it off and post it but I just couldn’t do it. BUT HERE IT IS NOW. Hope you guys still enjoy it!

Part 1

It has been a week since Miguel has caught you masturbating to the thought of him. A week since you found out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. A week of absolute depravity that you thought only happened in porn. He fucked you all over the house; no room, furniture, or surface was left untouched during your vigorous lovemaking.

Unfortunately, his “sick leave” had to come to an end and so did your self-imposed break from uni. He’s going back to work the next day so you decided you were going to do something special and make the most of the last evening of his leave. Of course, there’ll be more times to fuck but you feel the need to give him something special before he goes back to his workaholic mode. Maybe it’ll encourage him to start coming home earlier.

You had everything planned. You and Miguel had a lovely early dinner that he helped you prepare. The way it was so easy to fall into a domestic routine made your heart flutter. You’d have to ask him if you can do this with him more often when he’s not so busy with work. You also had wine that Miguel picked out for both of you. You trusted his mature tastes even though you knew he preferred hard liquor. And for dessert, well…

“That’s it, gatita,” Miguel grunted in your ear, a deep growl rumbles from his chest as he rams his fat cock relentlessly into your greedy cunt. “Taking my cock so well. I’m gonna miss this when I’m at work tomorrow. Gonna think about your tight little pussy while I’m in a boring meeting.”

You can’t form any coherent words from how aggressive his thrusts were. Each thrust drove his cock deeper into you, his tip kissing your cervix, knocking the air out of your lungs and the words out of your little cock drunk brain. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and your arms holding his broad shoulders for support, hands desperately clawing at his back. You clung to him tightly as he fucked you standing up in the middle of the kitchen. He took full control of your body, his large hands on your waist, moving you up and down his cock as he pleased, like you’re his personal living cocksleeve.

“My little slut can’t even talk anymore,” he laughs at your pathetic whimpers and whines “Taking my cock like a good girl. Going to make sure you feel it until tomorrow.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck panting, mumbling “please” over and over again against his skin. Your tits are pressed against him, sensitive nipples rubbing against the dusting of dark hair on his chest with every movement. The burning knot in your stomach is threatening to come undone.

“You’re gonna cum for me, princesa?” he said as his thrusts grow frantic. “Wanna feel your pussy milk my cock dry. She’s so greedy for my cum. Sucking me in so good I can’t even try to pull out.”

You arch your back as you feel your orgasm rip through you, making you see white for a second. Miguel catches you, an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders to keep you from falling over as he keeps on rutting into you to chase after his own climax. He pulls you closer to him to capture your mouth into a kiss as you feel his hot cum coat your velvety walls. You moan against his lips, giving his tongue access to your mouth, making you melt in his arms.

You reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He coos at how absolutely wrecked you looked, the pretty makeup you did for him all smeared and messed up. The red of your lipstick is no longer on your lips but all over Miguel – on his lips, cheeks, neck, chest, trailing all the way down to the red ring near the base of his cock.

Miguel sets you down on the dining table, hands keeping your knees apart to watch his cum dripping out of your sloppy hole. Your hands grab your breasts, squeezing them together for his viewing pleasure. Miguel moans at the sight. You are so perfect to him.

“I’m going to see your dad again in the office tomorrow,” he says, kneeling in front of your spread legs, ready to eat his dessert. He licks his lips and rubs his large hands up and down your thighs “I’m sure he’s going to have questions. I’ll make sure to tell him how good you were, taking care of me and making me feel so much better.”

He was about to dive in when the doorbell rang. You hear him growl a string of Spanish curse words under his breath as he reluctantly stands up from where he was kneeling. He tries to calm down and you sit up to wipe the sweat and lipstick off his face. You help him put on his shirt, straightening it out as much as you can with your hands as he tucks away his half-hard cock in his sweatpants. You brush his messy hair back away from his forehead, trying to make him look presentable for when he answers the door.

“I’ll be quick,” he sighs, kissing you on your temple as he pulls away and walks out the room. You can’t help but be a little curious as to who is looking for Miguel this late in the evening. You try to stand up, snatching the silk robe you were wearing earlier to peek at the visitor when you hear an all too familiar voice echo in the halls.

“Miguel! You look like shit!” The loud booming voice of your father makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over?” Miguel said, trying to act normal as you hear him letting your dad in. “You should’ve called.”

“Well I did try to but neither you nor my daughter were answering,” he said “Anyway where is she? I brought you guys your favorites for dinner. I’ll even set up the dinner table for you.”

That got you to snap back to reality. Shit, shit, shit!

You start running to your room, careful not to leave a trail of Miguel’s cum on the floor. You try to wash off any traces of sex with a quick shower and change into a simple shirt and unfortunately with a bra and shorts on this time. Can’t have your dad know you parade around the house half-naked for a man twice your age.

Downstairs, Miguel’s boner is fully killed. He didn’t even get to clean you up with his tongue. Shame. Your dad is talking about work stuff but he’s only half-listening. He helps him set the table for your second dinner of the evening, not able to turn down his best friend lest he gets suspicious. He eyes a few white drops on the table and reluctantly wipes it with the hem of his shirt. His eyes meet yours as you enter the room, drying your hair with a towel. You give him a tight-lipped smile before going in to greet your dad.

You have an okay dinner together: Your dad did most of the talking, which is usually what happens between him and Miguel anyway. He also is still under the impression that Miguel was actually sick so he got a pass. You however have to pretend you aren’t annoyed that the night you planned is ruined as you answer his questions about uni.

“No boys? Partners? I told Miguel not to let you bring any around,” he says smugly to which Miguel smirks, taking a sip of the whisky your dad brought over.

“Dad, please,” you groan, sliding down on your chair, which makes him laugh out loud. You steal a glance at Miguel, pouting, and he’s laughing along. Traitor.

“I just wanted to be sure my baby’s focusing on her studies,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender before adding “and that I don’t end up a grandpa too soon.”

They keep laughing but thankfully, Miguel changes the topic. You give him a look of relief and rub your foot on his leg as a silent thank you. He keeps talking to your dad, pretending not to feel your foot stray further up until it rests on his inner thigh, the tip of your toe toying with the outline of his cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn’t stop you. He instead moves to sit a little closer to the table so you can rub the sole of your foot against his clothed length.

You’re playing a dangerous game. Your dad is right there he could look under the table and find his precious daughter giving his best friend a footjob in front of the dinner and alcohol he so graciously brought over. But you were feeling petty about your ruined plans and Miguel doesn’t seem to mind the attention to his cock.

You bite your lip, feeling his cock harden under your touch. He must feel sticky and uncomfortable under his sweatpants after not being able to wipe his dick of your combined fluids when your dad barged in. You wish your dad decides to leave early so you could get on your knees for Miguel and lick him clean.

Miguel eventually excuses himself, coughing that he needs to go to the bathroom, probably to jerk off and shower. You start clearing up the table and your dad offers to help.

“So,” he starts wiping the table “I see the way you look at Miguel.”

You freeze, trying not to drop the stack of plates you’re holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You start loading the dishwasher, trying not to make it obvious that your hands are shaking.

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I know what I saw,” he says “And I mean, you’re a young single lady and Miguel is this handsome, cool, older guy that’s a constant in your day-to-day. It’s not wild to have a crush on him. I’m just…”

Silence.

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt when he doesn’t return your feelings,” he sighs as he leans his hip on the counter next to you. He’s trying to look you in the eyes, trying to let you know that he’s being sincere. “Believe me that man has no time for romance. He’s all busy with his work. Plus I’ve seen the women he slept with before. All supermodel looking and yet… well they never last long.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, dad,” you roll your eyes at him, trying hard to ignore the feeling of wanting to throw up. You don’t want to think about that. About the specifics of what you and Miguel have going on. You’re just trying to enjoy Miguel’s attention right now. For the longest time, you didn’t even think you had the chance. Is it really that bad to just accept what he’s willing to give right now?

“I’m not saying you’re not beautiful, honey! Of course, you’re beautiful! You’re my daughter,” he tries to lighten the mood but turns serious when you don’t laugh. “Just might not be his type. Besides, he’s twice your age. He's too close to your old man’s age. Are you sure that’s something you’d like? In a few years, he’d be just as uncool as me while you’re still young and should be enjoying your life.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You both stay silent for a few moments. You think about Miguel and try to look for signs. Signs that say he just wants sex or that he wants something more. All you can think about is how sweet he always was with you even before you had sex. Even more now. You blush remembering how Miguel peppered your face with kisses this morning to wake you up because he wanted to cook breakfast but didn’t want to leave you in bed.

“Okay, but what if he does?” you countered, suddenly gaining a bit of confidence. “Would you be okay with that? If we get into a relationship?”

A painful few seconds of silence that felt like forever.

“I know that look in your eyes,” he finally says, shaking his head, and sighing. “It’s your “I’m going to get what I want” look you got from your mom. You’re gonna get hurt.”

You cross your arms and pout, never one to back down.

“And if he does end up liking you,” he starts again and you side-eye him “well… good thing he doesn't.”

You groan as your dad messes up your hair, laughing as he sees Miguel come back, fresh from his shower. Your dad finally decides it’s time to head out and let the sick man rest. He gives you a tight hug and a kiss on your forehead before leaving.

You’re left alone with Miguel again in the kitchen. The earlier conversation with your dad soured your mood and left you zoning out. Miguel slips himself between your parted legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, large, warm hands kneading your thighs, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“What’s on your mind, princesa?” He leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Tell me.”

You try to turn away but he brings a curled finger under your chin to make you face him. His brows are furrowed, worried. You try to look at him and your heart stutters. You don’t want whatever you have with him to end. You’re not sure if you actually want something serious with Miguel but the thought of just being a bedwarmer to Miguel is upsetting.

“Just thinking,” you start, trying to get the words out without sounding jealous or spiteful “My dad said you used to date? Sleep around with? Whatever. The girls you were with before were all… supermodel looking. They’re probably tall and skinny and drop-dead gorgeous huh? Is that your type?”

“And where is this going, nena?” Miguel whispers, pulling away and giving you a stern look.

“Well, I’m just not like that?” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips and shying away from his gaze. “I don’t know why you gave me the chance. I’m just-”

Miguel’s gentle touch on your chin turns into him gripping your cheeks, making you shut up. You nervously look at him, a deep frown on his face.

“Don’t you ever put yourself down, cariño,” he says, his eyes sharp. He makes you keep your eyes on him while he uses his other hand to pull you closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “You know, at the start, I offered to let you stay here just because I wanted to mentor you when I had the time. I know you’re a brilliant girl, so intelligent, following in your dad’s footsteps. What I didn’t expect is for you to consume my thoughts day and night for the past few months. You’ve grown into such a beautiful lady, cariño. You are such a temptation, making me think about your pretty eyes looking up so innocently at me. Those lips tempt me every single time you pout at me to get your way.”

He growls, finally letting go of your face to move his hands to your ass. He suddenly bucks his hips against yours making you gasp out loud, your clothed cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. You try to move your hips to gain friction on your throbbing cunt but he keeps you still.

“Don’t even get me started on this body of yours,” he buries his face at the crook of your neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the sensitive flesh making your head roll to the side to give him more access “So perfect for me. Made for me to grab, to fuck, to worship. Dios mio, nena, I can’t get enough of you.”

He sounds drunk from your scent and taste, mouthing at your neck, hands kneading your flesh. He grabs handfuls of the soft fat of your thighs, your ass, your tummy rolls, your plump tits, and back down, committing each curve to memory. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure when he laps at your pulse with his skillful tongue.

“So I don’t wanna hear any of that nonsense comparing yourself to women I didn’t care about then and I sure don’t care about now,” he growls as he picks you up and flips you around. He bends you over the counter, stomach against the cold marble top and the rounded edges digging at the tops of your thighs. Your feet can’t quite reach the floor so you settle for trying to wrap your legs around Miguel’s own. He yanks your shorts and panties down to your knees in one aggressive motion.

“My silly beautiful girl getting jealous over old flings and exes,” he hummed, his large hands massaging your ass, kneading the cheeks, spreading them with his thumbs. “They’re not here anymore, are they? Didn’t work out with them and they’re not in my life anymore. And I prefer it that way.”

You feel him spit on your hole, dripping down to mix with your own wetness. You drop your head onto the countertop, the heated skin on your face making the marble feel icy. He takes your wrists, securing your hands behind your back with his own large hand while his other still massages your ass. Your eyes flutter, enjoying the sensation when you hear a loud smack cut through the momentary silence.

“Mig-” you yelp as you feel a sharp sting on your right ass cheek. His hand goes back to massaging, trying to soothe your reddened skin. You whine as he gives your other cheek the same treatment. Two matching red handprints bloom on both your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be listening to your dad about my type when I was much younger,” he says, his voice low and serious as he leans down to press his sculpted chest on your back “Because right now there’s nothing I want more than this pequeña prinscesa whose toes can't even reach the floor when I bend her over the kitchen counter. You love that too don't you? How I’m much bigger than you? How easily I can carry you around, bend you over, and fuck you whenever I want? Love folding you in half and using your pretty pussy- no, my pretty pussy. This is mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed. Isn’t that right?

You nod enthusiastically not trusting your voice to speak. the words he growls at your ear going straight to your cunt. You feel another hard smack go down your ass, the impact making you slide a bit on the counter. His hands pull you back by the waist to press his erection against your dripping cunt, your wetness soaking through his sweatpants.

“Use your words when you answer me, nena,” he growls, grinding himself against your folds. The friction from the fabric of his sweatpants feels heavenly against your puffy folds.

“Yessss,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him “all yours. Need you to fuck this pussy please, please, please!”

“How can I say no when my baby girl is begging so nicely?” he coos, pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock. He takes it in his hand and presses the tip in. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your velvety walls welcome him back, still stretched out from your earlier activities.

“Perfect,” Miguel groans as he wastes no time to fuck into your slutty little hole that’s sucking him in so lewdly. “Made for me. Mi princesa needs to learn that no one can compare to her. She’s so perfect. And she’s mine. Only mine. And I am hers.”

“Yo-urs– M-ah, Miguel,” you whimper as he keeps hitting all the right places, his tip hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust until you’re once again pushed over the edge of sweet release. Your gummy walls contract, milking Miguel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He follows shortly after with a deep moan, his cock coating your insides with his warm seed.

Miguel makes no move to pull out. Instead he peppers your shoulders and neck with kisses, humming in contentment, whispering sweet endearments. Your heart fills with warmth and before you could even think about it, the words just leave your mouth.

“I love you, Miguel”

Silence. Anxiety starts to bubble in your chest as you start to think that you’ve read all the signs wrong. But before you could take it back, Miguel turns you to lie on your back, facing him. He leans down to capture your lips in his, his hands pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d leave if he lets go. He mumbles “I love you” against your lips over and over again for the rest of the night making sure you never doubt his feelings for you ever again.

[love-toxin]

THANK U. gush i absolutely will! and ill probably have to rewatch it now. but oh my god. the way eric would probably not want to have sex for the longest time even after u eventually get together (which would take a LONG TIME TOO!) patience is fr key. like probably out of guilt and SHAME but also cause he’s a gentleman. blushes cutely……. like i hadn’t even thought about that because hes an actual Good person who knows that love/relationships is about more than fucking but….. 🫣🫣 damn. need him fr

oh he'd be SO conflicted about it mrrrrrrghhh!!!! im going OFF-

love the thought of it eating him up inside. it takes so long for him to even speak to you, longer to get to know you, and when you fall for him like he has for you it suddenly feels like he's getting in too deep. it's not that he realized he doesn't love you because he does, he's got it bad for you, but he feels so guilty about even thinking of you in that light. you have an innocence about you that he's long lost and to imagine ripping that away from you, regardless of whether you're virginal or not, just makes him sick to his stomach. and he doesn't want to push you. god, that's the last thing he would ever want to do.

truthfully, he figured that since his body is immortal now, he wouldn't get those urges that he'd get as a mortal. he doesn't need to eat, or drink, or sleep, so it stands to reason that he wouldn't feel the need for sex either. it almost guts him when he realizes he does. when you brush against him or purse your lips or just say something a little off-colour, and he feels a tightening in his groin and a flush up his neck. he practically speeds out of your house in a panic the first time he feels it because he doesn't know what to do about it--how he's supposed to act around you when you don't have that kind of relationship yet. acknowledge it, ignore it, repress it, there's plenty of options but no real solutions.

what if he hurts you? what if you feel guilted into doing things with him, just because of his circumstances? just because you care for him so much? or what if he hurts you physically, because he still doesn't have the perfect grasp on his own, inhuman strength?

but then, when the time comes where you bring it up, Eric sinks down to his knees to look up at you. those brown eyes just radiate warmth, love, and he gently ghosts his palms over your hips with the most adoring "I love you" you've ever heard off his lips. if you want it, he wants you to direct it--you don't have to take control, but you get to decide each and every movement he makes. when he touches you, even for a fleeting moment, you have all the power.

Eric starts off slow. baby steps. first it's a few touches to your neck, kisses that feel hungry as he mouths at the delicate skin, but only faintly graze his teeth over a thin barrier. he squeezes your thigh one day as you're driving and retracts his hand almost instantly, he thinks he grabbed too hard--but you slowly pull his fingers back to rest there and his worries are soothed at once, though his heart jumps up into his throat. although progress is steady he still has flashbacks and night terrors sometimes, and they're almost always so vivid he wakes up in a cold sweat or has to stop in his tracks and just breathe. the people who hurt Shelly are dead. he's here to protect you now. you're safe. nothing bad is going to happen to you. he has to repeat that mantra to himself to calm himself down, and sometimes you have to come and remind him as you hold his hand and hug his head to your chest.

it isn't until one night, when you've been nosing his cheek and kissing him more than usual, that Eric starts touching you back. normally he would lay back and enjoy your attention because it's a sort of ritual for you before bed, but this time he just feels it. it's time. he can do it. as he climbs over you you reassure him that if anything happens--if you change your mind, or if he realizes he's not actually ready--you can stop, no questions asked, and just cuddle. but he can sense in the tightness of his body that it really is time, and he really is ready for this. he's neglected you for too long but he's recovering from the guilt of that, now it's just the thrum of excitement humming through his body as he strips yours down for the first time.

as strange as it is, he's happy that he doesn't see Shelly when he looks at you anymore. he used to see her face in flashes when he was close to you, and the shame had burned him alive for so long. she was his love and his everything, his bride that never was, and despite his growing feelings for you he'd struggled not to see her in everything you did. it wasn't fair to you and it was part of the reason he stayed in the shadows for so long, keeping an eye on you but not getting close. it's why he planned to never speak to you in person and simply watch over you like a shadow, from the shadows, where he belonged. it was only once he'd seen your personality shine through over the months that his view of you started to separate, and now after long conversations and your endless patience he can fully put his heart into you without constantly thinking of Shelly in the back of his mind. he recalls when you brought him to her grave with flowers, your smile so wide and sweet when you asked him questions about her, wanting to keep her memory alive for him--and it drives him down between your legs, those pent-up feelings lashing out with his tongue as he finally brings himself to indulge.

you're just so beautiful, so good to him, so....alive. your kindness may be a weakness but it fills him with strength, it makes him crave you in a way that has your hips rising off the bed and your thighs squeezing his ears, muffling out all sound except your moans and the wet shlick of his tongue inside you. your fingers threading through his hair drives him wild. if his mouth wasn't full he'd plead with you to pull it. but you don't have to have everything lined up right now, it's just about exploring--although he'll have a lot more of your body mapped out than you will of his, because he can't help it, you just taste so good. he may not need to be satiated in body anymore, but something in your arousal feeds him as if it's the fount of his power itself. like he was drinking from the fountain of youth, hidden all this time between your angelic legs.

he won't even get into penetration tonight; you'll be too exhausted once he's finished the banquet between your hips, and he'll barely know his own name aside from you screaming it. neither of you are really concerned with it though, because this is your love, and nobody else's. he's almost too sensitive to touch when he crawls up beside you and you reach down, fingertips lightly grazing his stomach until you brush against him and he hisses through his teeth. his instinct is to draw your hand away but he hides his face in your neck when you grip him, clutching on to you for dear life to keep from squirming away from the attention. he wants it. he just can't look you in the eyes while he takes it, because he knows it's been so long and you smell so good that he'll bust before he even knows it's happening.

but it's easy to tell where he's at by the twitches in your palm, the little jets of clear liquid that startle you as they splash on your hand. he seems to breathe with every pulse of his cock as it spasms for dear life, aching for your fingers that stroke him with such effortless adoration. his hold on you grows harder and firmer the more you give him that attention, and with an especially slick twist he's buckling, humping your grip with soft gasps, mumbling nonsense into your neck until he finally hits his stride and shoots his load all over your pretty belly.

it takes him awhile--a long, great while--to eventually work up the strength to lift his head and look. his work is messy and unprofessional, emblematic of a man barely held together by threads, and yet you look back at him with such sweetness he can't help feeling more fragile in your arms.

"I love you." you whisper into his ear, brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead and tucking it behind. and for the first time, the first time in a very, very long time, Eric finally believes it.

[superblysubpar]

<- part three | part five -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Steve drives you to work all week.

the song: Smoke by Caroline Polachek

also for your listening pleasure: Do You Believe In Love by Huey Lewis & The News, We Are the Champions by Queen, and In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel

6,475 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / wearing steve’s clothing, but size isn’t mentioned / for the purposes of this fic, you drink coffee and you take it sweet / alcohol mentions/consumption - you are tipsy in this / brief descriptions of car accidents/injury with some blood/ slight descriptions of panic/anxiety happening to Steve | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday

You slam the alarm button down when it goes off on Tuesday morning, sitting on your bed, fully dressed, one hour too early. 

Your knee bounces up and down, your teeth rip at the skin next to your thumb, and you stare at the clock, counting down, literally, to when your ride will be here. 

Steve had offered, when he dropped you off last night, to pick you up all week. It was supposed to rain off and on till Friday, you shouldn’t have to bike so far, it was the least he could do all babbled out of him as you sat in his passenger seat still wearing his clothes. 

What was the surprise, to both of you, is that you’d said yes to his offer. 

He’d blinked at you, you blinked at him and he nodded, fingers fiddling with the radio dial as he murmured, “Cool, cool.”

You’d sat in his passenger seat in silence, both staring out the windshield at your apartment complex until Steve cleared his throat and looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Oh!” You quickly snapped off the seatbelt and pushed the door open, pausing to look down at the clothes you had on and the wet ones in your hands. “Um, I’ll, I can change quick and-“

“No!” 

He snapped his jaw closed and rubbed at his temple, blowing out a breath before he gestured, “I meant, like, don’t go to the trouble. It’s late, and, I’ll see you, and it’s fine, I don’t even wear those pants to sleep in because they’re too hot and-“

“Steve?” You interrupted, lips twitching against a smile. 

“Yeah?” He replied limply.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

“Tell me about it.”

He smiled. You smiled. Something was definitely wrong with your stomach and so, sure you were about to be sick in his car, you mumbled something about seeing him tomorrow and quickly closed the door, then climbed the stairs up to your front door. 

Steve waited to back out of his parking spot until you were safely inside where he couldn’t see you fall backwards against the door with an exhale and you couldn’t see him rubbing his face at the exit of the complex mumbling the word ‘idiot’. 

Which is what you felt like, when you woke up with the sunrise, still wearing Steve Harrington’s clothes. 

And you were still feeling like it after you showered, scrubbing at your skin till it stung because you felt like you needed to wash off any evidence of the smell that clung to your body like it was supposed to. But somehow that didn’t stop you from spending longer on picking out an outfit, or taking more time to get ready. Reasoning with yourself that it was because you didn’t have to bike, that you woke up early, it’s nice to dress up and take care of yourself every once in awhile, it feels good to be put together for no one but yourself. 

This is what you’re currently telling your reflection, avoiding eye contact with the sweatshirt as you stomp out of the room towards your kitchen. 

But as you move down your hallway, something, or rather someone, outside the window catches your eye and you grab your bag and leave your apartment to figure out what he’s doing. 

Steve’s crouched down next to your bike, large fingers working on something with the chain with a furrow between his eyebrows. He doesn’t hear you approaching, which is probably why he shoots up at the sound of your voice, the back of his head smacking right into the metal bike rack.

“Harring-“ his name cut off with a sharp empathetic wince as his eyes shut tight and his jaw pulses after he curses under his breath.

“Sorry,” you rub at your elbow, scuffing a converse on the ground as you squint at him, “Believe it or not, that wasn’t on purpose.”

Steve exhales what you think is supposed to be a laugh, as he blinks at the ground, “Yeah, I…” 

His words get lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth somehow because all he can think now is:

Pretty.

The word makes his tongue feel too big for his mouth, like he needs to say it or it’ll just keep sitting there and he’ll suffocate as it swells.  It’s not like he’s not thought that word around you before, he has. But the urge to say it hasn’t ever quite made him feel like this, like he’s gonna die.

“You…?” Your head tilts, eyes squinting to inspect him more, heartbeat thrumming faster as Steve stares at you intensely.

“Don’t,” Steve finishes, standing up slowly, your red helmet swinging in his fingers. 

“You don’t?” The two of you blink at each other.

“Believe you,” Steve offers.

“Oh, right.” 

You hate that you feel so warm under his stare, hate that you’re wondering if he likes your outfit. You hate-

“I, um,” Steve gestures to the bike, “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to say yes to me driving you. Since you, you know, hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

The words slip off of your tongue so easily, you bite down on it in fear that more lies will fall out. 

The words to Steve are, however, exactly what he needed to hear to remember who the hell he is. 

Steve grins, two freckles lifting as he asks, softly, fondly, “Yeah?”

“I,” you swallow, wondering if it’s possible that Steve Harrington possesses the power to erase ‘how to speak’ from your list of skills and abilities simply because he’s got nice eyes and smells good.

His grin settles, a smug smirk keeping his lips in a flat line before he whispers, “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes narrow, arms crossing over your Journey t-shirt as you snap, “I don’t hate you. I despise you.”

Steve’s gaze darts over your face, before golden iris’ are settling on yours. He takes a step closer, dangerously closing the gap between your bodies as he whispers, “Yeah? Well I detest you.”

His chest rises and falls, bumping your crossed arms, the toe of his Nike’s touching the tops of your converse. So close you can count freckles on his nose and see green in his eyes.

“Wow,” your words hushed, but dripping in sarcasm, “Another big brain word and it hasn’t even been a week. Would you like a prize?”

Steve’s eyes flash, his lips twist up as he leans in even closer, “Yeah,” murmured as the tip of his nose almost touches yours, mint toothpaste fanning over your lips, “I would.”

Your breath leaves your lungs, held somewhere so it can’t escape as his nose brushes the bridge of yours before it’s suddenly gone. 

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” spoken over his shoulder with a grin as he heads towards his car. 

Steve faces his car again, biting the inside of his lip out of your sight as you close your eyes out of his. 

Were you just going to let him kiss you?

Your legs feel wobbly as you make your way across the pavement towards the maroon car, and even more so when, nestled inside and buckled, Steve’s hand rests on the back of your seat as he says, “You look really pretty today, by the way.”

His forearm flexes in the corner of your eye as he looks over his shoulder to back out of the spot, spinning his steering wheel with the other hand effortlessly. The movement and skill makes your legs press together under your skirt, and you bite the inside of your cheek, adamant on ignoring what your body wants to tell you.

Steve fiddles with the radio dial as he comes to a stop sign.

“You know,” you bite, mad at yourself for falling for this, mad at him for starting it, just mad, “I haven’t forgotten that you have five days left to get me, of all people, to sleep with you. And as much as it pains me to say this, we’ve been in each others lives for quite awhile now, and I know you, Harrington. This isn’t working, it’s not going to work, and the fact that you think-“

He says your name roughly, tight, like the word burns his throat to say it. He leans over the console, ducking his head to catch your gaze causing a strand of hair to fall over his forehead. 

“Have you ever thought, for one second, that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as much of an asshole as you think, but because I know you hate me, I’ve never even tried to give you a compliment because that’s just not what we do? Tell me, honestly, if I’d have told you that you looked pretty, before today, before this bet, you wouldn’t have bit my head off then too? Or, god forbid, would have believed me?”

His breath is sharp, his gaze pierces into you, making something in your chest spark and sizzle, it’s not unlike the swell of pride you get when you win, and it’s better. 

It’s addicting. 

A horn honks and Steve blinks, facing the windshield and moving the car forward again. 

“I don’t hate you,” the words are a whisper, not as easily said as earlier.

“Right,” Steve clears his throat. He glances over at you with a small smile, then back at the road as he sighs, “Just despise.”

You hum a feeble agreement, and let Huey Lewis & The News fill the silence, asking if you believe in love. 

Steve’s fingers tap along to the song, his lips part, every other word softly exhaled as he sings under his breath. Which makes it hard to convince yourself that his words were just words, they meant nothing, and yours weren’t true either.

Steve Harrington doesn’t think you’re pretty and you hate each other. 

Despise. 

Whatever.

Your hands rest in your lap, thumb catching on a loose thread in your skirt that you are indebted to now. 

Not because Steve thinks you look pretty in it. 

But, because, if you instead search for where the loose thread begins, that brain space cannot be occupied by trying to figure out other times Steve wanted to call you pretty, or how you would have reacted, or how there’s two coffees in his cupholders next to your elbow. Focusing perhaps on, how the snag happened in your skirt could even make it so you don’t think about how, somehow, the leather of the seats and the coffee in such a tight space only make his normal scent of something minty and woodsy better and-

“Before you ask, no it’s not poisoned, and no, this isn’t me trying to woo you or whatever.” He gestures to the coffee, as if he’s reading your mind, “Could you hand me mine? Think it’s the front one.”

You’re shocked to learn that one of them is for you, and even more so when he grabs the cup from you and sips, grimaces, then coughs. 

“Ugh,” he licks his lips and holds it over to you, “That one was yours.”

You hand him the other cup, staring down at the one he handed back to you.

He bought you coffee and seemingly knows how you take it. 

As he pulls into the Family Video lot, expertly avoiding the kids skating and running around in front of Palace Arcade already, he sighs.

“You know,” he puts the car in park and looks at you, “I don’t have cooties.”

Haven’t even thought of the fact that if you took a sip, your lips would be where his had been, your body warms at the ‘kiss through contact’ possibility like a thirteen year old girl with a crush, heartbeat erratic still from the gesture of getting you the coffee.

“Actually, I was wondering if you did in fact poison this, because you despise me.”

“Detest,” Steve offers quietly with a smile.

“Detest,” you agree.

“I took a sip of it though. How would it be poisoned?”

“Maybe you’re like Westley and built up some sort of tolerance to this particular poison.”

Steve stares at you, blinking in silence until finally he asks, “What?”

“The Princess Bride?” You unsnap your seatbelt as he starts to get out of the car, talking over the roof of it. “Harrington, you have to have seen The Princess Bride?”

Steve swings his keys on his finger as he follows you to the front door, squinting. Both of you loving to have something to discuss that feels like easily navigated territory again. 

“Is that the one with Daisy?”

“Buttercup,” you correct immediately, stopping on the sidewalk to face him, “That’s our first movie today. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Fine,” Steve shrugs, but then nods to the cup in your hand, “If you take a sip and say thank you really sweetly.”

You scoff, “I don’t have to do shit, I’m the manager. And that was an if.”

Steve nods, holding his hand out. “Okay, then give me the coffee.”

“But...” you hesitate, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafting up to your nose. 

He definitely knows your order.

“Thought you said no ifs, ands, or buts?” Steve grins.

Your lips scowl before you mutter, “Don’t be cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” He smiles wider than he has all morning, showing off perfect, dazzling teeth. 

You roll your eyes and lift the cup to your lips. His eyes remain on yours, drinking you in just as much as you drink the coffee, gazes unwavering upon each other. 

It’s hard to swallow the perfectly made to your specifications coffee when he whispers, “That’a girl. See, was that so hard? Now, what do we say?”

“Thank you,” you grit, but Steve’s hand stops yours from unlocking the door.

“That wasn’t very sweet…” he tsks, sing song lilt to his voice.

With his hand over yours on the handle, you sigh, focusing on getting to watch a favorite movie instead of the way it engulfs yours. Batting your eyelashes, you force out a cheery, “Thank you, Harrington.”

Steve smirks, shakes his head no. He leans in, just like he had at your apartment. 

Just like when you almost let him kiss you. 

“First name, honey.”

That sparking, sizzling, simmering feeling is happening in your chest again.

Steve’s breath in is yours out as you murmur, “Thank you, Ste-“

“Jesus Christ! Thank fuck you’re alive! I’ve been…”

Eddie’s shout drifts off as he jumps out of his van, his eyes darting between you and Steve who’s starting to stand up straighter, hand dropping from the top of yours.

You clear your throat as Eddie grins at you, then Steve, then you again as he steps closer.

Eddie’s gaze looks over your outfit and your cheeks warm as he hums, raising his eyebrows over bright brown eyes that see right through you. 

“Well, don’t you look nice today.”

  Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday

  He was already on thin ice, and now, you were planning to fully cut a hole in said ice and let him meet his demise in the cold, dark water beneath it.

  Eddie doesn’t seem to care, as he winces with fake sympathy, and tosses an M&M in his mouth as you glare at him with your arms folded over your chest. 

  “What do you mean, you can’t take me anymore?” 

  He shrugs, but takes a step away from you, seemingly out of harms way.

  Physical harms way at least.

“I have to go back into the shop, Wayne needs me. I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you?” He puts on a nice, big, Munson level show - hands folded in prayer, big pouty lips, and blinking sad doe eyes. 

  You stand in front of the counter, rubbing your temple from the fluorescent that’s been blinking all morning. 

  “I didn’t eat lunch, I didn’t pack a lunch, because you promised the diner, you made a big deal about tradition,” you start towards him, hangry and looking for vengeance. 

  Eddie quickly sidesteps around the corner, standing directly across from you as you both go in a circle around the main counter where Robin sits, typing at the computer. 

  “Beer, on me,” he pleads, quickening his pace, “Tomorrow. A whole pitcher, just for you. I won’t even make fun of you when you get a gutter ball every turn!”

  “I don’t want beer, Munson! I want a strawberry shake and a damn cheeseburger!”

  “I can take you.”

  Steve’s quiet offer makes you freeze, Eddie grins and backs out quickly towards the front door, pointing, “What a wonderful idea Steve! I wish you both a lovely first date!”

  “Eddie!” you shriek, stomping towards the door, but he’s gone. 

  The bell chimes as he dashes through it with a salute, Steve clears his throat while you stand frozen, staring at the closed glass doors. 

  After Eddie had found you yesterday, and thoroughly bothered you about your outfit, and what he didn’t interrupt, because there was nothing to interrupt, he’d shown up at your apartment with far too many questions and far too much of an opinion on your relationship with Steve Harrington.

  Not a relationship. A friendship.

  No. 

  A mutual understanding. A common ground. An agreement of ceasefire of your overt…hatred. A, maybe, slow ascent to friendship, one day, perhaps. 

  Which seemed to please the idiot who was betting against Steve winning, well into the night. So, he agreed to take you out to lunch the next day, honoring your tradition, yet assuring you that the conversation was in fact, not over. 

  Robin finally breaks the silence, calling your name, then, “You good?”

  “Yeah,” you mumble, crossing your arms, “Just debating sleeping with Harrington so Eddie loses three hundred dollars.”

  There’s a choking sound behind you, and you spin to see Steve’s mouth stuffed with Red Vines.

  Your Red Vines. 

  “Are you kidding me? What did I say!”

  You stomp towards him and he holds up his hands in surrender, talking around the candy, “Hey, remember me? Steve,” he swallows, backing away and tripping over his heels. “I’m the guy who brought you coffee two mornings in a row and has the ability to bring you to a delicious, cheesy burger, fast?”

  You’re inches from him and he yelps, wincing before you even attack, then a shouted, “I’ll pay!”

  Stopping in front of him, you snatch up the package of Red Vines and growl, “And a shake.”

  Robin gapes at the two of you, then looks at Steve, “You brought her coffee? You never bring me coffee.”

  Steve glares at her while he grabs the package of candy back and holds them high above your head, ignoring your protests. 

  “You can have these back when you learn to say please.”

  “Can you pass the salt?” You speak around the fries in your mouth.  

  Steve sits across from you, eyebrows raised. 

  “Please,” you grumble. 

  You shake the salt over the basket sitting between the two of you after he hands it to you. The basket holding the fries he ordered immediately and flashed the waitress a smile and wink for so you got some food fast while you waited for burgers and shakes. 

  He watches your shoulders relax after a few bites, and decides he can attempt conversation, “Better?”

  Your head nods, fingers covering your mouth full of food as you say, “Yeah. Thank you.”

  Steve nods too, looking anywhere but you while you lick salt from your thumb or suck on the straw in your glass of coke. 

  “Glad I could help.” He risks stealing a fry for himself, his stomach grumbling in protest as it watches you eat and it gets nothing. 

  “Sorry,” you fiddle with the straw wrapper in your hands, shrugging, “I know I much more resembled a ravenous wild animal than a normal human being back there.”

  “Glad you said it,” he mutters, ducking when you throw the folded straw wrapper at his face. He catches it, playing with it between his own hands, staring at the table. “You were pretty upset though, what’d you mean about tradition?”

  You shove fries in your mouth, buying time to respond, wondering how much you should tell Steve. 

  “Um,” you cough into your fist, squinting out the window at the sky turning gloomy. 

  “It’s okay,” Steve waves it off, “I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me.”

  He shoves fries into his own mouth, right as the waitress brings two burgers over, sliding a strawberry shake onto the sticky tabletop. Steve’s chewing becomes frantic, holding up his hand and you’re saying the words before you can even register what you’re doing.

  “Could he get some extra pickles please?” 

  “Of course, hon,” she sways off, delivering another shake at a different table while Steve blinks at you. 

  “What?” You avoid his intense gaze, looking at your burger as you lift it to your lips. 

  “Didn’t think you were paying that much attention to me,” he finally says, smiling at the waitress when she drops off a small container of pickles. 

He looks at his burger, not you, so maybe that’s why it’s easier to keep talking about it.

  “Kind of make it hard to not pay attention, Harrington.”

  The pair of you sit in silence, chewing your burgers as rain starts to tap softly against the window, the red neon sign next to you flickering and making his yellow tshirt orange. 

  “Wish I knew you were watching sooner,” Steve looks up to find you already staring, “Wouldn’t have acted like such an idiot, maybe this would be a different story.”

  Your heart thuds in your ears, too warm under the softness of his eyes.

  “Acted?” You manage to push past your lips, tilting your head. 

  Steve smiles, and grabs for the shake, waiting for you to protest him putting a second straw into it. When you don’t, you surprise yourself by offering up, “It’s from the night we met.”

  He blinks at you, wrinkle forming between his brows as he sucks on the straw between his lips. You look away from them as you clarify, “Eddie. The diner. It’s a tradition from the night we met.”

  “Oh,” Steve nods, pushing the shake away and returning to his burger, adding another pickle. 

  “Yeah, I,” you close your eyes, then open them to look down at your food, blurting out, “Met him, after I threw that beer. In Brendan’s face. He took me to the diner, here, for pie, and I sort of spilled my guts to him.”

  Steve’s jaw pulses, the furrow of his forehead only deepening as you explain, not lessening. He takes another bite of his burger, ketchup smearing against the side of his mouth, offering you a reprieve from staring at his lips as he speaks around his bite, “Got it. That’s when you guys started dating, right?”

  You blink, lips parting but nothing comes out other than a shocked, “Ha!”

  Steve looks up at the scoff, taking in your wrinkled nose and how your eyes stare at his lips as you laugh, “Eddie…Ed,” you giggle, “No.”

  “You and…never?” Steve sits up straighter, eyes bouncing between your own. 

  “Not even a little bit,” you laugh, touching your lip, “You’ve got…”

  Steve swipes at his lips while he asks, “But you said you spilled your guts, I just assumed after what that asshole said and did that Munson like comforted and you and…”

  He trails off as you lean forward, rolling your eyes. 

  Your thumb swipes over the corner of his lip as you shrug, “Yeah, we bonded over assholes and crushing on people who’d never give us the time of day while sharing cherry pie. Best friends ever since.”

  Steve’s heart thrums as your fingers linger on his jaw, before you sit back again.

  And then you lick the ketchup off of your thumb. 

  He finally stumbles over the words, “I love pie.”

  “Yeah?” You grin, grabbing the shake.

  Steve nods, keeping eye contact as your cheeks hollow around the straw. But then he rolls his shoulders back and grabs the shake out from your lips and back across the table.

  “Except cherry. You’re delusional for choosing that over lemon.”

  “You’re delusional,” you yank the shake back towards you, “If you think you’re having any more of this.”

  Steve leans over the table as you begin to sip the shake again, only to wrap his lips around the second straw, noses bumping as he tries to drink it faster than you at the same time. 

  Your feet are intertwined under the table as you push at his shoulder and he tugs on the glass, both of you making a slurping noise as you get to the bottom, then grabbing at your temples from brain freezes while laughing.

  “I can’t stand you,” you push the glass towards the middle of the table. 

  “That’s better than detest, I’ll take it.”

    Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday

  Steve holds out the bag of popcorn to you, and you grin, taking some as you lean into him, a little tipsy, in the backseat of his car. 

  You, because you were last out to the car, and Steve, because he doesn’t do well in the front seat when Robin is driving. 

  Which is saying something, because Eddie isn’t doing so hot as it is.

  “No, Buckley!”

  “Give me a break, Eddie! It is super dark outside, and I’m a new driver, never attempted driving in the rain, and I don’t know wiper speed to rain droplet ratio!”

  You snort, nose in the popcorn bag as your shoulders shake. 

  Steve shushes you, mumbling, “You’re kind of a menace tonight.”

  “Eddie’s,” you hiccup, blinking up under heavy eyelashes at Steve’s profile, mesmerized by the freckles that dot it, “Fault. Got me all that beer.”

  “No comments-” Robin begins to talk over her shoulder.

  “Ba-ah-ah,” Steve points forward, stepping on an invisible brake in the backseat while Eddie grabs her chin and keeps it locked straight ahead.

  “From the peanut gallery,” she finishes loudly.

  “No peanuts back here,” you throw a piece at Eddie’s ear, “Just popcorn!”

  Steve remains facing forward, watching intently as Eddie directs Robin on slick roads towards her house. “You didn’t have to drink it all.”

  “Oh,” you sigh, sliding over to the window and pressing your forehead against the cool glass, “But I did, Harrington. For I am the champion of bowling night!”

  He opens his mouth, but you sit up straight again, and press your finger to his lips, softly saying (but thinking you’re singing), “No time for losers.”

  Steve smiles behind your finger, eyes soft and melting you a little. 

  Which you almost say out loud, but the song on the radio grabs your attention. You squeal, which makes Robin jump, which makes the car sway and Steve grab your shoulders, pushing you back on the seat as you yell, “Turn it up!”

  “You’re such a loser,” Eddie grumbles, but does as you request. 

  Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes plays a little louder, but no one can tell, because you’re loudly singing over him.

Eddie rolls his eyes at the way Steve watches you, and Robin bites her lip, fighting back laughter as you shout, “You all love this song, don’t lie to me!”

  You scream into your fist, dramatically singing, tossing your head, pointing at each of them. 

  “And all my instincts,” you take a deep breath and whip over to Steve, kneeling on the seat, “They return!”

  You shove your fist into Eddie’s face, who pretends to bite it, refusing to sing. But finally melts at your pout, mumbling along with you, “Without my pride.” Robin happily joins in, in a high falsetto, when you whip your fake microphone over to her, “I reach out from the inside.”

  As they all join in with you for the chorus, you fall backwards, laughing, catching Steve’s eyes. 

  You’d like to blame the beer, the cozy dark backseat, the way Steve smells, the rain, the fucking song. And while you can’t blame them for something that was inevitable, you can pretend that without this specific combination you never would have. 

  If you were sober, and In Your Eyes came on, you never would have touched the two freckles on Steve’s cheek, your fake microphone falling limp, palm flat against his chest. 

  If it weren’t dark, and he didn’t smell so good, you never would have let those same fingers drag down his jaw, only to linger on his lips. 

  And if it weren’t raining, and Robin hadn’t taken a second to look back in her mirror and say, “Holy shi-“

  It never would have happened. 

  Eddie shouts, Robin screams, and something heavy and warm is on top of you as the car spins on the water that’s flooded the streets. 

  Your ears are ringing, muffled words lost in the sound, and you can’t move, something holds you down. 

  It takes a second to realize the car isn’t moving anymore, and there’s hands on your cheeks. When your eyes blink open, there’s golden hazel ones that remind you of a scared boy looking at you intently.

  “Are you okay?” He gasps from on top of you where you’re both horizontal in the backseat now.

  “I’m fine,” Robin says sarcastically from the front seat, “Thanks for-“ Eddie shushes her.

  “Of course,” you grumble, hands that were clutched in Steve’s shirt loosening and pushing at him.

  His hands shake on your cheeks, fingers touching a spot on your forehead that has you wincing and his chest moving up and down faster.

  “Harrington,” you push at him more, his hand cups your cheek, eyes turning glassy as you insist, “I’m fine, get off.”

  “Hey,” you shake his shoulder as stares at your forehead, breathing harder still, “Harrington, relax. We’re all fine.”

  The side of his face flashes with red and blue, his heartbeat thuds against your chest as his breathing continues to ramp up. Your hands cup his jaw, thumbs delicately swiping over his cheeks. 

  “Steve. Look at me.”

  His shoulders shake with a stuttered breath and then his hand quickly reaches forward, gently cupping the back of your head as the door behind you opens. 

  Someone speaks, but neither of you hear them, eyes remaining on each other as you whisper, “Take a deep breath, Steve. Please?”

  You nod as he does, your hands loosening on his cheeks as he starts to let his weight hover over you instead of pushing you down. 

  A voice from behind you asks Steve to get out first. He’s held back as paramedics help you out of the car and lead you over to the back of the ambulance. Robin stands next to you and you shake your head, the words I’m so sorry easily able to read off of your lips and Robin stops them with her hand up. 

  Eddie stands next to him, watching, just as intently, and he clears his throat. 

  “That was…” he starts, looking at Steve, then back at you, now getting your forehead looked at. “Glad you were back there, man.”

  Steve nods, numb, as he watches you wince and say, “I’m fine,” to the EMT stitching you up. His fingers graze down the bridge of his nose and his swipes underneath it, nodding when Eddie says he’s gonna go check on Robin. 

  Everyone is fine, save for your head injury. His car is fine, save for a ding on the back bumper.

  Your side. 

  He saved you.

  He protected you. 

  He was scared for you. 

  Your heartbeat picks up as your gaze on the wet asphalt beneath your scuffed sneakers catches bright Nike’s approaching. 

  “How’s the patient?” 

  Steve’s voice is soft, scared, not a thing like you’ve ever heard before. 

  Which is maybe why when you look up at him, nothing comes out of your parted lips.

  Rain drips from the tip of Steve’s hair, curling around his ears, a droplet caught on his cupid’s bow, darkening the green shirt he wears. 

  The EMT stares down at you, waiting, then she smiles, staring at your forehead as she offers, “She’ll be okay. No concussion, probably a little sleepy from the pain meds she just took, but overall just a little dinged up. Nothing a little night of tender loving care from her boyfriend can’t fix.”

  “Oh, no, I’m-“

  “He’s not, we’re not-“

  Steve and you talk at the same time, stopping when the other speaks. 

  “Oh, my mistake,” she hums. She looks down at you as she inspects her last stitch, smiling softly, “Well, maybe some tender loving care from a friend then. Can I count on you handsome? Get her home safely?”

  Steve nods, cheeks pink as he waits for you to stand, his hand resting by your elbow just in case, then hovering near your lower back as he walks behind you towards his car. 

  “Dingus!” Robin shouts from Hopper’s truck. 

  Steve turns to look at her, and as he holds the door open for you, he leans down and murmurs, “I’ll be right back, you’re…you okay?”

  “Mhm,” you nod, blinking from the pain of the movement. 

  Steve doesn’t look like he believes you, but nods, and closes your door softly, running over to the truck, squinting in the rain. 

A soft tap hits the glass of your door and you jump, rolling the window down for Eddie, the boys swapping places without you realizing.

  “Hey sweetheart, how you doing?” He folds his arms on the frame of the door, bent down to take a closer look at your head. 

  “I’m fine,” you answer without thinking.

  Eddie’s lips twitch, fighting the urge for the joke, “Of course you are. You okay with Harrington taking you back? Hopper always can? Need me to stay over?”

  You watch Robin grab Steve’s jaw, pushing and pulling him to inspect him while he rolls his eyes and pushes her off. A much more physical approach, but the same as Eddie’s nonetheless. 

  When you don’t say anything, he follows your gaze and sighs. “Yeah, you’re okay. Fucking hell, I gotta figure out where I’m getting three hundred dollars from, thanks a lot you Peter Gabriel loving dork.”

  “Eddie, I-“ you protest and he waves his hand, smiling.

  “Save it, you’re hook line and sunk for him. You have been since the day I met you, fine.”

  He kisses your temple, opposite of your cut, and taps the hood of the car before jogging over to the truck, swapping with Steve again. But he pauses in the middle, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and pointing at the car, then pats him and jogs off again. 

  Once Steve is back in the car, you wait for him to drive, to say something, but he looks at you expectantly and then you realize-

  Your seatbelt. 

  “Sorry,” you murmur, and then it’s silent. 

  No radio. 

  No talking.

  Just the swish of rain on the pavement under spinning wheels. The rhythmic pit then pat of it hitting his windows, the slosh of the wipers back and forth. Steve’s breathing. 

  You don’t realize you’ve been soothed to sleep from it all, the combination of alcohol and adrenaline fading, until the car is coming to a complete stop, engine off, and your door is being opened. 

  Steve leans over you, unbuckling the seatbelt, whispering, “Come on, trouble.”

  “Mmm,” you protest, eyelashes fluttering, head hitting the headrest with a frown. “Steve.”

  “I know, just a few more minutes then you’ll be in bed, come on.”

  His hands slide into yours, gently pulling you from the car, guiding you towards the stairs. Your lead filled eyelids blink with each step, as you mumble, “Keys.”

  “I got ‘em, come on,” his hand presses to your lower back, then roams higher, pressing lightly when you sigh from the feeling. 

  A door opens, a hand wraps around your waist and a shoulder supports your head. 

  Steve blinks in the low light of your lamp that must be on a timer, taking in your space for the first time. He closes your door, keeping his hand on your waist to steady you as you sway while he bends down. 

  He watches you, as he unties a sneaker, patting your ankle as he quietly says, “Lift your leg up for me, honey.”

  You do as you’re told, blinking down at the boy who gently removes your shoe, then the other as you rest your hands on his shoulders for balance. 

  “Steve,” you gulp around his name, blinking back tears.

  He looks up at his name, frowning as he stands, large hands cradling your jaw as he tuts. “Hey, what’s the matter? What’re these for, huh?”

  His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, catching big tears that spill over your lashes as you blubber, “I’m so so-sorry. Everyone could have been really hurt. I hate Peter Gabriel. I’ll ne-never listen to hi-him again.”

  Steve laughs, and you frown, blinking at him through tears, “It-it’s not funny. Stop laughing at me.”

  He clears his throat, nodding, “Right. It’s not funny.”

  His lips twitch when you frown more, fingers curling around his wrists that still support your cheeks.

  “Bedroom?” He asks softly.

  “Harrington,” you sniffle, eyes rolling, “I hardly think this is the time to try to make a move.”

  He shakes his head, “I meant so I can set you up before I leave, smartass.”

  You point down the hallway, but then sigh, “Can you get me a glass of water.”

  He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

  “Please?” you pout your lips out.

  Steve nods towards your bedroom, “Yeah, I can do that.”

  He watches you wander down the hallway, and click on a light in your room, before he heads to your kitchen. As he fills the glass up, he takes the opportunity to glance around at pieces of you he’s not normally let in on. Wondering where certain trinkets are from and what they mean to you. He notices the large collection of vinyl. He grins at the stack of Family Video tapes that are clearly over the rental limit, even for employees. 

  And he’s ready to say something sassy to you about it, when he reaches your room, but you’re already laying in your bed, eyes closed and curled up on your side.

  In his sweatshirt. 

  He sets the glass of water on the nightstand, then lifts your comforter, pulling it over bare legs exposed from small sleep shorts. He leaves a quick note about leaving your front door key in your mailbox. 

  Steve hesitates before clicking off the light, taking in your slow, even breaths, the shadows on your face, peaceful with sleep. 

  He kisses your cheek as he turns off the light, lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than he probably should have. 

  “Goodnight, honey.”

AN: thanks for your patience in this chapter and the next! This chapter is actually what sparked the core of this whole series, and I’m excited to finally share it with you. It was originally being written in the winter, and the events of this chapter are heavily inspired by a moment that happened between my parents before they were married! My dad and mom were in the backseat of a car, an accident happened, and my dad had leaned over to protect my mom, and she says that's when she knew she was in love with him. Take that for this story however you'd like 🤭 So while it’s not exactly what happened anymore, the essence is still there and I hope you love it, it definitely holds a special place in my heart. Also, I simply can’t help myself from including The Princess Bride in all of my series it seems. Thanks for being here!

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[romantique-dreams]

IT'S GONNA KILL ME - E.M

summary: your parents just happened to not be home, and hawkins' infamous sex-god needed an outlet for his anger, but pink rooms and relationships were not his thing.

wc: 3.8k

it's gonna kill me vol. 2 (here)

warnings: 18+ minors dni! spit kink, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, fwb (kinda), fuckboy/mean!eddie, making out, dom(ish)!eddie, creampie, masturbation (m&f), nipple play, petnames. that's all i can think of, but please let me know if you find more!

You could sense the way every time you would give Eddie a kiss, his body would go rigid. It wasn’t hard to ignore—he didn’t like physical touch when it came to purposeful intimacy. It was a routine for the both of you though; you’d meet wherever he saw fit, went inside, laid on the picnic table, leaned against the stall door, or sprawled out on the floor of his van. You would fuck like rabid animals, swap each others stash, and go your different ways. You were almost positive his heart was ripped from his chest. It was possible his core could have been filled with cement, with each ventricle plugged, or nerve endings severed to prevent the dreadful emotions from slipping in or out. 

“Where are we meeting tonight, hot stuff?” You sniggered over the other end of the phone.

“God dammit, how about you not call me that, yeah? And, well, my uncle is home.”

 Eddie hated pet names outside of making you feel good during sex. 

Your eyebrows pulled together while thinking of something. He was going to hate this. “You’ve never been to my house, what about here?”

“No can do,” his vowels were drawled out, “Pink, girly rooms, not my thing. Major turn off. Besides, your family is way too into each other, ‘makes me sick.” 

“Dude, get over yourself. Do you want to get your rocks off, or what? My parents aren’t home, I’m alone, no one will even see you pull into my driveway. I’m plenty far enough away from the main road.”

Eddie’s entire being shuddered thinking of being caught with you, and having to go through the ‘is this your boyfriend?’ conversation.

The line was silent until Eddie muttered under his breath.

“Alright, fine. I’ll just come there.” He hung up. 

“Love you too, sweetcheeks,” you sneered and slammed the phone down onto the receiver. 

Eddie went as far as shaving. He had a sex-god reputation among the girls in Hawkins, and there was no way he was going to lose that title due to being unshaven on one of the worst weeks of his life. He splashed some aftershave along his jawline, and rubbed some on the freshly shaven skin below his belt, a hiss escaping between his teeth. He dressed himself in a black and white flannel, the top two buttons undone, his mane framing his face and cascading down his back, with his infamous bulge-hugging black jeans. Regardless of anyone wanting to admit it at Hawkins, he was some goddamn eye candy. The metalhead placed himself in the driver seat of his van, he ruffled his flannel, and smoothed down the collar. He started his van, and drove off.

You had dressed yourself into a tight tank top that accentuated the apex of your breasts just right, and pulled your hair to the crown of your head in a ponytail held up by a tattered scrunchie that was tradition to use while sucking him off. It was in no time that he was pulling up to your driveway, hearing him stroll down the winding trail that led to a hidden house away in the woods. 

You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose. You could feel it again. Why were you nervous? It wasn’t as if this was going to be different than any other time, it was merely a routine—each position and touch just another item checked off on the list. You and Eddie were each other's relief. While others meditated, you guys fucked. 

You gathered yourself, picking up all the sentiment that had seeped out onto the floor beneath. “”Sup, bitch?”

“Just here to fuck your brains out, I guess.” Eddie shoved his hands in his front pockets. 

“You should try taking a girl on a date first, sheesh.” You stepped out of the way and bent down, signifying royalty entering your humble abode. 

“Um, how about try shutting the fuck up?” He snipped back towards you while kicking his shoes off. “You know I don’t do that, I like getting to the point. Less hassle, less attachment, freedom.” 

“How do you even keep a girl around? Going on a date and actually having fun isn’t that barbaric to you, is it?”

He turned to you, eyes narrowing. “Let’s just say my skills make up for lack thereof in the dating department, ‘kay? And are you trying to go on a date, or are you trying to come? Because right now it seems like you want me to take you out and spend my hard earned money selling to minors on you. You gettin’ all mushy on me? Do I need to end this?” 

You shrugged with a sly smirk. “Believe whatcha’ want to believe, honey. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Eddie was taken aback. Was he really making that up because he wanted to, or did it just seem like you wanted to?

 He took a slight step towards you with his mouth pressed into a firm line, his jaw clenching tightly as the muscles moved under his pale skin. “Can you stop with the pet names, for the love of god?”

“Mmm—, I’ll think about it.” You shot him a finger towards him and then scratched your chin with a half-assed pondering look on your face. 

“You piss me off, you know that?”

“It’s what I do best, right?”

You were putting up a facade that didn’t feel like you, clearly. You enjoyed the banter between the both of you, but sometimes you wanted it to be laced with something for one another. You just wanted him to have some sort of care in the world, the smallest hope wanting it to be for you. 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You tell me all of the time, can’t forget.”

“So, are you going to show me to your bedroom, or are we just going to sit here holding our dicks in our hands?” He peered at you, sticking his head out with an annoyed look.

“Well, considering you’re the guest and all, and I’m a nice host,” you jabbed his chest with your finger that was still hanging in the air. “I was going to ask if you wanted water or anything, but you can’t wait to get into my pants, so I’m assuming you aren’t thirsty.” 

Eddie’s wall faltered, a brick crumbling and dropping to the ground. He stepped back from you while he fiddled with the metal around his fingers. You were just trying to be nice, that’s all, but all he could do was take his anger out onto you at the end of a long week. Wayne was on his ass, business at school was slow, and the shop had a month's wait that was filled with cars needing to be fixed. 

“I mean I could use some water, sure.” He was quick with his words and rounded the couch next to the entryway of your house. 

“Alright, I’ll be right back, ‘kay? Don’t get too impatient.”

His wall was reconstructed and his posture firmed. The couch was too hard, it was too sterile in here, it looked like no one even lived in here. His hands rubbed up and down his upper thighs, too uncomfortable to lean back. He was out of his element. These events never happened anywhere but his house. He didn’t have the comfort of his home to be able to keep up the crassness of his persona.  

You scurried yourself off to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, hair trailing behind you as you turned the corner. You began to realize the neverending roller coaster of emotions you had purchased a ticket to when you first endeavored in this risque escapade with Eddie. He gave you whiplash with his constant demeanor changes and his vulgar words. 

You were quick to return to the living room with the glass of water in hand. You stopped in the doorway noticing his unyielding silhouette, he was sticking out like a sore thumb in your living room that was littered with family memorabilia. Eddie had told you once a small snippet of past life; the desolation of it all as his mom worked countless nights at the hospital, while his dad was out doing ‘business deals’, or so he told him. You could do nothing but hurt for him as he opened up to you. Although you were both stoned out of your minds, you appreciated the small intimate moment you’d cherish between the two of you. It had been the only occurrence, yet all you tried to do was get to know him from then on, and he never budged.

“Alright, order up!” You slid him the glass of water across the coffee table. 

“Yeah, thank—,” He began monotonously.

“You’re welcome my kind sir.” You bent before him and curtsied.

Eddie was quick to gulp down some of his water as you sat down next to him, setting the cup down after with a content exhale. He was still sitting upright, his back never touching the sofa behind him. This was not him, nor will it ever be. He didn’t do the cordial conversations in the living room, or the witty flirtatious remarks, or the talking stage in the first place. He was there to liberate all of his pent up emotions into you and get out. You were his release, merely but a short hour of his day. 

 You were quick to place yourself next to him with a raised brow. “Why do you look like you have an actual stick up your ass right now?”

Eddie turned to you and glared as he gestured between the two of you. “Because this shit is stupid, that’s why. I don’t want to be here longer than it takes to fuck you. Get in, get out. That’s all I’m here for, so can we get this show on the road?”

Your heart twinged within your chest. Was it really that bad to actually spend some time together without fucking your brains out? Was it oh so terrible to not be around you without your tits out? Those were questions that were meant to be left unanswered, unaccounted for; because in all honesty you couldn’t stomach the actual truth.

You clicked your tongue against your teeth and motioned towards the stairs. “Yeah, you’re right. C’mon, my room is upstairs.”

You briskly walked away, leaving a scrambling Eddie behind you as he followed to your bedroom. Without hesitation you slammed the door behind you, immediately removing your clothes from your body. Your blood was boiling, pumping hot beneath your skin and fuelling the fire that was burning. You grabbed Eddie by his broad shoulders while your fingernails dug into the fabric hanging off of them and stood him in front of you, following by undoing each button on his flannel. Your jaw was tightened and your eyebrows were low, pupils growing in size from the anger that resonated within you. 

Eddie looked down at you quizzically, both hands beside him in the air to surrender. He didn’t mind the idea, but your abruptness startled him. You never took initiative when it came to starting these moments, but he wasn’t complaining. 

You continued on with your mission; unbuttoning his pants next and removing them, completely taking his flannel off of his slender body. You were already shirtless and pantless by now, only remaining in your bra and underwear. You placed both of your hands onto his bare chest and shoved him down onto the bed, straddling him instantaneously. Your bra was gone within seconds as you ground your hips down onto his confined length, slotting your mouth above his. Hot, sweet breath was fanning against his cheeks as you stared at him with intensity. Eddie was the first to connect your lips together, with each eager kiss ending in you both gasping for air. 

“Goddamn, baby, what’s got you all riled up?”

First he’s mean, now pet names?

“You, asshole,” you spat at him as you slid your hand into his boxers, only after you spit into your hand. Your anger was evident in every movement you made. 

A sharp inhale was heard from Eddie as your velvety hand that was slick with spit connected with his now swollen cock, precum beading at the tip. You gave him quick pumps to his mid-shaft as you could feel it twitch beneath while your hand grazed the under ridge of his head. His head was thrown back, his hair cascading down to either side of his while his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp he took. A carnal instinct was building within Eddie’s aura, he attached his lips to yours once more, savoring the sweet flavor of your saliva against his taste buds. 

Eddie wasn’t about to be the one taken control of. You made him come to your house, you made him come into your room, you were the one making him only think about you. He flipped the both of you in one fluid motion, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he pinned both wrists down against your duvet cover. 

“I’m going to set the record straight for ‘ya—,” He paused as his hair tumbled down to cast a shadow over your features, “I’m in charge, not you. It’s bad enough we’re at your house, in your room, got it?”

You were quick to submit, curtly nodding up at him, lips forming into a pout.

“Good, wasn’t taking no for an answer anyways.” He shrugged, pulling your bottom half to the edge of the bed. 

Eddie was quick to have his hands on you, making sure to let his hot touch linger on your skin. He danced his fingers down your side, harsh squeezes being made to each malleable part you held, sure to leave imprints in your delicate skin. Your lip was pulled between your teeth and you exhaled short breaths through your nose. He continued his expedition down to your puffy core with one slender digit trailing up between your folds and collecting your arousal. He replaced his now slick finger with two others rubbing abrupt circles into your clit, his other finger slipping between his lips and releasing with a pop. 

“Y’taste so fucking sweet, ‘ya know that, baby?” He cooed, a harsh contrast to his actions.

Your legs squirmed beneath him and your eyes shut tightly as crinkle lines formed by your lash line. Your body was jerking with each of Eddie’s swipes over your bud, electricity shooting to the end of each neuron in your brain. There was one thing about Eddie you couldn’t deny, when he said his skills in bed made up for where he was lacking, he wasn’t wrong. He was so good at making someone feel good. He knew just what made you give yourself up to him, and what left you wanting more. He could read you like a book, and had memorized each word with sticky notes next to each quirk that made you come in an instant. 

While his left hand was working his other had traveled to your throat, fingers wrapping around to the nape of your neck. The veins in your neck were bulging and you could feel the air becoming harder and harder to breathe, your air supply was being cut off now. Eddie could feel your rapid pulse that was bounding beneath his calloused hand, a smirk of satisfaction resonating on his lips. Your climax was building, but interrupted by his fingers sliding into you with an embarrassingly wet squelch.

The metalhead's fingers slammed into you with force, the edges of his fingertips were curled to graze the spongy spot with each entrance and exit. Your eyes were now rolled to the back of your head and your jaw went slack, mouth dropping down to touch your chest as you propped yourself up on your elbows. Gasps and chokes for air, slapping skin, and your arousal being spread beneath you were the only sounds heard in the room.

Positions were eventually switched and Eddie was soon enough plunging his aching cock inside of you. You swallowed him whole, each thrust inwards being met with a clench of your slicked walls. 

“God, you’re so fucking warm, fuck—,” Eddie cooed, pussy drunk already.

This was one thing you had over him. Your whole being when you were intimate had him intoxicated, so inebriated to the point you could get him to do anything for you. You wanted him to eat you out? Done. You want him to finger you a certain way? Done. Whatever it was, he was at your beck and call. You knew you were special compared to the other girls, the way he paid extra attention to all your curves and delicacies, but also sold to you for free on the side. You were higher on the totem pole compared to the groupies who hung around The Hideout.  

Eddie’s thrusts picked up in pace and depth, giving your cervix slight kisses with each dive into you. Your lips attacked the soft alabaster skin of his neck while your nails did a number on his back—scraping harshly, leaving puffy trails of red behind. Little did anyone know it, but you owned him. You always made sure to leave marks, whether that be just for you to see, or others. 

“Shit, baby. Y’gonna leave me lookin’ like a leper when I show up to school tomorrow,” he grumbled against your neck, syllables emphasized by his plunges. 

“That’s okay, god damn—, that’s fine. Gotta let them know I’m your favorite,” you hissed through your teeth, whimpers trailing behind. 

Eddie’s smirk glistened in the dim light of your room and he nipped at your neck. “You caught me there, you feel so fucking good compared to anyone else, mhm.”

Your orgasm was rising in your lower stomach, only noticeable from the immense heat flowing throughout your body, while pleasure kissed each overstimulated neuron. Your muscles were tensing; all the way from your calves to your jaw, the skin above going rigid. As Eddie continued his relentless pace your hands were entangled in the mess he called his hair, harsh tugs ensuing after. 

Eddie had come to the decision to really set you ablaze beneath him. His ring clad hand found its way around your neck once again, only applying pressure to the sides, making sure to be careful of not cutting off your airflow too much. How considerate. His mouth attached to your pebbled nipples, and gently rolled them between his two front teeth, while contrasting with brutal bites to the supple surrounding skin. He finished with his free hand moving to your clit, the sad, pitiful bundle of nerves that ached for him.

It wasn’t long before you were overstimulated.  “Eddie, ‘s a lot, c’mon,” you choked out. 

“Ah-ah, what did I say? I make the rules tonight sweetheart, fuck‒,” he grunted with a particularly gruff thrust into you. “I came here, this is my night. Do you understand?”

His words were succeeded with a splat of saliva from Eddie that landed on your tongue. You were quick enough to savor his taste sucking on the remnants dancing on your tastebuds. Something about him tonight seemed so primal, so salacious. You couldn’t help but succumb to him and nod your head. 

“Thatta girl.” His pace accelerated significantly to the point you were sure he was tearing you in half.

He raised an eyebrow towards you and released his hand from your throat to snatch your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb. “You’re gonna let go for me in just a second when I tell you to, okay? I want you to come so hard on my fucking cock while I come inside of you. I’m gonna let you have all of my sweet stuff, and make you all sticky and shit. Y’gonna feel so fucking dirty, ‘mkay?”

All you could do was nod, you were desperate. You were already robbed of your first orgasm, and each thrust of his was bringing you closer to the brink of your release. It was becoming painful, tears brimming at the bottom of your eyes. You had known from experience what it was like to come when Eddie had told you not to.

Eddie replaced your newfound necklace, his hand, and smirked. He had already angled your hips slightly upwards so your bottom was off of the bed, and your spongy spot was being hit with a relentless amount of force. Lewd sounds were filling the room—nothing but slicked symphonies and desperate whines were to be heard, and Eddie was the director of it all. Surely it was the most sinful orchestra you had listened to. 

With each dive into you, your breasts recoiled and your eyes screwed shut. A layer of sweat was visible now as small droplets formed at your temples and above your lip. You could feel it. Your orgasm was approaching and you were hoping to god his was too, practically praying on your hands and knees to have some sort of relief. It was as though angels were singing to you when you finally heard him speak.

“Go ahead, baby, come for me,” he gasped out as his own release came.

Your body jerked as the wave of consolation consumed you. With toes curling, hands ripping at the sheets beneath you, walls convulsing, and your back arching you were letting out the unholiest of sounds. Wetness pooled beneath you while Eddie’s potent seed covered your gummy walls. 

Eddie’s hips slammed into you a few more times until he was hopelessly rocking into your sticky hole, the both of you riding out your orgasms. He fell completely forward while small wisps of his mane tickled your neck. He let out a shudder and slowly pulled himself from inside of you. 

“Good, huh?” He chuckled and laid himself down next to you, a content sigh coming after.

“It was mediocre.”

This wasn’t a common occurrence for Eddie after your visits. He never laid down next to you, instead he was lighting up and ushering you out the front door as soon as you were dressed. 

He looked over at you, bewilderment covering his soft features while he slid closer. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“Great catch, smart one,” you quipped as you rolled your eyes. “I wouldn’t have came if it wasn’t mind blowing, ‘ya know? I have high standards after all.”

“As if you’ve ever been with anyone besides me,” he grinned. “Your standards are literally me, idiot.”

“Whatever.”

Eddie stood himself up from the bed, legs a bit wobbly as he carried himself over to your vanity. He bent down to inspect the damage done to his neck and back, gently tracing his fingers over the love bites that were beginning to form. 

“Looks like I’ll only be exclusively seeing you for the next week, my dear. Can’t have my other babes knowing I let you give me these, no one gets to mark me up.” 

Did he just say that? 

There was a strange feeling residing in Eddie, he wasn’t sure what it was. Did you just break through to him?  There was no way you had steam rolled the wall he built for himself when he was around you. It was secure, strong, fortified with every emotion blocker known to himself. Was it really all that bad? 

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb as he let out a shaky exhale.

There was no way Eddie could possibly indulge himself in this mess, he couldn’t. Relationships weren’t his thing, or were they?

a/n: this was a whole process of writing, i apologize if it isn't my best! i have been very busy and mentally ill LMFAO. i hope everyone enjoys it tho! i'm very insecure about this one hahahads. i went through and proofread it myself, so i'm hoping there are no mess ups, but if there are please feel free to let me know! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[vlrspace]

possessive, midoriya x reader

wc: 1.6K

part two, part three

there are three times where midoriya showed you his possessive, jealous and territorial side, they live in your mind rent free.

not that he wouldn’t touch you or anything, but these three times were ones you haven’t expected of the shy boy, who became tall, sturdy and broad over the years. midoriya hesitated to take your hand or give you a kiss on many occasions, fearing of making you uncomfortable or hurting you. it was never the case when you felt his fingers brush against your skin, his touches were always tender, but he remained a gentleman even now, half a year into the relationship.

sure, midoriya can become bold and confident, like throwing an arm around your shoulder around school, kissing you in empty hallways and sneaking into your room after curfew. these were already hot and daring from midoriya, so the first time it happened, your gentle and timid boyfriend showed everyone his possessive side, you were beyond stunned.

a trip to the mall became a monthly event for your class, someone was always running out of something, needing new clothes or had to buy the latest video game. which is why you all agreed to split up because they would surely kick you out of the mall if twenty people just stepped into an already crowded shop. the girls dragged you away from midoriya’s side, who at first didn’t understand why your hand has been ripped from his, but when you gave him a reassuring smile and a wave, he seemed to visibly relax.

it was a tiring process of trying on many different types of clothes and accessories. your friends lost you at one of the drug stores mentally because your brain just couldn’t handle the many different things anymore so when jiro looked at you with the same interest in her eyes, you two agreed that this is how kaminari must feel when he’s jammed.

you two ended up standing outside at the last shop, keeping in contact with the boys, so you can all go and grab lunch together. midoriya asked if you wanted him to meet you before lunch but you kindly declined, not wanting to upset your friends for ruining your girls time. it was surprising that even though, you spent more than 15 minutes waiting for them to exit the shop, that you arrived to the food court first. you and momo decided to stay back at your table while the girls went ahead to buy their lunch.

the conversation between you and momo went flawlessly, you felt perfectly content and comfortable as the two of you stood opposite of each other. however, the pleasant atmosphere disappeared when a boy, around your age or a bit older, slid in between you and momo, interrupting your conversation to start a new one with you.

“oh my, an angel sent from heaven. are you free later honey?” his voice was sickly sweet and the amount of cologne reeked off him so much that you had to stop yourself from gagging.

“leave me alone” you mumbled, trying to move away from him, even if he was shorter and less toned than your boyfriend, you still felt uncomfortable and anxious about the whole situation already.

“awh sweetheart, no need to play hard to get” he smirked, taking a step closer to you before leaning closer to your face “i’d treat you real nice, i promise” his tone sounded so fake, you started to feel sick as he grabbed your arm. you hadn’t had the chance to respond as you took a step back to put some space between you two, trying to free yourself from his grip, your back hitting a hard chest, a familiar hand wrapping itself over your waist.

unbeknownst to you, midoriya entered the food court with the boys the second this guy walked up to you. now midoriya doesn’t blame him, you’re a beautiful woman, he’s mesmerised every time he looks at you and he isn’t surprised that you catch the eyes of many. unfortunately to everyone else, you belong to him and him only.

midoriya started to walk towards you before the others could hold him back, aware of the destruction one for all could do when the green haired male is angry. since the boy in front of you hid momo behind him, you haven’t seen the way her eyes flickered behind you two, wide and shocked to see midoriya’s expression. your friends are used to midoriya’s timidity around you, you’re often louder and more confident while he follows you around like a huge lovesick puppy. it’s usually very funny how his larger frame, strong and muscular, becomes mushy when you’re around.

so this was new to everyone, the way his usual bright eyes were dark and sharp, jaw tight as his face was focused on the scumbag in front of him, standing at 6”3, muscles all tense, midoriya truly looked terrifying.

“she’s already taken” midoriya’s voice comes out deep, grumbling at the boy in front of you two, his arm tightly holding you close to him. if the situation was different, you know you would throw yourself at him, because damn, this side of him was so hot.

it’s funny to see the way the boy’s face in front of you changed within seconds. at first, you can tell that he wanted to come up with something to make himself look better, but as he took in the face above him, he seemed to realise that he’s no match for midoriya. it was hard to not recognise the future symbol of peace for anyone nowadays, but this asshole was 5 foot something, and stood nothing against those muscles midoriya gained over the years.

“i’m sorry” the boy stammered, looking quite embarrassed and avoided midoriya’s gaze, who seemed to press you more against him, so unless he spun you around to face him, you’re stuck like this. “i uh-i didn’t know” his words came out swiftly and tone very shaky, he finally lets go of your arm and you let it fall beside you, not daring to move.

todoroki comes up to stand next momo, kirishima and iida following behind, standing next to midoriya to make sure no punches are thrown. fortunately, nothing happens as midoriya sends a glare towards the boy, before moving you by the waist and starts leading you away from the table.

“are you okay? he didn’t hurt you, right?” midoriya’s voice is slightly strained from the sudden anger he felt from a few minutes ago, his hand stroking your waist and your side and presses his lips against the crown of your head.

“no, no i’m okay. you arrived just at the right time” you quietly said, a little bit shaken up from the events and shocked by midoriya’s behaviour.

“let’s get something to eat, yeah? what would you like? it’s my treat baby” your boyfriends cheery mood is starting to come back, even if his hold on you is still a little tight. you don’t see a point in arguing with him over about the payment of your lunch because you know that he won’t let you pay either way.

when the two of you return back to the table, everyone is already eating, so they are making space for the two of and you both join in. momo asks you right away if you’re okay and apologises to you for not being able to do anything.

“don’t worry momo! “you reassure her with a warm smile as you continue on eating your sushi.

“still, i feel bad! i should’ve said something” her voice sounded light as her eyes began to tear up. bless her, you think, she’s so kind hearted, so you stand up from your chair and hug her from behind, your face smushed with hers and she lets out an airy giggle and puts a hand on your arms for comfort.

“oh my god, let me take a picture! you two are so cute!!!” mina practically screams out loud, causing everyone to laugh around you. momo and you smile for the picture and you know it turned out rather cute.

you walk back to your seat next to midoriya, who now fully calmed down and grins at you as you sit down “besides, mr. number one here saved the day again” you add jokingly, leaning against midoriya’s chest as he puts an arm around your shoulders. “never knew you could be so possessive izu” you whisper to him and his cheeks flush red, causing you to giggle.

“can we talk about how scary izuku looked, like i’ve never seen him so terrifying before unless he’s in a fight” kaminari says with sero and mineta nodding next to him, discussing how they never want to make midoriya mad again because they nearly shitted themselves.

“like sure, katsuki can be very intimidating, but holy shit dude, that was another level” kirishima adds, looking at midoriya with a toothy grin to make sure he doesn’t take it as an offence, which midoriya actually takes as a praise (in his mind).

“i don’t like it when someone hurts people i care about” the green haired man replies with a small smile, gently squeezing your shoulder and you smile to yourself from how safe you feel in his arms. “and no one messes with what’s mine” the last bit came out quite quietly, only heard by you as he tucked his face in your hair, and it was your turn to sit with a flushed face, making midoriya smirk.

the rest of the day went by, midoriya didn’t let you out of his sight and held your hand the whole way around.

oh lord, if only you knew this was just the mild level of midoriya’s boldness.

[asunsetgrace16]

Died of a Broken Heart ⎥ NM29

Pairing: Nathan MacKinnon x fem!reader

Summary: It turns out that it is possible to die of a broken heart

Warnings: sad sad sad, swearing,

Notes: I take it back. Kind of. I don't think my groove is entirely back, or maybe it was just the fics I was working on. I wrote this in four hours around midnight and this is my first attempt at writing something sad. I will say that it was hard to not cry writing this, so hopefully 🤞 you guys feel some emotions too. There isn't much dialogue in the beginning. Also, broken heart syndrome is in fact a real thing

masterlist ⎥ navigation

Word Count: 3.7k

Nate is numb. He’s been numb since about 10:30 last night, when the police knocked on his door. He had been home for 20 minutes max, having just gotten back from Cale’s house, supper with him and Gabe and Mikko. Tracey was up in Calgary for a few days. Y/N had dinner plans with her work friends, it was Shannon’s birthday. The world tilted on its axis as he was told that Y/N was killed. They soberly tell him what happened forty-five minutes ago. Hit-and-run…they are looking for the driver…happened in the restaurant parking lot…no, she was the only one. Nate’s pretty sure he stops breathing, because he feels a firm hand on his elbow guiding him back into his house, coaxing him to take deep breaths. Blood rushes in his ears, and he thinks, Australia, their honeymoon. He lifts a hand to wipe his face. When did he start crying? 

The police stay for a while, watching him carefully until they are sure he won’t spiral into a panic attack, ironic all things considered. When he is semi-into it, they explain everything again. 

Ok,” Nate says, “would you...you mind, um, coming back in the morning? I need to hear this once some of the shock wears off.” His voice is quiet and strained. He doesn’t fight the tears silently rolling down his cheeks. They agree to his request, leaving with a handshake and squeeze on the shoulder, hints of agony shining through their masks of professionalism.

Nate stays sitting at his kitchen table, head in his hands. Sobs shake his body, uncontrollable and awful. He cries so hard he thinks he might cry himself sick. Eventually, he leans back, face twisted with emotion and damp with tears. Slowly, he heads to bed. Each movement is mechanical. He tosses and turns, his sleep is plagued by once-sweet memories of Y/N turned into cruel reminders that she was ripped from him.

Eventually he gives up and moves to the guest bedroom. He cries more, more than he ever has. He wants Y/N, he wants to kiss her, and hold her, and take her to games and-.

-

Next thing Nate knows, he is waking up to the sun streaming through the curtains. He is confused at first, the stiffness of the bed isn't what his bed feels like. As he opens his eyes, last night comes rushing back. He doesn’t want to believe it. They had just started their life together, with promises of love and kids and 60 more years. The tears start again, slower than the previous night but no less gut-wrenching. Reluctantly he heads to the bathroom. He looks worse than imagined. Red and puffy eyes that unfortunately make the blue pop, pale skin and chapped lips. Nate’s hands shake as he splashes water on his face. 

Taking a deep breath, he tries to get some semblance of a list to make sense in his mind. He shoots off a vague text to Bedsy, letting him know that he might be late for practice, not knowing how long the police will take. 

It turns out that it only takes half an hour. The same officers from the night before knock on Nate’s door at 7:30, introducing themselves and Parker and Walker. They recount the night before in more detail. Y/N was killed at 9:48 pm, during a hit-and-run in the restaurant parking lot. She was the only one, none of her friends were even injured. They tell Nate that it was an instant death, painless…that she didn’t suffer. Nate is frozen in his chair, back ramrod straight and hands clasped tightly. Walker leaves a copy of his first report, and his phone number in case Nate has questions. He walks them out, shaking their hands and thanking them for coming over again.

Returning to the kitchen, he pulls out a notepad and pen. Nate lists off the things he needs to do. Call his parents. Call Y/N’s parents. Call the funeral home. Talk to C-Mac and Bedsy and the team. Get through practice. 

He decides to wait on calling his parents, saving that for the afternoon. Same with the funeral home. He is in a daze the whole time he prepares for practice. He makes his usual protein drink, but he thinks that he used orange juice instead of water. Nate’s not sure. He also isn’t entirely sure how he made it to the arena without running a red light.

His whole walk to Bedsy’s office is stressful. He dreads the thought of having to have this conversation more than once. He knocks on the open door, seeing C-Mac there as well. 

“Hey Nate, I got your text.” Bedsy starts, looking at Nate, concerned, “You ok? Respectfully, you look like shit.”

“Feel like it too. Can uh, both of you come down to the dressing room? Like now? I have some, some uh,” Nate stops, swallowing, “some news, and I want to say it as few times as possible.”

“Sure, all right.” Bednar and C-Mac glance at each other, worried. They’ve seen Nate be not ok before, but this is new. Nate is silent during their trek to the dressing room, still holding his orange juice and green protein powder monstrosity. Bedsy opens the door, gesturing for Nate to go through first.

“Hey Nate, you forgot your jacket at mine last night. You didn’t pick up when I called.” Cale tells him. Nate is standing where Bedsy usually stands.

“Uh…ok thanks, Cale. I was um…I was a little preoccupied last night. Sorry” He responds. His voice is shaking, his hands are shaking, Bedsy and C-Mac are getting increasingly concerned and Nate feels on the verge of a panic attack.

Cale grins suggestively at him, “Ohhh, I see, I see how it is. Getting a little lovin’ on with Y/N I s-”

Nate interrupts abruptly, cutting straight to the chase, “Y/N is dead. She’s dead.”

The whole locker room freezes. Cale’s jaw drops. Someone's water bottle hits the floor.

“Holy shit-” 

“Oh my god.”

“Nate, you need to sit down.”

The voices swirl and blend around him. Nate’s vision loses focus, and cotton balls are stuffed in his ears. Hands find his elbows, easing him into a stall. Someone kneels in front of him. Nate stares, glassy eyes unseeing. 

Slowly, he comes back. His throat is raw and scratchy and he needs water. Mikko tosses over a water bottle and a clean, damp towel.

“Start from the beginning, Nate.” Jo urges softly.

So Nate recounts the story. The entire team is close around him as he repeats what he was told this morning and last night. Their faces reflect the horror and agony Nate feels. Tears fall when he says that her death was instant. He hears sniffles from somewhere, and everyone else is crying now, too.

“It’s good,” he says, “knowing that she wasn’t in pain, but it is awful knowing that there was no chance of saving her.” His voice breaks, he covers his mouth with a hand sobs as quietly as he can. Cale hugs one side and Jo’s on the other. Once the tears slow, he takes the towel that Mikko’s holding. 

“Practice is canceled, today and tomorrow.” Bednar says, “I don’t want Nate to be left alone. Cale, Jo, Mikko, go with him and grab Gabe too. I will talk to the league, see about rescheduling the game tomorrow. I will have to tell them, Nate.”

“No, you guys play. Say I’m out day to day or something. A practice muscle strain.” Nate objects.

“Nate, your wife died less than twelve hours ago. We will not be playing hockey. I’ll phone in and say we forfeit. I will tell Bettman that the news doesn’t go out until you, me, and C-Mac give an interview.”

“Ok.”

-

The afternoon follows a similar pattern. Cale drives Nate home, Jo phones Gabe. Mel brings soup when she comes with Gabe. She folds Nate into a hug as he cries. He makes the excruciating phone call to his parents and hers. Cale smartly suggests doing a triple call so there’s only one conversation. 

“Where should I bury her?” Nate asks, “Here, or should she be back home?”

“Nate, her home has been with you for years. Keep her close to you.” Y/N’s dad tells him. Nate nods forgetting that they can’t actually see him. Gabe takes notes while they discuss the funeral over the phone. Granite headstone, brown casket, service at St. Andrew’s and burial in the graveyard nearby. The reception will be held in the hall near Nate’s house. He doesn’t want people in his house. The date is set for March 5th. 

The media has a field day upon the announcement that the Avs have forfeited their game against the Stars. Sid calls him within a minute.

Nate forces the team to play their next game three days later on February 28th. It’s at home against Buffalo. They lose in an uncharacteristic fashion, so much so that the Buffalo players notice something is really wrong.

Gabe takes care of most of the funeral arrangements, and Nate is forever grateful. He meets with the funeral director, sending with him the clothes he picked out for Y/N to be buried in. Before he leaves, he hands Nate a box.

Opening it, Nate finds her purse. Her phone. A box with her wedding rings. Jo finds him with shaking shoulders and his head in his hands.

On March 2nd, a week after Y/N died, Nate asks for a press conference. The Avs lost both games they played in that week, with Nate a very conspicuous absence. Bedsy asks over and over if Nate is sure that he wants to go through with it.

“I’m sure. It won’t be a secret for much longer.” Nate says. Bedsy just nods. The trio of Nate, Bedsy, and C-Mac file into the media room.

Nate starts, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible. “I’m aware you all have been wondering where I have been this past week.”

The reporters nod. Nate takes a deep breath.

“On February 23rd, I received news. News that my wife was killed in a hit and run accident. It happened in a restaurant parking lot as she was heading to her car.” He stops as hands fly up. C-Mac picks someone.

“Nate, I am very sorry for your loss. Is this why the game was forfeited last week?”

“Yes, it was. It was a shock to all of us, and none of us were in any condition or mental state to play.”

“How is this going to affect the rest of your season?”

Nate scoffs quietly. His wife is dead and they are concerned with hockey. “I have decided to take an extended leave of absence from the team. I won’t be playing in the game tomorrow night, nor will I be for the rest of the season. My life was completely torn apart a week ago, I have more important things right now. I do ask that I be left alone right now, no reporters at my house or on the street. I want privacy.”

With that, Nate walks out. Cale is waiting to drive him home and he takes one look at Nate and pulls him in for a hug. He is tired of crying and tired of people saying they are sorry and tired of missing Y/N and tired of being tired.

-

No. 1 

February 24, 9:09 pm

Nate: Hey guys, I have some news.  Davo: Period at the end of the sentence. This won’t be good Nate: Y/N was killed last night, hit and run Sid: Oh my god, Nate Sid: Are you ok? Were you hurt? Davo: Oh shit Nate: I’m fine, but I guess that’s relative right now Nate: I wasn’t there. She went to dinner with friends. It happened in the parking lot Auston: I am so sorry, man. I realize that that is probably not what you want or need to hear, but I don’t know what else to say Nate: No no, it's ok. I appreciate it. I think I’m still in shock, so not much room for anything other that devastated right now Ryan: Is there anything we can do? Nate: No, not right now. Funeral’s on the 5th, if anyone wants to come. My place is full, but any of the guys would let you stay with them Sid: Of course we want to come, it's just a matter of whether we can Ryan: Even if any of us play, once the news is out most teams will probably want a player there for support Davo: I checked and it's in the middle of a break for us. Ryan and I will be there, Leon too probably Jack: We’re out west on a road trip, but I could try and pull some strings to come. Nico will try to be there too Owen: We are at the end of a homestand that day, but I’ll probably get to come. Can’t do much worse than we already are Owen: That was bad, sorry. Lame-ass excuse for a joke Nate: Don’t be. It almost made me not frown. Thank you Juraj: I’ll be there. We are in LA the day before. Newy will want to come Baby Connor: I’ve got a break before our trip down there. I’ll be there. Dammit why am I baby Connor again? Nate: Cause you are a baby. I really appreciate it, guys. Thank you Baby Connor: Dude obviously. You can’t just drop the worst news of your life and not expect your number 1 buddies to rally the troops and support you Nate: The kid’s gonna kill us all. I didn’t need to cry again but everything makes me cry now, I guess Baby Connor: Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to Nate: I know, just messing with you

-

The funeral goes perfectly. Nate’s and Y/N’s parents arrived a few days ago and have been staying with him. It’s a comfort to have them there, though most days he feels like he’s wading through quicksand. There is usually a teammate there, or two. Sid flies in the day before, same with all the guys from the groupchat. Naz comes from Calgary. EJ and Tyson come, and other Tyson and Bo make the trip out with Owen. Alex comes with Juraj. Nate spends the day crying silent tears and hugging more people than he cares to remember. Mikko, Cale, EJ, Jo, Tyson, and Sid are pallbearers at the funeral. He gives a speech, short as he can get away with. His voice breaks and wavers the whole time. Y/N’s parents and Nate’s say a few words, and the priest reads the eulogy. 

The weather is mild for the burial, Nate almost wishes it was miserable. The day passes in a daze, making awkward small talk with people he barely knows, Thankfully they leave within an hour. The rest of the people there manage to lift the mood a little and Nate moves from crying to barely frowning. Connor Bedard sticks close to him most of the time. Nate is grateful for him, he’s a good kid with a good heart. He hugs Connor extra hard before he leaves to catch his flight to Utah.

-

“Nate!” Cale calls, knocking on his door again. He’s normally never late, but things still aren’t normal. Nate was the one who suggested that they go skate, not practice, but just to skate. A change of scenery. Cale finally gives up and digs his key out of his pocket. He’s a little confused when he sees that none of the lights are on. Nate hasn’t been himself, but this is weird. Nate’s dog Aspen appears from the hallway. 

“Hey buddy, where’s Nate?” Cale asks him. Aspen circles Cale once before heading back towards Nate’s bedroom. Cale follows him. Nate’s door is shut tight and Aspen has his nose shoved in the corner. Opening the door, Aspen bounds to Nate’s side, where he looks to be still asleep. He whines, getting his nose under Nate’s hand.

“Oh my god.” Cale whispers. Nate is a shade of gray no living person should ever be. “Oh my god.” He moves to the bed. Nate is cool when Cale touches his wrist. He fumbles for his phone, dialing 911 when he doesn’t find a pulse.

-

“Sid…” Kathy calls up the stairs, “Get down here, you have to see this.”

Sidney hustles down at the tone of her voice. Kathy is standing behind the couch, remote gripped in one hand. He stands behind her, hand on her waist. Her hand drops the remote, coming up to cover her mouth as they hear the news.

"... and now we have saddening news coming from Denver, Colorado. It is with our deepest condolences that we announce the death of NHL star, Nathan MacKinnon. He was found early this morning after failing to meet teammate Cale Makar, for morning skate. Makar called 911 when he found MacKinnon in bed after he didn’t answer the door. According to law enforcement agencies, MacKinnon died peacefully at home overnight, but suddenly, with no chance of resuscitation once they arrived on the scene. His death comes just weeks after the death of his wife, Y/N. What this means for the Avalanche and the rest of the season, we don’t know. More, after the break.” 

Sid thumbs open his phone to the news app. Every headline is the same variation of announcing Nate’s death. Tears fall on the screen.

Colorado Avalanche teammates of Nathan MacKinnon, coach Jared Bednar, yet to speak on the star’s sudden death.

Breaking News: NHL Superstar Nathan MacKinnon, dead at 29. What does this mean for the Avalanche?

“The NHL offers its deepest sympathies and condolences to Nathan and Y/N MacKinnon’s families during this time of tragedy.”

“Nathan MacKinnon, announced dead this morning weeks after his wife, Y/N MacKinnon, was tragically killed…”

Details about Nathan MacKinnon’s death are expected soon.

-

THE COLORADO SUN

Details emerge on the death of Colorado Avalanche star Nathan MacKinnon

J.P Burrow, 12:00 pm March 30th, 2025

Four weeks ago, the hockey world was shocked when Nathan MacKinnon, 29, appeared in a press conference after being notably and unusually absent from two home games, both lost in depressing fashion to weaker teams. What he revealed that day was the furthest thing from what anybody expected.

We were told that a week prior, MacKinnon’s wife Y/N, 27, was killed in a hit-and-run car accident. Her funeral was three days later. Understandably, MacKinnon withdrew from the public. His teammates were a constant source of support, but that only goes so far when grieving your spouse. He decided to take the rest of the season off.

MacKinnon and Y/N were married for three years, and together for nearly ten. They were fan-favorites throughout the league, despite them being notoriously private. MacKinnon never smiled as much as he did when he was talking about his wife. 

Now, thirteen days ago, the world was rocked again when it was announced that MacKinnon was dead. Details surrounding his death have been revealed after an autopsy. The report revealed that his heart sustained damage after Y/N’s death, caused by a sudden, constant surge of adrenaline in the days following. This causes a disruption of blood flow in the heart, similar to a heart attack. It is fittingly called Broken heart syndrome, where the death of a loved one can trigger the condition. Death is rare, but it happens.

We reached out to friends of MacKinnon’s across the league, his own teammates commented in a press conference earlier today.

Connor Bedard: Nate was a close friend of mine, he helped me a lot when I first got into the league. I looked up to him a lot. Once I got to know him outside of hockey, I learned just how amazing of a person he is– was. I was shocked to learn that he died. We had just landed in Denver for our game against them when Cale [Makar] called me.

Sidney Crosby: It was a lot for all of us, the whole month. I’ve been close with Nate for ten years, he's my best friend, so to say that I’m going to miss him is an understatement. I saw how much Y/N dying crushed him, they were made for each other. Hockey was his first love, but Y/N was his true love.

Gabe Landeskog: The season changed for all of us after Y/N died and Nate took time off. There will be no replacing Nate, his skill, his passion…it left a hole. I’m not going to sugarcoat things. This will be really difficult to come back from. It won’t be this season, maybe not even next season, but we are going to fight, for Nate. He would want us to.

-

“He really died of a broken heart.” Cale says before turning to bury his face in his wife’s hair, crying silently. He hasn’t been the same since finding Nate, taking his own leave from the team.

For the second time in a month, the Avalanche and company are reunited, standing in black around a grave beside the one they stood around three and a half weeks earlier, but another person short. Y/N’s headstone will be put in the same day as Nate’s. EJ is holding Aspen’s leash, who took him in when Nate died. He’s retiring, he told everybody when they gathered the second time. The past month reminded him that life is short. He is moving back to Denver to take over Nate’s house. They had found a notebook in his bedside table that had the beginnings of a will written in it. He wanted EJ to have Aspen, and the house if he wanted it. Pictures, his suits, and Y/N's wedding dress were to go to his parents, donate his and Y/N's clothes, and box away his Avalanche gear and ship it to Sid in Nova Scotia. Their wedding rings go to Sid too.

“But now they are together again.” Jo says, smiling through his tears. The thought brings some comfort to them, knowing that Nate has been reunited with the love of his life, and won’t spend the rest of his life missing Y/N.

[he-goes-down]

i need duff whimpering and begging

Ur me

Tenderness

Masterlist

pairing: Duff Mckagan x reader

Warnings: sub! Duff, tying up, thigh riding, blowjob

Second Person POV:

“Please…”

Duff pleaded as you were going at an excruciatingly slow pace to take off his boxers. You kissed down on the fabric as he said that, making him gasped in surprise and moan in desire as you stopped. Fully pulling down his boxers, his hard and huge dick was a magnet for your eyes and ever longing lust. “Mmm, baby for fuck sake please!” He begged of you as he couldn’t do anything about it, with his hands strapped to the headboard with ripped up shirts. Your shirts, shirts he ripped up when he was going rough and heavy for you. Now it was your turn to make him scream and beg for more. Your hands traveled from his thighs up to his crotch, teasing around his hard throbbing dick. Precum dripped down the side and you gave him the satisfaction of licking one big stroke from his shaft to his head, tasting his liquids. His hipped bucked in your face but you didn’t continue further with your mouth. You took off your shirt and short pants, revealing the red lace set he loved so much. He sighed taking in your absolute sexiness. Fighting against his retrains to just wanted to feel and more so wanting to fuck you. “My poor boy can’t do what he wants anymore.” You said noticing his struggling. You placed your finger on the fabric that was tied to the bed and moved down to where it met his wrists. “You’re gonna have to earn what you want big boy.” You said. He groaned at your words. A small whine escaping his mouth as your finger played up and down his shaft. Something turned you on about a man his height being completely helpless to you, whimpering and bucking his hips for you just to merely press skin to skin.

You took off your soaking panties and straddled Duff, not his hips but one of his big strong thighs. You placed your wet cunt on his bare thigh. Making him shudder, wanting to replace it with his fingers, mouth, anything, he wanted to touch you. You let out a small sigh as you began to grind on his thigh, moving your hips in circles and then in an forward and back motion to ride his thigh. Your clit rubbing against his skin, making you moan. Duff moaned and whined watching you pleasure yourself with body. Your head flew back and your moved faster and pressed down deeper onto him. “Fuck-…” you moaned, as you came all over his thigh, your wetness coating his skin. He whimpered at the feeling, he so badly wanted to lick your wet that split over his legs, but now it seemed to be going to waste. “Honey- please just let me…” Duff huffed, begging to do anything, just to be able to touch your tantalizing skin. Make you moan, he wanted to be the one that made those sweet sounds come out of you, he didn’t want to be a second in the part. You just shook your head at his plead. His whole body ached, his throat beginning to burn like he just cried for hours, needing you.

He gasped and whimpered as you slowly began to stroke his aching hard cock with your fingers. “Fuck…” he sighed, after his breathe hitched. You began to slowly pump his dick with your hand, he groaned at the little friction and his moans hiccuped into whimpers as his nerves burned with the very very slow pleasure that was making his dick twitch and his forehead begin to sweat. “Don’t worry, you’ll get want you deserve. Such a good boy.” You said as you increased your pace. He moaned at your words, bucking his hips into your hand. You held down his strong legs immediately, letting go of his dick making him groan. “We’ll do it another way then… if you behave.” You told him, a smug smile creeping on your lips as he struggled, swallowing hard, beginning to sweat, just wanting something to happen. “Yes. Yes. Anything baby, please.” He pleaded. It was a sick but hot thought, seeing such a gorgeous and tall man struggle and plead for you, only you. Without another moment, you placed your lips to his dripping tip, taking him in your mouth, licking around as you lowered yourself on him. Your hands still staying stable on his thighs, holding him down on the bed. You looked up at him, seeing him bite his lip, holding down a moan, watching as you took his dick in your mouth. As he tried to hold down his nooses, it failed on him as you began to suck. His head leaned back, his sigh turning into an elongate whimper, his hands trying to reach for you. You began to bop your head up and down, his groans getting louder and his hips still slightly bucking into your face even when you held him down. Curses ran his lips and tears streamed down his face as he was finally getting sweet sweet pleasure. You felt him twitch in your mouth quickly as his dick waited long enough. “Fuck baby, I’m a good boy, I’m a good boy, I’m- gonna-“ His voice broke softly as he came in you mouth.

“ I’m your good boy.”

A/n: THIS IS SO SHIT I HAD IT IN DRAFTS NEARLY FINISHED FOR AGES SORRY

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Fever Kisses

(A/N); First, I’d like to apologize to everyone for falling off the face of the earth this last YEAR. I’ve been diagnosed as Immunocompromised, so it’s been a fun ride catching every single cold known to man :’) Currently getting over a 3-week long cold, and I’m Miserable, so I need a healthy dose of our favorite dwarven brothers. — This is also my 1st Fic/Drabble ever, so here goes nothing!

Summary: A wet rainy night proves no challenge for dwarves or hobbits. The same, however, cannot be said for humans.

Pairings; Kili x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings; Fevers/Sickness, Very soft and fluffy fluff, with a bit of angst and drama.

Translations:

Ibrizinlêkh: Sunshine

Bunnel: Treasure of All Treasures

—————————————————

The rain poured harder than ever before, showing no mercy to the trees, the bees, and certainly no dwarves.

The dark and stormy clouds blanketed the skies, casting shadows amongst the rolling hills. Soaked to the bone, through cloaks and tunics, still the company of Thorin Oakenshield trudged on.

Dwarrow are hardy folk; cold and damp environments bothering them none. Humans on the other hand, however, do not share the same trait.

(Y/N) found herself at the back of the line, trudging her way through ankle-deep mud, her arms wrapped around herself in hopes of holding onto whatever warmth was left. Kili stayed close, whereas Fili opted to lead the pack side-by-side with Thorin.

Quiet conversation could be heard from certain members of the company, including the one beside you. Kili regaled you with his adventures with the Blue Mountains and how Fili had scored a 5-point Buck with a single throw of a dagger, enhancing his story with wild gesturing hand movements.

“— And man, you should have seen Amad’s face when we got back with the buck! I daresay she had never looked more proud!” Kili boasted properly. “…(Y/N)?”

You looked up, meeting his soft honey eyes, not realizing you had stopped in movement. “(Y/N), are you alright? Are you tired?” Kili took a step towards you, concern etching its way onto his face. You stared at him, a strange, skin-crawling feeling rolling up your spine, a harsh shiver wracking your frame.

Kili closed the short distance between you, his hand gently landing on your arm before repeating his question. Only, this time, as the sound hit your ears, it sounded as though he were not speaking Common Speech at all. Your face scrunched in confusion, before it hit you. You felt a gasp rip through you as you quickly grabbed hold of Kili’s tunic, your legs feeling as though they were to give out. Your vision swirled as though you were one with a tornado, nausea quickly settling in.

Beyond the ringing of your ears, you could hear Kili yelling something, before the shadows of the others came into your peripherals. You tried to breathe, feeling the weight of a thousand bricks upon your chest — you felt as though you were suffocating; your vision began to darken with infectious black spots. Increasing your hold on Kili’s tunic as one last whimper escaped, you felt yourself fall.

—————————————————

“…(Y/N?)” Kili called back to you, having paused in his story at your stillness. He closed the distance between you two, lying his hand on your arm. He called to you once more, only to be met with confusion. He found himself mirroring your expression, if but only for a moment, before that expression quickly turned to terror as your body seized.

One arm shot out to hold up your weakening frame, the other gripping your arm tightly. “Uncle!” Kili shouted, his panicked tone ringing through the air. One look back from both Fili and Thorin had them sprinting to the back of the line.

“What happened to her?” Fili inquired while quickly reaching out with the goal of steadying you. His fear quickly grew as your weak frame shuddered one last time, before alast going limp. Barely catching you in time, he quickly hauled you upwards into his arms, your head lolling heavily against his chest.

Thorin laid his hand upon your too-warm forehead, quietly cursing in Khuzdul. “We need to find shelter. Now!” Thorin barked at the others, watching as they quickly scrambled towards the rocky cliff side.

—————————————————

Safely inside the dry remains of the cavern, a fire was hastily made while Fili and Kili worked to lay out a bedroll for you. Oin frantically dug through his pack, looking for his medicines and ailments as Thorin dug through his own looking for anything dry.

“We need to get her into dry clothes. This will do for now.” Thorin held out an oversized, but dry Tunic.

Fili and Kili shared a look, waiting for their Uncles’ instructions. Surely he didn’t expect them to undress her? Sensing his nephews hesitance, Thorin grumbled under his breath. “All of you. Turn away, now!” Thorin barked once more, before shedding your jacket. Together with his nephews, they worked to undress you, much to said nephews embarrassment.

Moments later, you lay peacefully upon a bedroll, clothed by nothing more than Thorin’s tunic, and a blanket modestly wrapped around your lower half.

Oin knelt beside you, lifting your head gently as he pressed a small glass vial to your lips. “Come on lass, swallow it down.” Oin quietly prayed, pouring the liquid onto your tongue, before sighing with relief at the sight of your body naturally swallowing the rather horrible tasting liquid.

“And now we wait.”

—————————————————

You were floating through the air — clouds more specifically. You were sure of it. You breathed in deeply through your nose, smelling the distinct smell of… a campfire? Surely not in the clouds…

You forced your heavily eyelids to open, finding yourself looking up at a pair of dwarves, whom were sitting side-by-side, heads leaning against one another as they both slept peacefully.

You attempted to recall how you got in said dwarves’ lap, but your brain felt far too mushy and not up to the task. You brought your hand up to Fili’s arm, with the intention of pulling yourself up. However upon doing so, you found yourself with not even enough strength to close your fist around said arm. Grumbling slightly, you tried again.

“Would you like some help?” A tired voice whispered beside you, causing you to jump. You looked up to see ice blue eyes peering back at you, a soft smile creeping their way into them.

At your silence, Fili brought his hand to your forehead once more, clicking his tongue at his findings. “You still have a fever. You need to rest more.” Fili pawed at your blanket, bringing it farther up your body, before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Here, Fee. Get her to drink some water.” Kili, awakened at the commotion, handed Fili an opened canteen. Slowly, Fili helped you sit up with a hand at your back, the other bringing the canteen to your lips. You sighed at the feeling of the cold liquid sliding down your throat; Refreshing. A few sips and Fili lowered it, much to your dismay. “Not too much at once, Ibrizinlêkh.” He chuckled, handing it back to Kili.

Swiping your tongue over your now moist lips, you sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, before shimmying back down to rest your head upon Fili’s chest once more.

Eventually, quiet conversation broke out between the two brothers, offering you distraction while you rested your heavily eyelids. Before long though, you found yourself peering back up at them, breaking said conversation as they both returned your gaze, a sight of content and fondness donning their faces.

Without thinking, you found yourself gripping Fili’s outer coat, raising yourself up to his chin. Using your other hand, you placed it on the back of his neck, gently guiding his nose to rest alongside your own. Instinctively Fili closed his eyes upon the close proximity; you gently lifted your head slightly, to rub your nose along his. Up, down. Up, down. And a third time, before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you…” You whispered quietly, before pulling back to reveal a stunned look upon his face. Had your brain not been mush, you surely would have laughed.

Looking to his right, you found Kili staring, dumbfounded at your stunt. Chuckling, you reached for his cheek. Despite his confusion, Kili leaned forward until his nose lay along side yours. Up, down. Up, down. A third time. Slowly, intimately.

Pulling back, you found yourself wearing a content smile, theirs quickly mirroring your own. “Goodnight” you offered softly, before settling back down into Fili’s arms.

“Goodnight… Ibrizinlêkh.”

“Goodnight, Bunnel.”

—————————————————

As the sun climbed over the horizon, you stretched comfortably, before opening your eyes. Once again, you found yourself peering upwards at a pair of blue eyes, alongside a pair of honey-brown.

“Good morning you two!” You yawned.

“Good morning (Y/N)” Kili returned,

“Good morning.” Fili whispered softly.

The company worked to pack up camp after each companion ensuring your health, before Thorin set them off once more.

Beginning your steps, you were stopped by a couple of hands — one upon your wrist, and the other on your arm. “(Y/N), can we ask you something?” Turning to meet both Fili and Kili’s eyes, yours in question. “Last night… you had… uhm.” Kili started, looking to his brother for assistance.

Fili touched his own nose, before continuing: “you had rubbed your nose with ours… what does that mean?”

You quickly found yourself stifling a laugh behind your hand, furthering their confused expressions. “Did I offer you both one? I’m sorry! My fever must have did away with my manners… it’s called an Eskimo Kiss. Thank you for taking care of me yesterday, both of you.” You grabbed each of their hands, offering a quick squeeze before turning back and following the others.

Fili and Kili found themselves standing there, baffled, before your words soaked in. The next sight, was picture worthy… Their faces quickly resembled that of a strawberry.

“An Eskimo Kiss?!” They squealed, quickly chasing after you.

—————————————————

I wrote this on the fly, on my phone at 3AM, as I personally have my own fever, so if this is horrendous to read, I blame my fever.

I do not have a Beta, nor did I honestly proof this before posting… but regardless, I hope y’all enjoy! This wasn’t supposed to be this long, but, that’s how fics/drabbles are supposed to go, right?

Goodnight and to the doctors I go!

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Fifty-five

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

(This chapter is in Keefe's pov of what had happened that morning.)

Keefe's eyes fluttered open when his alarm went off. He cringed from the tightness in his chest when he went to turn it off.

It felt like it knocked the wind out of him. He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

Except the tightness didn't abate. If anything, it felt like it was slowly getting worse. He leaned his head against the headboard as he panted.

He convinced himself he was fine last night. But now, he wasn't sure.

Keefe pressed a fist against his heart when it felt like it was being squeezed. He rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest, trying to massage away the pain. It wasn't helping. He could feel his heartbeat racing under his skin.

Something wasn't right. He had to admit that to himself now. But at that point, he didn't feel confident in his ability to get out of bed.

His door busted open. His dad glared at him. "Why aren't you out of bed yet? It's seven thirty."

"Dad," he wheezed. "My chest hurts. I think something's wrong."

Keefe's father deadpanned at his son. "Yeah, sure," he snorted. "Get up, I'm not playing this game with you this morning."

Keefe felt the corners of his eyes well up. From the pain or the lack of faith his father had in him, he wasn't sure.

"I'm not playing," he whispered. "It really hurts."

His dad rolled his eyes. Before slamming the door shut, he said, "I'm not doing this. Get up!"

Keefe whimpered. His dad was clearly going to be no help. With a great deal of effort, he managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

He gritted his teeth as he managed to get his feet on the ground. If he could just get through the morning and pretend he was going to school, it would be fine. Then, he could drive himself to the hospital and figure out what was wrong.

That plan lasted all about of three seconds. Keefe cried out when he reached his arm out to try and get a clean shirt. It sent pain spiking out from the muscles of his chest to his arm, leaving it sore and tingly when he yanked it back.

The throbbing was making it hard to breathe. Every time he gasped in a breath, it punished the muscles in his chest, feeling like they were spasaming. This left a weird cycle of breath holding and hyperventilating.

Keefe wasn't going to he able to get to the hospital on his own.

He stumbled back. Trying to gain his composure, he slid to the ground and leaned his head against his mattress.

"Dad!" He sobbed when he gained enough energy to do so. "Dad, I need you!"

Tears finally trickled down his face. The pain was starting to spread from his chest to his arms and shoulders. He could even feel it in his jaw. It was starting to make him feel sick to his stomach.

He waited to see if his dad would even come to tell him off for being dramatic. He was desperate to get his attention. But he never came. He must've been using the silent treatment, hoping Keefe would eventually shut up if he ignored him for long enough.

His mom had gone out with her friends that night. It was safe to say she was still black-out wasted at some bar.

Who else could he get to help him. He racked his brain. Ro.

He glanced at his phone on the nightstand. It was still connected to its charger that was dangling down. He stretched his arm out to reach for it. The action made it feel like he was ripping off his arm, but he managed to grab hold.

His shaky fingers called Ro's contact. One ring. Two rings. Three. He silently prayed she'd pick up. She was his last hope.

Finally, before the fourth ring, her voice said. "Hey, squirt. On your way to school?"

"No," he mumbled.

His voice was panicked. Ro picked up on it because she asked, "Something wrong?"

"Yes," he cried. "My chest really hurts. Dad is ignoring me. I'm scared." His hyperventilating picked back up.

Ro was quiet for a moment. Finally, she spoke, "Ok, first: you need to take deep breaths. That's not going to get you very much oxygen, and that will only make things worse. Second: I'm going to call dad and tell him to get off his butt to check on you. Will you be ok until then?"

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Ok, good. I'm gonna call you back when I'm done." The phone disconnected.

He tried to slow down his breathing, but when he did, the pain went up. But with the hyperventilating, he could see his vision going dark around the edges. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation. His head was getting lightheaded, too. Not helping any of the situation.

He could hear his Dad pick up the phone and talking to Ro on the other end in the loving room. Then he keeled over, and he was out.

When Keefe came back to awareness, he was being shaken. Someone was yelling at him. He didn't have the energy to even open his eyes. The pain had increased by tenfold. He couldn't do anything.

"Keefe!" His dad yelled. "Stop this. We're not doing pranks, right now." It all stopped for a moment. The shaking, the yelling. Keefe would've thought he had blacked out again if his dad wasn't breathing over him. Finally, in the most sincere voice he had ever heard from his father, said, "Keefe," with a voice crack. "Come on, get up. You're scaring me. Keefe?"

His dad grabbed his wrist and checked his pulse. That sent pain up to Keefe's shoulder. He managed to let out a groan.

Before going out once more, Keefe heard a phone ringing, then a phone operator saying, "911, what's your emergency?"

Coming back to consciousness, he was being jostled around. This time, he could pry open his eyes and mutter.

Everything was bright and overstimulating. The one thing he managed to make out was being carried on something. His gaze moved a little further to someone holding onto the stretcher he seemed to be on. A paramedic, he assumed.

When Keefe mumbled something even he didn't understand, the paramedic by his head said something to him. He couldn't decipher what.

As he was being taken outside to the ambulance, a car door opened. He could see the color in Ro's face completely drain.

She rushed to his side, taking his hand. She was talking, but his brain was too swimmy to process any of it.

The paramedics set Keefe down on the gurney, strapping him in. Being moved around made the pain worse. He let out a pitiful whine.

Once loaded in, one of the paramedics started to wipe the sweat off his face, then place an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. The other had cut off his pajama shirt down the middle and placed stickers onto his chest. She clicked the leads onto them, hooking it to the monitor.

Keefe was no doctor, but he was about ninety percent sure his heart rate wasn't supposed to be going that fast.

He felt a prick in the back of his hand. He glanced at the paramedic, pushing something into an IV. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he was gone.

He floated in and out of consciousness from then. Soon, he was being rolled into the hospital ER.

The paramedic yelled, "We have a sixteen year old male that's suffering from a possible heart attack. History of cardiac problems since birth. We need an Echo STAT!"

Keefe drifted back out. He didn't remember any of it. When he came back, he was in one of the ER beds. He glanced around. The pain felt better than what it was before. Was it getting better?

No. It was not. His eyes caught glance of an IV drip. It was likely just some medication.

The time passed by quickly for him. Everytime he blinked, people were in a new position outside of the curtain crack.

One of the last times, he turned his head to the side. Ro was sitting there. Tears were in her eyes. She noticed him looking at her and scooted closer.

"It hurts," Keefe mumbled.

"I know, bud," she whispered. She reached out and started to stroke his head. "They're trying to help you."

He nodded with a whimper. When he closed his eyes, he was welcomed back into the inky darkness.

When Keefe shifted awake, he was in completely different scenery. Another ambulance?

He looked down. He was dressed in a hospital gown. When had that happened? Where was he going. He let out a small, confused groan.

One of the paramedics' gaze locked onto him. He must've known Keefe was freaking out. He started to explain, "We're transferring you to the pediatric hospital now. They'll be more equipped to take care of you. Don't worry, you're over the worst of it.

Keefe managed a nod.

His body felt heavy. Too heavy. He thought it could be all the drugs that had been pumped into his bloodstream, but this felt different. He didn't like it.

He tried to express his concerns, but he could hardly open his mouth. His eyes kept unfocusing on him.

Everything was going hazy. Before he was out for good, he heard the paramedics around him panicking and telling the driver to go faster.

[misstycloud]

When a shopping trip goes wrong…

——————————

"Ugh..." you cried and looked down in horror. People around stopped to watch the ongoing commotion, which you were at its centre.

Your friend gasped and screamed, "what the hell, let go!" and grabbed your arm to try to pull you away from them.

The person currently clinging to your right leg wailed in refusal and tightened their grasp on you.

Kicking your leg frantically, the stranger did still not release you. "Stop!" you groaned and used your hands to attempt forcing them off you. It didn't work and only served to make them even more distraught.

"N-no! I'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry!" Tears streaming down their face, they buried it in your stomach and continued muttering hectic apologies.

You wanted to physically recoil at the closer proximity but couldn't because of the iron hold they held you in.

Through your shirt you felt the salty liquid seeping through and dampening your skin. It was absolutely disgusting, you thought. "Please don't hate me. I couldn't bear it if you do-I'd die!"

Through your shirt you felt the salty liquid seeping through and dampening your skin. It was absolutely disgusting, you thought. "Please don't hate me. I couldn't bear it if you do-I'd die!"

You were only going out to shop with your friends. This wasn't supposed to happen, not at all. The four of you had walked into a clothing store and one of your companions had then noticed a suspicious figure not far away.

Always standing in a corner, behind racks of clothing or hiding from sight behind pillars. Perhaps not completely visible, but the feeling of being watched never stopped.

Where ever you went the shadow seemed to follow and as you left the store, your friend had quickly turned around to confront them.

What you hadn't expected was for the perpetrator to be quite so young. And nor had you expected it to be someone you would recognise all to well.

Their black long hair hadn't gotten any shorter, they wore the same worn out and unwashed hoodie. Gross stains littering the entire fabric. Their skin still held the pale and sickly hue you'd seen the first time you met. Or, the first time you met them.

That was how you ended up with a mad one desperately clawing at your feet and calling your name like you were the last thing they'd ever see in this world.

Finally the scene had gathered enough onlookers for one of them to be a helping hand. A man approached you and ripped the stranger off you, their thin body wasn't able to stand against his strength and were easily removed. That didn't stop them from making a huge fuss over it though, "No, please! I need them!"

"Y/n, do you know this person?" Your friend asked you unsurely, not imagining you'd be familiar with this sort of person. But the way they spoke about you claimed otherwise.

"Ehm, not really-it's complicated." You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"What, do you know them or not, yes or no?" Your other companion asked demandingly.

"They're my stalker..."

"They're what?" They exclaimed, shocked by your words.

"Yeah, I noticed them coming by my workplace pretty often. Sometimes outside and sometimes inside the building." You explained with a regretful tone and turned your gaze towards your stalker arguing with the man.

"I thought it was weird of course, since they don't work there. Then, a few weeks later I realised they were following me as I walked home. I've tried telling them to stop bothering me, but they just won't stop."

"Can't you go to the police? Surely they'll do something."

Pursing your lips you answered, "I've already done that, they said they won't do anything since they-" you pointed at the dark haired individual,"- haven't actually done anything."

"What, that's sick, how can they say that?" They scoffed at the police's response to your problem.

"I know...."

Pushing the creep to the floor, the fellow discreetly wiped his hands on the side of his pants.

"That's enough of you, you trouble maker. What's gotten into you that you act like this, in front of kids as well." The man scolded with a tone filled with disdain, while you relished in your freedom and rubbed the sore spot on your leg. You winced, it would definitely bruise.

Your stalker said nothing to defend themself and kept sobbing in a heaving mess on the mall's dirty floor, grime made its way on their jeans and worsened their state further. People who'd initially stayed to observe the scene because it was interesting, now gazed at them with disgust.

"I'm sorry..." they muttered in their weak voice and sniffled some more. Others moved away from the scene and continued on with their day, not interested in what's going on anymore.

The man who helped you nodded at you, signalling his leave because he figured it was safe. You thanked him and looked at your stalker coldly, before turning on your heel and leaving together with your friends.

The pitiful person you left behind stared longingly at your back, heartbreak in their eyes. They hadn't meant for you to discover them, they were only supposed to get a couple photos to print out on their wall. But everything went astray when your friends noticed them and snitched.

Guess they wasn't that good at hiding and being observant. However, they wouldn't give up on you. Nothing could ever make them do that-no, you were a forever.

You were just so perfect. They couldn't get rid of the euphoric emotions that welled up whenever they laid eyes on you.

They were in too deep and had no way of getting back out of the dark abyss you'd thrown them in. Their mind, body and soul belonged solely to you now. They'd do anything and everything for you.

There is no going back.

-

[livingfast04]

Monster Au? - Part 8

one two three four five six seven II nine

Tw: Body Horror, mentions of disordered Eating, anxiety, dehumanization, refences to past child abuse, refences to emotional abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, biting, vomiting, blood.

---

Eddie wasn’t sure what the hell, he thought this was going to go, but it sure as hell wasn’t this. Mrs. Josie, talks to Eddie more than she talks to Steve as she stitches up his arm. The bite marks are deep, they look like something else did them to Steve, as if Steve hadn’t done them to himself. Muscle ripped open, the small amount of fat- scraped down to show off the white of bone. 

If March had never happened, Eddie thinks he would have puked along with Steve.

Glancing down, his shoes were covered in bile and blood, his pants too- it was on his hands, from grabbing Steve’s face, his arm- from wiping at the younger's blood covered face. Steve’s heart pounds in his ears, slow, and thick. The spark of adrenalin that ran through the other when he’d tore through his own skin. 

Eddie’s stomach rolled.

“I think both of you are going to need showers.” Eddie nods a little numbly, and a change of clothes- and new shoes. She wasn’t as skeletal as her son, her face a little fuller, she wasn’t as unnerving to look at, but it still made his skin prickle just a bit. She gave him a slight smile, showing off her own dangerously sharp teeth.

Eddie fumbles as she starts to stand her son up, Steve dead weight and mostly limp, falling forwards against Eddie’s chest. Mrs. Josie looks him over for a minute and Eddie refuses to squirm, no matter how much he wants to. “I have to clean this up, help give my boy a shower?” Blinking a few short times, “I- I, I can? But- why?” “Because I trust you not to drop him.” I trust you not to break him. Eddie sucks in a deep breath, getting a mouthful of sick smelling blood and layers of distress sticking to Steve’s skin. “Not that, that really matters- you need a shower as much as Stephan does.” Eddie’s kind of used to smelling a little like blood, comes with being a vampire- Uncle Wayne would however lose his shit, if he went home like this. It’s a little much, even for him. Eddie holds on to Steve a little tighter, “You should know where Steve’s bathroom is.” There it is, the sting, the anger, rightfully placed anger. Mrs. Josie goes back to mopping up the puddle of blood on the floor. Steve lets out a pitiful whine as Eddie shuffles to move them towards the stairs.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but we gotta get you cleaned up.” Steve didn’t make another noise, but he did press further against Eddie’s chest at his words, as if making sure he was still there. Eddie pressed his nose into greasy hair. Steve desperately needed a shower. Not just because he was covered in his own blood. 

Eddie stared at the stairs, and at Steve who was basically trying to bury himself in Eddie’s chest. Eddie shifted his hold on the other, cursing the Party with every mean but at least a little soft remark that he knows off the top of his head as he lifts Steve up. His heart aching as Steve lets out a startled sound, moving his limbs for the first time to cling to the back of Eddie’s shirt. 

Bracing for more weight than he thought he would be taking on, Eddie’s stomach tied itself into knots. Steve hardly weighs anything. Pressed this close together, he could feel almost every one of Steve’s bones. He whispered apologies into Steve’s hair as he climbed up the stairs.

Eddie had been upstairs a handful of times, most of the times had been in March. When the pack bonds hadn’t been as strung out, before adults got involved. Eddie doesn’t want to think about that- about the fact that they all had been fine. 

For the most part. Carrying Steve down to his bedroom, the room had been ransacked for most of the blankets, but clothes were spread all over the floor. Eddie breathed in a mouthful of stale scent of Steve. 

Eddie pushes open the attached bathroom with his foot, he shuffles things around, mostly definitely knocks things off the counter, and into the sink. It’s not exactly the picture of clean in Steve’s bathroom. Which is fine, Eddie and Wayne’s shared bathroom isn’t all that clean either. 

Steve grumbles when Eddie moves away, Eddie turns the shower on and pulls the curtain to. His socks are soaked, and it’s starting to drive him nuts. Wiggling them off getting more blood on his hands. Glancing up at Steve he jerks a little, those dark brown eyes are not brown. 

They are about six shades lighter and green. 

Not that Eddie spends time studying what color Steve’s eyes are or anything. But they are 100% not green. Steve makes an uncomfortable noise before the color changes again, back to his own brown, and Eddie just stands there. 

What the fuck. 

Shaking himself off, Eddie steps over his bloody socks and reaches out to tug Steve’s sweater off. Steve makes a clicking noise at him, but lets him pull it off. Eddie gets a good look at Steve’s bat bites for the first time since March. Holy shit. They are black around the edges, the skin that is healed or at least not basically missing, is raw and gnarled.

The little scabbing there is discolored and sunken in. Eddie’s brain screams to fix, fix, fix. They shouldn’t look like this, they shouldn’t look like that at all. Drawing his gaze up to meet Steve’s eyeline he catches the state of the younger’s back in the mirror. It’s scared over there better on his stomach, the back of his arms- 

Eddie’s going to be sick.

He goes through the motions of getting himself and Steve undressed as the mirror steams up. He doesn’t think about it, can’t think about it. Steve is like puddy, moving where Eddie wants him too, and he’s so light. 

The shower is fast, Eddie turns the water down so it's not so hot against Steve’s skin. Eddie tries to mimic at least somewhat of a hair routine, this is his second shower today; Steve leans into the soft touches, almost cat-like with the way he was pushing into Eddie’s hands. 

He was making soothing noises at himself too, and clicks- which were borderline terrifying sounds. Eddie wants to know how Steve’s avoided making them around the Party. Because they seem almost like second nature.

Steve “wakes” up as Eddie finishes washing his own hair. The water had long stopped running red. It still smells like blood, but it’s no longer one of the only things he can smell. Steve puts a little distance between them while Eddie washes his hands and arms, trying to get the scent off of him.

Eddie keeps his eyes off of Steve for as long as he can without making it awkward. “Did- did you wash my hair?” Steve’s voice startles him, taking a step back he didn’t have in the small space, his heel catching on the drain. Slipping slightly, he jerks out a hand to hold himself up on the wall. 

Steve lets out a small laugh, it’s bitter, and a little lost- but it’s a laugh. “Fuck- ah, okay, that- could have been worse.” Eddie straightened himself up, rinsing off, and turning the water off. The cold leeches back in. “Uh, yeah. It- it looked like you needed it, and you got blood in it-” 

Eddie trailed off, twisting around to open the curtain. “I puked on your socks.” Steve’s voice is quiet, Eddie hums softly in response, pulling the towel on the hook and turning around to hold out a hand to help Steve out of the tub. 

“You did.” Steve hesitated before curling his long spindly fingers around Eddie’s, he gave the younger a weak smile. Eddie wraps Steve in the towel, turning around to get another one to hand to him for his hair.

He opens the cabinet under the sink in search of the extras, four blue towels stare back at him. Eddie takes two, curling one around his waist and kicking the door shut with his foot. “I- I’m not, I’m not sure what we are doing.” Eddie looks back at Steve, he looks lost. “Drying off after taking a shower.” Simply easy, that is what they were doing. Steve furrows his eyebrows, with his hair plastered to his forehead Eddie could see all his features. 

“I know that. But what are we doing?” Eddie knows logically that Steve hasn’t accepted his apology, nor does he ever expect the other to. So the other’s words don’t sting. They hurt sure, but they are deserved. “I don’t-” “Let's get dressed and then we can talk?” It feels like a cop-out, Eddie feels gross about it, but this isn’t a conversation he wants to have naked. 

“Uh, oh right, yeah-” They shuffle out of the bathroom as a set of clumsy limbs into Steve’s room, there’s two sets of clothes and a pack of bandages on the bed. Mrs. Josie must have came in while they were in the shower-

Eddie finishes drying off his legs, before grabbing a pair of underwear off the bed. He gets dressed faster than Steve does, he watches the younger out of the corner of his eye sluggishly tug on his clothes. He watches Steve touch his fingers against the marks on his sides, the hiss of warning creeps out of Eddie’s throat without warning. 

Steve��s hands jerk away from his wounds, and Eddie quiets the noise. He doesn’t reach to touch the bites again. 

Before Steve can tug on his shirt, Eddie digs through the small box and gets out the bandages. Holding them up with a question on his lips. They stare at each other for a long moment, before Steve steps up into Eddie’s space, his heart beating nervously in Eddie’s ears. 

He wraps the bits on Steve’s stomach, taping down the edges of soft pads to his pale skin, then wraps soft cloth around his full center. The spots on the younger's back aren’t in a good spot to wrap up, but Eddie still looks them over. It’s almost intimate.

The closeness, the feeling of Steve’s breath against his wet hair, the chilliness of his body. It’s all in Eddie’s face. And he’s not sure what to do with the way his brain buzzes. Mindlessly as he sets down the bandages on the bed he picks up Steve’s shirt, the other doesn’t even reach out to take it from him-

Just lifts his arms to slide them into the armholes when Eddie straightens back up. He does it without complaint, Steve doesn’t step away when he gets his shirt on either. It’s quiet, Eddie tilts his head to the side. Drops his eyes down to stare at the scar on Steve’s neck. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie looks back at Steve’s eyes. The other looks away, stares at the otherside of the room, “I meant what I said, you don’t have to forgive me. You don’t have to give me the time of day, but I’d like to make it up to you. If you’d let me.” Eddie’s voice is hardly above a whisper. 

Steve’s eyes filled with tears, “I hate you.” it comes out broken and wet and Eddie wilts on the inside. Steve turns back to look at him, his chin wobbles, and Eddie’s heartbreaks a little more. Part of him expected something close to vicious hate to be festering in Steve’s eyes. 

But they just look sad.

“I hate you.” It comes out even quieter, and far more wet, tears trace down Steve’s cheeks- and the whole room smells like distress, loneliness, and heartbreak. Eddie’s own eyes well up tears, Steve smells so fucking sad, and it’s Eddie’s fault. 

Eddie opens his mouth, just slightly- working his jaw, “I know.” I’m sorry, empty words, they don’t make anything better, Eddie feels terrible but it's probably a fraction of what Steve has been feeling.

Taking a small Steve back trying to give the younger some space. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you for what you did to me, I hate you for what you’ve made me.” Eddie nods, whispers out I know again, and again- I know and I’m so sorry Steve. 

Steve’s sobbing, it shatters the quiet, it catches Eddie in the chest. It aches, “I want you to go away, I want you to leave and never come back- I want to forget you ever existed. I want you to never speak to me again. I hate you,” Steve takes a stuttering breath, hardly sucks it in as Eddie steps back, ready to leave. He ducks his head slightly, reaching backwards to grab for the door handle. Steve lets out a wounded noise, high and keening- “Please don’t leave me.” Eddie jerks his head back around, there’s tears soaking the younger’s cheeks, panic and desperation written there. Steve’s sinking down to sit on the floor, harsh sobs wracking his tiny, thin frame. 

Eddie’s moving before he can stop himself, crossing the room is long strides- his knees hit the floor with a heavy thump, the force of it rattles through his bones. It doesn’t matter, arms reaching out to curl around Steve’s form. Steve lets out a heartbreaking sounding noise, clinging to Eddie’s shirt, pulling him towards him- his nails digging into his skin, the fabric does little to drown out the pinch. “Oh sweetheart- I’m so sorry, I won’t, I won’t leave you, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you can’t stand me anymore.”

“I hate you.” Steve sobs the words into his shirt, his whole body shaking, rattling at the force of his sobs. Eddie tucks his nose into Steve’s freshly washed hair. “I know.” They sit on the bedroom floor for a long time.

---

Ayyy, this was on the brain, so it got done instead of me studying :D. This ones got some of that Ao3 editing on the end, because I wrote it, basically went through the motions for the last scene and then added and moved stuff around. So- with the proper motivation I'll probably be doing that to the first portion of the Fic I want to post on ao3 first soon! I apologize if the formatting is weird. All of it's been a little funky lately- !! All of you are amazing, I still have no idea where you all come from, but you are here!! So That's nice :) I crave validation it is The motivation <3

Tag list:

@theghostinmymachine @sadcanadianwinter @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @bisexualdisastersworld @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @estrellami-1 @raysreads @knightofthieves @sassysleeplord @gezell-igg @ledleaf @haluton @h0n3y-dw @thegingerrapunzel @finalmoondragon @warrior-616 @lexyvey @thesuninyaface @whalesharksart @two-faced-biatch @plasticcrotches @xtkxkrzrizir @minjintea @potatofist18 @just-a-tiny-void @selune2 @hellomynameismoo @princessstevemunson @plantzzsandpencilzzs @wearelosersyoudumbfuck @dbquills @pheonixashtree @sharingisntkaren @gregre369 @chaoticlovingdreamer @obliosworld @littlebluejane

[sl33paholics]

dio angry fucking you… because a guy was flirting with you and dio gets mad and teaches you a lesson🤧

Know Your Place!

Dio Brando x black!fem!reader

Warning(s): aggressive sex (with consent ofc), biting, gripping, choking, nipple play, rough kissing, bit of degrading, spanking....it's a shit ton of stuff alr? You'll see as you read.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO my first ever Dio request, out of all the characters from JJBA, I finally get to write this nigga for the first time. Kinda scared. Also, this is a modern AU as you said in your first request!

Words can't describe how much of an internal emotional turbulant this man felt when he saw a guy hitting on you while the two of you were at the shopping center.

He left you alone for a few minutes just to use the bathroom and came back to see a man, a lowlife, a pervert, a pig, a snob, an ugly fucker way too close getting his chance to holla at you. As if he waited or even followed the two of you to watch Dio leave your side to swoop in and take your attention away from him for a moment so that he could do something disgusting to you. He just couldn’t let it slide.

The blonde watched at you fluttered those lashes at him. Your glossy lip-liner lips curved into a pretty smile as you made conversation with this stranger who was now practically glued to you. You looked like you were in love with this fucker despite Dio being your boyfriend. It didn’t feel right. Could it be that you were humoring this man? Was it some sort of sick game for him? Was he trying to impress you so badly?

As if his body was acting on his own, Dio approached you two of you. His hand grabbed yours as he squeezed your small one tightly. The sharp gaze he gave the man in front of you was not friendly or soft. He knew what was going on and was ready to rip his eyes out with his bare hands if necessary. The guy backed off and sheepishly went his way. “We're going home." He'd say in that quiet voice of his, the same tone he used whenever someone tried to get too close. But this was different. There was something about Dio's eyes, the way they narrowed, and the way they glittered as if he would gladly rip out the stranger's tongue with his teeth, which made him seem so intimidating.

The ride home was quiet. He didn't say a word to you. You knew he was angry by the way he grabbed your hand. You're not stupid. But you didn't think it was a big of a deal. You were surprised when he didn't drop you off to your dorm, but instead, to the Joestar estate. Dio never bought you here unless an event was going on. Did this man forget to tell me that a party was going to happen today or what? You thought to yourself.

Man, you were totally wrong. Super fucking wrong.

You're now currently laid down at the edge at the edge of his king-sized bed, face-to-face, naked. The firm grip Dio had on your hips as he stared down at you with those dark chocolate orbs. All you need to know is the extent of how pissed off he was. His thumb gently stroked the sensitive skin above your naval. "This asshole dared to look at you," he whispered harshly, his breath hot against your neck, "and touch you." You could hear the venom dripping from each word Dio spoke, goosebumps appearing on your skin under his touch. Your legs raised up high with your knees bent to form a V, exposing the pink folds.

Oh my, the cold air in the room didn't help either. Your nipples were getting hard. As you felt the chills running through your breasts, the pain that came with it was creeping in.

Dio was enjoying watching you whine beneath him. His body slapping against your, his attention going to your breasts. A wicked smile plastering his face.

Dio's hand slithered over to one of your breasts, cupping it as he ran his thumb across its nipple. Your head threw back as he massaged the breast. However, he pinched your nipple as hard as he caused you to scream. Don't fucking move, (Y/N)." The words were stern and rough, making sure you stayed where you were.

Your back arched up with every pinch. It didn't help that the thrusting was beginning to become faster. Your mind was starting to cloud over with lust. You were losing control of what happened to you. You knew this could only end in disaster.

"Oh, if only you could see yourself right now. Such a whore. Like the slutty bitch you are." His words pierced your heart. They hurt more than any slap ever could have.

Dio pulled out, leaving you in shock. He moved your body further up on the bed as Dio got on top of you. You felt his hand wrapped around your neck. When the blonde thrusted into your waiting pussy, he gave your neck a good squeeze to make sure that your mouth stayed shut from a lack of oxygen. "No screaming. No moaning. No begging." The blonde wasn't taking shit from you. He didn't want to hear you protest.

Dio was jamming, no, drilling you at this point. His thrusts were getting sloppy, erratic, and rough. Dio's pace quickening and his breathing heavier. Every time he pumped inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch inside of you. Almost as if he was having trouble controlling himself. His breathing became heavy. The feeling was driving you crazy. You wanted him. More than anything.

His squeeze was getting tighter, and your eyes were rolled back. It was only until you had to scratch his arm for the man to realize that he had to snap out of his cloudy hated state of mind, removing his hand from your neck watching you gasp for air.

Dio got closer to your face, and the same hand he used on your neck was now cupping your cheeks and turned your head to face him. His lips pressed against yours. Dio's tongue tasted your salty lips and his own saliva sliding in between them before he sucked your tongue into his mouth. His tongue dancing with yours. Dio groaned with pleasure, and you couldn't help it. You moaned. That sounded so sexy coming out of your mouth. The trial of saliva against your tongue when he finally moved away. This was amazing. So intense and intimate, yet also so tender and caring, you thought. His taste was addicting. He tasted like peppermint, vanilla, and chocolate. Dio tasted like everything you liked. He smelled like the rain, like springtime, and most definitely, like sex.

All of this pleasure, all of this pain was worth it to be with him. To be in his arms. To be with him forever.

You felt yourself coming to your climax when he continued to stroke and massage your already wet and swollen clit. You were going to come any second now. You wanted to come again and again with him. With him.

And with that, you did, falling into his embrace after the two of you came together. Dio didn't bother to pull out. He wanted to remind you who you belonged to, as if that wasn't apparent from the moment Dio threw you on the bed earlier.

"My my...look at you," He'd say seeing your figure below him twitching and breathing heavily. "Your lip gloss has smeared across the pillow sheets and your pretty hair is all messy..." The blonde would say with a chuckle, you looked at him as if you wanted to punch the shit out of Dio. "Fuck you...you bastard...choking me as if I'm some fuckdoll." You'd say closing your eyes.

"Don't threaten me with a good time and new ideas, sweetheart. Take this as a lesson learned. You belong to me."

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Kinktober Day 25: Please

summary: dear fucking god, you’re trying to kill him.

kink: sex pollen

pairing: fem!reader (call name is Ace) x frankie “catfish” morales

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, dubious consent due to sex pollen, kissing, unprotected sex, oral sex, creampies, squirting, confessions of feelings

AN: this one REALLY got out of hand….i thought the santi dp fic would be the dirtiest thing i ever wrote but here this so um…no one look at me. also thank you to my wife @munsons-curls for betaing i wuv you so bad.

word count: 2.1k

kinktober masterlist | misc. masterlist

It feels sick to say that you’re grateful it happens with Frankie, but it’s true. All of the guys care for you, and you for them, but things have always been different with Frankie. Of course, that has to do with the feelings you have for him brewing dangerously close to the surface— but sometimes it feels like he feels something like that for you too.

He’s told you to keep your mask on, that these are dangerous woods and you can never be too careful. It’s clear that you’ve been hanging around overly confident Pope too much when you remove it, citing that you can handle anything these woods hold. But then you step on something that looks harmless and it dissolves violently into a red powder that gets in your mouth and nose, entering your bloodstream in a matter of moments.

Frankie’s on you quick, scooping you off the ground and sprinting away with a speed you didn’t know he possessed. He’s functioning with adrenaline pumping through his veins, the only thought on his mind is to get you out of there. Once back to the car he drives like a maniac, gets you back to the safe house in an amount of time that would frighten you if you could think straight.

You babble the entire way there, groaning about the sensations pulsing through your body. You’re confused, not sure what you’re feeling, but it’s incredibly warm and everything hurts, even the brush of your clothing against your skin makes you grimace— until it doesn’t.

“Frankie, it’s hot. It’s so fucking hot, and I’m aching, it all hurts. I need you,” You reach out for him, hand finding the expansive muscle of his thigh.

He looks down at your hand then up at you in confusion, unsure of what it could’ve been that you ingested to make you feel like this. Nonetheless, he leans over and settles his hand on your cheek, “I’m right here, what can I do?”

That’s when you’re hit with it in its entirety, no doubt about what’s happening to you. Arousal.

It’s now flooding your body, turning your brain to mush, and with the musky, pine smell of Frankie so heady in your nostrils you can’t keep up any sense of decorum. The way his skin feels against yours, just the brush of it feels sinful and you need him.

“Touch me, please. Make me feel good.”

His eyes go wide with nerves and surprise, and he tries to rip his hand away from your cheek but you hold it there, hold him there while he rejects you, “Ace, you don’t mean that.”

“I mean it Frankie, I need you to touch me and make me cum, please. I’ll do anything, whatever you fucking want just make me cum okay? Please?” You whimper, eyes pleading at him with a distress he’s never seen before.

He gets both of you unbuckled, and you hurl yourself out of the car, practically dragging him into the foyer of the safe house.

“Let’s go in the bedroom so that-“ He tries to usher you down the hall but you sink your heels in, lean back against the wall and pull him with you.

“No, Frankie, here, please? Please baby, just fuck me against the wall?”

Baby.

Dear fucking god, you’re trying to kill him. The term of endearment curls around his ears like warm smoke, and any hesitation about helping you melts away.

Your pants and panties are off in no time and he groans upon seeing that he doesn’t even have to get you ready, your pussy shining with your arousal. When he slides into you, you clench violently around him, and with just three gentle strokes you cum, a garbled version of his name leaving your throat.

His lips brush against your temple as he stills, “Better?”

You look up at him frantically shaking your head, “No, Frankie, don’t stop please, you feel so good. I need you.”

“I’ll take care of you, Ace,” He grits through his teeth, his forehead pressed against yours as he starts to thrust into you again.

“Will you cum inside me? Please, Frankie?”

His pace falters at the question, “Sweetheart-“

“Francisco, please?” You grip the collar of his shirt in one hand, your other hand knotting in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Whatever you want, whatever you want. How’s this?” He asks, resuming his previous rhythm, pleasure sparking down your spine and into your lower belly.

“Good, like that baby, just like that,” You praise and he drops his lips to the spot beneath your ear, kissing and sucking the skin there.

The sound of him entering you is obscene, and he can feel your slick completely coating him and the mound of curls at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, baby you’re so wet,” He says in a soft, honeyed voice.

You’d think that Frankie was hit with whatever the hell you were with how frantically he moves his hips against yours, fucking you up against the wall with an urgency. And while a lot of it has to do with how your brow smooths with each of his thrusts, he can’t deny that some of it is because you feel so tight and warm around him, that he’s been wanting to do something like this since the moment he laid his eyes on you.

You’re whispering all these filthy things in his ear, praising him as he fucks further and further into you, and when you beg him for his cum again he loses it, an animalistic sound leaving his throat as he fills you to the brim. You crest again, burying your face in the crook of his neck, your fingernails now digging harshly into the flesh of his back. But it's still not enough. Your body’s still hot, still begging for more, and when Frankie pulls away to check on you he already sees it in your eyes.

“More?” He asks, running a thumb over your bottom.

“Please, baby.”

He can’t say no to that, and he doesn’t want to but he’s definitely going to need some time to recharge for another round.

His lips find your ear, voice raspy and send a chill through you, “You want my mouth? Hmm? Can I eat your pussy?”

“Fuck, yes. Please,” It comes out almost as a cry.

It's silly, the way he doesn’t want to pull out of you because he wants to keep his spend inside of you. It's even sillier how he carries you– still fully sheathed inside you– through the safehouse to the bedroom. He wastes no time once he enters the room, getting you on the bed and pivoting your hips up as he drops to his knees in order to keep his cum inside you.

When he comes face to face with your pussy for a moment all he can do is stare, you’re slick and swollen, the thick white of his seed just barely pushing out of you, and a chill runs through him when he leans forward and gets his first taste.

He’s ravenous and if you weren’t full of some chemical you’d be overly sensitive to the way his tongue messily runs through your folds. He sucks your clit between his lips, his eyes shut with concentration, and the sight makes you fall back against the bed.

“So fucking sweet, baby,” He murmurs into your pussy.

Your hand falls to his hair, knotting in it as you grind yourself against his face. He groans at the feeling of your hand is hair, doubling his efforts and soon you cum again. He licks up all your slick, his hands holding your thighs open with a firm grip.

His smell, his essence, his touch is the antidote, feeling like cool water against your feverish skin, “You feel so good against me, Frankie, please more.”

More. More, more, more. It’s all you've been asking him for since he put his hands on you, and he’s trying to hold back because this shouldn’t have been your first time together. But you’re looking up at him with desperation and hunger that he can’t resist. He has to take care of you and give you what you need.

Pushing up on your elbows to look at him, you frown at his lack of action, “Fuck me again, please, just one more time, please, Francisco?”

The last time is slower, lazier, the press of hips against each other slowly, both of you exhausted, but your body still calling to him. You don’t know how he’s kept up, but he feels so good, overwhelming in the best way. His mouth skates over your warm skin, mouthing kisses everywhere but where you actually want him. You wonder if he’s avoided kissing you on purpose, and more than anything you want his lips pressed to yours.

“Frankie?” You gasp through drags of pleasure, gripping his shoulders.

“Yeah, baby?” He mumbles looking up at you, his mouth still at your shoulder.

“Kiss me.”

“You sure?”

“Baby,” You plead, trying to lean closer, eyes falling to his lips.

He nods, surging down to slant his mouth against yours, his thrusts still steady, and after licking into your mouth he pulls away, “Squeezing me so tight, still. Fuck.”

There’s a pressure, a force building deep within you. It feels good, intense, and you can’t even find the words, looking up at Frankie open-mouthed, hoping that your eyes are screaming don’t stop, because if he can just keep fucking you like this, with deep, fast thrusts, you’ll cum and it feels like it’ll be the end. Like if you cum one last time it’ll be the antidote, saving you from whatever this is.

It’s his undoing that pushes you over the edge. He grunts your name, pumping his cum deep. The warmth of him, the roughness of his voice breaks the dam inside you. You gush around him, it’s loud, it’s wet, but it feels so good and your back arches pushing your chest against his as you let out a silent cry, your orgasm pulsing through every nerve in your body.

Frankie groans when he feels you cum, resting his face in the crook of your neck as the both of you gasp air, trying to get your breathing back under control. You feel scores better, that heavy desire has left your limbs and a tiredness has replaced it. You could lay here forever if you weren’t so embarrassed about everything that just happened, especially the squirting— something you’ve never done before.

“Did I just…” You begin timidly.

“Don’t be embarrassed sweet girl, you needed it,” He coos into your neck, beginning to kiss a path down your body.

“But, Frankie-”

“Shh, let me taste you like this,” And through all of this, you notice how deep and needy his tone gets.

This is less about you and more about feeding his own hunger, and you happily lean back for him, letting him lap up the mixture of wetness from between your thighs with a constant satisfied hum in his throat. He kisses his way up your body– soft, sensual kisses that feel like more– and when his nose comes to rest against yours, you surge forward, capturing his mouth again. He tastes of you, salty and sweet, but of something distinctly him, and you lick into his mouth eagerly, wanting to memorize his taste since this is it.

“Better?” He asks again breathlessly once he’s pulled away.

“Much better,” You murmur softly, the gravity of everything that’s just come to pass hitting you like a ton of bricks. You feel your skin warm under his thoughtful gaze from embarrassment and maybe a hint of lust that still grips you. But you no longer feel like you’re dying, the discomfort subsiding. You shift in the bed, putting a small space between you, and he falls back onto his back beside you. “Thank you and…I’m sorry? I don’t really know what the protocol is here.”

“I did it because I wanted to, querida,” Frankie reassures, his fingers tangling with yours as he grips your hand.

“Yeah?” Your voice cracks, nervous but hopeful.

“Yes.”

“Maybe we could…do it again after dinner sometime? No crazy sex biochemical agents involved,” You giggle, squeezing his hand tighter.

He joins in on your laughter, turns on his side again so he can look you firmly in the eyes as he says, “I’d like that a lot.”

pedro taglist: @lesbianhotch, @honeybrowne, @multiverse-mxdness, @fanofverymanythings, @angstyvirgin001, @jazzelsaur, @mccn-bcys, @jxvipike

[joelmillersdumbslut]

I took your matches before fire could catch me (part four)

(joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist

summary: After Joel Miller ghosts you for three weeks, you drive to his house to find answers. (no outbreak. no use of y/n)

rating: 18+ explicit (minors do NOT interact)

warnings (for this chapter): age gap (reader is in late 20's, joel is mid 50's), dirty talk, pet names, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, daddy kink, alcohol consumption, so much angst

word count: 3k

a/n: thank you again for all the love on my first series. i'm really nervous with how this chapter turned out, but i hope you still enjoy it ♡

ao3 link

Joel hasn’t answered any of your texts for three weeks.

You sit on the couch in your living room, wearing the last shirt he had given you. Inhaling the faint smell as best as you can. Anything to remember him. You’ve been spending your nights and days staring off into space. Wondering if maybe you were wrong. But, how can your emotions be wrong? How can your feelings be wrong?

Tonight, your eyes wander, finally settling on the bottle of wine he had gifted you. It’s unopened. Gradually collecting dust on the counter. You remember the way he smiled when you removed it from the crumpled paper bag.

Your chest feels heavy.

You grab your keys and head out the door.

—

You park across the street like you always do. You march up the porch steps with purpose, but pause once you raise your hand to knock on the door. You hear voices inside. Your heart sinks immediately. What if he’s moved on without you?

Fuck Joel.

You need answers.

Your fist bangs on the door. You keep whacking the surface with all your might, wondering if your knuckles will soon be pierced with splinters when suddenly the door is whipped open.

He’s standing there with a beer in hand. He seems annoyed at first, but his negative emotions are alleviated once he realizes it’s you.

“Babygirl,” Joel breathes softly, “What are you doin’ here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” you hiss. Crossing your arms and staring him down.

“Look, I can’t talk right now—“

“Joel, I need to talk to you. I have to talk to you. You just can’t leave me like that with no explanation,” your voice becomes shrill with emotion.

He looks exasperated, defeated. A voice emerges from behind him, “Joel, what’s goin’ on?”

A hand clapping on Joel’s back. For the first time since you’ve known him, you see fear in his eyes. Something you didn’t think was possible for Joel to experience. The figure pushes past Joel to acknowledge you.

“Hey the…. What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

Tommy’s lip curls into a snarl. His nostrils flare and you swear to God this man is seeing red. You want to rub your eyes, pinch your skin. You need to wake up from this fucking nightmare.

“Joel, is this some kinda sick joke? What’s she doin’ here?”

“What are you doing here?” you counter, your hands ball into fists and begin to shake at your sides.

“This is my fuckin’ brother’s house, I can be here as often as I’d like,” Tommy seethes, “Did you come back to ruin my life again?”

He pauses, turning to look at Joel, finally connecting the puzzle pieces together, “Or did you come here to ruin his?”

Tears are rolling down your cheeks as you glance over at Joel. He’s staring into his beer bottle. You want to shake him, scream in his face. But, you can’t. You’re frozen in place.

“Joel, you gonna take care of this trash or should I?” Tommy growls, his eyes fixated on you.

“If you touch her, I will rip you apart,” Joel doesn’t even look up from his beer bottle, “What y’all did happened long ago. You gotta get over it, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes are bulging out of his head, “You're jokin’, right, Joel? You’re not seriously bangin’ this—”

Joel is now standing in front of you, “You call her any names, I will end you. I mean it, Tommy.”

Joel’s younger brother pushes past you, nearly knocking you off your feet, but Joel is quick to steady you. Tommy silently fumes as he walks off the porch, heading to his vehicle parked in the driveway.

“Fuck you,” Tommy hollers as he opens the truck door, “Fuck both of you.”

Then, he peels out of Joel’s house, speeding down the street.

Joel takes a long sip of his beer. Your feet are glued to the porch. Not sure whether you should go inside or if you should leave. You look at Joel, hoping he can give you an answer.

“You happy now?” Joel huffs.

That certainly wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

You stare at him in disbelief, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Why the fuck would I be happy about this?”

“You seem to like fuckin’ everything up,” he retorts, tossing the bottle onto the porch. It rolls away from his feet. Hitting the steps and cracking into pieces.

“What did I fuck up exactly? Please. Enlighten me,” you can feel rage burning in your chest. Your throat is tight and it’s getting harder to breathe.

“What we had goin’. It was a good deal. Then you went and said what you said,” he waves his hand in the air. Like your confession, your feelings, your vulnerability mean nothing to him. “Then you come over here and piss off my brother. Probably never gonna talk to me again.”

“Then you should’ve never fucked around with me in the first place!” your voice is sharp and resentful. “You knew what you were getting into, Joel, don’t blame this on me. Don’t you dare. These are the consequences of your actions.”

“How is it the consequences of my actions?” he snaps.

“You were the one who was nice to me! You were the one who came running when I needed you, you were my shoulder to cry on. We even shared our lives with each other. You shouldn’t have done any of those things if you didn’t want me to love you,” you choke out the last words, your vision blurry from the tears welling up inside the corners of your eyes.

The two of you glare at each other. You step closer to Joel, feeling the heat radiating off his body. Even though you're so angry at him, you can’t help but stare at his muscles protruding through the fabric of his shirt. You think about the way you want those arms around you, holding you, protecting you. You think about how you want things to go back to the way they were just a few short weeks ago.

But, Joel’s right.

You went and fucked it all up.

Joel leans down and kisses you. Hard. You’re taken aback, but you kiss him back just as hard, your tongue entering his mouth and crashing into his. Joel’s hands are moving up and down your body, his touch is rough and careless. He pulls away from your embrace, taking you by the hand and leading you into the house.

—

“Is Sarah home?” you whisper as Joel’s hand clutches your wrist, guiding you through the dimly lit house.

“Do you ever shut up?” he quips.

Even though you stumble around in the darkness, you still remember how to get to his room. You practically know the layout of the house by heart now with how often you come over. After you stagger into the bedroom, Joel locks the door behind him. He’s gazing at you like a beast freed from its cage.

“Tell me what you want,” his voice is quiet, he closes the distance between the two of you.

“I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “I want you so much.”

He says nothing at first as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts, your hardening nipple rolling between his thumb and index finger. You stifle a moan, unbuttoning your jeans and kicking them off. Joel pushes you onto the bed, towering over you.

“You don’t love me,” he murmurs, nipping at your neck and collarbones. Purple splotches already forming underneath the surface of your skin.

“I do love you,” you whimper beneath him, “I don’t know why you’re too stubborn to see it.”

Joel yanks your underwear to the side, his thumb rubbing your clit in fast circles. But, then he pauses once he notices how wet you are already. His index finger slides up and down your slit, collecting slick on his fingertip before he dives into your entrance.

“What are you interested in an old man for anyway? Should be with a guy your age,” he gruffs, his finger thrusting in and out of you. Your body tenses up at the bliss emanating from your core.

“I don’t wanna be with a guy my age. I told you that on our first date,” your breath hitches, “I’ve always liked older men.”

“Lucky me.”

Joel adds another finger, his digits sinking into you, massaging that sweet spot deep inside your body. His rhythm is unstable and messy, but you can still feel your orgasm bubbling up to the surface. You missed this so much.

“Fuck, I’m—” you gasp, arching your back as the tension expands even faster throughout your body. You’re so close, your legs begin to shake, your head is dizzy.

“Call me by my name,” Joel growls.

“Fuck you,” you pant, “I’m not calling you that anymore. Not if you don’t even like me.”

His fingers pull out of your pussy, leaving a sticky residue all over his hand. You throb and pulse, aching for more.

“Never said I didn’t like you,” Joel sits up. His expression is indignant as he stares at you.

You feel lightheaded, so many things running through your mind. So many things you want to say.

If you like me, why don’t you say it then?

Why do you act like you care about me one minute, then you act like you couldn’t give a fuck about me the next?

Why do you insist on punishing me?

Instead, the two of you remain silent for a long time. Until he speaks.

“Tell me one thing,” he mutters, “What did you think you were gonna get out of this?”

You sit with your knees pulled up to your chest. Even though it’s been a couple months since you met Joel, you never really put much thought into this. Your original intention of joining Lily was to find someone to start a relationship with. Instead, you have… this. A situationship where you’re all in, but he’s constantly hot and cold, non-committal, and giving off mixed signals.

What did you think you were gonna get out of this?

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. I thought we would just keep fucking, doing our thing. But, then you were being nice to me. Like you cared about me. And I thought…”

“You thought what?” he seems… a little calmer now. Like he’s actually considering what you have to say this time.

“I thought I actually had a chance with you,” your bottom lip quivers. You’re on the verge of crying again. You turn away from him, the back of your hand rubbing the corner of your eye.

Joel sighs deeply. “Come here, babygirl,” he holds his arms out for you, “Hate seein’ you like this.”

“You sure didn’t give a fuck about me earlier,” you seethe. You’re not gonna fall for his fake niceties. Not again.

“How do you know?” Joel raises his voice, “Do you know how bad I wanted to punch Tommy for what he said ‘bout you? Because you don’t deserve that. And you sure as hell don’t deserve someone like me.”

You blink.

What does he mean by that?

“I want you, Joel. You’re all I want,” you hiccup, trying to hold in the tears. “I don’t care about what anyone has to say, especially your brother.”

He reaches out, taking your hand. “It’s gettin’ late. Why don’t you stay here?”

You say nothing. You get out of bed, picking up your shirt from the floor and pulling it on over your head. Your eyes are red and puffy. You cross your arms and sniffle, staring down at the floor.

“What are you so afraid of, Joel?”

“We ain’t talkin’ ‘bout this,” he growls.

“Why not?” you exclaim.

“I’m afraid it’ll end up like the last time. That you’ll leave me and I’ll be alone. I’m afraid this’ll all be for nothin’. There, you happy?” Joel’s nostrils flare.

You shake your head in confusion, sitting down on the bed next to him. Your hand caresses his cheek, your thumb slowly brushing through his scruff.

“Are you talking about Sarah’s mom?” you whisper.

“You need to go to bed,” Joel huffs, standing up from the bed and gesturing to your side. The side you always sleep on when you stay over. The side with extra pillows because Joel knows you can’t fall asleep unless you have a mountain of them.

He knows so much about you. Sometimes, he even seems to genuinely care about you. But, he’ll never admit it. Especially not to your face. And you’re beginning to realize that.

“I’ll go to bed,” you nod in defeat. You clamber to your spot on the mattress, pulling the covers up over your body.

Joel stands at the foot of the bed, readying to leave you. “Gonna go have another beer,” he murmurs.

But, you have to say something first.

“Wait,” you whimper.

He turns around, those brown eyes piercing your soul. The very same ones you fell in love with through his pictures on the dating app.

“I don’t know what happened. But, I’m not like her. That’s all I wanna say.”

He’s quiet for a moment, looking down at the floor. Then he walks to the bed and sits down next to you.

“I know, babygirl,” he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “That’s why I’m afraid.”

He kisses your forehead, shuts off the light, and heads downstairs.

—

You see yourself standing inside what appears to be a castle. You lift your hand, grazing your fingertips against the jagged limestone wall in front of you. You hear a voice calling your name. You turn to see Joel on the opposite end of the hallway. He’s beckoning you, gesturing for you to follow him. You begin to run, but the floor crumbles underneath you. You fall and fall and fall forever. The last thing you see before you disappear into the darkness is Joel smiling wickedly.

—

You wake up in a cold sweat. The clock on Joel’s bedside table reads 3:47 a.m. He’s sleeping rather soundly next to you, his arm covering your torso.

Your heart is still beating out of your chest, it feels like you’re still falling from the dream world. You stare up at the ceiling. Waiting to fall back asleep. But, you can’t.

The clock now reads 5:05 a.m.

You know one thing that will help you sleep.

You just don’t know if Joel will give it to you.

“Joel,” you whisper, moving so your forehead is touching his. “Joel, are you awake?”

He groans, his eyes not quite open yet, “What’s goin’ on?”

“I had a bad dream. I can’t sleep,” you whine.

“You need daddy’s help, don’t you?” Even with the streetlight shining faintly through the window of the dark bedroom, you swear you can see him grinning.

It’s been three weeks. You’re so hungry for him and he knows it. You decide to shove your dignity aside and give in.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper, already squirming.

So much for trying to prove a point.

“Come here,” he holds out his arms and you inch even closer, accepting his embrace. The two of you lay there for several moments, just holding each other, breathing in sync.

Then Joel kisses your lips, his hand trailing down your body to your underwear. His fingers slip into the fabric, he sleepily fumbles for a moment before finding your clit. You let out a deep breath as he begins to rub your bundle of nerves, already sensitive, already begging for more. His movement is slow and meticulous. Then his hand moves lower, accumulating the arousal gathering between your thighs. Those long, thick fingers enter you, curling up inside you just right. You moan Joel’s name into his neck, holding him close to you.

“Gonna wake up the whole neighborhood,” he teases you in a low voice, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Just like that,” you hum, your hips grinding down harder on his fingers.

“Never seen you this horny,” he muses, pumping in and out of you faster, “Maybe we should have fights more often.”

You’re about to glare at him when your orgasm is suddenly front and center, pleasure spreading from your belly to your limbs, from your toes to your teeth.

“Joel, I’m gonna–”

“Cum for me, babygirl.”

You pant wildly and Joel continues to fuck you as you cum all over his fingers. You can feel the wetness flowing from your pussy, dripping into his palm. He slows down, planting kisses on your cheek.

“Such a good girl for me. Think you need another one,” Joel chuckles, throwing the blankets to the side of the bed. “Come here.”

He rips off his boxers and pulls you on top of him. The head of his cock is already shining, precum leaking out. All because of you.

Joel helps you get situated, his hands on your waist as you slide down his length. You let out a moan once he’s fully seated inside you.

“You missed daddy’s cock, didn’t you?” he groans, his hands drift down to your hips and he begins to rock you gently.

“Three weeks without you is too long,” you agree, obscene noises escaping your lips.

Joel groans, his fingertips digging further into your skin. You begin to tremble once you feel another orgasm building inside you, climbing up from the depths of your core. You close your eyes and Joel rubs your clit with his thumb, riding the high with you before it comes crashing down. Joel pulls out of you, stroking himself quickly as hot, sticky ropes of liquid hit your stomach. Both of you are breathing strenuously, you lean forward to lay on Joel’s chest.

“I do care ‘bout you,” he whispers as you drift off to sleep.

Everything feels right with Joel again.

You never want it to end.

But, it does.

—

[gameshow-host-wally]

But what if you could do something in really specifical cases?, for example this ones:

1. If the contestant has a sick family member that doesn't have much time left

2. If the contestant needs to care for a disable person, like, literally the only one who can take care of it

3. If there was someone that needed a transplant to save their life and the contestant was literally the only donor compatible to save its life

4. If a family member of the contestant is about to end their life to be with them again

And so on, only those cases, answer that Wally, I wanna hear you say what do you think of this sad cases

"Then the same rule applies, what's happening outside the studio isn't my business. Just because I feel bad for them, doesn't mean I am allowed to mingle the lives of those up there... Well, as long as Home doesn't know"

"Ha ha! What can I say? What the boss don't know, the boss don't mind. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha....ha... uh... I am really hoping he didn't hear me say that... I'm definitely going to get each layer of my skin ripped off slowly if Home heard that"