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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 8 months

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Vacation: Part one

PART TWO PART THREE

Pairing :: OPLA!Sanji x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, Oral(f recieving), Semi-Public sex(they did it in an alley), Light teasing

Word Count :: 3,373

Summary :: After being forced on a vacation at the Baratie, you catch the eye of a certain blond cook who loves to tease you.

A/N :: I was trying to find the right mix between pervert simp anime Sanji and suave charming live-action Sanji. There will for sure be a part two.

Go watch the One Piece live-action.

“I see a place we can stop to make repairs, Captain Tommy,” You said, eye still focused on the small floating mass in the distance.

You worked on a merchant ship for a wealthy businessman named Greylock. You were his top secret contract negotiator. The reason you were a “secret” was because he never introduced you as a negotiator. You would always find your way to sneak into his potential clients’ and contract partners’ inner circle to figure out what type of people they were and what they wanted. With this personal knowledge, you would then come up with the best plan of action to secure a beneficial deal for the business. It was easy for you thanks to your typically quiet demeanor. You knew when to stay silent and read the room.

Captain Tommy, Greylock’s business partner, set a course for the wooden structure floating. “Let’s hope the owner’s kind enough to let us port for a while.”

“How long do you think it’ll take to repair the damages?”

“The storm banged us up pretty good, not to mention all the scrapes we’ve gotten from pirates.” He glanced around the ship. “I’d say at least three to four weeks.”

You cursed quietly under your breath. “Greylock isn’t going to be happy about that.”

Captain Tommy shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do. The ship’s falling apart. We won’t be able to make it to a port town before the ship sinks.”

You knew Greylock would be upset once you told him, so you took precocious measures to alleviate the anger.

You stood with him on the deck, watching as you approached your soon-to-be temporary home. "You know sir, you've been mentioning wanting to take a vacation for a while."

He sighed, shrugging. "That's because I'm getting older and tired of working. I became a merchant to see the world, not to work endlessly."

"Well then, how about you finally take that vacation now while we repair the ship?"

He turned his head to give you a weary look. "Take a vacation while the ship is repaired?"

You nodded with a smile. "Captain Tommy told me it would take at least three weeks to repair the ship. Instead of worrying about work, you should relax during that time."

"(Y/N)-"

"And you can give the crew a chance to rest. Were y'all dreary from that dreadful storm, not to mention the attacks we had to endure before?" You patted his shoulder. "You know what they say, a happy crew is a dutiful crew. And a tired crew typically ends up killing someone."

Grey lock laughed at your made-up saying, but you were able to persuade him. "You're right. We've been working too hard recently without a break." He looked out once more, finally in the distance to see the name of the place you'll all be staying for the next month. "Lads!" He shouted loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "I want you lot to enjoy yourselves at the Baratie. Think of our unscheduled stop as a surprise resort! Haha!"

Immediately the crew lit up. While everyone cheered and began to talk about what they'd do with their spare time, aside from repairs, you looked up at Captain Tommy. He had a small smirk, giving you a wink. He knew if anyone could get Greylock to give the entire crew a break, it'd be you.

You walked into Baratie behind Greylock and Captain Tommy. It was typically for the three of you to grab a bite together whenever you arrived at a new town so that you could discuss your work objectives. Today, however, it was simply a meal between friends.

A fish man greeted you at the entrance, accepting a small fee before allowing you to take your seats.

You looked over the menu, wondering what to try first. You'd be around for a while and we're sure you'd get to try a few items on the menu before departing. Greylock and Captain Tommy chatted with one another, used to your silence. They knew that you spoke when you felt you needed to.

The swing doors to the kitchen flew open. You glanced up from the menu, seeing a blond man to have caused the small ruckus. He looked upset, brows furrowed and tight lips turned down.

'I wonder what got him so riled up,' You thought.

You kept your eyes on him, noticing he was making his way to your table with a tray of bread rolls in hand. When he was about halfway, he noticed you sitting right of Greylock and his mood instantly seemed to pick up. After his eyes locked with yours, his gaze lit up and a dashing smile graced his lips.

Seeing his mood do a complete one-eighty after spotting you, you shot your eyes back down to your menu. 'Please don't be our waiter. Please don't be our waiter. Plea-'

"Hello gentlemen and fair lady, my name is Sanji. What would you like to drink to start you off? We have several rare Micqueot vintages in stock."

Almost throughout his entire introduction, you could feel his line of sight fixed on you. He didn’t mind that you didn’t look at him. It allowed him to sneak a glance at your chest without being noticed.

"Anything fancy would be a waste on me. I'll just have a simple whiskey to start with," Greylock said. Captain Tommy put up two fingers, requesting the same.

"And what will you be having, darling?"

"Hm… I'll have a sweet tea."

"A sweet drink for a sweet girl understood."

Your eyes shot towards him, a little shocked by his straightforward demeanor. He gave you a quick wink before walking away.

Now, it was time for the old men to act like school girls.

Greylock started the teasing first. "Awe, our little (Y/N) has a young man who's interested in her,"

"And by the small blush on her cheeks, I'd say she's interested too."

"Wh-what blush?" You stuttered, only now feeling the heat center in your cheeks.

"The one that's covering your entire face." Captain Tommy laughed.

"Shut up. I was just caught off guard by his remark." You practically shoved your face into the menu, embarrassed to face the men before you any longer.

They continued laughing for a moment before talking about what to order.

After Sanji came back with your drinks, it was time for you three to place your orders. Again, your colleagues ordered before you. This time though, you spoke right when Captain Tommy finished his sentence.

"And I will have the seared ahi tuna."

"Do you want the chocolate sin cake after for dessert, love? It's so moist it'll melt in your mouth, I promise," He said in a sultry tone for no other apparent reason than to get a rise out of you.

And once more, you were left stunned and your face was heating up. You were certain he was only teasing you, but you were still upset giving him the presumed reaction he wanted.

"She would love the chocolate cake!" Greylock's hand patted your back hard, causing you to fall forward a bit on the table. "It's been a while since she's had a good pastry."

“Coming right up.”

He left with a swift turn on his heels and when he was out of sight you glared daggers at the two accompanying you.

“What do you think you’re doing, sir?”

“Trying to make sure you have a fun time here.” He took a swig of his whiskey before continuing. “Listen, you’re always working hard for us, and you rarely make any time for yourself.”

You sink in your seat a bit. He was right. On the rare occasion you did flirt with others, it was to secure a deal, and then, you were gone.

“Plus, the boy’s easy on the eyes. You’d be mad to not give him a chance.” He bursted out laughing.

Captain Tommy was a bit more comforting with his words. “You probably won’t interact with him much, so don’t mind him.”

Choosing to believe him, you relaxed for the remainder of the meal. ‘Captain Tommy’s right. As long as I don’t come here again, I probably won’t run into him.’

Too bad you had a crew that loved to go out because about two days later, you found yourself back at the Baratie. This time, Sanji wasn’t your waiter which you were more than thankful for. Captain Tommy and Greylock might’ve teased you a bit, but the men with you now would have embarrassed you so much you would never step foot out of your living quarters again.

Around mid-way into your meal, you excused yourself from the table to go use the restroom. While walking down the hallway, your attention was on the various paintings that decorated the wall.

Since you weren’t paying much attention to what was in front of you, you collided with a firm chest. You nearly stumbled back until a pair of arms wrapped around you, holding you in place.

“Ah-! I-I’m so sorry! I should have been paying attention to where I was… going…” You looked up at the person you had bumped into, locking eyes with a familiar blue-eyed blond.

He gave you a large grin, replying. “No need to apologize madam. I should be the one apologizing,” You tilted your head, “for disturbing a fine piece of art like you.”

You immediately turned away, hoping he wouldn’t catch your growing blush. “Can you please let me go?” You asked timidly.

You felt his hold tighten for a quick second before letting you go. Without another word, you rushed past him to the women's restroom.

Sanji watched you run away, a playful grin plastered on his face. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with this one,” He mumbled, already missing the feeling of your body pressed against his.

This would be how every interaction you had with the blonde cook and occasional waiter, played out. You would try to be formal with him, he'd make a flirty or suggestive comment, and then you'd start to blush or stutter.

Typically it was whenever you went to eat at Baratie, but there were a few occasions when he managed to catch you outside.

"I must be in heaven because I'm seeing an angel before me." You tensed up in your seat and froze upon hearing Sanji.

You were at the small outdoor bar next to the giant fish-headed restaurant. Around the end of the first week, you noticed that the place had a pretty good view of the sunset. Sure, you saw the sun set often, but you rarely actually watched it fall below the horizon line, disappearing until morning. It was a minor peaceful event you wanted to enjoy on your supposed vacation alone.

The sky had already darkened by this point. You were just around to finish the drink you had.

"Good evening, Sanji."

He sat next to you, pouting playfully. "Come on m, (Y/N). We've known each other for over two weeks now. There's no need for you to keep acting so stuffy all the time."

You crossed your arms. "I'm not stuffy."

"Yes, you are. Every time I see you it's always a quick sentence or two before nothing but silence. I'm starting to think you don't like me."

'I wish it was that simple.' In fact, you were having the opposite reaction. You were used to making contracts and business deals with people when you spoke to them. You weren't used to being openly flirted with for no reason.

Like always, you avoided making eye contact with him. This time, you fixed your attention to the remaining ice cubes in your drink.

He leaned closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Or maybe, it's because you're too shy to admit you like me," He whispered, hot breath hitting your ear and sending a tingle throughout your body.

You snapped your head around, face burning up when you saw how close he was. That damn coy smile plastered on his perfect lips.

He chuckled to himself, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Why do you keep messing with me?" You bluntly asked. Frankly, you were getting tired of his game, even if you weren't entirely sure what this game was.

This was the first time you had caught him off guard. He leaned back a bit, tilting his head. "What makes you think I'm messing with you?"

"If you actually had an interest in me, you would've told me or showed me by now. You just keep saying sweet nothings to mess with me and I'm sick of it," Your voice was growing frustrated, finally voicing your opinion. "I'm trying to enjoy my vacation, not be bothered by some- Hey!"

He grabbed your hand, lifting you from your seat with a tug and pulling you away. You followed, partly because you were unable to pull away and partly because of curiosity as to where he was taking you. He led you to a small alley a bit away.

Before you could question his intentions, he leaned down to press a firm kiss onto your lips. His hands fell to your hips, holding onto you with a firm grasp and locking you against the wall behind you. Almost as if he were afraid you’d try to escape. His nerves were quickly set to rest when you began kissing him back, your hands holding his shoulders. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you gladly parted, allowing him to shove his tongue in your mouth.

After some time, he pulled away and began trailing kisses down your neck. As he did, you felt his hands wander to the button of your shorts.

Feeling him work to undo them you asked him, “What are you doing?”

He pulled away, a coy smile still on his face. “Showing you that I have an interest in you.”

He began to pull your shorts down and you felt your heart begin to race. You weren’t directly out in the open, but if someone going down the main walkway happened to turn their heads they’d spot the two of you.

“Sanji, wait- What if- Ngh!”

He started rubbing your clit through your growing wet panties, chuckling at the quick response he got. “‘What if’ what, darling?”

You glared at him, trying to voice your concerns, but again, he continued to distract you with pleasure.

He knelt down on one knee, grabbing your left thigh, and hooking it over his shoulder after completely removing your shorts. You watched with half-lidded eyes as he pushed and held your underwear to the side, revealing your pussy. He stuck his tongue in first, licking up your folds while maintaining eye contact with you through his blond locks. He continued this motion and you bit your bottom lip, hoping not to make a noise.

He wasn’t having any of that though. If there was one thing he loved, it was to know he was doing a good job. At first, he had started to tease you a bit because he thought you were cute when you got flustered. As the days went on, he noticed that you might not have said much, but you couldn’t hide your physical reactions to him. Your face was almost always flushed around him. Your grip on whatever you held tightened with the simplest of sentences. It made him wonder what type of lover were you? Quiet, non-verbal, highly responsive to the slightest touches, etc.?

He had just never gotten you alone to figure it out, until now.

He sucked your clit, earning a squeal in response. Your hands immediately shot down to his head, grabbing hold of his hair.

‘She looks so cute trying to stay quiet.’

He could feel his pants tightening around his crotch, watching you squirm because of his touch. It was getting difficult for you to stay up with one leg, especially when he slotted two fingers into your wet cunt. He curved his fingers in you, moving them slowly at first before picking up the pace to match how quickly he was flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Sa-Sanji, I- I don’t think I ca-can last much longer,” You whined.

Even without you telling him, he could tell you were getting close. Your walls had started to tighten around his fingers and he had to hold the thigh of your standing leg to support you. He would’ve loved to have you come undone around his tongue, however, for his first time with you, he wanted to fully see your expression.

He pulled away and you let out a loud sigh of relief, panting a bit. You were a little disappointed you hadn’t finished but were hopeful to continue this in a more private enclosed area. Your head was a bit fuzzy though, and you didn’t pick up on the small noise of him undoing his trousers or when he completely pulled down your panties.

He grabbed your thighs and housed you up to position the head of his penis right at your entrance. When you felt it rub against your slick folds, your eyes widened. The two of you watched as he pushed his cock in, seeing it disappear in your cunt. He groaned, eyes rolling back for a moment at how tight you were wrapped around him. You whined, feeling his length fill you up.

Slowly, he rocked his hips back and forth, giving you a chance to adjust to him. He watched your face with amusement, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment in your expression. You were still biting down on your lip, hoping to be as discrete as possible given the situation you were in.

With one swift hard thrust though, you let out a moan. Your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms around his shoulders. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, allowing him to clearly hear all your little whimpers and mewls of delight.

After hearing your moan, he began to thrust harder, wishing to hear more of your voice. You could hear his grunting too, breath growing heavier and heavier with each stroke inside you.

No longer needing to hold you up with both hands, one of them slipped underneath your shirt, sliding under the cup of your bra. He groped your breast, happy at how soft it was in his hand.

The harder he continued to thrust, the shakier your moans got. You were getting close to your release again and he wasn’t far behind, his own breathing now becoming ragged. Now, with each thrust, he could feel your walls tighten around him. Wanting to make sure he got a good look at your face when you came, he briefly removed his hand from your breast to tug your hair back. With your face pulled away from his neck, he plastered his lips against yours, shoving his tongue once more in your mouth. After, his hand returned to groping your breast.

His grip on your thigh was so tight, that you were sure there would be markings. With how hard he was kissing you, your lips were bound to be puffy when he stopped.

Your mind was becoming foggy and all you were focused on was the pleasure you were in, no longer caring someone caught you. You moaned against his lips, your entire body growing tense in his hold. Your walls clamped around him, finally hitting your high.

Seeing your eyes fall shut, engrossed in the feeling of climaxing, combined with how your cunt squeezed against him, he hit deep one last time before unraveling himself. His cock pulsed in you, dumping his entire load inside, savoring how your body milked it.

He pulled away from the kiss, each of your breaths now shaky trying to regain your composure. Your head fell back against the wall, eyes remaining on him.

“What do we do now?” You asked.

“We plan out the rest of your vacation. You’re here for at least one more week, right?” He kissed your cheek. “That gives us one more week of fun, darling.”

#one piece imagine #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #sanji x reader #sanji smut #sanji imagine #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #one piece sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji x reader #one piece live action sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji smut

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hairmetal666 · 26 days

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Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.

And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.

They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--

Steve Harrington is his bed.

They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--

They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.

They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.

Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.

Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.

Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.

They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.

After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.

He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--

"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.

"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.

Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.

Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or

It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--

Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.

Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.

He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."

Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."

They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.

There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.

"Stop," he whispers to Steve.

Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.

"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."

"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"

"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."

"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."

"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.

"Then we'll deal with it together."

"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.

A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.

Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.

They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.

"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.

"Hey yourself."

"It's Bi Visibility day."

"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going

"I want to come out."

He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"

Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.

"How do you want to do it?"

He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.

They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.

Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.

The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.

Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.

He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"

"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.

"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"

Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #actors steve harrington and eddie munson #costars #hooking up #fluff #costars to lovers #idiots in love #feelings confession #coming out #bisexual steve harrington #it's not bi visibility day but i liked eddie using it as a come on #famous steve harrington #famous eddie munson #i don't totally know what this is

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captain-hawks · 9 months

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double shift

— kento nanami x f!reader

summary: Kento Nanami hates overtime, but who is he to say no when his boss asks him to go check on his wife while he's out of town?

word count: 4.2k

content: NSFW, 18+, smut, infidelity, heavy lactation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, degradation, dirty talk, squirting, breeding kink, restraints, counter sex, wet & messy

Kento’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he stares at his phone nestled in the cupholder, limbs taut with aggravation as the bored voice of his boss continues on, “She hasn’t been answering my calls all day, and I’m not flying back for another week yet. I know you’re probably about to leave the office, but I’m going to need you to stop at my house and check on her first, Nanami.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the words ‘OVERTIME’ flashing red behind his eyes and drawing forth a fresh surge of anger that has him contemplating the consequences of smashing his phone on the pavement outside and finding a new job entirely.

Today has been shit.

Capital S, Shit.

His asshole boss has been out of town for nearly a week already, every client is somehow ten times more unbearable than usual, the incompetence across the office has become a goddamn disease, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that that piece of shit is doing anything but keeping his dick in his pants while his wife and their new baby are left home alone.

His very attractive, very lovely wife who probably has no idea what a waste of oxygen her husband is.

You’re too fucking good for him.

And you’re also too good for Kento, who’s spent more nights than he’d care to admit furiously fisting his cock to the memory of whatever tantalizing outfit you’d turned up at the office wearing that day.

And seeing you pregnant?

While the knowledge that you were now entirely stuck with that undeserving asshole sent his blood boiling, Kento could hardly complain about the sight of you during those months, his shaft straining painfully in his slacks every time he laid eyes upon your gloriously swollen, heavy breasts.

And the cum he splattered all over the mirror and sink after inevitably rushing out of his office when you finally left? Well, that was between him and the four walls of the men’s bathroom.

So after the awful day he’s already had, Kento’s not sure he can imagine a worse type of overtime than waltzing into your house and playing the part of a dutiful employee checking in on his boss’s wife, acting like he doesn’t want to fuck you so bad it’s driving him up a goddamn wall.

But he’ll fucking do it.

Of course he will.

“Sure,” he replies tersely, before hanging up and peeling out of the parking lot.

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

She’s finally asleep.

Sighing weakly in relief, you close the door to your daughter’s bedroom and shuffle down the hallway. You make it all the way to the kitchen before you’re forced to lean heavily against the countertop, gritting your teeth as another wave of discomfort radiates from your sore, swollen breasts.

“Hello?” a familiar, male voice tentatively calls out in a hushed tone.

You whip around, still clutching the counter for support, eyes widening at the side of Kento Nanami standing in the doorway to your kitchen.

“Hi?” you respond, your heart doing a somersault as you drink in the sight of his tall, muscled form.

He twirls a key around his finger twice before catching it in the palm of his hand and stuffing it in his pocket. “I apologize for barging in, but your spare key hiding spot is shit, and I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake the baby.”

“It’s okay, Nanami,” you assure him, the erratic thrumming in your chest far from a feeling of fear.

For whatever reason, he appears to be attempting to avert his eyes after glancing over at you quickly, roughly running a hand through his hair. “Your husband asked me to check on you. He said he hasn’t heard from you all day,” he explains carefully.

“Well, I figured it would be rude to interrupt the wild orgies he pays for with the company credit card,” you deadpan.

Nanami’s jaw ticks, “He—”

“I’m well aware of what he does.”

“Then why—”

“Because I realized too late, and I’m too tired to do anything about it right now,” you sigh, wincing at the continuous ache of your breasts.

And it’s then that you realize why Nanami’s been looking anywhere but at you directly.

You’re wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and knee-high socks, which in and of itself isn’t overtly reprehensible, given that you’re in your own house, you have a four-month-old child, and you can’t remember the last time you got a full night’s rest. The issue is that your breasts are so sore and tender right now, you haven’t been able to even look at a bra in days.

Which, once again, wouldn’t be an issue alone in the privacy of your home…when one of your husband’s employees isn’t desperately trying not to acknowledge the fact that two large wet spots have soaked through your shirt.

“I should…” you trail off awkwardly, glancing around the room in hopes that you left one of your flannel over shirts lying within reach.

“It’s fine,” Nanami blurts out, scratching the back of his head and studiously feigning interest in the collection of party invites and shopping lists stuck to the side of your fridge.

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s not fine.

It’s anything but fine.

It’s a complete fucking disaster.

Kento hasn’t seen you since you gave birth. And despite how exhausted he knows you are—he can see it in the bags under your eyes and the limpness of your posture— your soft pregnancy glow has transformed into a postpartum radiance that has his breath catching in his throat each time his eyes sweep over you.

You’re fucking stunning.

And somehow, he knows your husband hasn’t noticed this. Hasn’t told you how incredible you are, how fantastic motherhood looks on you. It sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through him, the mere thought that he could bear to let himself stray from you—especially now, at such a vulnerable time.

But any hopes Kento had of trying not to commit this sight of you to memory were swiftly dashed the moment he noticed the wet spots on your shirt.

Even now, when he’s looking at a box of cereal on the counter as if it’s the most interesting thing in the entire world, every layer of his inner psyche is rapidly overheating at the thought of your heavy, swollen breasts. The milk leaking from them, soaking through your clothes and inevitably trailing down your stomach.

He needs to fucking leave. Now.

“I should go—“

“—do you want some tea?”

You both speak at the same time, and when Kento turns to face you again, you’ve slipped a blue flannel shirt on, buttoning it up partway. As if his traitorous cock will somehow forget what he now knows is obscured underneath the added layer of material. But despite the growing discomfort swelling and throbbing against the zipper of his pants, he concedes, his need to quell the apparent loneliness in your eyes with a moment of company winning out over his lust-addled desire to disappear to the nearest private place to jerk off.

He’s thankful to sit after you pour him a cup, hiding any and all evidence of what a terrible man he is beneath the table, one leg idly bouncing as he wills his hard on to go down. It’s a big ask, though, given that you’re probably not even aware of what you’re doing to him when you lean your body over the kitchen island with your mug clutched between your fingers as you idly chat with him, your oversized shirt just barely masking the flash of pink panties it reveals beneath each time your shoulders bounce as you laugh.

He’s two seconds from excusing himself to put his fucking dick in the freezer.

His chair scrapes against the tile floor as he pushes it back, having decided he’s at his limit, but he pauses when a pained sound escapes your lips.

“Are you alright?” he asks, hurrying over to where you’re now pressing your forehead against the island countertop, whimpering softly. His hand hovers for a moment before he opts to gently touch your shoulder, just to let you know he’s there.

Your fingers scrape over the marble as you breathe out in a quiet voice, “No.”

As if on instinct, Kento begins to rub small, comforting circles into your upper back, his tentative touches growing more confident when he feels your tense body behind to relax slightly.

“What’s wrong? What can I do?”

You whine again, standing up straighter but keeping your back to him as you clutch at your chest. “They…they hurt so bad.”

Kento’s halfway certain his soul has left his body as he watches, stunned, while you slide your hands up under your shirt and squeeze at your breasts, exhaling a chorus of breathy little sounds like the fucked up cherry on top.

“Do you need to…” he trails off, and though you can’t see from where he’s standing behind you, he vaguely gestures in the general direction where he can only surmise the baby’s room is.

“It’s…they’re clogged,” you whisper, elbows lifting up and revealing the small of your back as you begin to knead your tits desperately. “They’ve been so sore and swollen for days.”

Kento bites his lower lip, mentally steadying himself for a moment before he asks, “Tell me how I can help.”

“Can you grab a clean washcloth out of the drawer next to the sink and soak it in hot water?”

He swiftly complies with your request, returning moments later after wringing out the small towel and waiting for it to cool down slightly. You’re still using the counter to steady yourself, so he approaches you from behind and goes to hand you the washcloth, only to find his hand immediately pinned between your own and one of your breasts.

You let out a whimpering cry of relief, and it takes everything in him not to let out the noise rumbling in his own throat as you squeeze his hand over your tit.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “It just feels so…”

“It’s okay,” Kento murmurs. “Relax.”

Internally, every single warning bell inside of his head is blaring indignantly over the fact that he’s got his hand under his boss’s wife’s shirt, and he’s massaging her lactating breasts with a hot towel while she whimpers and presses into his touch.

But your fingers are laced with his, and you’re not telling him to stop.

In fact, you’re begging him to keep going, keeping a hold of his left hand when he switches the towel to his right, urging him to massage both of your tits at the same time. And who is he to tell you no?

Kento’s fairly certain his balls are going to be aching for days when he feels the warm liquid that begins to coat his fingers.

Fucking fuck.

What the fuck is he doing?

Then your back arches as you outright moan when he brazenly toys with both of your nipples at the same time, milk squirting out, your ass pressing directly into his throbbing erection.

And fuck it, fuck dignity, because Kento’s on the verge of coming in his pants.

But then you spin around to face him, your back pressed into the island as you gaze at him shyly and say, “I…I think I need more.”

Your eyes flick from his mouth back down to your breasts, and he cups the side of your face as he asks, “Are you sure?”

You nod, slipping your shirt off entirely and tossing it aside, and Kento’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the trails of milk leaking from your tits, wondering how he’d ever thought to call today ‘Shitty’.

He motions toward the counter, his large hands grasping your waist to help you get seated up on top of it, fingertips hesitant to pull away from your lacy panties when he spies the wet spot over your cunt.

Kento has never thought of himself as a greedy man. Far from it, actually.

But the moment his mouth latches onto one of your hot, swollen breasts, pulling a shameless moan from your pretty lips as your thighs wrap around him, the sweet taste of your milk hitting his tongue, he feels fucking insatiable.

His mind is a buzz of static as he drinks from your tits, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, precum soaking through his boxers and slacks. Your fingers tangle in his hair, the heel of your foot pressing into his back and pulling him closer, and he groans, one hand grasping your upper thigh as he teases your nipples between his teeth and squeezes a spray of liquid onto his gluttonous tongue.

“Feels so good, Nanami,” you whine, fingertips sliding down the front of his dress shirt, catching on each button.

“Kento,” he exhales, licking up the milk dripping down your chest.

“Kento,” you moan, tugging hard on the tousled blond strands that have fallen onto his forehead.

And at the sound of your breathy, wrecked tone moaning out his name for the first time, every nerve ending in Kento’s body goes up in flames.

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Nothing has ever felt this good.

Nothing.

Kento Nanami’s sinful mouth is latched onto your heavy, engorged tits, greedily drinking every spurt of breast milk that comes leaking out of you, the flow growing steadier with each lap and squeeze.

He has no fucking clue that most of your impromptu visits to the office are actually to see him. To talk to him, if only for a few moments. Kento Nanami, who has always treated you with unfailing kindness under his sometimes brash exterior. Who extends more patience toward you than all of his coworkers combined.

He has no idea how trapped you feel in your marriage, how often you’ve longed for the bland touch of your husband in bed to be his.

He doesn’t know how many times you’ve brought yourself over the edge with your fingers with his face lingering in your mind, the rough, teasing sound of words you’ve imagined in his voice playing out in your head like the most sinful soundtrack you’ve ever heard.

And now he’s grunting and moaning as he makes a mess of both of you, his lips and chin gleaming with the same wet, sticky milk that’s all over your chest and thighs and his hands and pooling on the countertop beneath you.

It’s filthy.

It’s so fucking filthy.

And maybe it’s wrong.

But you’re so desperate for him. For this. You need more. You need it so badly, you can hardly breathe. Searing desire is coiled so tightly in your abdomen, you’re trembling with restraint, aching with the desire to beg him to fuck you. You know he wants it, too, though. It’s hard to miss the thick, mouth-watering outline of his cock straining against his pants, like a beacon waiting to fulfill your darkest desires.

It’s a line you know he won’t cross unless you ask for it.

“Kento,” you murmur again, pulling his face up to meet yours.

“Mmm?” he asks, pupils blown wide with lust, and you can tell he’s slightly dazed, drunk off of the taste of the milk leaking from your tits.

You lean closer, letting your lips hover over his, Kento’s breath mingling with your own as you whisper, “Please touch me.”

He gently pushes your thighs further apart, carefully running a finger over the front of your panties. His voice is a rough, gravelly sound as he asks, “Here?”

A thrill shoots up your spine at the feather-light touch. “Yes.”

“More?” he questions, his lips brushing against your mouth as he hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them aside.

“More,” you keen, bucking into him as his knuckles graze your clit.

He slides a finger through your folds, visibility shuddering as he comments, “You’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” you pant, trying to resist the urge to shamelessly start riding his hand.

Kento’s mouth engulfs yours in a rough, hungry kiss at the same moment he slides a thick digit into your cunt, and he swallows down the whimpering cry of pleasure that spills out of you. His lips are relentless as they slot against yours, and you arch into him, every part of your body drawn to his blazing touch on your skin.

You can taste the remnants of your breastmilk on Kento’s lips, but you don’t care as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you so deeply it makes your toes curl, one hand cradling the back of your head while he stuffs a second finger into your hole.

And just when you thought you couldn’t get any more sensitive under his touch, he dips his head back down to continue ravishing your forgotten breasts, pumping his soaked fingers in and out of your pussy all the while.

“Kento,” you whimper, chest heaving as you press your heels into the cabinets below, every muscle in your body going taut under the onslaught of arousal coursing through you.

“Can you come for me?” he asks, his gravelly, barely restrained tone searing itself into your mind.

It’s the combination of his thumb massaging circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves and the sight of milk dripping down his chin as he messily drinks from you that sends you tumbling over the edge, the rubber band inside of you snapping like a whip as your orgasm washes over you. There’s an unfamiliar feeling that accompanies it, clear liquid squirting from your cunt and soaking the front of Kento’s dress shirt.

Kento’s eyes darken a fraction as he grasps your chin, thumb pressing into your bottom lip. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing you. “Good fucking girl.”

Hand reaching between your bodies, you grasp his cock through his slacks, marveling at how maddeningly thick he feels.

“I want you to fuck me now, Kento,” you tell him in no uncertain terms, rubbing your palm up and down his erection for good measure. “Fuck me like I’m a bad girl.”

Kento growls, hand palming the side of your neck, thumb caressing your collarbones, “You have no fucking clue what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

You’ve hardly had a chance to unbutton his pants before he’s slipping your panties down, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands come up to undo his tie, but rather than tossing the silky material aside, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he steps around the island, pulling your hands behind your back and tying your wrists together snugly with the yellow and black material. Anticipation zings through your chest, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your sensitive cunt.

“Is that too tight?”

You shake your head. “It’s perfect.”

He wastes no time in shedding the rest of his clothes, and you find yourself pressing hard against the restraints once you see his cock in all its glory, thick and flushed and so fucking big that you whimper.

You spread your legs wide for him again as he steps between them, rubbing the leaking head of his cock against your damp slit. He notches it at your entrance, tilting your chin to his mouth and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

Kento’s hands grasp your hips as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance, slowly easing into you. He massages your breasts, his hot mouth nipping and lapping a trail from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe while he pushes deeper into your cunt. When he eventually bottoms out, you’re both breathing hard, and his tie is fighting for its life to keep your wrists bound behind you.

“Are you okay?”

You let out a huff of air, your entire body poised to implode with the weight of the lust and pleasure raging inside of you. “Fuck me like you mean it, Kento.”

Whatever thinly veiled restraint was left in him crumbles to dust at your request, and Kento tugs you closer to the edge of the counter as he begins to pound into your cunt at a ruthless pace, splitting you open right in the middle of your kitchen. The cool marble is slick and sticky beneath you, covered in a myriad of filthy fluids that continue to leak out of you.

“So beautiful,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough snap of his hips.

“I feel like a whore,” you admit, biting your lower lip, tits bouncing heavily with his punishing thrusts.

A short, dark laugh escapes Kento’s lips, his brows raising. He leans in, stuffing his cock deep into your cunt as he presses his mouth to yours and murmurs, “Well you’re my pretty, filthy whore.”

If your husband talked to you like this, you’d slap him. But from Kento…the liquid heat that churns in your belly is anything but anger.

“Am I?” you ask, trying to sound as innocent as you can when he’s balls deep inside of you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, not missing a beat as he catches on to what you want to hear. He squeezes your tits, milk squirting everywhere. “My dirty slut. You’re such a good girl, making a such a fucking mess. Squirting all over me while your tits leak everywhere.”

You gasp as he leans down, burying his face in your tits, latching on to one of your nipples and drinking deeply from you again. The combined feeling of him sucking on your breasts and the push and drag of his shaft inside of you leaves you cock drunk, begging and babbling senselessly as tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Wanna put another baby in you, keep these nice and round and full for me,” he grunts, letting milk spray from your tits and leak down your bodies, dripping down his cock and coating his balls.

The thought leaves you dizzy and breathless, keening as you imagine Kento filling you over and over with his seed. Waking up each morning to his cock already stuffed inside of you, fucking the previous night’s cum right back into your needy cunt. Tying you up to your bed posts with that goddamn tie. The satisfaction on his face when your breasts grow heavy and your belly grows round again for him, awakening something so feral inside of him he’s incapable of keeping his mouth off of your tits and his cock from the heat between your thighs whenever you’re alone.

Rational thinking is a thing of the past as you choke out, nearly sobbing with pleasure, cunt squelching wetly as he pounds into you, “Fill me, Kento. Please.”

Kento curses, leaning in to caress the side of your face as he mutters, “My filthy girl.”

“Yours,” you pant. “I’m yours.”

He captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss, fingers grasping your hips for purchase as he plunges into your cunt, drawing shuddering, unabashed moans out of you. “Come all over my cock then,” he instructs, his rough tone dragging down your spine, fingers toying with your clit while your pussy clenches down on every inch of him.

And when he leans down, holding eye contact with you as he licks up a forgotten trail of milk rolling down one of your tits, there’s nothing that can stop the searing explosion of pleasure that ignites inside of you, your entire body trembling with the relentless, burning hot flood of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

He follows moments after you, driving his length in to the hilt as he groans, fingers gripping you tightly, his thick cock pulsing heavily inside of you as he fills your cunt deeply with ropes of cum. As fucked out as you feel, you can’t help but whine at the ceaseless arousal that stirs within your gut as your pussy quivers around the stretch of his cock, milking every drop of Kento’s seed from him.

Kento feels you subtly rocking your hips back into him, and his answering chuckle is like warm honey as he reaches between you. He plays with your overstimulated clit, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as his seed begins to leak out of you. You moan softly, head falling against his shoulder, pleasure mounting inside of you once more. Leveraging what remains of his softening cock, he slowly fucks his cum back inside of you, his rough whispers of praise a warm caress against the shell of your ear as your entire body dissolves into one last blissful climax that leaves you completely boneless.

You have all of two minutes to bask in the afterglow, Kento’s hands and lips tenderly mapping out your body, when the sound of your phone ringing on the countertop beside you startles you both. Your gaze meets his as you both see the unwelcome name that flashes on the screen, and he promptly flips your phone over and scoops you into his arms as he makes his way toward the living room.

“If I’m working overtime, I’m making this a double shift.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

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steveslevis · 19 days

Text

‘tis the damn season

AUTUMN

chapter contents/warnings: exes to whatever the hell this is, a little bit of smut, angst, weed and alcohol use, mutual pining, steve is an idiot and is afraid of commitment </3, barely proofread (sowwy)

w/c: 5.3k

The first big frost of the season blankets the town of Hawkins when you arrive on Wednesday night, the bits of ice glittering on the orange and brown leaves making the barren streets seem less intimidating as you make your way through your hometown for the first time in months.

There’s a sense of anticipation and dread that fills your stomach while navigating the streets you know so well, knowing you’re going to be asked the same mundane questions about college in the big city a thousand times over during the next three weeks. You know that’s not the only thing filling you with dread for the weeks to come, but keep telling yourself that’s all you have to worry about — right?

The first evening you arrive in town is jam-packed, since your friends insisted on having a so-called “Friends-giving-mas” as the night that you arrived, due to your anticipated absence on the aforementioned Christmas. You spend a few hours with your mom and dad before leaving, enlisting your mom to help you make some cookies for the party, promising you’d leave her and your dad some behind.

The clock hits 7 p.m. and you’re finally finished getting ready, having just thrown on a red velvet, long sleeved dress that hit just above your knees and your best black boots, Robin had requested everyone to look their best so she could take photos with her new camera throughout the party. You grabbed your secret santa gift and jacket, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before leaving your room.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” you call out as you bound down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Don’t forget your cookies, sweetheart! They’re on the table.” she replied from her place next to your dad on the couch, watching some rom-com while he was dozing beside her, “if you need us to come pick you up, we will.”

You let out a laugh at her remark, knowing that you were only walking to the next house over on the road, so picking you up would be ridiculous.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage just fine.” you joke in return while grabbing the plate of cookies, “love you guys!”

—————————

The outside of the Harrington’s house is gleefully lit with warm string lights, wreaths already adorning the front windows and main door to the house in anticipation of Christmas in a few weeks. You always admired the way their house looked during the holidays, but knew it was only a cheery facade to hide the dysfunction that lay within the halls of the residence.

You knew the family all too well, having grown up next to Steve your entire life. You were the same age as him, grew up attending all the same parties as him, but ran in completely different circles than him — well, up until your senior year of high school at least.

Long story short, being best friends with Robin led to you ultimately becoming so-called friends with Steve Harrington as well. The two of you had what you now called a stupid summer fling before you left for Chicago in August, but the rest was history. The two of you had agreed to stay civil and not let the remnants of any unresolved feelings come between your friendship and the rest of the friend group.

So here you were, knocking on Steve Harrington’s front door on a random Wednesday in late November, cookies in hand as you stood there, shivering. You faintly hear Robin say that she would get the door, then hear footsteps pad towards the entrance.

You’re greeted by your best friend with the strongest hug you swear you’ve ever experienced, and you feel like you might not ever be let go if she has anything to say about it.

“Oh my god! I missed you so much.” Robin exclaims, the widest grin on her face as she grabs for your hand, “everyone’s in here, we’re just waiting on Nance and Jonathan then we’ll be ready to eat but come in! I have so much to tell you about everything you don’t even know—”

You follow behind her wordlessly, smiling to yourself as she rambles on about college applications and band and Vickie — who just so happened to be in the kitchen helping finish making the mashed potatoes so you had to be quiet — and everything that she can think to fit in a conversation to catch her best friend up on after months without. She leads you to the dining room after dropping off the cookies, where you hear two familiar voices having a very passionate conversation.

“I’m telling you, man, I’m cursed—“

“You’re not cursed, Harrington. I’m telling you, you’re just looking in the wrong place for love.” Eddie retorts to his frustrated friend, rolling his eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? And where should I be looking?” Steve snorts, haphazardly tossing forks, knives and spoons atop the napkin at each seat of the table.

“I’ve been saying ever since what happened this summer, you should be going after — oh shit, Y/N!” Eddie interjects, cutting himself off when you trail in behind Robin.

The metalhead pulls you in for a bear hug, whispering in your ear about how he promises not to ask you boring questions about college like everyone else. As you’re being engulfed in his embrace, you hear the sound of silverware tumbling to the ground from the other side of the table, followed by a string of mumbled curse words from the dropper.

You pull away from Eddie’s hug to look at where the noise is coming from, only to see Steve fumbling with a fork and spoon while trying to stand up from where he was just kneeling. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment too long, taking in everything about him that you told yourself you didn’t miss. Eddie gives you a knowing look and you roll your eyes, knowing that he’s trying to tell you to not make things weird, so you try your best.

“Stevie, how are you?” you call to him while walking around the table, putting on the best oblivious and excited face that you can.

“H-Hey, Y/N.” Steve says, feigning coolness as he pulls you in for a quick hug, nearly stumbling over his words when you use the nickname you always loved to tease him with, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

His eyes flicker over to Robin momentarily, who shoots him a guilty grin before mouthing ‘sorry’ over your shoulder.

“Yeah, it was kinda last minute on my part, I just so happened to be coming home tonight since my finals were all at the beginning of the week. I kinda forced Rob to tell me when it would be so I could crash it,” you lie, trying to throw the blame on yourself instead of her, “sorry if I messed anything up, I-I’ll lay low and won’t eat if that messes up numbers or something—“

“No!” Steve rushes to retort, shaking his head at you adamantly, “I mean, shit—sorry. No, you’re not messing anything up at all, you know you’re always welcome here.”

The smile on Steve’s face is genuine as he speaks, but there’s a glint of sadness in his eyes while he scans yours for any sign of hesitancy. You give him a small smile in return, quickly moving your gaze from his to push down that sinking feeling in your chest you know is coming. Your chest aches as you focus your eyes downward, realizing that this night would be a lot harder than you had convinced yourself that it would be.

“Well!” Robin interjects, interrupting the growing awkward silence filling the air of the dining room where you stood. She reached for your hand while smiling over at you sympathetically, beginning to drag you towards the kitchen as she spoke, “gotta go say hello to everyone else before dinner!”

Your best friend whirled you around to the rest of the guests–which was just Nancy, Jonathan, and Vickie–who were all in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.

A slew of awkward questions about Chicago ensued in the moments leading up to and during dinner, but you took them in stride as they distracted you from the bright eyed boy across the table who kept sneaking glances in your direction any chance he got. You explained your major, what you did for work outside of class time, and talked about all the new friends you met in the short few months you’d been gone. You could’ve sworn Steve’s jaw clenched at the mention of a date you went on prior to leaving for break, but you didn’t put too much thought into it.

Dinner goes by fairly quickly, and then it’s time for Secret Santa gifts in the living room. Robin begged everyone to participate, and even went through the effort of making sure you and Steve didn’t get each other, partly to not ruin the surprise of you being here and partly to diminish any awkwardness that might arise from it.

You had drawn Jonathan’s name, so you gifted him a few rolls of different camera film. Each person had to guess who their Secret Santa was, but apparently your gift was pretty obvious since he hadn’t been able to find any film like it anywhere near Hawkins, so he guessed you first.

Your turn rolled around and a small red gift bag was sat in your lap. You immediately knew who your gift was from, halfway from the grin plastered on his face and halfway from the smell lingering from inside the back in your hands.

“Thank you, Eddie.” you giggle out while pulling out four perfectly rolled blunts from the gift bag, courtesy of the best dealer in Hawkins.

“It’s always a pleasure,” he jabs back, “we can fire one up after presents if you’d like.”

You nod quickly at him, grinning widely before turning back to the circle where Robin was handing out gifts.

—————————

It’s not long before drinks are flowing and laughter is spilling through the Harrington residence, something that’s happened very few times within those halls. The night seems to go by too quickly, you notice how quickly when you check and it says 11 P.M. already, even though it feels like you’ve only been there a few hours. You’re sitting on the couch with Robin and Vickie, giggling their way through a story about some guy in the Hawkins band, when the sight of the back door sliding open and closed catches your eye.

You turn your gaze to see Steve stalking into the cold on his own, head turned down as he walks towards one of the ice-slicked pool chairs on the deck. A frown passes over your face as you furrow your brows, excusing yourself from the couple on the couch as you slip outside to follow him with your bottle of wine, one of your newly gifted blunts and a lighter in hand.

It’s the last thing you should be doing tonight, really. You shouldn’t be following Steve Harrington – the man who was too afraid to say he loved you and too afraid to commit to you – onto the porch. You should’ve stayed inside and drank some more wine with the rest of them and let yourself cut loose for once, but you just couldn’t do it. You just had to talk to him – you weren’t so sure what you wanted to talk about, but you just felt the need to.

“You alright?” was all you could slip out as you closed the sliding glass door, watching the brown haired boy from afar, making sure you weren’t making the wrong decision.

“Yeah–Yeah, just needed a little bit of fresh air.” Steve stammered, eyes widening for only a moment when he notices that it’s you that followed him outside.

You only hum in response, stepping closer to him as you sense no annoyance or anger in his voice, finding a spot on the chilled pool chair next to his. After setting down the bottle of wine you’d been nursing throughout the night, you took the blunt you’d brought as a peace offering between your fingers and waved it in front of his face.

Steve looked up for a moment, gaze shifting between the blunt between your fingers and your lips that curled up into a mischievous yet friendly smirk. His own lips perked up in a lopsided smile, raising an eyebrow at you when you brought the blunt to your lips, followed by the lighter.

“Would you like to partake?” you joke while puffing smoke through your lips, mixing with the cold puffs of breath coming from Steve’s.

“I’ll never say no to that,” he retorts, reaching to grab the blunt from your fingers.

There’s a breath of comfortable silence between the two of you as he inhales, then lets out a long exhale before focusing his gaze back onto the pool in front of him, onto the ice forming on the pool cover as a way to avoid your eyes.

“So, how’s the Stevie Harrington been faring since I’ve been gone?” you joked after a moment more of the quiet, shoving any nerves down that were threatening to force you to run back inside.

Awful, utterly dull and extremely depressing, was what Steve wanted to say.

He wanted to tell you how he fucked up so badly, how he hasn’t been the same since the last time he saw you, how he hasn’t even been able to look at anyone without thinking of you. He wanted to grab you by the cheeks and pull you in for a kiss and never let go. He wanted to scream and tell you how much he regretted ever letting you leave without knowing how he really felt, but he couldn’t now. It was too late, so he just said; “Oh, y’know. I’ve been fine. Just the same shit, different day.”

Steve wanted to kick himself for saying something so lame, something so uninteresting when the most interesting person in the world was sitting right in front of him.

“Does ‘same shit, different day’ just mean you’re stuck being the same old chauffeur-babysitter you’ve been for the last two years?” you tease, reaching down to grab the bottle of wine at your feet.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Steve chuckled, giving you a warm smile as he took another puff.

It only took a few moments to finally break the ice between the two of you, then things fell right back into place, right back into a comfortable normalcy. There was something that put you so at ease being outside with him, being able to talk to him without the looming thought of who would be the first to say “I love you” or who would be the first to leave waving over both of your heads.

The next hour went by in a breeze, and it seemed the party inside died down by the time the two of you decided to walk back in. Steve closed the sliding glass door behind you two and you noticed only Eddie and Robin were left standing in the living room. Vickie was presumably in the guest bed, where Robin was about to head to. Jonathan and Nancy had left twenty minutes prior, only popping their heads out to say a quick goodbye before driving off.

Robin said a quick goodnight to you before heading up the stairs, along with a promise to see you tomorrow for a girl’s day. Then, it was just you, Eddie and Steve in the living room, Eddie at the couch setting up his bed for the night while the two of you stood in silence by the sliding glass door still.

“I–I guess I should probably head home for the night,” you say, breaking the silence between the three of you as you start towards your bag and coat on the other side of the room.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Steve interjects a little too loudly, the weed and wine in his system instilling some false confidence in him. “It’s so cold out and I’m sure at this point your parents already think you’re staying anyways.”

You stop on your toes at Steve’s voice, cheeks heating at how interested he sounded in you staying there for the night. It’s not like it was a far and dangerous walk, Steve just wanted an excuse to be around you for longer. You turn around to look at him, then to Eddie, who was giving you a tired smile.

“We can have a sleepover on the couch,” Eddie chuckles, reaching for one of the pillows he was setting out for himself to move it to the other side of the couch for you.

“I don’t have any clothes,” you suggest, looking down at your velvet dress that would be extremely uncomfortable to sleep in.

“Oh, I’m sure Stevie has some clothes that you can sleep in!” Eddie says, shooting a smirk in his direction.

“O–Of course I do, I’m sure I still have your favorite pajama pants up there if you want them.” Steve says hurriedly, as if you would change your mind if he didn’t answer quickly enough.

You give the two of them a smile, pretending to contemplate the decision for a moment before nodding. You could’ve sworn you heard Steve let out a breath of relief at your nod, but he turned towards the stairs before you could acknowledge it. Without a word, you follow right behind him up the stairs, slowly realizing the effects of the cherry wine and weed are coming to the surface.

Steve steps into his bedroom and you follow behind him, a situation the two of you knew all too well.

—————————

You don’t know what led to this, but there you were, in Steve’s bedroom, him towering over your space on his bed as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. Tongue against teeth, hands against cheeks, legs tangled together, just like they were meant to be.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t come crawling back every time you were in town, but here you were.

Somehow coming upstairs for a stupid pair of pajamas led to Steve giving you that look of lust and utter desire, led to you becoming a willing participant in his games once again after swearing you would never touch him again, led to you letting him sneak his way into your heart – and pants – yet again.

Your head is spinning as he kisses you, his lips slotted into yours like they belonged there, a perfect fit. You’re unsure if it’s the wine, the weed or the sheer yearning that’s making you feel like this, but you don’t want it to stop any time soon.

There’s a gnawing feeling in your stomach when Steve props his knee up on the bed next to your hip, you know you should stop before he gets any further, but the ache between your thighs is outweighing any thought of what would come after he spreads you open.

Steve groans into your mouth when you pull him closer, fingers intertwining with and tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, and you only smirked against his lips in satisfaction. You knew everything about the boy who was turning to a puddle just from the touch of your fingers. You knew exactly how to make him tick, and him the same for you.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes when he finally pulls away from you, full lips parted as he stares down at you. There’s a twinkle in his eye that you haven’t seen in so long, one you used to mistake for love but now only know to be pure lust. “I–I’m sorry I just, I need–I need you.”

You stare at the desperate, doe-eyed man in front of you for a long moment, mind wandering to a place of fear as you think about what you’re about to do.

Instead of saying anything in reply, you close the space between the two of you once again, smashing your lips into his in a feverish and bruising kiss. Steve is on you in an instant, gently pushing you back and up on the bed, letting your head fall on his pillows. You can tell by the way he stumbles on his way up to you that he’s intoxicated — on the weed or the wine, or you, you’re not sure — but you soon realize that you are too.

A hand wanders toward the hem of Steve’s sweater, tugging at it quickly as he pulls away from the bruising kiss. He wastes no time in pulling the cable-knit up and over his head, tossing it to the side while sitting up on his knees to take you the sight of you in. Your skin was hot and your eyes were blown with lust, cheeks flushed and lips parted as you stared up at him.

You’d only been under him for a minute and had completely folded to his touch. You cursed yourself for letting your inhibitions crumble so quickly, but another part of you didn’t actually care, the same part of you that wanted to claim him as yours forever.

Steve’s eyes trailed over you, from your cheeks to the low neckline of your dress, over the curve of your hips, ending on your thighs spread on either side of his knees. The crushed velvet of your skirt bunched where your leg met your hip, letting the fabric ride up enough for Steve to see exactly what he was searching for.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of your white lace underwear beneath, having to hold himself back from diving in right that second.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned, hands tracing over your hip bones while lowering his lips to yours once again.

A moan falls from your lips as his meet yours, his knee coming up between your thighs, creating friction against your core.

“Fuck—Stevie,” you say, choking back a pitiful whine while grinding against his thigh desperately, “please, I need you.”

You swear you hear Steve nearly choke at your words, three words he’d been dying to hear from you for months.

“I know, I know, baby.” he coos at you, trying to keep his cool as he strains against his pants, “I’ll take care of you.”

You nod feverishly as he leans down to pepper kisses along your neck, taking his sweet time while trying not to get drunk off the scent of you.

“This—This doesn’t mean anyth—this doesn’t change anything,” he stammers between kisses, peering up at you as he speaks, “we can still stay close—keep being friends after this.”

You hum in agreement, ignoring the dread building in your gut as you do. You want to be more than friends, you want to scream at him until he admits that he loves you too. But he nearly said it doesn’t mean anything, so you’re convinced he wants nothing to do with you after tonight, nothing but a friend to laugh with and a pretty face to fuck on every break from college.

You push the thoughts from your mind, focusing on the boy in front of you as his hands begin to massage your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your core with every circle. Steve chuckles lowly as you let out a whine of anticipation, teasing you silently as he gives in to your desires.

Steve knows your body like he knows his own, so what comes after pulling off your dress is nearly second nature to him. One large hand trails to the waistband of your underwear while the other reaches for your breast, nipple peaked from the exposure to the cold air conditioning. You moan in surprise when he wastes no time in putting his mouth to work on your other nipple, tugging your underwear down your legs simultaneously.

His fingers immediately fall to your core once you’re free of the underwear, fingertips circling the bundle of nerves at the top as you let out another whimper.

His moves are careful but quick, he knows you want to waste no more time, and you’ll whine about his teasing if he doesn’t act soon.

He’s out of his boxers in an instant, one hand keeping contact with your clit as he situates himself above you.

“You look so good like this, sweetheart.” Steve says, voice low as his eyes raked over your body, “so pretty spread out for me, all fucked out for me even though I’ve barely touched you.”

“Stevie…” you whimper, reaching a hand up to him, but he pulls from your reach with a smirk across his face.

“Tell me what you want from me,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek as he lines himself up with your slick, teasing the tip against you slowly.

“I—I need you, Steve.” you beg, cheeks flushing at the admittance, “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” he retorts with a smirk, sliding into you with ease.

You both let out a low moan as he bottoms out, filling you in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. You forgot how thick he was in the time you’d been gone, your body wasn’t used to the stretch of his cock inside you, but it still felt like he was meant to be there. Like he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

And you were right, nobody could make you feel that way. Nobody else could touch you and make you fall apart in less than five minutes like he could. Nobody else could get you so riled up over a few praises thrown in with some condescension (which you embarrassingly loved too much) like he could. Nobody could hold off from cumming long enough to give you three orgasms before getting one of their own like he could.

Nobody did it like he could.

This doesn’t mean anything you repeat in your mind, clinging to his arm like your life depended on it after the two of you calmed your breathing and cleaned up. You weren’t sure if you were repeating those words to convince yourself or to ease your own mind about what just went down, but you knew they stung your heart more than any fighting words the two of you had ever exchanged.

“I missed this, cuddling with you, holdin’ you like this.” was all he slurred out against your hair, pressing a sleepy kiss into the crown of your head.

“Yeah, me too.” you mumble in return, accepting the warmth of his embrace as sleep finally took you in, ignoring the gnawing pain growing in your chest.

—————————

The spice of Steve’s cologne mixes with the familiar scent of his room, filling your senses when you wake, nearly sending you into a panic. You sit upright in the bed, turning to face the boy you claimed you wanted nothing to do with romantically just a few hours ago. Steve is sleeping peacefully next to you, plush lips parted and brows furrowed as he subconsciously pouts about the loss of your touch. The alarm clock behind him read 2:03 A.M., meaning you hadn’t been out for too long, but long enough to sober you up somehow.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I gotta get out of here. Is all you can think as you stumble out from under the comforter, knowing you would never live it down if anyone found you’d slept in his bed, especially with your limbs entangled like they just were. You quickly dress in the clothes you’d originally come into the bedroom to fetch, and snuck out of the bedroom without a sound.

Before making it to the living room, you turned toward the dimly lit kitchen for a glass of water. What you weren’t expecting to be faced with in the kitchen was Eddie, but there he was, leaning against the counter with disheveled hair that probably mirrored your own.

“What a night so far, huh?” he jokes as you shoot him a knowing glare while trudging across the tiled floor.

“Don’t even start with me, Munson.” you warn, absentmindedly reaching your hand up to the cabinet for a glass while shaking your head.

“Woah, don’t get that attitude with me! I didn’t say anything,” he laughs, setting his own glass into the sink, “but that also doesn’t mean I didn’t hear anything.”

“You did not,” you snap back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he gives you a shit-eating grin, “there’s no way you heard anything because nothing happened.”

“You’ve always been such a bad liar, Y/N.” Eddie laughs, stepping out of the kitchen to walk towards the living room where the two of you would be sleeping.

A sigh escapes your lips when Eddie leaves, letting you be alone with your thoughts finally. There was an ache in your chest that wasn’t going away any time soon, and it was in that moment that you wondered if you would ever be able to get over Steve Harrington, or if you would be in a continuous cycle of hurt and comfort for the rest of your damned life.

You collected your thoughts as you downed a glass of water, throwing back two ibuprofens with the last chug for good measure, before finding your way back to the living room. Eddie was on his side on the long side of the L-shaped couch, leaving the shorter side for you to sleep on. His eyes were closed as you laid down with your feet next to his own, but you knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” you heard through the darkness after turning off the table lamp once you were settled.

“I know.” you sigh in return, staring up at the ceiling that was only lit by the streetlights flowing in from outside. “I just don’t want to live like this forever, I–I can’t keep being the secret that Steve is too embarrassed to talk about.”

“He’s not embarrassed of you,” Eddie said, voice barely above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear, “he’s just afraid of fucking everything up even more than he already has.”

If only he could say that to my face, then maybe I’d believe it, you thought to yourself, chest tightening at just the thought of the brown-eyed boy who was fast asleep upstairs.

You don’t reply to Eddie, unsure of what to say back, unsure of what you could squeak out without breaking down.

“Goodnight, Eds,” is all you say in return, though you know you won’t be getting any sleep.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

—————————

After falling asleep for all of fifty minutes around 5 in the morning, you decided you had to leave.

The entirety of the almost four hours you laid on Steve’s couch consisted of staring at the ceiling and fighting off tears while thinking about how you regretted everything you said and did over the last twelve hours.

Coming to the Harrington house was a mistake, even stepping foot back in Hawkins was feeling like a mistake at this point.

The only words repeating in your mind were This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything.

You eventually had enough of the self-loathing and inability to sleep, so it was time to go. It was time to hastily change out of the pajamas that smelled too much like the boy you loved too hard, and time to go collapse in your own bed. There was no telling if you’d actually fall asleep once you made it there, but that was beside the point.

It was when you finally made it back to your parent’s house, to your childhood bedroom, that you swore that you wouldn’t see Steve Harrington again for the rest of Thanksgiving break, and hopefully would avoid seeing him again for a long while, for the sake of saving yourself from another heartbreak.

---------

tags: @carinacassiopeiae

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stevis writes #ttds*

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rad-batson · 11 months

Text

The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

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joequiinn · 26 days

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 1

[all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Was I the only one who turned 18 a month into their senior year and then proceeded to spiral and become The Worst version of themself possible?? Well, this fic is semi-inspired by that shitty part of my life lmao. Reader figure skates though. I can’t figure skate, hurts my feet lol. I never expected to write a fake dating story, but Eddie Munson has had me bewitched for nearly 2 years now, so here we go.

(if you'd like to be added to a tag list, pls let me know!)

wc: 3.9k

Chapter One

The idea came to you during a student council meeting as the class president was droning on about the ‘85 homecoming preparations: you needed to do something crazy, something completely and utterly out of character.

Maybe it was because of your ex breaking up with you just weeks before school started. Maybe it was that senior year itch. Maybe it was the realization that you were turning 18 next week. Hell, maybe you just woke up that morning with a strong sense that the things in your life were no longer satisfying you.

Whatever the cause, since the start of your senior year, you’ve just felt so off.

Your ex, Duncan, breaking up with you right before school started was a low blow, and an absolutely shitty feeling - you didn’t date much, but when you did, it was never the guy that ended things. It wasn’t shitty because you were in love and oh so heartbreak, it wasn’t shitty because you saw a future with him. It was shitty because of how goddamn embarrassing it was.

To your peers, you were a couple that made sense, and in fact people had been urging you to go out for a while. And, obviously, you had grown to like him, considering that you were in a relationship for six months - you never would have put up with him for that long if you didn’t actually like him. But the fact that he broke up with you, and not the other way around, left a sour, spiteful taste in your mouth.

So, perhaps it was that break-up that made you feel different this entire month. Or maybe it was your impending 18th birthday, which made you realize just how close you were to legal adulthood. Whatever the cause, every single aspect of your life up to this point suddenly came under your deep scrutiny. You just weren’t… happy?

That made it sound bad, but what were you enjoying right now? What got you excited every day? As you sat in the student council meeting, zoning out since the very start, you came to think that maybe you had nothing going on right now that you genuinely wanted in your life.

Hell, you weren’t even on the student council because you enjoyed it, Janet just dragged you into it back in your sophomore year. You figured she loved the sense of importance it gave her. She and everyone else in the council probably got off on how important they felt, the dictators of Hawkins High School.

You always ran in this crowd, and before you never questioned it. The popular kids, the rich kids, the successful kids. You don’t remember ever choosing these friends and acquaintances - if anything, it seemed that these peers were all a constant, as if they’d always been there from the very start. You figured it was the natural state of the world - as the daughter of one of the richest men in town, you were predestined to end up here. Not here as in the student council, surrounded by other spoiled rich kids debating the difference between turquoise and cyan. But here in an even broader sense - in a finely curated life, in all the “right” circles, on the path to either greatness or becoming the trophy wife of greatness.

Up until now, you’d never questioned it. Yes, mom and dad, you were a popular kid whose free time was fully booked between college prep, figure skating, student council, dates with a cookie-cutter boyfriend, and everything else under the sun. Yes, mom and dad, you were doing everything they all told you too because it would look great on your college applications, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, because that’s how things have always been done.

It started to dawn on you maybe a week or so into the school year just how mundane you were - you never questioned your time spent skating or on extracurriculars, you never went against the order of things as dictated by only the most popular of your peers. That’s just what was done, what was always done. But after your ex dared to break up with you, you came to realize recently that maybe all of this wasn’t what you wanted - maybe it was time to start making some choices for yourself instead of worrying what your parents told you or what your peers thought or what to do to keep your boyfriend semi-happy.

So, you started to consider what exactly it was that you wanted. And that proved to be more challenging than you anticipated, which probably would have sounded extremely pathetic if you had said it to any of the people sitting next to you.

Did you like figure skating? Of course, it was your idea after all. What you didn’t like was the pressure from your mother to train and become an Olympian, a feat that was never your intention when you took up the sport at six years old. Besides, you told her, you were way past the age for trials, you’d never get in (or, at least, that’s what you told her, because how the hell would you know whether or not there was a cut off age).

Did you like your friends? You thought so - you’d known them virtually your entire life, so you never questioned your relationship with them. But proximity didn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand with likeability. Maybe some of them you actually liked, but the rest? No, they were just around because they always had been.

Did you like your relationship before Duncan broke up with you? No, probably not. Of course, your opinion of him and that entire relationship was soured now, but even at the time, you were probably just going through the motions, doing things that couples do without any real heart in it.

So… What did you want? What did you actually like?

It was jarring to realize that your entire life had been dictated and finely tuned for you from the moment you were born, that even the things you wanted had been molded into new shapes by your parents or your peers or your teachers.

Once you realized how little of your life was in your own hands, you couldn’t get it out of your head. You always saw yourself as someone who was in control, as someone who couldn’t be told shit. And yet, you came to realize that that was far from the truth. It was as if suddenly everything about your life was something you hated. You hated your classes, you hated your friends, you hated running in the same circle as your ex, you hated all your obligations. Through the first few weeks of senior year, all you felt was frustration, disinterest, and absolute boredom with everything around you. Something had to change. And during the bullshit student council meeting, you became determined to make it happen.

So, over the course of that boring as all hell meeting, you tried to figure out what you wanted, and how you were going to get it. You set a goal for yourself, silly but helpful considering the structure you were so accustomed to: you’d set your plan in motion on your birthday. New year, new you, right?

Once you gave yourself that deadline, you then had to think about what exactly you were trying to accomplish - yes, you wanted to make some major changes, you wanted to, in a way, become a new person, but how were you going to do that?

You settled on four key things to keep in mind:

You wanted to piss off your parents big time - your dad barely acknowledged your existence and your mom coddled you, so actually upsetting them would be a feat unto itself. You had to become so awful that even your mother would stop making excuses for you.

You needed to drop your friends - the more you thought about all the people you grew up alongside, the more you realized that you weren’t particularly interested in relationships with any of them. Whether you made new friends or not wasn’t a priority, in fact you kind of liked the idea of just being left alone.

You had to figure out what you actually enjoyed - outside of skating, you had no idea what really interested you, what you would like to do with your life and your free time. You figured it was time to do some self reflection and focus on finding things that you’d actually enjoy.

And, most importantly, you had to get back at your ex. Yeah, it was stupid to be motivated by a boy, but nothing would make you happier than seeing him worked up and frustrated. Your focus wasn’t on trying to win him back or anything like that - you wanted to piss him off, to exact some kind of revenge for making you look like an idiot when he broke up with you at a party that all your friends had attended.

How you were going to accomplish these, however, was yet to be determined. But they were a damn good starting point, and they got you motivated to become an absolute nuisance to everyone around.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The Friday following the student council meeting, you decided to first experiment with a little something, satiate a mild curiosity. To anyone else, it was probably the most mundane thing in the world, but to a high schooler who thought graduation was life or death, doing anything out of the ordinary felt nail-biting.

You were going to sit at a new lunch table.

You had just two days left until your birthday, until you’d officially set your plan in motion, so you still had a little more time to come up with something. So far, you couldn’t think of shit. You were already someone who was blunt and commanding and mean, whose thoughts and feelings were always on your face, so people were used to you being bossy and a little miserable - you couldn’t start being meaner or blunter, you just knew that wouldn’t be enough. Maybe you could start skipping class, maybe you could start flaking on friends, but somehow none of that felt like enough, like it wouldn’t make a statement. You had to really make an impression, to really set yourself up for a total ruination of your social status, you just hadn’t figured out how.

But a new lunch table was as good a starting point as any, right?

You chose a table at the far end of the lunchroom; customarily your group of friends, acquaintances, and ex sat centrally, surrounded by the jocks on one side and the academics on the other. The new table you chose was only occupied by two other people, a dorky little couple who looked at you funny when you sat as far from them as possible. In turn, you gave them an icy cold glare, prompting them to look away quickly, like you were a Medusa who could turn them to stone.

Your stupid little lunchroom plan was a bust, though. Five minutes into your peaceful lunch, your two closest friends, Amelia and Janet found you, each looking perplexed and put-off by your seat of choice. They looked around before lowering into the seats around you, their expression full of something akin to disgust, as if sitting at a different table was that offensive.

“What are we doing over here?” Amelia asked judgmentally, eyeing the couple at the opposite end of the table. Across the lunchroom, a few people (including Duncan) from your usual lunch table looked at you funny, “It’s like we’re exiled or something.”

So dramatic, you thought while staring harshly at her.

“Change of scenery.” You answered plainly, stabbing at the food in front of you. Amelia hummed in acknowledgement, but still made it quite clear that she didn’t agree with the decision.

“What, does this have something to do with Duncan?” She jabbed, receiving another nasty look from you, “So, he’s a jerk? Get over it.”

You should’ve known this idea was too simple to work. Of course they’d just follow you like the lemmings that they were, just as unable to make their own decisions as you were. Yeah, you definitely needed to try something bigger to scare them off.

Briefly, you thought that you could maybe tell them, just say point blank, “Amelia, Janet, I hate being around you and this friendship is done.” But, again, you figured that wouldn’t be good enough, that they’d laugh at your mean sense of humor even if you reiterated yourself. In this crowd, being mean was never enough to make your point, because all of you were nasty, not only to each other but to virtually everyone you met.

And despite your well-known attitude problem, you still cared about Amelia and Janet, flaws and all. These were the girls that you’d known since you were five years old, of course you worried about their feelings at least a little bit - nearly 13 years of friendship would do that to anyone. Guess you had more of a heart than you gave yourself credit for.

You definitely needed a foolproof plan to get out of this friendship, this social circle, this popular bubble that you’d always been trapped in. The friendship had to end without you saying so. You had to push them out until they finally gave up on you. Make it seem like it was their idea, that would definitely work on them.

As you schemed, Amelia and Janet chatted around you. Various acquaintances stopped by the table, all with the same question: what the hell were you guys doing sitting all the way out here? Even Duncan was amongst those that asked, trying to ignore the way you glared daggers at him. Amelia and Janet gave various responses, all of which put blame on you as if this simple little decision meant their utter ruination.

As Duncan was preparing to walk back to your usual lunch table, a commotion rose out in the hallway, the echo of rapid footfall drifting in through the doors. Multiple heads turned to face the cafeteria doors with curiosity, some people peeked out into the hall to check what the yelling was about, scurrying back to their friends to report what they’d seen. You, Amelia, Janet, and Duncan all waited silently, sharing raised brows and curious looks.

Not even a minute later, Eddie freaking Munson came crashing into the lunchroom, a look of total glee on his face as he cackled, not even remotely fazed by all the eyes on him. As he tumbled through the cafeteria doors, you jumped a little at the burst of sound. Eddie’s disruption turned everyone’s heads now, the lunchroom silent in shock and loathing as the resident outcast ran between tables, heading for the set of doors at the opposite end of the room. Your gaze was locked on the shit disturber as he blew past your table, carelessly running into Duncan in the process, but even that collision didn’t slow him down. Duncan yelled at him, but Eddie was focused on one goal, and if this were a cartoon you definitely would have seen dust kick up behind him from how quickly he was moving.

Not too far behind was Coach Miller, a look of absolute rage marring his puffy red face as he pursued Eddie. It didn’t even seem to cross his mind that he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire student body - his only focus was stopping the offender of whatever shenanigans currently pissed him off.

Your gaze turned back to the excited Eddie, an undeniable curiosity rising in you - what the hell did he do to piss off Coach Miller this bad? Sure, the coach was always pretty damn temperamental, but you couldn’t recall ever seeing him look quite this upset before.

Eddie paused at the cafeteria doors to turn and pull a mocking face at the coach before darting from the room, as if nothing in the world could touch him and he was unstoppable.

As Coach Miller disappeared after Eddie and students returned to their usual conversations, albeit with an air of awkwardness, you stared at the cafeteria doors thoughtfully.

That’s when an idea began to form.

You needed to take a page out of Eddie Munson’s book. If anyone in this school knew how to be a thorn in everyone’s side, it was him. So, you spent the remainder of your lunch brainstorming, trying to figure out how to channel even a sliver of Eddie’s energy; you only chimed into the conversation when someone spoke to you directly.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

In the middle of fifth period, you still weren’t quite sure what your game plan was, but you at least had a vague starting point. While your history teacher rambled on about some significant European war that you couldn’t begin to care about, you tapped your pencil as you thought about Eddie Munson (a sentence that very nearly grossed you out).

You’ve known about him since your freshman year - at the time, he was a year ahead of you, but since then he’d been held back. People always sneered when talking about him, as if Eddie was the most offensive thing they’d ever encountered, as if he was some kind of plague. He went against all social norms you’d learned up to that point, he was contradictory to everything you’d ever been taught about social conduct and likeability - he wore ratty clothes, listened to scary music, acted out in the most theatrical ways possible, and never seemed to give a shit what anyone thought.

You had never spoken to Eddie personally. Through the years you’d had a few classes together, including your math class this year, so you’ve witnessed some of his antics. But really, you knew nothing about the guy. Just the things that everyone else told you, and those things were nothing good. Whether or not Eddie was as bad as people said didn’t matter to you. His reputation was shit, and in this instance that’s exactly what you needed.

So, how were you going to ruin your senior year with the help of Eddie Munson? Well, at the very least, maybe you first had to have a conversation with him. It would be pretty stupid to walk up to him and go “hey, Munson, I know everyone here hates you, how about we chat and you make them hate me, too!”

Maybe you needed to find a way to hang out with him? Pretend to be friends long enough that the rest of the student body begins to ostracize you? With a little amused huff, an even worse thought crossed you: maybe you needed to pretend you were interested in Eddie Munson for a while, that was sure to piss just about everyone off. Especially Duncan.

But then the idea gave you pause.

You could not pretend to flirt with, or even date, Eddie fucking Munson. No chance in hell that would work. No way he would go for it, and no way you’d be able to tolerate him long enough to convince anyone that you were even remotely into him.

But… maybe?

Shit, what a stupid idea.

Or maybe it was a brilliant one.

You mulled it over a few minutes longer - if you were going to, somehow, convince Eddie Munson to pretend to date you, you needed to offer him something in exchange, that was obvious. You needed to give him a good reason to help you out, or this plan was never going to work. Its chances of success already seemed slim to none.

You had one idea, though you weren’t entirely certain if he’d go for it.

Your Uncle Tom was a cop, had been with the force your entire life - and you’d bet he’s probably had at least one run-in with Eddie. Maybe you’d tell Eddie that you could get cops to leave him alone, to stop watching him wearily whenever they were around. You couldn’t promise him too much, of course, but you knew at the very least that you could get your uncle to leave him alone. Or you could even take the fall here and there for whatever trouble Eddie inevitably lands himself in - what cop was stupid enough to arrest the niece of a cop and the daughter of a man who owned half of Hawkins?

It wasn’t foolproof, and you knew there were flaws to be found, but it just might work.

So, with your mind made up, you rip a scrap of paper from your notebook and scribble out a quick message:

Let’s make a deal. Sunday. You pick the time and place. Locker #436

You’d hoped that Eddie would be smart enough to realize that you wanted him to write you back, to drop his own stupid note in your locker so you could meet up and tell him your stupid, crazy idea. God, this better work.

You swiftly raise your hand in the air, giving a small impatient wave when your teacher didn’t acknowledge you right away, instead trying to focus on his lecture.

He rolled his eyes when he spotted your hand in the air, pointing at you and saying in an annoyed monotone, “What’s so important that you’re interrupting?”

Without any hesitation, you state bluntly, “Lady troubles.”

The teacher looks shocked by how plainly you stated it. But because it was you that said it and not someone else, your peers didn’t dare laugh, although a couple boys seemed to choke in surprise or amusement.

“Go, go…” Your teacher waved you off before continuing his lecture, wanting to forget the small interaction entirely.

You exited the room and roamed the halls confidently. Eddie’s locker wasn’t hard to miss - he was one of the students that decorated the metal with crude permanent marker sketches, and the school was too cheap to care about replacing or painting over it. As you approached Eddie’s locker, you checked around to make sure no one spotted you; it wasn’t as if you were committing a crime, but you didn’t need anyone wondering what you were up to in case this plan didn’t work.

So, you slipped the note into his locker, returned to class, and waited impatiently for the final bell of the day to ring, hoping that Eddie would actually stop by his locker and not just leave school without ever seeing your note.

When the end of the day came, it took everything in your power not to rush back to your own locker - just in case, you didn’t want him spotting you there. Why all the secrecy, you sure as hell didn��t know, but you nonetheless continued it.

So, you waited, stopping into the bathroom to check your makeup, walking with Amelia and Janet as they stopped at their own lockers. As the three of you exited the building and walked into the parking lot, you pretended to remember something, telling them that you needed to run back inside. You said your quick goodbyes and went back to wandering the halls, finally opening up your own locker.

It was stupid that your heart leapt when you saw a crudely torn piece of paper resting on top of some of your belongings.

You opened it quickly, eagerly reading the metalhead’s response:

Picnic table behind the football field, 4.

God, what were you getting yourself into.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

441 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 months

Note

pleaseee write smth about that fight between Felix and reader

a/n i've been thinking about this scene for days so when i saw this ask i got so hyped

warnings: reader being AFAB/female is plot relevant (reader's father has always wanted a son), implied emotional/financial parental abuse (not described in too much detail), potentially inaccurate portrayal of early-ish 2000's phones bc i was a toddler during their oxford era, hurt/comfort

we're getting into reader's background!!

itallic texts = from felix, bold texts = from reader

There's a scratch embedded into the dark mahogany. It's small, no wider than something you could make with your finger nail.

"How's your food?"

Your attention shifts towards the ceramic plate that's almost covering the dining table's only blemish. "It's good," you mumble with a slight nod, fork instinctually jabbing at a piece of food without you even looking at it. "Yours?"

"Great," he hums casually, cutting into his steak. "Part of the reason I picked this hotel is because of the restaurant. The visiting chef's a guy that I met in New York when he was looking into financing an international expansion of his franchise."

You bring your utensil to your lips. "That's cool, daddy."

The comment only strengthens the question that's been silently ebbing at your mind since your father first suggested lunch. Why did he order room service instead of taking you to the hotel's restaurant? Your dad has always loved the ambiance, the leisure of sitting in a nice restaurant.

"Is that why you're in town?" You reach for your glass, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "To finalize something with the chef?"

He sets down his knife. "That and a few other business arrangements that needed to be checked on." He pauses, shoulders relaxing. "And to see you, too, Ace. It feels like it's been awhile since we talked."

Your lips quirk into what's almost a smile. When your father called to let you know that he'd be staying near Oxford for work and that he wanted you to visit, you had been apprehensive at first. Your mother was cautiously supportive of the idea.

Things with your father have been relatively stable recently. He liked the way no university seemed off limits to you with your grades and extracurriculars. He loved the idea of a daughter studying abroad at Oxford (which, is part of the reason you seriously considered Princeton for some time). And he's been drinking less. Part of that whole reborn, second marriage to a late-20-something methodist thing.

"Yeah, dad," you agree, as sincerely as you can manage, "It's been awhile."

"You know I'm friends with one of your deans." He doesn't give you a chance to reply. "We had coffee together, and he told me you're on track to finish in the top 10%." Rumors about the top percentages had been circling around Oxford for the past month. Still, it's relieving to know. "Congratulations, Ace."

This time, your smile meets your eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles, a flash of something practiced and charming. "When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is picking out a gift to send to you."

"If you need time, you can always wait and give it to me over the summer."

The infamous summer. Your mother is going to be spending most of the summer volunteering for an organization that brings counseling to children that have survived traumatic experiences but can't affording therapy. Your father suggested that you stay with him for a little while so that you wouldn't have to spend an entire two months in an empty house.

He stretches an arm like he wants to pick up his fork, but decides against it. "I--I want to tell you something." His tone is softer now, almost hesitant. "But you have to promise not to cry."

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, body familiar with the command. "Okay?"

"I don't know if this summer's going to work out the way we talked about." He taps his fingers against the surface of the table. Your eyes lock on the scratch marring the wood. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Complicated?"

Your father sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed Christine's not here." You can't bring yourself to react at the mention of your step-mother's name. "She isn't in--she isn't in the best condition to travel." The tapping continues. "Christine's pregnant. She's due in early June, and she isn't having an easy time. I think it'd be best to not do anything that could potentially be stressful."

Oh.

"It's a boy."

Oh. A boy. With his perfect wife, in his perfect penthouse on the Upper East Side. Of course. Of fucking course.

You can't breathe right or thing of the way you're supposed to react. All you can do is stare at the scratch. At the only thing that indicates that anything bad has ever happened to the table.

"You promised you wouldn't cry." The words feel far. "You look too much like your mother when you cry."

That seems to force you back to earth. Any and all reminders of your mother must be eradicated in his presence. "I know. I'm not going to cry." You blink once, hand moving to wipe away tears you refuse to let spill. "Congratulations."

He's quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally settling on a perfunctory, "Thank you." After a beat of silence, he continues, "Were you planning on staying tonight? I was thinking of flying back early, but I can--"

"Oh, no," you shake your head once, "I actually have a lot of homework, so it's probably better for me to get back."

Your father nods, "Always the academic, Ace." He pushes his seat back. "If you're done eating, I can walk you to the lobby and have my driver take you back."

"Yeah," you push back your own seat and stand, "Sounds good."

The two of you reach the front doors of the suite. "Hey," your father starts, "Why don't you travel this summer? That's all I did during college breaks. I'll pay so you can do it up right. You should go somewhere with a friend. Paris, maybe. You two always had fun as kids."

You nod once, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, daddy, I'll ask Paris about what she's doing this summer."

"Good." He pauses at the door, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out his wallet and counts out a few bills. "Here. A pre-gift." You hesitate. "C'mon, top 10%."

Your mother's voice rings in your ears. He won't change, you might as well take the money. You stretch out a hand, forcing a smile as you take the cash. "Thanks."

----

Stupid. You're so fucking stupid.

You really thought you'd be there all weekend. You really thought Christine would let you into her home for longer than a day or two.

And the pregnancy thing? That--that's going to get back to your mom in one way or another if you don't tell her. And hearing that, hearing that your dad's finally getting his son is going to kill her.

It's all you've been thinking about since you got back yesterday afternoon. After mumbling a halfhearted explanation to your roommate, you changed into some pajama shorts and a giant T-shirt that you only realized was Felix's after the fact and crawled into bed. You've moved as little as possible since.

Something near the foot of your bed buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You flip the phone open, immediately noticing three text notifications. From Felix.

hope ur weekend's going better than mine

lovie

i feel abandoned

Despite your angst, you smile to yourself before sending a response: it's been one day.

After a minute, there's another text on your screen: so it's a crime to miss u. You roll your eyes, fondness pooling in your stomach. how are u doing.

The second question, though sincere, forces you to spiral. You want to be honest. You don't lie to Felix and he doesn't lie to you.

But, everything comes with exceptions, and making sure no one finds out how tense things actually are with your dad is yours. Before you two got close, it felt too private, and once you finally did, a few comments from Felix's friends made you feel like the worst thing you could do for your friendship was let him see any kind of darkness.

It's not that he'd judge you, he'd just want to help you so badly that it'd take over everything else. Farleigh's made it clear that Felix loves a charity case. And you don't want to be that. You won't let your dad take that from you, either.

You want to say that you're fine, maybe text a comment about things being a little awkward because it's no secret that your mom took care of you after the divorce. But lying about being on campus feels like something that could easily morph into something else.

Felix, who actually has enough of a social life to pull sleazy moves like that never has. i'm sick. came home early.

ur back!

why didn't u tell me

i'm sick, can't hang out

are u ok

do u need anything

Guilt prods at you. You've been texting him on and off since yesterday and never mentioned that you came back early. Felix is always so good to you. But, you're in no place to see him. no just need rest

You shut your phone. You're not sure that saying you're sick is enough to keep Felix away all weekend, but it could be enough to keep him away tonight. It's Saturday night. He'll have plans.

And tomorrow, you'll feel better. More stable.

"I have some time before I'm supposed to go to Jake's. I stole some bread from the dining hall." Nadia's offer is gentle. "Do you want to go feed the ducks?"

You wipe at your face. "That's a really nice offer, Nadia, but I'm feeling a little sick. Maybe when you get back?"

She frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, "I just need some sleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon." Nadia hesitates, eyes darting towards the bathroom. She does need to start getting ready for her date. "Maybe you can call Felix later? It's Saturday night, you know there's some terribly exclusive, not meant for any of us ordinaries party he's dying to take you to."

The attempt at humor is enough to get you to roll onto your side. "Since when do you like Felix?"

To be fair, Nadia's never disliked Felix. Before you became friends with him, she had a bit of a crush on him in that way that all freshmen girls at Oxford do. After you started hanging out with him all the time, that crush turned into an awareness that fueled her worry. She's always implied her concern that he'd eventually hurt you.

"I've never not liked him," she mumbles, "I was just scared he'd break your heart, but, the last couple of times he's come over...something about the way he looks at you."

"So you finally accepted we're just friends?"

She walks towards the bathroom, "Didn't say that."

You roll your eyes, letting yourself rest on your back. You shut your eyes, trying to force out any thoughts of the outside world as you drift off.

The familiar creek of the hinges of your room's door pulls you back to reality slowly.

"Took you long enough." Nadia's voice. "All she does is sleep and mope. She didn't even want to go feed the ducks today."

"She loves feeding the ducks." Another familiar, much more moving voice. You manage to move, wiping at your eyes as you sit up.

"I know!"

You finally sit up, blinking your eyes as your vision adjusts. Felix. He's standing in near the foot of your bed. "Felix--I-I told you I'm fine. Just a little sick."

"Nadia called and told me the opposite."

You turn your head to glare at you roommate, who doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "You stole my phone and called him?"

"I had to," she defends. "All you do is sleep and cry, and you've been like this since you came back yesterday."

Felix's expression drops as soon as the final word comes out. Your eyes widen, head shaking as subtly as possible as if a too late warning will erase the sentence from existence.

"Wait," his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, "You've been back since yesterday and you didn't tell me?"

You swallow, unable to look away from Felix.

"I--I have to go." Nadia's announcement breaks through the stiff silence. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, so um..." She turns away, swinging an overnight bag over her shoulder before disappearing out the door. You can't blame her for running out as soon as possible.

"Felix," your voice is low, gravely, "Darling."

"Don't." His eyebrows pinch together, sadness tinging his expression. It doesn't fit him. "Why--why wouldn't you tell me you were here?"

You sit up a little straighter, wiping at your eyes with the back of your palm. "I told you I'm sick. I'm not up for anything right now."

Felix is still watching you with that kicked puppy look. "That doesn't--" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know I don't care if you don't want to do anything. We can--we can just sit or-or talk, or read or--do nothing." Felix presses his lips together, "I thought you knew that."

You know he's right, and that makes it harder to look at him. Felix would have been a sweetheart about it. He would have let you mope, cry even, and he would've spent the entire time holding you. It should have been easy to tell Felix, instinctual...and yet...

Your eyes briefly shut. "I do." The admission's painful to get out. Some of your hesitation was over the way Felix reacts to tragedy, but the rest is something more personal. Telling Felix would have solidified it. Would have made that label of 'abandoned child' that you've always been so wary about permanent. "It's more than that."

"Then what is it?"

Sighing, you push yourself to the edge of your bed. "My head hurts, I need a Tylenol."

Your words and movements are drowsy as you push yourself to stand. Felix takes a partial step forward before forcing himself to freeze into place. It's hard not to help you.

"Then what is it?"

You push open the bathroom door. "I don't--I don't know." It's a weak attempt at dismissing the conversation before things go to a place that you can't handle right now. "I couldn't get the words out." Still can't.

You find the pill bottle you were looking for on the bathroom counter and start working at twisting off the childproof cap. "We tell each other everything eventually." His voice is dry, almost hesitant. "At least, I do. We trust each other."

Your eyes shut as you sigh, fingers briefly releasing the top of the bottle. "Maybe that's not trust. Maybe that's your life being so perfect there's nothing you need to keep secret."

The words come out in a rush, angry and sharp. Regret floods through you instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No." The syllable is hard. "No. You're not. Don't do that. Don't--don't start saying what you think I need to hear--or keeping in what you think I don't." There's a concerned anger there, an unfitting combination that you don't have the energy to decode. "What could be so bad you can't tell me? We know about Ollie's parents and that didn't change anything, did it?"

Actually, things did change a little. Oliver's broken home life seemed to only make Felix want to pull Oliver into his world even more. You hate thinking it, because it's insensitive and a little mean, but of course Oliver was willing to give Felix all the gritty details.

After the initial implications came out, Felix devoured them with the same silver spoon that was placed in his mouth at birth. In a way, Felix's desire to fix and ease pain brought them closer together. And it probably means more to Oliver coming from Felix than anyone else.

But your relationship with Felix is different. You don't want sadness and coddling to be what makes you feel certain in your bond with Felix. You want things to stay the same. You don't want to give your dad anyway to change one of the most important connections in your life.

"You have a big heart, Felix, and I love that about you." Your hand reaches for the Tylenol again. "But I don't want you helping me to become all that I am to you. I don't want to be a charity case." You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at your wording. "And--and I'm not trying to say that Ollie's just a charity case, it's that--some stuff Farleigh's said and--" Tears are pricking the edge of your vision.

"You're more than that," he scoffs the words out like it's ridiculous he even has to say that, "Of course you're more than that, I thought you knew." He scoffs. "I--I don't just wait around for people."

You scoff, the sound almost a bitter laugh. "Oh--so now it's not about trust, it's about your ego. That I don't just sit around next to my phone, waiting for the Felix Catton to call me."

Felix takes a step forward, "It's not about that!" You raise your eyebrows, uncertainty leaving you frozen. Felix has never yelled at you before. "...It's not about that," he repeats, voice a more acceptable volume. He takes another step forward, his fingers finding your forearm. "You know how I meant it."

There's a tension in the way he's touching your arm. It's nothing harsh, if anything it's almost too soft. Hesitant. He's watching you with an intensity that pins you into place more than his actual hold.

You wouldn't be surprised by his anger, you're not even sure you'd be able to blame him for it, but that's not what you see when you look at him. You can't exactly read the look behind his eyes, but something about it reminds you of Nadia's earlier comment.

It's heavy. Too heavy for you to think about tonight. That's how Felix is. He's intense. All consuming. When all you do is blink at him, he lets go of your arm.

"Felix."

His eyes dart towards the ground, body angling itself away from you.

It's subtle, and not a direct dismissal, but after everything that's already happened, it's enough to serve as a final nail hammered into your chest. "I don't want things to change between us." You sigh, finally getting the pill bottle's lid to pop off. "Because I'm fine."

You force a smile, but there's a tightness to your features that makes it feel like a grimace. "It's not a big deal. So my dad asked me not to come home this summer, because his wife's pregnant and he doesn't want to 'stress her out'. I'm fine." You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "Y'know it's a b-oy." Your voice cracks on the last word, a laugh or maybe a sob interrupting the single syllable. "So um...good for him, he's finally getting his son."

Felix is watching you cautiously, expression not quite sympathetic, but not relaxed either. "Oh my god, I have to tell my mom. And it--it's going to kill her." You gasp the words like the realization's just hit you, even though it's been on your mind since the beginning. "I don't know why I said that like I'm surprised--because I--" You laugh, the sound shrill and uneasy, "But it's whatever. I'm fine."

You nod once, as if that'll be enough to make you feel fine. Another sound comes out, this one a lot closer to a whimper. "I'm fine. I don't know why I'm being so dramatic. I'm fine. I'm--" You squeeze your arms around your waist, supporting yourself the way Felix usually would.

You're crying openly now, tears blinding you. This is pathetic. You need to get it together.

You're pulled forward with no warning, your body hitting something solid and warm. Felix.

His arms around you, firm and supportive. It's surprising enough to force a full breath of air into your lungs. For a moment, all there is Felix. You inhale again, and again, doing your best to hold the air in your lungs.

Felix's hand smooths circles against your back. He whispers soothing words that you can barely make out. Between that and the even rhythm of his heart, you manage to ground yourself.

"You don't have to be nice to me right now," you mumble into his shirt. "I was really mean to you."

He continues to trace patterns against your spine. "We don't have to talk about that right now."

"I know," you whisper, "I just--I don't want you to feel like you can't be mad at me."

He gently smooths your hair away from your face. "Can I be mad from right here?"

"Yeah." You sniffle once, letting your chin press into his chest so that you can look up at him. "If you want to."

"Then okay," he mumbles, knuckles running up and down the length of your spine, "I'll be mad from right here."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

#bestfriend!felix x reader #bestfriend!felix #saltburn x reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

449 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 4 months

Text

A Little Bit Of Heaven

CW: NSFW, FTM subbot Gaz, domtop Male Reader, oral, scar kissing, soft fluffy sex, body worship, lingerie, fem language, reader is whipped for Gaz

PS: This is inspired by @ramvur 's art piece of Gaz, @el-chonkus you wanted to be tagged so here you go :D

The last few months have been Hell on both of you; mission after mission, drill after drill, chasing away exhaustion and sleep deprivation with copious amounts of caffeine in an attempt to put a dent in the stacks of paperwork you've been given. Despite spending most of your time together, be it training recruits or as battle buddies on missions, it feels like you and Kyle never have time for each other, the only time you two have to be intimate being when Kyle sleeps on your shoulder during the long plane rides.

So when Price tells you you two are cleared for a week of military leave, you jump at the chance to have a proper vacation. Once you get the tickets you put it in an envelope, going out to find Gaz.

You find him in your shared bunk room, peacefully snoring with a book splayed over his chest. Even in his sleep he's on edge, fingers twitching occasionally as if pulling the trigger of a gun. You're quiet as a mouse as you walk to his bed, kneeling to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

Kyle's eyelids flutter open, your familiar outline in his blurry vision calms him before military grade instincts can kick in, having to blink a few times to focus on you. "Mhm, what'ime isit?" He slurs as he sits up, the few minutes of sleep doing nothing to lessen the bags under his pretty brown eyes.

"Still early." You say, keeping your voice low. "I'm sorry for waking you,"

"Is fine," He waves away your apology, reaching out to wrap a loose arm around your neck, pulling you closer. "Did you need something?" Kyle's still groggy as he nuzzles your cheeks together, aiming for your lips but winding up kissing your nose.

"Yeah," You take a moment to relish the intimacy, not that Kyle minds, breathing in your scent with a happy sigh; God knows how long you'd spent in an intimacy deficit. "Guess what I did." You say with a humorous tone.

That sobers him up enough to lean back and give you a critical eye. "If you hid Price's cigars again I'm not hiding you." He warns, but there's obvious amusement in his voice.

"No, no," You snort, holding out the envelope for him. "It's something better."

"Do I even want to know?" Kyle raises an eyebrow but takes the envelope, opening it. Inside he finds two plane tickets to Greece, along with an invoice for a rented villa. "Are these. . .?" His voice dies down as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"You did say you wanted to go somewhere warm." You shrug a shoulder, trying not to show how much you hope he'll be pleased by this seeing as you two hadn't planned anything for your leave.

"Oh, mate," You can't describe the wide smile that graces his features, bright like the sun, one you'd happily let blind you. "Come here you-" He pulls you so close your foreheads bonk together, you can feel his grin as he kisses you. "-beautiful bastard." He sighs as your lips part but you don't, breathing in the same air.

"You're the beautiful one." Your comment has him giggling like a child; Kyle's laugh feels like silk on your ears, so infectious you find yourself giggling too. "Do you like them?"

"Do you even need to ask?" He teases, pulling you into another kiss.

. . .

Gaz is very smug on the day you're supposed to leave, cheeky as he gushes to Soap of all the things you two have got planned for your vacation, which of course has the Scot whining to Ghost about 'stepping up'. But it's all in good fun and you're sent off with a few demands to bring souvenirs.

Despite how tired you two are, the entire plane ride to Greece is spent learning about the local town near the villa you'd rented and all the tourist attractions there, learning a few sayings as well as how not to get scammed.

He's like a kid on Christmas when you finally get to the villa, exploring every room and the grounds around it; It's as pretty as it is old, spiderwebs of ivy and roses wrapping around the columns and sides of it, built on a cliff overlooking the ocean, but far bigger than what you two are used to, Kyle's animated assessment of every little detail in the frescos, evaporating the eeriness of the empty rooms.

And of course, the first thing you do when you get there is sleep a solid 24 hours, your exhaustion catching up to you two. You wake up the next day to Kyle still snoring next to you, much more relaxed and clutching you like a koala. He doesn't even stir when you get out of bed to make him and you a very late breakfast, receiving loving kisses on the cheek when Kyle finally stumbles out of dream land.

You spend your vacation doing all the typical couple things, thousands of photos filling Gaz's phone — you two dinning out or attempting to make some local dishes, several of you two donkey riding across the mountains (and one that he'd favored of a donkey trying to eat your clothes), silly photos of you two interacting with the statues in a nearby garde (you especially love the one of him imitating one), pictures of sunsets and sunrises and a dozen more of him coming out of the water, some selfies of Gaz with you haggling with a merchant in the background as well as your triumphant smirk as you hold a pearl necklace to Kyle's neck from behind.

Kyle likes to look at the photos when he wakes up before you, your body warm and pressed against his from behind while you sleep with your arms around him, his chest light as a feather from how intimate you two had been able to be, how lovely you'd been to him, a true gentleman and every bit the man he fell in love with.

And Kyle decides he wants to do something for you. And for him. A nice gift for the both of you.

He has to shove his pillow into your arms otherwise you wouldn't let go of him, a small giggle leaving his lips at how you nuzzle and hug the pillow like a koala. He tries to stay quiet as he goes to the dresser to pick up the small special suitcase he'd brought just for this vacation, picking out the clothes he'd wanted to wear just for you and him, but never got the time.

He watches himself in the mirror as he puts on the stockings, the material soft against his skin, the kitten heels fitting him perfectly. Kyle struggles with the bralette for a few minutes, but it's worth it when it frames his pecs in such a pleasing way, perking them up and hiding the top scars that run beneath them. Finally comes the long feathered robe, dragging behind him when he twirls in front of the mirror.

Kyle can feel giddy bubbling in his chest, heart beating just a bit faster. Back on base he would have felt ashamed at wearing something so frivolous and impractical, he was a soldier god damn it, but here, with you, he's just Kyle.

Gaz glances to your still sleeping form as he sits by the vanity to do his makeup, lipstick and mascara and a light blush, taking care of the small amount of facial he's managed to grow. He can't wait to see how you'll react when you see him like this. . .

A little mischievous smirk crosses his features and Gaz silently comes to your side of the bed, leaning down to kiss your face, leaving red lipstick marks all across your skin before leaving you to wake up to his surprise.

. . .

You wake from sunlight filtering through the curtains, the soft sound of Kyle humming rousing you from your dreams. You attempt to cuddle closer but soon enough figure out it's a pillow you're hugging. You grumble and sit up, your brain stuttering when you see yourself in the mirror. Bright lipstick marks dot a side of your face, from your forehead down all the way down to your jaw.

Kyle's work, no doubt, but you can't bring yourself to wipe his marks on you — a type of stigmata you'd happily wear. You don't bother with clothes, yawning as you follow the soft sound of his humming to the balcony.

You nearly swallow your tongue when you see him; wreathed in the soft morning light, his skin glowing like the golden bracelets on his arms, the pink roses blending in with his robe making him look like he's sitting on a cloud, soft feathers accentuating the robe like pearly sea foam he'd formed from. Your eyes roam from his red heels up the toned thighs, the sunlight softening the harsh scars decorating his stomach, the sheer material of the bralette both leaving nothing to the imagination and making you want to pull it off, his red lips like the red skin of an apple Eve had been tempted with.

If you were a Trojan prince, you wouldn't have looked at any goddess had Kyle been there, someone the sculptors of old times would have clamored to have as a muse.

If he told you he was a god, you'd take it as gospel, gift Kyle all your devotion just like the pearl necklace he's appraising.

"Holy hell." You mumble, scared to distract him, unwilling to pull him out of his own little world where his face isn't tense with unease and exhaustion, where his shoulders are relaxed and his instincts are blissfully sleeping, where he can just be.

But Kyle hears you, his warm brown eyes shifting to you, a bit of surprise flashing in his face before smiling. "I was wondering when you'd wake up." Kyle chuckled, a flush of heat spreading across his face at the way you look at him — eyes smoldering like coals with desire, a lovesick puppy just for him.

"You could have just woken me up if you were lonely." You hummed as you slowly approached him, brushing your fingers against his cheek. "You know I'd never say no to you."

"I know, I know." He huffs, pretty dark lashes fluttering as he pats your hand before pulling you into a kiss. You can taste wine on his lips, soft and plush against your own. He pulls back, holding up the pearls pearls. "Help me with these yeah?"

"Sure," You say, watching him shift so his back is facing you. You clip the pearl necklace around his neck easily, kissing the back of his neck just to feel him shiver. "There you go, handsome man."

"Trying to seduce me are you?" Gaz grins and quickly turns to you, pecking your forehead but pulling back when you attempt to kiss him.

"Can you blame me?" You nuzzle his neck, laying gentle kisses across his neck, your heart fluttering when he tilts his head back to give you more room. "You're absolutely gorgeous."

"Oh you," You can just about catch the way a blush darkens his face to a rich mahogany, his skin warming under your lips as you nibble on his collarbones. "charming bastard." He chuckles, holding the back of your neck as you go further down to trace the outline of his sternum with your lips.

"Just for you," Your hands rise up to cup his pecs over the bralette, lightly groping without attempting to take it off just yet. "Do you want to. . .?" You ask, rubbing your thumb over his pebbled nipple and god, if the soft silk pressing against his sensitive skin doesn't turn him on, nothing will.

"Fuck yes." Gaz whines so sweetly, holding your head close to his chest as you pull one nipple into your mouth, wetting the silk and making him shiver. You pull off to do the same to the other nipple, your hands roaming over his torse, tracing the harsh scars before going back up to push the bralette enough for you to be able to trace the top scars with your tongue. "Oh shit." He grunts as you kiss along the sensitive skin from one side of his chest to the other. "Love." He whines, embarrassed by his own eagerness, but if you don't touch him more he swears he's going to die.

You pull back and settle on your knees; Gods may be worshiped in blood and wine, but your devotion is all he needs. And you'll give it to him.

Your revenant fingers grope the muscle and fat of his thigh, slowly pulling down the pink stocking and following after it with your lips. Tracing the imprint the stocking had left at his mid thigh, pecking the bony part of his knee, kissing the small scars dotting his shin down to his ankle as you finally pull his heel and stocking off him.

Gaz swears he can feel his heart beating in his throat as he watches you repeat the process on his other leg, warmth lingering long after your lips have moved on. "Christ alive," He mumbles, the moment you peel off his remaining stocking he's spreading his legs for you, cheeks growing warm as your eyes settle on his cunt. A damp spot has grown on the feathered robe where his slick had trickled down, curly dark hair slick with his arousal, his dick starting to peek beneath it's hood. "Don't tease me now love." He whines out the last word, buzzing nerves threatening to force his thighs to close, but his need for you outweighs the embarrassment of exposing himself like this.

You're between his legs in a second, hiking his thighs on your shoulders and feeling the hard earned muscles tense around your ears. "Alright, alright." Is the last words you say before starting to really worship him, his hand brushing your hair as you press your face against his cunt.

Your tongue circling his hole and lapping up the slick dripping from it births a relieved and pleased sigh from Kyle's chest. The slow movement of your tongue exploring his pussy lips has his muscles relaxing, forcing him to recline on the bench, the railing of the balcony providing needed support as you slowly circle his hardening dick. You flatten your tongue to give his dick something to rub against, moving your tongue up and down as Kyle's hips twitch to meet your movements, lazily following after the pleasure.

You have no need to rush, listening to his pleased sighs and small little whimpers as you let him set the pace. Kyle can barely see you from how blurry his eyes are, soft sounds leaving his lips as you search out all his pleasure spots like you don't know where they are, like you're doing this for the first and last time; He has to bite his lip to give his thoughts something to latch on to lest his mind drown in the pleasure, embarrassment curling in the spaces of is belly not overtaken with heat at the thought of cumming so fast.

But you can feel how he comes closer and closer to an orgasm by the way his chest heaves, the way more slick continues to trickle from his cunt, staining your chin despite your best efforts to swallow his ichor down. His hand on the back of your hand keys you in to go faster, and without further ado you focus solely on his dick, swirling your tongue around it like it's a lollypop, dipping to lap beneath the hood.

His thighs tense like vices around your ears, threatening to crack your skull— what a wonderful death —is all your mind can think as oxygen slowly depletes, your sole objective to pleasure him. Distantly you can hear him chant your name, thighs shaking and hips twitching to grind his dick against your tongue.

Suddenly you wrap your lips around his length and suck.

His orgasm crashes over Kyle like a wave, pulling him down to drown in the depths of mind-numbing pleasure, sea foam popping in his belly as heat burns in his bones. You mouth opens to swallow all the slick gushing from his cunt and down your jaw, wet hair tickling your face as his shaking thighs clench around your head.

You don't pull away when Kyle's orgasm winds down and his thighs relax. "Sh-ah- shite!" Kyle moans when your tongue returns, feather light flicks against his pulsating walls collecting his slick like you've been in a desert for months. Your name falls from his lips, both a prayer and a curse, his thighs shaking as static dances across his nerves, his hand on his mouth trying to uselessly silence his moans as you lap up his arousal.

He finally manages to gather enough strength to pull your head back, both of you struck dumb by the other. You— by how ruined he looks, lines of mascara down his cheeks from where tears had laid a path, chest heaving and skin turned rich mahogany from ears to collarbones; Kyle — by how debauched you look, the lipstick marks he'd left earlier smudged all across your face, jaw and throat shining with his slick.

Fuck, he's aroused again.

He whimpers your name, tugging your head. "Need you." He whispers, eyes hooded.

In one smooth move you rise to your feet and pick him up, his legs and arms wrapping around you as he pulls you into a kiss, uncaring of his own taste on your tongue. You have just enough sense in your head to make your way to a laying couch close by, putting him down, your heart fluttering at how the feathered robe spreads out around him like a cloud.

"Hurry up," Kyle grumbles, a blush burning his cheeks even more as he splays his legs open for you, cunt clenching around nothing and dick hard as a rock, his arms still firmly wrapped around your neck to keep your mouths close.

You chuckle, the tip of your achingly hard cock kissing his cunt just as you do to his lips, "Breathe in and relax." You grip your dick in one hand to position yourself.

"'m not a bloody virgin." Kyle complains, his entire body so relaxed and pussy so slick that his cunt doesn't offer even a smidgeon of resistance as you push in, both of you groaning as your cock spreads his warm walls open.

"Let me treat you like one." You snort and distract any discomfort he might feel with a kiss, slowly sinking deeper and deeper until your balls rest against his ass, cock throbbing inside his clenching cunt. You stop, resting your forehead against his as you wait him to adjust.

Kyle breathes out a small grumble, "Only if you move." His leg wraps around your waist, heel digging into your back to force your hips to shift.

You grin and kiss him again, swallowing his moans when you pull back a bit and push your cock back in, his cunt greedily swallowing you back in and clenching around you like it doesn't want to let you go. But Kyle shifts his hips to meet your thrusts half way, his nails clawing scratches into your back when you start moving quicker.

"Oh, fuck- yes!- like that, just-" Kyle pants into your mouth, eyes hooded and unfocused, pleasure gnawing on his nerves as every deep thrust nails a pleasure spot inside him, the veins of your cock scrapping his sensitive walls, his slick wetting both of your pubes. He jumps the second you reach down to stroke his dick between two of your fingers, timing it to stroke down every time you bottom out inside him, the air around you filled with the scent of sex and Kyle's sweet moans and chants of your name.

"Fuck, I'm close." You warn as you increase your pace, your entire body buzzing with pleasure. "Do you want it inside?" You ask, biting your lips and trying to stave off your orgasm.

"Shite- yes, yes, yes-" Kyle throws his back as his orgasm sneaks up on him for the second time, slick warm walls clamping down on your flesh like vices as he cums. You follow suit soon after, bottoming out as you cum inside him.

You're both breathless and sweaty as you shift him around so you're not crushing him when you lay down, your head resting on his chest. Your eyes close as you listen to his breathing, and you swear you could fall asleep if his hands didn't brush your hair, scratching the back of your neck until you force your eyes open.

His smiling face greets you, soft and warm like the sun, "Thank you love." He grins, tugging you into a quick and soft kiss.

"Thank you." You hum, making him laugh a little. You lay there just enjoying the sound of the sea and the chirping birds for a bit. Then you feel him shift, grinding his hips back onto your soft cock still inside him. "Kyle?" You ask, your cock hardening slowly despite the pain of overstimulation.

"Think you can go again?" There's an impish smirk on his handsome face as he grinds his hips again, every bit a demanding god as he pulls you back into a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth.

And you wouldn't dare refuse him. . .

#new year new me eh?#cod mw2 #x reader #top male reader #male reader #Centerpieces of the Hoard #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz smut #kyle gaz x reader #cod x male reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #ftm character #kyle garrick x male reader

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adventuringblind · 2 months

Text

She's My Princess

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Daniel Spoils his girl... That's it. That's the plot.

Warnings: Soft dom Daniel, Daddy kink, BDSM, Voyeurism (if you squint), bondage, age-play (again, if you really look hard enough), choking

Notes: This is my happy place, right here. Mildly self-indulgent but all fanfiction is so I don't care. I hope the requester likes it!!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

This side of Daniel is something she sees often. He's a soft person and treats her as such. Dotes on her like she's a porcelain doll.

He zips the back of her dress and ties her shoes. He carries her bag to the car and buckles her in. It makes her feel small, entirely to warm inside.

"I'm sorry we have to go out tonight." His plan had been to ravish her until she couldn't think. Until they got a surprise call from Max saying he's in town for a couple days and wants to get dinner.

It had been over a month since they saw Max last, and Daniel had only said yes after he talked with her about it.

Daniel, still very intent on keeping his promise, has been not letting her do anything for herself all day long. She's been spoiled far more than necessary, but every ounce of insecurity only made Daniel more intent.

"It'll be nice to see everyone!" She assures. "I could care less about what we do as long as you're there."

"How did I get so lucky?" She blushes under his gaze and tries to look away, but Daniel's fingers foil her. "If you're good for dinner, I'll make this whole thing up to you later. Sound good?"

"Yes daddy."

He pats her cheek. "That's my girl."

He holds her hand as they walk inside. He pulls her chair out for her at the table of drivers.

Daniel makes small talk with the guys and the WAGS that had come with. She tries, but her mind is focused on Daniels hand sneaking up her thigh.

She tries to ignore when he rubs a finger over the thin lace of her panties. She's mid-sentence and ends up stuttering, but she manages to pull herself together. Daniel teases her about the blush on her face.

He keeps up his antics until dessert when he slips a finger into her, obnoxiously wet cunt. She, not so gracefully, chokes on her water. She makes not a sound after. It's not like they've never done this before. Daniel's just not making this any easier with the way he keeps calling her a good girl in her ear.

It feels like an eternity until they can leave. When Daniel finally helps her out of her chair and guides her to the car.

The drive home takes an interesting turn when Daniel has her sucking him off while he's driving. He's skilled in multitasking. Specifically in the art of fucking her throat and keeping his eyes on the road.

Daniel paints her mouth white during a particularly long light. She gets satisfaction in knowing this is what she does to him. That he's desperate enough to fuck her mouth while he drives because he can't wait.

The Aussie hauls her into the house and throws her onto the bed like she weighs nothing. Which is quite the compliment in her eyes. Her body, in her opinion, should not be that easy to carry.

"You did so good tonight, Princess." He kisses her, open mouthed and dirty. He sucks on her tongue and makes a whimpering mess out of her.

Her literally rips her dress off. A whispered promise to buy her a new one is said against her chest. Right before he swirls his tongue around her nipple, alternating between each side. His hands press into her upper back, pulling her further into him.

"Daddy, please - need you."

Daniel moves lower and settles between her thighs. He makes a point to blow on her on her before flattening his tongue and licking upwards.

Her hands find his hair. An attempt to ground her thrashing body. It makes no difference. Daniel still has to pin her hard enough to leave bruises.

His teeth graze over her clit. He sucks on her in the way that drivers her insane. Until the only word she knows is his name.

"Daddy - need to - pleassseee-" Her eyes roll back into her head as Daniel double down on his efforts. The permission is non-verbal in the way he taps her thigh a few times, allowing no break.

She releases onto his tongue. It's wet and it's everywhere and Daniel cleans every bit of it with his mouth.

He launches upwards to kiss her. She can taste herself on his shiny lips. He doesn't give her a break. Three fingers are jammed into her and she wails.

"You're doing so good baby girl. Taking everything I give you." The sounds he's making with her pussy are obscene. His fingers curl upward, sending her body spiraling.

A hand puts pressure around her throat. She sucks in as much air as she can, but inevitable her vision starts to go dark. Daniel opens and closes his hand in perfectly timed intervals, keeping her right on the edge of coherency.

"Cum for me princess, you can do it. We've gone for more rounds than this before."

Daniel has to pin her with effort this time around. He doesn't stop talking, the roughness of his voice rings through her ears. "Such a good girl for me. Just gorgeous like this, a right fucking messy slut, aren't you."

Daniel moves off the bed to get the rest of his clothes off. She cries real tears at the loss. Still to disoriented to know where he is. "Oh baby, I'm still here. You feeling fuzzy? Needy for my cock?" Embarrassment and shame are nothing to her as her tongue rolls out of her mouth and her head nods yes.

Daniel ties a rope around her wrists and secures it to the headboard. He chuckles as she watches him with glassy eyes and no resistance, just dead weight as he tries to adjust her position.

It takes entirely to long for Daniel to get inside of her. For her to feel his body pressed against her. His hips rutting into her, desperate and dominating. She couldn't fight him if she tried.

The pace he sets is relentless. The free hand not holding him up is rubbing at her clit. His mouth close enough to to brush up against hers, but he's still talking to her. Keenly aware of what his voice does to her. She's not sure what he's even saying, aside from that she's a good girl; his princess.

His teeth latch onto her throat, biting and sucking away at it until she thinks she might actually be bleeding onto his tongue. "Mine, all mine. My perfect little girl."

His thrusts are getting sloppy. She's been pushed past the point of overstimulated and isn't sure she can come again. "Let go for me baby, I know you can. I wanna feel you tighten around me. Can you do that for daddy?"

She's crying again. She cums so hard that it hurts her muscles. The line between pain and pleasure is blurred once again as Daniel wraps his hand around her throat again, completely cutting off her air.

She's choking on her scream. Barely aware that Daniel is painting her insides for the second time tonight. There are no thoughts aside from him.

Calming down is harder than expected. She's still twitching when Daniel is untying her. His hands caress her sides and praise her until she's able to breathe again.

Daniel carries her to the bathroom and gets them cleaned up. She's entirely to out of it, still partially crying and refusing to let go of his hand.

"Feeling good still, princess?" She hums happily as Daniel tucks them into bed. "Go to sleep baby, I'll be here when you wake up."

She curls up on top of his chest. Daniels arms wrapped around her to keep her from falling off him. "I love you, my perfect princess."

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unoislazy · 5 months

Text

Healing Takes Time

(Part 2)

I wasn’t originally going to make a part 2 considering I just wanted everyone to wallow in their sadness. Buuuuttt there were enough people asking for it so I figured I’d be nice just this once and make a Part 2. Can’t guarantee it’ll be good though.

Disclaimer; NSFW is hinted at but never explicitly stated (may come in a later part if I actually want to continue this more)

————————————————————

A day had passed.

A week.

A month.

A year.

Then a few years.

So much time had gone by and you still stared at your door in anticipation sometimes, hoping Mizu would come walking back in. Even if she had returned to you beaten and bloody asking for you to fix her up, you would in a heartbeat. You missed her more than words could ever even think to describe.

You missed her company, you missed her help, you missed… her.

You had only known each other for a few months but the kiss you had shared lingered with you for as long as you waited. A few times you had almost convinced yourself to stop hoping; she had something she needed to do, what reason was there for her to come back to you? Sometimes you worried that she might have died in pursuit of her quest, maybe you should’ve gone with her, at least you could offer her some sort of help.

Not like it mattered now.

You had no way of telling where she was, if she was okay, or if she even wanted to come back.

You hoped she at least thought of you as much as you did of her.

During the time that had passed, you decided to set up a medicinal shop. At least you would have something to fully focus on with your time instead of spending most of it worrying about a woman who you believed had no intention of coming back to you.

Business was slow at first.

Really slow.

You had to put yourself out there, let people know that you were there and what your purpose was.

Thankfully, as time went on, and the more drunkards that managed to stumble their way in after being harshly thrown out, word of your practice spread throughout the town. Any time anyone felt sick, in pain, dizzy, drowsy, anything at all, they came to you. It almost got to the point people treated you as if you had some magic healing power, which of course you didn’t, just a lengthy amount of herbal and medicinal knowledge.

You were happy and before long you had somewhat forgotten about the strange samurai that had graced your presence all those years ago.

Of course you never fully forgot, but she was no longer in the forefront of your mind. If anything she had drifted into a distant memory of what could have been had the stars aligned for you that day.

You often thought about how you’d feel if she had entered your life once again and you never had a clear answer. You’d feel happy that she had returned, angry that she left in the first place, and afraid that she would leave again. Would she look the same as she did when she left? Would she even recognize you? Would she have come back looking for you or would she have simply stumbled across you.

You had a million questions and most of which you had to come to terms with the fact that they might never be answered.

You yawned, turning over on your bed as you stretched, trying to wake yourself up the best you could to start a new day. Now that you had a business to tend to, days off were not a very common thing, but you didn’t entirely mind. More time to yourself meant more time thinking about things that truly didn’t matter.

You finally rolled out of your bed, throwing your sheet off of you and standing up. Just because you liked the distraction doesn’t mean you had to enjoy every aspect of going to work.

You spent time getting yourself ready, at least making some effort to look nice, before you had finally walked out of your house.

You walked down the ever muddy road, passing by others who were starting their day, some who lived there, some who didn’t. As you walked down the road, you spotted a familiar hat walking about amongst the crowd. You didn’t think much of it, many people wore the same type of hat, you’d be a fool to get your hopes up over something so small.

And yet you couldn’t help but wonder.

You abandoned your usual path to your shop, making your way in the general direction of the hat owner, but not making it obvious that you were heading towards them. After all, if it hadn’t actually been Mizu you wanted to at least have the ability to deny ever heading towards them in the first place. You made your way over, dodging and weaving between the people who walked through the busy street and just as you had made it over you saw,

A man.

A man who looked nothing like Mizu.

You knew it, you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up, but why listen to your consciousness. You sighed, walking away from the man and heading back on your original path. You knew it wouldn’t be her and yet there was still a part of you that believed she would come back. You felt like an idiot, more than that, you felt like an absolute moron.

Why were you so hung up on this woman that you spent a few months with several years ago. You should be over her by now, you knew she’d have to leave eventually and she did, what was your issue?

Your issue was you loved her. Oh how you hated admitting that, but you loved her more than you had loved anyone in a long time. You both knew she wouldn’t stay, you both got attached, but it felt like you had gotten more attached than she had, and you hated it. If she truly loved you the same amount, why couldn’t she just stay with you? Why did she have to leave?

You wanted to move on, you had to move on, but you couldn’t. No one else had caught your eye since, and you were certain no one else would make you feel the same way she had when you had spent time together.

You too never went far, only sharing that one simple kiss and yet it was all you needed to confirm that you truly loved her.

You sighed again, finally reaching your shop.

It wasn’t common for doctors or anyone with medicinal practice to not just go to peoples houses, but you liked doing things differently. Besides, most of the people you treated were cast out and likely didn’t live around here anyways.

You set up your usual things, tending to some of the plants and herbs you kept around, making sure everything was in its place before you waited.

Oftentimes you wouldn’t get many sellers in the morning, most people were still waking up and going to their own jobs by this point in the day, but you thought it necessary to at least be ready for anything one might deal with during the day.

You sat waiting for a few hours before you finally had someone walk in. A very tall and lanky man that wore a blue outfit. If it hadn’t been for his face, you might’ve thought he was Mizu. He simply asked for some help with soreness which you treated and sent him on his way. After him, the rest of your clients began to pour in, all asking for different treatments and medicines, most of which were just really simple solutions.

You definitely enjoyed your job, helping people was something you always loved to see.

Your day continued on, people going in and out all day until you had gotten a different client.

“Just one second!” You called from the other room, having heard the door slide open. You had been moving some of your things around, giving yourself more room and organizing a bunch. You don’t know why you did it considering you always ended up rearranging things, but it never hurt to at least try and have a system. You wiped your hands clean of the dirt that was never there as you entered the man room again.

“Okay, what can I help you w-”

You froze.

Standing before you was what at first you thought to be a man, but upon closer inspection you realized that standing before you was no man, it was…

“Mizu?” You asked, you felt almost as if you had just been imagining it. There was no way that she was standing there right in front of you, not after the several people you had confused to be her throughout the day, this had to have just been one of those times… Just to an extreme and unhealthy amount.

The woman before you held an expression you couldn’t read entirely. She looked as if she was happy to see you but there was something else hidden in her expression that you couldn’t quite grasp. You cautiously walked towards her as if you made any sudden movements she would just fade away.

You were now standing in front of her, a bit of a distance between you two, but you were still close enough to see the details on her face. You very carefully reached up, your hand grazing against her skin as you took her glasses off, her blue eyes never looking away as she let you do so. Your other hand had now come up, cupping her face as you dropped her glasses on the ground. All the emotions you thought you’d feel were there, but they were much stronger than you originally anticipated. At that moment though, all you felt was relief. She was alive, she came back, and now she was standing in front of you.

You didn’t know how to express your feelings in any other way than moving forward and kissing her much like you had done the day you left. You both leaned into the kiss, all the yearning and desperation you had held back for so many years came back full force as you held her gently between your hands. She too had moved you closer, not wanting to let you go after so many years of being apart.

That was until you pulled away for a moment, the one question still running through your mind,

“Why did you leave?” You asked, your eyes filled with the pain of several years alone as you stared at her. She averted your gaze at first, clearly not wanting to answer as she went silent.

“We both knew I'd have to.” She finally answered, still not wanting to look at you.

“I knew you wanted to but you didn’t have to.” You argued, you knew she was going to leave regardless and there was no changing her mind when she did. But that foolish part of you still had held out hope that she would just change her mind and stay with you, and that foolish part of you is the reason you were hurt so badly now. If you hadn’t held onto that hope for so long, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

“I did. I had to finish what I started.” Mizu claimed, and she stood by that claim. It was the truth after all.

“And how long did that take to finish?” You asked. If she had come back right after she had finished her task, you wouldn’t have been so angry, but instead it only fueled your anger as you realized she had gone quiet.

“What, so you just stayed away? Why?”

She stayed silent.

“Mizu. Why?” You persisted. You tried to keep your anger up but your demand for answers slowly began to turn to pleading. You were upset, you wanted to be angry, but in reality you were just hurt. You held out hope for so long that she would return and yet she never did, you thought she died, you thought maybe she had been left badly wounded, but no. She had finished her mission and just refused to come back to you.

“Why?” You asked once more, her silence was the last thing you wanted right now, you wanted her to say something, anything.

“I was afraid.” She finally admitted. Her eyes were shut, she didn’t even want to see the look on your face as you processed what she had said.

“Afraid of what? What could you possibly be afraid of?” You scoffed. In your mind she was a samurai, someone who had faced death and laughed in its face several times. In your mind, she had absolutely nothing to fear.

“That when I returned you wouldn’t see anything but a monster.” She began. You couldn’t see it but her eyes had ever so slightly begun to tear up, she covered it smoothly, not wanting you to notice as she continued, “I was afraid that you would realize that I am nothing more than just a demon with a sword.”

You simply stared at her for a moment.

“Have you learned absolutely nothing about me?”

Her eyes finally shifted towards you, confusion riddling every inch of her face.

“I don’t care about any of that, Mizu.” You began. Now finally having your answer to why she had stayed away, you no longer felt so angry, if anything you were more upset with the fact that she assumed you would react in such a way. “I don’t care what color your eyes are or how good you are with a sword and I certainly don’t care that you’re a woman.” You lightly joked, earning a small exhale in acknowledgement from Mizu. You made your way back over to her, now standing in front of her just as you had done before.

You had spent so much time worrying over her only for her to be avoiding you because of a silly assumption she had made on her own.

“I'm sorry.” She quietly said, her eyes not meeting your own as she continued, “It’s a habit. I just kind of expect it at this point.” She admitted with a shrug. You frowned, hearing such a hearvy admission as if it was nothing that upset you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to change her way of thinking but you could at least try and convince her about how you felt.

“Well what’s important is that you’re back.” You said with a smile. “You plan on staying right?” You asked, your smile dropping for a moment as you awaited her answer. You didn’t want her to leave again, you didn't want to finally be able to feel her again just for her to disappear as if she never existed in the first place. Any amount of distraction in the world wouldn’t be enough to keep you from the despair and anger you’d feel if she had left a second time.

“Of course I am.” She confirmed, a slight smile gracing her face as you happily hugged her. It would be a bit of a weird adjustment for the both of you given your new schedule but those were issues for future you to worry about. Right now all that matters was you and Mizu, and a very much still open medicinal shop that still had clients waiting for help. Once you finally realized this, you had given a place for Mizu to wait as you had continued to help clients, sometimes she even gave her own input on things, having needed certain items for certain issues herself. Although her expertise mainly centered around open wounds and gashes which, surprise surprise, was not all that common when you weren’t going out of your way to fight people every chance you got. You appreciated the help nonetheless.

The sun had already set as you finished up for the day. Mizu had helped you put some things away and get everything ready for the next day. You were beyond delighted to see her again, even just watching her put things away was enough to send you soaring. She might’ve been on the leaner side but Mizu was still uncommonly strong, and you couldn’t help but admire her any chance you got, of course when she wasn’t looking. You certainly weren’t giving her the heavier items to lift for that exact reason, who would ever think to do such a thing?

Once you both had finished up, you slid the door behind you both and began to walk back towards the direction of your house.

“I missed you.” You admitted quite out of the blue. It was clear you both missed each other but neither of you had outwardly said those three words yet, so you figured you’d be the first. Little did you know just the effect they had on Mizu, no one had ever said something like that directed towards her, she felt so… loved.

“I missed you too.”

One wouldn’t expect a relationship that has such little time to blossom to actually thrive but you two worked very well together.

Once you had finally made it inside, you both got yourselves situated and comfortable. Mizu took a small look around, getting used to her surroundings just like she once had. You could see a faint smile on her face as she walked about, looking at the decorations around your home, most of which had not been changed but two or three had been replaced. She then stopped and began to stare at the painting that she had sat and stared at so many times before.

“Hey Mizu?” You called for her, gaining her attention as she looked towards you. You had only changed to a more comfortable outfit, if anything it had resembled what you had worn the day you met Mizu, but something about her shifted.

“Do you mind helping me with this?” You asked, referring to something that you couldn’t tie from behind your back. She obliged, not many emotions could be seen on her face, but she definitely looked deep in thought.

You had made your way over to her, turned around and waited for her to finish tying whatever you had needed help with. However, you couldn’t feel her tying anything, in fact you couldn’t feel her moving at all. That’s because she wasn’t, she had waited for just a moment before she leaned over your shoulder, whispering quietly in your ear,

“How about we make this easier and just make up for lost time?” She teased. It was a small gesture but it was enough to send what felt like a whirlwind through your stomach. You turned back to look at her expecting her to be joking considering you had never heard her speak in such a way but when you had turned back you were met with eyes that were filled with a certain kind of hunger.

She wasn’t joking.

And you’d be damned if you were going to miss this opportunity.

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 1 year

Text

(3) TENDER LIKE A BRUISE ─── ethan landry 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Let me hold your tenderness for a moment, Forgetting all pains that the tenderness has caused….” — Luffina Lourduraj

pairing. spiderman!ethan landry x reader

warnings. heavy swearing, mention of blood+death, alcohol

summary. ethan calls during a patrol, frantic, and you have no choice but to find and save him. (1) (2) (3) (4)

a/n. another bit of the spiderman!ethan landry universe. i'm being pretty carefree about the timeline atm, so basically you and ethan have been fake-dating for a few months already. also, do tell if the relationship progression is too fast or too slow!

iii.

Your fake-dating label has stuck, following you everywhere.

From having an awkward dinner with Ethan’s parents (which would have been one with his entire family, but Quinn could not keep a straight face and had to leave), having double-dates with Annika and Mindy, Ethan having to ward off weirdos hitting on you at parties (which, was actually rather welcome), and the like.

Sometimes, entirely to keep your cover straight, you and Ethan have to engage in some… physical contact. Mostly, it’s hand holding, or wiping something off his cheek, him tucking your hair back behind your ear, fixing his shirt collar, him tying your shoes — all the little intimate things that make your fake relationship seem so much more real.

It’s kind of sweet, actually, how in-tune you guys are becoming with each other. Like, Ethan knows how you like your coffee, and you know what shirts he likes to keep at your place more than the others. You can trust the boy to pick an amazing place to order food from, and he can trust you to wash his Spidersuit like no-one else. (Seriously, he is shocked at how you can clean it in forty minutes and he can spend four hours in his sink without doing much at all.)

However, once, you and Ethan had to kiss. Well, “kiss”. It was drunk couple stuff, trying to fly under everyone's radar.

Your friends were beginning to think it was a little odd you had never done anything while drunk together, because everyone did. Sure, you two could be very private considering PDA, but everyone saw how sweet you were in front of others, so it was getting suspicious.

To void these pesky suspicions, during a low-key drunk night between friends at Chad and Ethans place, you downed a full shot of gin, let it burn in your throat, and pulled yourself onto the equally drunk Ethan.

You had climbed atop his lap, his fatigued head thrown back against the leather couch. Your hands graced the sides of his face, and through your alcohol stained lips you whispered close in Ethan’s ear.

“I’m going to kiss you, Ethan. Fake, though,” You said simply, your mind addled with that familiar alcohol fog.

You waited for his familiar hum of acknowledgment, the one he voiced when he was brushing his teeth, or drinking something, all his little sounds you’d grown to know.

When he did, you leaned your head at just the right angle that to everyone, it looked like you were going to town on Ethan, when in reality you were pecking the side of his lip.

Your hands had carded through Ethan’s soft, curly locks, tugging slightly and repositioning yourself on his lap, his own hands settling nervously on your waist. You moved onto hovering around his neck, sending shivers down his spine with your hot breath on his skin.

Ethan could taste the citrus stains you left on the side of his mouth, and he was beginning to feel feverish. His entire body was incredibly warm, either from the alcohol, or how close you were to him now.

He gulped, watching you on his lap, pretending to do everything he had exactly zero experience in. You - this, made him so incredibly nervous, he was losing his mind over your touch.

And as soon as it started, it was over, and you pulled yourself off the flustered boy. Chad whistled at the intensity of the action, a “proud dad” moment of sorts.

Ignoring it, your hands itched towards another shot of alcohol. Through the corner of your eye, you saw Ethan, breathing heavily, eyes coursing over you.

His gaze, low and deep, made your heart skip a tender beat, beginning to thump louder in your ears—

You downed another shot, and let it wash those thoughts away. Perhaps it is denial, or perhaps you don’t want to lose him.

(Somewhere deep in you, you’re terrified of losing him. Literally and figuratively, you could lose Ethan in so many ways it's beginning to hurt.

One of those ways comes far too soon for your comfort.)

It’s Halloween.

You’re stuck in someone's house, and a drunk girl you don’t know the name of is regaling you on her outfit choices for the night.

Quinn and Mindy are fighting over who's the better superhero, Spiderman or Iron-Man (and when Quinn heatedly declares Spiderman is some friendless, familyless freak, you snort), Tara and Chad are… doing whatever their newly blossomed situationship requires to make even more tense, and Annika is passed out on Mindy’s shoulder.

Ethan is on patrol tonight, after he left you alone in the middle of the party. Apparently, it had something to do with candy and costumes making criminals more “devious” (whatever that meant).

Sometimes, you really wish trick-or-treating wasn’t just for kids.

You slip away from the drunk girl, whose friend group has since found her, and sneak into the very same bathroom Ethan had jumped out of earlier. In the mirror, you finnicked with the costume you were wearing.

“I couldn’t exactly find anything similar, so I made it myself.” Ethan had said a few hours ago, holding up the costume. It was an odd black-and-white version of his Spidersuit, with a white hood and pink underarms.

“It’s made of a mix of spandex and a flexible carbon-fiber I stole from the evidence locker at the NYPD - the same stuff as my suit. And, I know, not morally great, but whatever, I’ll make up for it by catching the criminals who owned that stuff.” Ethan continued, stretching the fabric.

You raised a brow, taking the slim piece of fabric off his hands. “And why exactly do I have to be some Spiderman dupe tonight?”

Ethan scratched his cheek, gaze veering from yours. “If I’m wearing this, you’ve gotta wear that. To keep the cover, obviously.”

You two were sitting on your bed, Ethan already decked out in his own well made Spiderman “costume”. Everyone else was dressed, too, just waiting for you to finish.

“So,” You leaned in closer to Ethan, “this is just a matching couple costume… for the cover.”

Ethan nodded rapidly, still avoiding your eyes.

You surveyed him for a moment: his brown eyes were coursing across the whole room, on anything except you, lips bitten between his teeth, hair askew, slight blush blazing across his face.

Something about that look of his just got to you, and the sound of the blood rushing to your face was positively deafening.

You pulled back, trying to ease your stuttering heart. “Isn’t this a bad idea? Wearing the suit and all, aren’t you scared of someone finding out?”

“I think it’s ironic.” Ethan said under his breath, a small smile gracing his face. “And it’s the opposite. If I pretend to be some superfan, people won’t think I’m him.”

You puffed up your cheeks, blowing the air out. “Okay, fine. I’ll wear your couples costume. Just don’t, and I mean it, Ethan, do not leave me alone at the party to go on patrol.”

“[Name]. You know I can’t promise you anything, I mean, what if there's a dog or something getting stolen out of an apartment—“

Without thinking, you stopped his rambling by pulling him close to you, hands gripping lightly at his arms. The two of you held still for a moment, staring deep into eachothers eyes.

You would have been ready to say anything, but the heartfelt words you had thought of, the feelings you knew were burning in your heart, about to burst at any moment, died in the sudden hesitance you felt from Ethan.

Unknowingly, your face contorted into one of hurt. “I know. I know, I’m sorry, I - I know that's selfish of me to ask, I just…” You let go of him, “there will never be enough time in the world for you to be both Ethan and Spiderman. Which one - which life, relationships - do you value more?” you turned away, whispering under your breath.

And if Ethan had heard you, he didn’t say anything. Tension settled in the room, with a terribly miserable air of regret.

Suddenly, Mindy had called out from the living room that you’d all be late to the party if you didn’t hurry up. Ethan exited your room quietly, and you didn’t see him look back at your door with so much guilt it was choking him.

Remembering that bitter start to the night, you sighed, patting down your spandex suit.

Then, someone on the other side of the bathroom door started banging it, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying under the blaring music reverberating throughout the entire house.

“Wait a minute!” You shouted, straining your throat. You began to continue in the loud tone, but the familiar buzz of your phone interrupted you.

Quickly, you fished out the device from a sleek thigh pocket you were thoroughly impressed with Ethan for designing, and clicked it on.

“Speak of the devil,” You mumbled to yourself, seeing the ever-present contact name of ETHAN LANDRY buzzing atop your phone screen.

You answered, pressed the phone to your ear. However, before you could get a word out, Ethan began frantically shouting into the phone.

“[Name]! Goddam—it, okay, I need you to - to - I left my backpack at your place, and I can’t do this without—“

“Ethan! Ethan, Eth— slow down, I can’t—“

“Get my bag, please, and don’t find me, just— leave it at Blackmore, near the fountain, I’ll swing by— and— oh, for fuc—“

And then he hung up. Or, more precisely, probably broke his phone swinging away from whatever was causing him to act like that.

You felt your heart drop, finally registering the intensity of Ethan’s voice. The boy was often lighthearted and dorky, extremely endearing in his polite awkwardness, so hearing how alarmed he was now was sending you for a loop.

You shook your head, storing such feelings away for later. You made a mental note of Ethan’s requests: bag at your apartment, leave at Blackmore fountain.

Nervously, you cranked open the window in the bathroom, eyeing the slingers attached to your wrists. You’d found out entirely by accident after sticking to a beer bottle that Ethan hadn’t merely created a fake pair of web slingers for the costume — he’d supplied you with a functional pair of his own.

Ethan had done a full run-down of his suit once, entirely fascinated with the thing. He was so proud of his own creation, rambling about how the web-fluid took ages to perfect, and about the one time his father got in trouble for “forgetting” to keep track of evidence from the NYPD locker.

This identity was entirely Ethan’s own, and he was so incredibly happy with it. You realized then how selfish your comment had been, how it must have stung him so.

You bit your lip, and pushed yourself back on track, slipping on the matching mask the costume had. Surprisingly, the vision in it wasn’t terrible, and it was merely a little foggy.

Then, at the window, you decided you needed to use the web slingers. You knew this could go extremely wrong, seeing as you obviously hadn’t been bit by a radioactive spider, so your agility, physical build, and pain tolerance were at an all time low in comparison to Ethans, but you remembered how frenzied the boy-hero was— and swung out the window. Time was of essence.

You finnicked with the webs, feeling the cool night chill bite your face, and tried desperately to replicate how Ethan so easily thwipped building to building. You just barely made it into an alley a few blocks away from the party-house, and almost hit your head on a lamp post on the way there, so you knew after this incident you’d never even approach the web-slinger cuffs.

You ran the rest of the way to your apartment, climbed up your fire escape, and shimmied the small gap for Ethan in the glass window open with your foot. After a moment of scanning, you nicked Ethan’s characteristic green canvas bag, and braced yourself to swing once more.

Your web made a slippery connection with the building in front of you - Danny’s apartment - and you swore you saw your life flash before your eyes when you almost fell.

After several moments of climbing down the wall with webs, a situation which closely resembled rock climbing with a rope, you broke into another run, heading to Blackmore University.

You would have felt dead tired by now if not for the adrenaline pumping through you, your anxiety for Ethan up to your ears. That, and maybe the amateur web-slinging that almost killed you, were the only things keeping you upright as you ran around New York.

However, as you made quick shortcuts through other alleys, you heard a familiar cry come out from an approaching block.

“Fucking—“ You heard the boy cry out, heaving, alongside the sounds of an intense scuffle.

Without any acknowledgment of doing so, your body pulled itself to the dimly lit backstreet lane, and you found yourself watching Ethan, partially unmasked, fighting a group of several masked people, weapons and duffle bags of money thrown on the ground. In the distance, you could vaguely hear an alarm — perhaps a banks — beeping on and off.

“E—“ You stopped yourself mid sentence, breath catching in your throat, and when one of the men threatened to grab the pistol lying haphazardly to Ethan’s side, you shot a web at the gun, bringing it to you.

Quickly, you slid the offending weapon away, and did as much as you could to help the still-fighting Ethan. From throwing measly punches of your own, tossing weapons away, or pinning the burglars to the wall with webs, you did it all, until it was just you and Ethan, sitting on the cobblestone, breathing heavily.

He slipped his mask fully back on, and turned to say something to you, obviously seeing your own mask on, as well as your use of his web slingers.

But, then replacing the bank's alarm in your ears, several police sirens could be heard making their way down to the backstreet lane you were occupying.

“We have to go. Can you swing?” you said to Ethan between gasping for air.

“I’m out of web fluid. It - it’ll take too long to refill,” he pointed lazily to the long-forgotten backpack.

“I’ll do it, then,” You said, trying not to show your hesitancy. Before Ethan could voice his own surprise and fear, you wrapped an arm (and several webs, as you knew you could not fully support his built body) around him and shot a thick string of webs at the closest tall building.

“You’re—“ Ethan’s eyes were wide open, “doing it wrong! We’ll— fall!”

“Just—“ you swung to the next building, completely unaware of how terrifying your technique was to an expert, “bare with it! I promise not to - kill us!”

“I’m unsure how - trustworthy - your - words are!”

“Stop - distracting me!” You said, making a close call on a parked garbage truck, before making your last swing to the fire escape window at your apartment.

Thank god the bank was not all the way across the world to your apartment, for you didn’t know how long your poor swinging skills and decent luck would last.

You two entered your room, and you immediately ripped off the white hooded mask you were wearing, taking in fresh bouts of air like a fish entering water. You felt extremely relieved that you two had made it back safe, alive — but Ethan clearly felt differently.

He tore his mask off, rapidly turning to face you. “I thought I told you to leave the bag at Blackmore!” Ethan’s finger was pointed accusingly, “I told you not to find me, for fucks sakes, [Name]!”

“Excuse me?” You said, in shock. “If I hadn’t found you — and I was going to Blackmore, I was taking fucking shortcuts, Landry — if I hadn’t found you, alright, you could be dead right now. You said it yourself, you were out of web-fluid!”

“Not then! I would’ve made it out fine!”

“Is this fine to you?” You gestured to his bloodied state, beaten up and bruised. “What? Were you gonna drag your broken bones up my fire escape, ask me to fix you up again?”

Ethan’s eyebrows creased. He had no answer for your words. “Just— I fucking told you not to fucking find me!”

“Jesus christ, Landry, you are fucking stubborn. I did find you, okay, but not on purpose— I fucking stumbled upon you. So don’t get all up on me for something you did.”

“You didn’t have to help either,” he said viciously, “I have escaped worse situations without your help. I have done this for years without you, okay?”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my god, are you serious right now? I wouldn’t have to help you if you didn’t call me, if you didn’t forget your web fluid, and if you just fucking listened to me and didn’t go on patrol tonight.”

Ethan went silent, digesting your words.

“You know this is your fucking fault, right?”

And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You wanted to catch the air and stuff it right back down your throat, undo your harshness, realize how increasingly broken Ethan’s tone was.

Realize how he stared at your cuts and limp, realize how guilty he looked as he asked why you went to find him.

Why you put yourself in danger.

Ethan’s mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to tread further, his anger falling off him in waves, revealing the pain he held underneath.

“Fuck, Ethan, I’m sorry, I—“ you started, but stopped when Ethan looked you in the eye.

“You could’ve died,” he whispered, “and you were - you were swinging and fighting armed men, [Name], I—“

“Ethan, I wanted to. I wanted to help you, it was my own goddamn choice. My own stupid choice.”

“No - no, you were right. I should’ve never called you, I have done this all before, in worse moments, all by myself—“

“That does not mean you should, Ethan. Being alone in this kind of danger is not smart.”

“I’d rather be alone than endanger you.”

“Ethan, I’d rather be endangered than have to lose you.”

You stared deep into eachothers eyes, not unlike the way you did at the beginning of the night. Except this time something had changed, perhaps the way you unearthed your hearts to one another now made it so much easier to breathe, to feel, to do.

But there was still hesitation there. Untread territory and past regrets making things - this - so much harder to make real.

You and Ethan wanted to do so much more, to do all the things you pretended to do, but instead, you wrapped your arms around his broad back and hugged him like there was no tomorrow, like you were the last people on earth before a meteor struck. His arms snaked around your waist similarly, longingly, and terribly grievous.

It felt like connecting broken pieces of a heart together, and though you did not kiss, you felt so equally joined to him like you had. The hug was long and intimate, so close you could smell the dull impression of his cheap cologne from earlier, the lonely heat of your bodies joining to warm you both so completely.

You felt so at home in his touch. You could only wish he felt the same.

(And Ethan did. He melted into you, the only thoughts in his mind being that this felt right.

Somewhere, deep in his mind, where he kept his guilt hidden, he felt he was just going to lose another thing he loved. That this love was futile, fading, the loss inevitable.

But today Ethan wanted to be selfish, breathe you in, and be at peace, even for a second.)

a/n2: no kiss, and not quite to the official relationship yet, folks! but we’re getting there, slowly but surely. have these lovely crumbs for now. though, big milestone: the acknowledgment of mutual love!

taglist: @iloveneilperry @backtotheshitshow @hazehepburn @powowowy @ifilwtmfc @oscarisdaddy69 @al1v3cvp1d2 @bloodyeverything @diamondci1ty @l5bryinth @gojosbucket @volturi-girl-imagines @sflame15-blog @thatoneembarrasingmoment @bajadotcom @cerealzzz @elynka @theapulidooo @solaceinwriting-blog1

(strikethrough: wouldn’t allow me to tag!)

#ethan landry x reader #jack champion #ethan landry #spiderman!ethan landry #jack champion x reader #spiderman x reader #scream 6 #scream vi #marvel #spiderman

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neesieiumz · 7 months

Text

brontide || ──────── r. braun.

day three - SPITTING / HUMILIATION / EXHIBITIONISM

『 synopsis 』 ⸻ a night with your friends gets you into way more trouble that you're looking for.

『 warnings 』 ⸻ mafia!au. mafia-boss!reiner. the mafia part is implied but not explicitly mentioned. he also owns a sex club. sm*t. minors do not interact. humiliation. exhibitionism. spitting. emotionally-abusive ex-boyfriend. who happens to be floch. and who also happens to be in prison for five years. he calls you sweetie/sweetness. he's been obsessed with you the moment he saw you and sent your ex to jail so he can have you. one of reader's friends are also a part of the mafia and basically escort her to go to the club so she can get snatched up.

『 writers notes 』 ⸻ first day of kinktober! been planning this since august and I'm gonna finish it! By god's grace, of course!

『 word count 』 ⸻ 6.4k words

masterlist. next part in kinktober.

Laughter echoed into the night, and the entire group huddled together ambled alongside the wet sidewalk. Your arms were hooked around the arms of your friends, walking in sync with them as the rest of your friends followed behind you all. The air smelled fresh, of wet petricor and tar, evidence of the recent rain that fell over the city. You felt light as if your head could fall off your shoulders, the slight buzz from the round of margaritas you all had during your dinner together. The original plan was to continue the party at your favorite club, but you found the line to be too long and it was slowly ruining your buzz. So now you were walking through the town, hoping to find something to continue the fun you’ve had tonight.

Before, you’d never thought you’d be out like this, with friends, wearing short dresses and a huge smile on your face. Seven months ago, you were a whole different person, quiet, frightened, and controlled by your ex-boyfriend. However, miracles could come in the newest forms as he suddenly found himself thrown into prison, which inadvertently caused your freedom. Ever since then, you found yourself living more and more free, living more and more for yourself. You packed up most of your things, sold what you could of his things, and moved cities and jobs, finding a career or even higher pay. With your ex-boyfriend out of the way, as well as removing him from everything you could, it helped that he was in prison, and it made everything in your life in order.

“You know,” you felt one of your friends whisper into your ear, “I’m glad you could come out with us tonight.”

You had met her not too long ago, the two of you running into each other while you were in the middle of running errands. Since then, you’ve assimilated yourself into her friend group and all of you are becoming really close, really soon. However, swamped with work, at your new job, you hadn't had a chance to step out and have a fun night off with your new friends, who were all pushing for the time with you, especially since you told them about your ex-boyfriend. Learning about how before he went to prison for robbery, and how he kept you isolated from your friends, family and controlled your money

You smiled at her, lifting your hand up to brush a few of your braids that were blowing in your face, “I’m glad I finally found the time to come out.”

She smiled at you, glancing down at your dress, “and I see the choice of dress you wore. Isn’t this the one I had to convince you to buy on one of our shopping trips.”

The dress was black and short, with a long slit going up the side, with thin straps holding it. On the slit, connecting the two pieces of fabric were multiple bedazzled thin pieces of fabric. It was different from what you would usually wear, but as you glanced down at it, from the fabric to the low-plunging neckline, it held a certain freedom that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The two of you gave each other a smile, as the entire group approached the newest location, a club that had opened up recently. It was brought up by Michael, who was your friend’s boyfriend, and mostly everyone agreed to finish the night out there after dinner. The name of the club was plaster at the top, glowering in a pure white. The rest of it was covering dark red LED tassels, it was opulent in nature, and the towering building had your heart clenching for a moment. You lowered your head, now gazing at the very long line peeking out the door.

“That line seems… long,” you mumbled, as you all got closer and closer.

Your friend glanced over to you, squeezing your arm, “no worries, Michael knows people, he’ll get us in.”

“Tessa!”

The two of you turned to see Michael waving at her, gesturing for her to come to the front. You were about to let go of her arm, but instead, she held onto it tighter, taking you along with her. The rest of the group made way for the two of you as you all reached the doorway. You could hear the jeers of the rest of the line, seeing your entire group waiting at the entrance skipping the rest of the line. You stood right before the bouncers guarding the door. They were huge, wearing tight, black shirts and heavy cargo pants. They held tablets in their hands as they glowered down at you all.

“We’re ummm…” Michael started, “we’re friends of the owner. He should already be expecting us.”

The bouncer glanced between the group before his eyes landed right on you. His hard stare caused you to slightly flinch, but Tessa’s grip on you only held tighter, keeping you in place. Your heart pounding away in your chest, you saw the bouncer glance down at the tablet before looking right back at you, before turning towards his coworker. The two of them whispered for a moment, and then the coworker picked up his small radio before entering into the dark nightclub.

“Come in.” is all the bouncer said, before moving out of the way.

You glanced around at the group but you had no time as you were pulled into the building and into the dark space. Inside, it was dark, you almost couldn’t see ahead of you if it wasn't for the white strobe lights constantly moving and flashing around the room. The music was dark, with a huge bass boom, you couldn't feel your own heart beating. You pressed your hand against your chest, hoping for a reminder that you were still alive. Before you knew it, the group broke up all going in different directions, you could barely see where the rest of them went. You could feel Tessa’s arm pulling you away, past all the ladies standing and moving about it.

Before you could even think, you were standing against the bar table, your mind barely getting used to the loud music, and the constant movement all around you. The bar table was the only thing with consistent lighting, with low back wall lights, lighting up the different stacks of liquor, as well as low-hanging black lights as well, causing you to see the working bartenders making different orders. You glanced over to your left, hoping to see Tessa or some form of her standing right beside you but you couldn't. If you held your hand out in front of you, you probably wouldn't be able to see any of your fingers. You let out a shaky breath, soon realizing you couldn't hear yourself breathing. You glanced around you once more, not able to find any semblance of your friends anywhere around you. You felt weird, out of place even, you didn't know where to go. You turned your head around once more, taking note of everything around you. At the same time, an empty stool opened up, allowing you to sit down and rest your feet. You were still looking around, but still, all you could see was the strobing light, now a mixture of blue and gray, and the crowd of bodies.

Suddenly a hand tapped on the one hand you had placed on the counter, causing your already jittery body to jump, your body flying right back around, facing the bar counter. In front of you stood the bartender, with short, blonde hair, and a white towel laid across his left shoulder. He wore the same uniform as the bouncer, with a black shirt and you could see the hems of the heavy cargo pants.

He stepped back a moment, his hands in the air as he took note of your jumpy attitude, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, “sorry, I’m just a little jumpy, it’s my first time in a place like this.” You yelled over the loud music, leaning over the counter.

He smirked at you, “Well, I’m sure you’ll have a good time.” That's all he said before sliding you over a tall martini glass.

It was filled to the brim with brown liquor, with a little bit of foam brimming at the top of it. You tilted your head at you, a questioning look on your face.

“I don’t… I don’t remember ordering anything.”

The man shrugged, “it’s on the house, for you know… your first night here.”

That was the last thing he said to you before walking away, before tending to others sitting at the bar. You looked at him as he walked away before facing the glass one more. Slowly, you reached over to the counter, picking up the glass by the stem before bringing it over to you. You brought it up to your nose, taking a whiff of the cocktail. You could smell the slow-churned liquor, strong and expensive in smell. You glanced at it one last time, before taking a sip, the smooth mixture sliding down your throat easily. A slow, warm tingle rose up within you as you took another sip. Stepping away from the bar, slowly immersing yourself in the crowd. The crowd was moving all around, dancing in waves and into each other. You stood around, looking into the crowd of dancing people, seeing if you could find your friends anywhere, mixed in with the crowd.

With nothing, you decided to move on, sipping on your glass as you slowly stepped around the perimeter of the club. You could feel eyes on you, prickly-like needles poking and prodding at your spine. Turning around with swiftness, you found yourself glancing up at what seemed to be the second floor, seeing people standing about up there. There was some level of privacy, with only semi-opaque windows showing off what seemed to be a private party. Your eyes glanced over from the railing of the second floor, your eyes guided to what seems to be a stairwell, located not too far from you. You could see two bouncers standing there, with a velvet rope keeping the general populous away from what seemed to be a more private crowd.

“Hey!”

You gasped, feeling something cold prodding at you as you turned around, seeing the friend you walked into standing right behind you, her boyfriend not too far from her.

“Hey, I was looking for you!” you yelled over the music, taking another sip of your drink.

She smiled at you, giggling and crashing into you, most likely unstable from however much she drank, “sorry, me and Michael got lost in the crowd and we ended up joining someone’s randoms section! You should join us!”

The moment she said that Michael, the boyfriend, came up to her, pulling her away, whispering something in her ear. Your friend’s joyful expression soon faded, the two of them delving into whispered arguments, furrowed expressions on both of them now. Not wanting to get in between them, your eyes soon wandered towards the stairwell again. Two people, a couple, soon stepped up to the bouncers standing there, exchanging words between them. The bouncer glanced down at his tablet, much like the ones in front of the club, and scrolled through it, before nodding at his partner, who unlocked the velvet rope, allowing the man and woman to enter and soon walk up the stairwell to the more private party.

“You curious?”

You jumped for the third time that night, your head whisking to the right, before seeing a tall figure standing over you. The first thing you notice about him is his olive green eyes, it was like they shined within the strobe lights. He had long dark hair, which you could tell was pulled back in some kind of bun. You couldn’t help but glance down further, seeing him wear a suit, his hands tucked into his pockets. He tilted his head, before the two of you turned your heads at the same time, staring at the stairwell.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I guess I am, why? What’s up there?”

He mused, “can’t tell you that, but I can get you in, if you’d like?”

You narrowed your eyes on him, “why should I trust you? I don’t even know your name, and why would you do this for me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “feel like being nice for a very pretty lady, think of it as my act of kindness of the day.”

He pressed his hands around your waist, before guiding you towards the stairs. At this point the thought of your friend and her boyfriend flying out of your mind as you headed closer and closer to the flight of stairs. Your mind racing with a never-ending stream of thoughts, and your heart pounding away at your chest, you honestly had no idea what you were doing. You took a final sip of your martini, just as you stood with the man in front of the bouncers.

The two workers took one look at the man, not even bothering to look at the tablet before the one handling the velvet rope unhooked it immediately, allowing the two of you to pass.

“Enjoy your time, Mr. Jaeger, Mr. Braun is sure to be expecting you.”

Braun…?

That name was familiar to you, you had no idea how, but you heard it before. However, before you could dwell on it, your escort, denoted as “Mr. Jaeger”, pressed his hands into you, guiding you up the stairs. You took one last moment, hoping to catch a glimpse of your friend, but you could no longer see her standing where she was last left, and neither could you see her boyfriend either. You shrugged the thought off, remembering the short conversation with her about joining someone else within the club. The sounds of the club became more muffled the more and more you climbed above them. Mr. Jaeger took his time to take you towards the more privatized area. You saw an empty table, glancing down at your glass before placing it on there, hoping someone would pick it up.

The door to the area wasn’t covered by bouncers, but it was hidden from where the general population could see the few viewings of whatever was going on within the room. Jaeger is what you’ll call him until you can learn his real name, open the door, gesturing for you to walk inside first.

It was much like the crowd downstairs, but smaller, and with fewer strobe lights. It looked to be a private party taking place. You could tell by the banner that hung up in which you could vaguely make out the words “Happy Birthday.” Everyone was up in a ball in the middle of the floor having the times of their lives, with people scattered about as well. You ignored the white powder on some people’s tables as you maneuvered yourself through the standing people.

Before you knew it, you had made it out of the crowd, stepping into a cleared-out area.

You took a moment to glance behind you, seeing the heavy crowd, and all the bodies moving about. Turning around, you suddenly found yourself face to face with a door. It was watched over by two heavily tattooed bodyguards. The men guarding the door looked different than the bouncers, each of their arms heavily tattooed, wearing heavy utility belts around their waists. Your curiosity was slowly taking hold of you, as you tilted your head at the men.

Suddenly, the two men in the center took a few steps to either side, parting like the Red Sea, as the door behind them suddenly opened. Your eyes caught onto the first boot that walked out of the darkness, your eyes trailed up slowly as the rest of him appeared from the pitch-black, darkness into the low, gleaming light. The first thing you noticed was his hazel eyes, they gleamed through the light, capturing your pure attention. His blonde hair contrasted against his dark suit, his hands tucked into his pockets as he stepped down the rest of the way. He stopped, just right in front of you, and the two of you locked eyes. You took in his entire form. Your head tilted just a little, as you looked upon his face, the clean-shaven look, the broad form, realizing that he looks so familiar, that you’ve seen this man before.

Memories flash before you, tan walls, bright lights, sliding chairs, and tables, black suits, and a mean smirk staring down at you. You glance up, jumping as you realized the man has gotten closer to you, no longer standing on the steps in front of the door.

“It’s been a while, sweetie?”

Braun…

It was like lightning had struck you, as your mind flashed back to almost a year ago.

“Babe, what is this place?” You couldn’t help but ask as you looked around the fancy lobby area.

However, he didn’t answer you as he walked up to the hostess behind the table, talking to her before guiding the two of you somewhere. You tried to speak up again, asking him about this restaurant he took you to, but he only hissed at you, before focusing on the table before you. It was a long table, filled almost to the brim with prim and proper-looking people, all talking amongst themselves.

“Mr. Braun, I’ve brought more of your guests.”

The scattered chatter spoon became hushed whispers as almost everyone looked up at the two of you. At the head of the table, hardened hazel eyes looked up at the two of you standing there, the intense stare causing your back to straighten up as he glanced between the two of you. He had his folding in front of him, resting on his elbows and he produced a glare so menacing towards your boyfriend, the only thing you could skin them to was the hard and nasty stares your grandmother used to stare down at you whenever you broke her stuff.

“Mr. Forster, I should have you arrested for stalking,” the man started, waving away the hostess.

Your boyfriend, despite the obvious and sudden sweat that dripped down his face, as well as his shaky hands, spoke, “yes, Mr. Braun, I understand, but I just really need some of your time to talk about this new business venture.”

Business venture… so this wasn’t a romantic dinner like you thought it would be. YOU could feel yourself deflating as your boyfriend suddenly let go of you. He reached down, pulling out the seat closest to him, immediately, sitting down, leaving you to be the only one standing. Flustered, you began to reach for the seat next to him, hoping to pull it out and sit next to him quietly.

“Stop.”

Everyone froze, as the words echoed through the nearly empty backroom of the restaurant. You looked up only to find his eyes on you, which only caused everyone else’s eyes in the room to look at you.

“You crash my event and make yourself known, the least you can do is pull out your own girlfriend’s seat, huh Forester?”

Floch, already flustered and embarrassed, only turned red as he stuttered against his words, “Oh, oh right, sorry, Mr. Braun.” Your boyfriend began to move to get, to pull your seat out for you.

“I’m not the one to say sorry to, and don’t bother moving,” is all Braun said, before snapping his fingers.

All of a sudden, a man wearing an all-black suit appeared right behind, causing you to jump a little. He pulled your seat out for you, making a quick gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a seat sweetness.”

Quietly, you thanked him before sitting, squeaking as he pushed into your chair for you. Glancing up, seeing Mr. Braun’s eyes on you as you settled down into your seat.

— — —

Seeing those same hazel eyes sent you in a whirl spin. Almost a year passed and you could still remember them staring into your eyes just like that day.

“Mr. Braun… the dinner party…” your words tasted acrid as you spoke them, inadvertently bringing up the memories of your ex-boyfriend.

His chuckle sent electricity down your spine, seeing him step a bit closer towards you, “just call me Reiner… glad to see you remember me, huh?”

“Yeah… I’m surprised you remember me?” You winced at your words, internally yelling at yourself for the awkward choice. If he noticed it, he didn’t say anything about it, only moving towards you even more.

“Can’t forget a pretty face, now can I?”

Your mind was yelling at you to move, but you could barely bend a knee as he towered over you, his hands no longer tucked in his pockets, instead, he reached up, his hand slightly pushing past your long braids that frame your face, before caressing your cheek. You couldn't help the shaky breath, the clench between your legs as you got a whiff of his string cologne.

“Come with me.”

It was a demand, not a question.

He took you by the arms before leading you up the platform he had once descended from. You couldn't help but glance back at the retreating party behind you, seeing the crowd get smaller and smaller as your vision soon became surrounded in black. The two of you moved through the darkness, the music changing from the EDM-focused club music to something a lot slower, and a lot more sensual, combined with a lot of bass.

It was as if you stepped into a new dimension.

The atmosphere was different from the one downstairs. That one was exhilarating, heart–throbbing.

This one was heart-stopping.

Your heart felt strained, trying to pump blood throughout this entire experience. Your inner ears constantly vibrated and fuzzed as you took a step into the crowd. Every movement felt like it slowed down, you could barely see two feet in front of you, much like downstairs, but somehow, it felt… different. It felt as if the bodies were closing in on you with every step you take. You rubbed your cold hands against your skin, hoping to warm it up a little and gain a sense of grounding within you. You let out a shuddering breath, feeling the temperature around drop with every step you take. The music was loud, almost deafening even, you could barely hear yourself think. All you can do is take one step at a time, trying to warm yourself through the cold environment. You couldn't help the way you held onto the man taking you deeper and deeper into this new-founded area, digging your nails deep into his arms to steady yourself into this anchor of a man.

The two of you soon pull up to this table, surrounded by other people as he guides you to a velvet-cushioned seat, before sitting right beside you. All the men sitting around were huge, wearing suits of all different fabrics and cuts. in their hands either held expensive cigars or lit up, causing the area around them to smell like smoke. This caused your face to grimace, moving your hand up to your nose to block the smell.

“Smoke’s getting to you, sweetie?” A low voice came up to your voice.

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, a hand grabbing at your face before turning it to the right.

“I always hated the smell, Floch used to smoke cigarettes, and would stink up the apartment too.”

“Heh, you’ll get used to it,” is all he said, reaching out as someone handed over a perfectly wrapped and sealed cigar.

That same person lit it for him, before bowing and taking their leave. You watched them just as he inhaled the first smoke. The smell hit you, your nose slightly wrinkling at the tobacco. Reiner’s arms kept you close, putting you up against the smoke as he looked down at you.

Before you lost your nerve, as you turned to him, your hands rubbing down your arms to calm the chills that ran up your spine, “Why did you bring me here?”

Reiner glanced down at you, blowing smoke out from the corner of his mouth. He then leaned down towards you, his heated breath from the cigar ghosting over your ear.

“Look around Sweetness, what do you think this place is?” He whispered into your ear.

Your eyes glance around the room, landing on the different people moving about. Some people were standing around smaller stages, watching strippers easily glide themselves up and down the pole. However most of the people were standing around couches, you could barely see what they were looking at. Looking closer at one of the couches, seeing one of the bodies move, your eyes widen at the scene. You saw a man—no, two men, one towering over a woman and the other one having her on his lap. You couldn’t see everything, but you knew what was happening, what the other people were watching. Reiner must have heard your gasp when you spotted one of, what looks to be many events, happening on the couches.

Your legs crossed, a dull sensation washed over you. Suddenly, your hyper-awareness activated, feeling Reiner’s hand on your thigh. His hand continued to trace circles in your thigh, his actions causing your head to feel slightly fuzzy, combined with the smoke in the air, from the cigars and the heavy smoke machines. You could only sway with the beat of the music, your body grazing against Reiner’s body. His arm that was once weighing on your shoulder slid off, before trailing up your face, pushing past your braids, caressing the left side of your face. The roughness of his hands grounded you just a bit, your dropping eyes fluttering open a little to look at the man with you.

“Did you like what you saw, sweetie?” He whispered to you, his lips grazing the outer shell of your ear.

You nodded your head, vigorous in nature, gasping as he didn’t move his head from your ear. Rather, he leaned even closer, dipping down a bit before pressing slow and soft kisses against your neck. It had been a long time since you’d had anyone touch you. Seven months since you broke up with Floch and even longer even since he had gotten arrested. A shaky breath left your mouth, your hands reaching up to his suit, gripping onto it for balance. The hand was touching your thigh slide up, slipping in between your legs, his fingers grazing up against the slightly damp fabric of your thong. The size of his hands, as well as his strength, made your legs begin to spread apart. You couldn’t help but glance around the room, feeling all eyes were on the two of you. Suddenly the hand that pressed against your face, its grip tightened, a gasp leaving your mouth as you suddenly faced him again. The sudden hard stare caused you to squirm, your eyes darting about.

“Look at me, don’t look at anyone else… just focus on me,” he commanded, before releasing his grip on your face.

Before you could even think, his hand flew down to your hips, lifting you up and placing you right onto his lap. The first thing you felt was his erection, pressing against your barely covered pussy. His legs spread wide as well, easily taking up the space upon the seats you were sitting on. The people around you all easily made space, but you could tell that they were all watching, their eyes felt like lasers burning holes into your psyche. Yet, all you could do was focus on Reiner before. Your heart was racing, and you felt heat flushing throughout your entire body, from his actions to the people staring down at you.

“Reiner–” you stared before you were cut off by him suddenly pushing you forward, your lips landing on his.

He tasted like scotch, with an aftertaste of smoky cigars. Despite your known aversion to anything tobacco, you found yourself deepening the kiss. Your hips began to grind against him, hoping to find that perfect rhythm. Underneath your dress, your clit throbbed again the thin fabric of your thong, your pussy throbbing with every movement you made. Reiner’s hands slide down your back, before cupping themselves underneath your butt, underneath that the fabric begins to rise up and crumble up around your hips. You could feel the air hitting in between your legs and the deep feeling that your thong was on display for those around you to see.

Spit began to drip down from your lips, evidence of your intense makeout. Slowly, you pulled your lips back, your lungs immediately inflating with air. Reiner’s hands began to massage, almost kneading the flesh he clung onto. By this, your thong was soaked, and the area around his erection was slightly damp with your juices. His finger thumbed at the thin strap of fabric, pulling it as far back as he could before letting it go. The loud snap stung against your skin, your back arching into the pain, eliciting a slightly painful yelp as your pussy clenched around nothing.

“Reiner!” you shrieked, your hands and nails gripping his back and shoulders, digging into his clothing.

You could feel him smirk against your skin before his fingers lifted up your thong strap before popping against your skin once more. Every throb of pain had you clenching around nothing, soaking your thong and his pants even more. By now, your dress had ridden up to your waist, so everyone was able to see just what he was doing to you. No one said anything, they only watched as he grabbed at your thong, beginning to pull the thin fabric down your legs. Your nerves wreaked havoc on your hands, seeing how they trembled as you began to slide them down from behind his neck to his chest. You lifted your legs a little bit, helping him get your thong off.

He held them in front of you, shaking them like a cat toy with a sneer on his face, and an evil grin. You tried to reach out and grab for them but he pulled them back, a chuckle leaving his mouth as he laughed at the way you lunged at him. Reiner pocketed them, before putting his hands right back on your butt, like they belong there. You gasped as his fingers teased along the opening of your cunt. He leaned over, his heavy voice echoing in your ear as he spoke to you once more.

“Second thoughts, sweetness?” he asked you.

Despite your sudden fear, you shook your head, your hands suddenly gripping the fabric of his suit.

“Good,” he smirked, “because I’d hate to not be able to give all these people a nice show.”

That was the last thing he said before suddenly lifting you up, letting go of his cock. You squealed as he suddenly turned you around, fully facing the audience you had amassed. Your heart almost dropped, you could barely even see the back parts of the room, with the way the crowd had amassed itself. You hadn’t relaxed just how many people were watching you. Their eyes never left you, you could see their hungry eyes taking in the scene before them. Your dripping pussy, Reiner’s cock, the way you whined and grinding into him, everything. You couldn’t help the way tears welled into your eyes, but at the same time, a forceful tingling heat wracked through you. The humiliation you felt rocked you, yet all it could do was make your pussy even wetter. Their eyes were magnets, sticking to your every reaction.

He stretched your legs wide, the sticky sound of your pussy easily bringing in more of the crowd. Hips fingers, continuing to tease you, dipping down into your hole, smearing some of your juices at your clit. He spread your lips even further, having no problem to let all these people watching you get fucked. You let out a sharp gasp as you felt his thick finger beginning to prod at your hole, your juices dripping down onto him. Melting as he further plunged his finger into you, hissing at how tight you were. Your eyes glued to his hands, only able to watch the way he slowly began to ravish you, bit by bit. You bit your lip, restraining your budding moans as his finger slid deeper into you.

“Reiner—“ you choked, your head thrown back as his thumb pressed up against your wet clit.

Your hips ground against his hands, clenching around his fingers. Rocking against him, succumbing to the way he pulled different reactions from your body and your lips. Your moans echoed through the room, and you could hear the muffled grunting of some of the men watching you. You could hear their whispers, wondering who you were. You could hear the jealousy on some of the women’s lips, complaining about how someone as unknown as you could gain Reiner’s attention. Writhing underneath his hold, you couldn’t help the way their animosity elated you. You cried out as you felt his fingers brush up against your g-spot, your back arching away from his front side.

“Fuck— I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum—“ your words were high pitched, feeling the sudden building ache rushing through you.

Suddenly, you were left out cold as you felt his fingers abruptly pull out of your cunt. You had no time to whine or complain as a gasp left your mouth and your body jerked suddenly, feeling Reiner beginning to stand up behind you. His hands slide down to underneath your knees, further spreading your pussy open. You crossed your arms, heart racing as you felt his angry red tip prodding at your entrance. For a moment, you glanced up, and standing behind a couple people, you could see familiar olive green eyes, with his tan hand tucked in his pocket, holding a glass of liquor.

Before you could fully register the sight, your body convulsed as you felt the tip of his cock easing into your sopping wet cunt. There was no need for foreplay, with the way you had been dripping all over Reiner from the moment he placed you on his lap.

“Oh my– oh my god,” you whined out, your head thrown back as he pressed his dick into your further, hearing him grunt as you felt yourself slowly stretch around him.

“Big—“ you cried out, “its too big, fuck, I can’t—!”

“Aww," he suddenly interjected, “can’t what? Can’t handle it?” His voice was deep and laced with condescension.

Your body trembled at his words, and despite the humiliation, hearing the slight chuckle in the crowd, your pussy clenched around, sucking him in even further. Toes curled, you could do nothing while stuck in his hold but take it, desperate moans fleeing your mouth. You could feel his hot breath against your neck,, his own deep-seated, needful groans echoing in your ears. Although your eyes were shut you could still hear the makings of the crowd around, still watching you take every inch of him.

Suddenly, one of his hands left your leg, before sliding across your neck and face. It wrapped itself around the front of your neck, before pulling it and your head back. His face towered over your own, and your eyes were almost jerked open. His thumb was able to reach your wet, plump lips, pulling the bottom one down slightly.

“Open.”

It was a single command, one you fulfilled lustily, your lips parting and your tongue falling out. With nothing else, he inhaled sharply before a decently-sized globble of saliva dripped down from his mouth onto your own. Most would find the action distasteful, but not you. Your body completely wrecked with lust, could do nothing, squeeze your eyes shut, a large moan leaving your lips as his spit slid down your tongue in your throat. You melted in his hold, your juices soaking your dress, thighs, Reiner’s pants, and even a little bit of his shirt.

Reiner ravished you, and the feeling of his cock pummeling you continued to push you more and more over the edge. Your entire body jerks, the feeling of your climax building up within you once more. His heavy pants and the heated smell of sex permeated off of both of your bodies, but it was the quieted, hissed sound of a few people watching, trying their best to stay quiet as they reached their own climax.

“Coming!” Your words were loud but slurred from succumbing to your incoming orgasm.

With your toes curling, your body thrashed within his hold as your cunt squeezed around his dick. Your body melted further into him as your juices poured out of you, your pussy throbbing. Your hands reached out, clutching onto the air as shaky gasps escaped from your mouth. Underneath you, you could feel Reiner’s actions becoming more erratic, his groans following along with him. With no other warning but a groan, you gasped as he came all inside of you, his cum painting your walls white. Tears streaks stained your face as you heaved in and out. Slowly, you felt Reiner slowly putting your legs down, still keeping you close to his body. You winced at the way your legs felt, seeing how they were stretched beyond their means. The crowd slowly began to dissipate as they realized you and Reiner’s bout with lust was basically over. Some still stayed, keeping their eyes on the two of you as you tried your best to clean yourself up.

You gasped as you felt him slowly pull his cock out of you, a cool emptiness filling you. With whatever strength you could pull, you grabbed the hem of your dress, covering the mess the two of you made. You could feel both his and your cum dripping down your thighs, ignoring the way it trailed down your smooth legs. As you sat beside Reiner, waiting for him to get situated, you felt a wave of tiredness rush over you. You stretched, letting out a yawn. With no other warning, Reiner suddenly stood up, taking you into his arms. You could not fight him off as he held you tight. Through your teary and droopy eyes, you could see the crowd parted for the two of you. He walked deeper and deeper until the smoke and darkness fully covered the two of you. Your body had no strength as your body went limp, falling into a deep slumber.

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